The Pattern

by Jane Peart

  The deeper they went, the more the silence surrounded them, yet it was alive with all sorts of sounds. They heard the rustle of meadowlarks rising out of the brush, startled by the noise of their horses’ hooves, muffled as they were by the carpeted trail. There were butterflies hovering over the blue-purple violets, half hidden by the shiny-leafed galax on the forest floor. Graceful sprays of white flowers hung from the sourwood, with clusters resembling the more cultivated wisteria on her Grandmother Shelby’s porch. High in the treetops, there came the song of birds and the humming of bees. The singing of the creek could be heard far below them as they climbed higher. It was June in the high country in all its glory. Ross turned in his saddle and smiled at her. Johanna felt her heart melt with happiness. After all this time, all this waiting, hoping, and praying, she and her husband were on their way to their own home high in the mountains—could anything be more wonderful?

  Soon Johanna noticed a wooden board nailed to a tree, on which was crudely painted the words MILLSCREEK GAP with an arrow pointing north. A little farther along, they passed through what could only be described as a wide place in the trail. There on one side was a slightly listing wooden building with a sign over the door that read GENERAL STORE AND POST OFFICE.

  Was this it? Johanna wondered. Was this all there was to the town of Millscreek? Had Liddy been right? Johanna remembered that her friend had called it something like the far side of nowhere.

  Ross turned again and smilingly pointed to the sagging, weathered structure but didn’t even bother to stop. Is that where she would come to buy supplies and get her mail? A small frisson of anxiety stirred in the pit of her stomach, but she quickly quelled it. Everything was going to be all right, everything was going to be fine. Just different, Johanna reassured herself.

  The trail began to climb now, and every so often they would pass a weather-beaten, gray house perched on the side of a hill. Sometimes they would see a sunbonneted woman with a couple of children out in a garden. As they passed she would lean on her hoe for a few minutes, watching them go by. Ross would always shout, “Howdy!” and Johanna would wave tentatively. Rarely were these greetings acknowledged or returned, except by the children, who would run forward at the sight of the two on horseback, then stand staring, their fingers in their mouths. Perhaps they were shy of strangers. Not that we will be strangers for long, Johanna thought optimistically. Once Ross takes his place here as the only, muchneeded doctor, these people will lose their shyness and become my friends, too. I’ll visit and they’ll visit…

  This was her first chance since the wedding to give serious thought to what her new life with him might be like. Of course, Ross had spoken about his family at length, told her about his stalwart father, killed felling a tree when Ross was only fourteen. His mother, Eliza, was left a widow with four children and forced to scratch a living on the small plot of land to provide food, clothing, for her family. Johanna could tell Ross was proud of how Eliza Davison had kept the small farm going, reared the four children by herself, with only young Ross to help.

  His brother, Merriman, had been just twelve when Ross had gone to live with the schoolteacher in town and get his education. His mother had been fiercely insistent on this. “I was torn,” Ross had confided to Johanna, “thinkin’ I oughta stay and be the man of the family, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She told me, ‘Son, the Good Lord give you a brain, hands to heal, and it would be like throwing away a gift if you didn’t take this chance Teacher Gibbs is offerin’ you.’ I was determined then and there to come back. I’d do what she expected me to do, then give Merriman his chance.”

  “And did he take it?” Johanna had asked.

  A kind of sadness had come into Ross’s expression at her question. “No, he’s married now and got two young’uns. I reckon he knew what he wanted. Sis Jenny is a sweet girl, and they have a home and a farm just up the hill from Ma. Merriman still helps her as much as he can. I guess folks do what they think will make them happy. You can’t give something to someone if they don’t want to take it.” Johanna had sensed Ross’s regret that his younger brother had passed up on the opportunity Ross had been prepared to give him. It had also probably left Ross feeling sort of lonely as the only member of the family who’d furthered himself, she thought. That left his two little sisters, Sue and Katie, now eight and ten, still at home.

  Johanna was both looking forward to and dreading meeting them all. What kind of a mental picture did they have of her? she wondered.

  They climbed steadily upward, twisting back and forth along the winding trail. The forest was silent, beautiful, but Johanna found it rather foreboding with its impenetrable shadows even on this sunny morning. Just then Ross turned and called back, “We’re almost there, honey. Up over this next rise and Ma’s cabin is right on the ridge.”

  At the prospect of meeting Ross’s mother for the first time, Johanna felt slightly apprehensive. She knew Eliza Davison must be a woman of strength and courage to have reared such a man as Ross. How proud she must be that he’d become a doctor! Johanna wanted desperately for Ross’s mother to accept her, to think she was worthy of her fine son. And Johanna wanted to be a loving daughter to her. Ross had tried to tell her not to expect too much show of emotion at this first meeting. “You know, mountain folk are different. Not that they aren’t as hospitable as, say, people in Hillsboro are. Ma is as kindhearted and generous as you’d find anywhere. She’s just not talkative.” In spite of his reassurance that his mother was looking forward to her coming and would welcome her, Johanna felt a little ripple of nervousness as they approached the rambling, weathered log house.

  Ross turned his horse under the shade of a drooping pine tree, tethered him to the rustic fence, then came over to lift Johanna down from her saddle. His hands spanned her waist and he held her for a minute, smiling down at her.

  “Don’t look so scared,” he teased. “Nobody’s gonna bite you.”

  “Don’t tell me that! You said you were shaking in your boots when you went to see my parents for the first time. Anyway, who said I was nervous?” Johanna demanded with mock severity. “Do I look all right?” She adjusted the brim of her tricorne.

  “You look just right,” Ross grinned.

  “Really?” Johanna tugged at her jacket and fluffed out the lacy jabot of her blouse. She hoped her blue, braid-trimmed riding habit didn’t look too fancy.

  Before Ross had a chance to reassure her again, a tall woman stepped out from the house and came to the edge of the porch and said, “Well, howdy!”

  “Ma!” Ross waved one hand. “This is Johanna, Ma.” Turning to Johanna, he held out his hand. “Come on, honey.” They walked toward the porch. “This is my mother, Eliza.”

  “How do you do, Mrs. Davison. I’m so happy to be here.”

  Holding Ross’s hand tightly, Johanna went with him up the steps. At the top, Johanna debated whether she should kiss her new mother-in-law or not.

  Eliza Davison was thin as a reed, with dark hair heavily peppered with gray. Her calico dress was crisp, covered by a spotless cotton apron. Immediately Johanna saw Ross in his mother’s strong features—the firm mouth and chin, the deep-set, slate gray eyes under dark, straight brows. Under their searching gaze, Johanna felt exposed, disconcerted. The woman seemed to be staring right into her, taking her measure. In spite of the sun on her back, Johanna felt chilled. Face to face with Ross’s mother, she wondered how Eliza Davison, born and raised in these mountains, really felt about her oldest son marrying a girl from town.

  However, Eliza’s greeting was warm and friendly enough. “Well, Johanna, I’m right pleased to meet you. My son has shure spoke highly of you. Now, do come inside and out of the day’s heat.”

  Ross held the door so that Johanna could follow his mother into the house. The interior was dim and cool, smelled of wood shavings, soap, and some delicious cooking aromas emanating from the kitchen area at the far end of the room.

  “These are Ross’s sisters, Sue and our baby, Kati
e.” Eliza gestured to two skinny little girls standing in the shadows. Both were dressed in starched calico dresses, the hems of which they were twisting. Their hair was plaited in tight braids, but Johanna could hardly see their faces, because they’d ducked their heads at her entrance.

  “Sue, Katie. Come on over and meet your brother’s wife,” their mother beckoned them. Heads still down, they took a few steps forward, then stopped a few feet from Johanna, bare toes wiggling.

  “Hello!” Johanna bent toward them, smiling. “I have two younger sisters, too,” she said. “I hope we’ll be great friends.”

  The two smiled shyly but didn’t speak. Ross stepped over and swung one up in each arm, and they burst into giggles. Johanna could see at once that they adored their older brother. It made her feel a little more at ease to see how quickly he acted completely at home and didn’t appear anxious or uneasy. It was as though he were trying to show her that this was a place where one could act naturally, not have to put on airs of any kind or be especially mannerly.

  “You must be hungry, comin’ sech a long way, startin’ out ‘fore dawn. Sit ye down.” Eliza indicated the long, rectangular, scrubbed pine table, with half-sawn log benches on either side, their surface worn smooth. “I asked Merriman and Jenny to come for dinner, but he was gettin’ his garden in and not shure he’d be done by supper. But I reckon they’ll both be here ‘fore too long. And bring their young’uns. They’ve two boys, Johanna. Three and five, and they’re a handful.” She shook her head and a slight smile touched her thin lips. She looked at Ross. “Puts me in mind of Ross and Merriman at their ages.” Then she motioned to the two girls. “Come on, you two, help me put things on the table.” Over her shoulder, she said to Ross, “Do you want to show Johanna where she can wash up?”

  Johanna was glad to be taken to the side of the porch, where a basin of fresh water, a clean towel, and a cake of soap were set on a wooden table under a small mirror. She took off her hat and unwound the veil, smoothing back her hair, tightening the ribbon that held it. She rinsed her face and hands. Then, as it was getting very warm, she took off her snug jacket.

  Ross was waiting by the front door. “Merriman and Jenny just came,” he told her and led her back inside.

  Merriman was a head shorter than Ross but had the same lean good looks. He was very tan, however, and the bronzed skin made his eyes seem very blue. His wife, Johanna decided, would have been exceptionally pretty if she weren’t painfully thin and pale-skinned. Her light brown hair was drawn severely back from her face into a plain knot at the back of her head. She seemed very shy and kept her remarkably lovely eyes downcast. She mumbled her hello, then immediately scooted over to help Eliza in the kitchen area.

  “All right now, gather round, folks. Everything’s ready,” Eliza said as she brought two large platters to the table, one of fried chicken, one of roasted ribs. Jenny and Sue followed with bowls of sweet potatoes, hominy, greens, and an apple pie. Jenny and Merriman’s two small, towheaded boys scrambled up on the benches on either side of the long table just as their grandmother set a black iron skillet of cornbread from right off the stove onto the table.

  Once everyone was seated, a silence fell. It lengthened. Johanna felt her stomach tense. No one moved or spoke. Was this a kind of silent grace? Like the Quakers’, maybe? She had never thought to ask Ross. At home, the Shelbys held hands around the table while Papa said the blessing. Under lowered lashes, she looked around warily. To her surprise, both of Ross’s little sisters were watching her gravely. Eliza’s head was bowed. The silence seemed to stretch. Johanna stirred uncomfortably. She felt Ross’s hand squeeze hers gently, and she raised her head cautiously. Eliza was looking at her and said quietly, “If you’ll do the honors, Johanna.” Suddenly she realized that as the guest at the table, she was supposed to say the blessing. She glanced at Ross for confirmation. He nodded, smiling slightly. Quickly she bowed her head, trying frantically to remember the one so often said at home. In a low voice that sounded more like a mumble, she recited it. A moment later plates were being passed, and she let out a breath of relief.

  It took her a few moments to regain herself. She ventured two or three attempts to engage Jenny in conversation but failed. She did notice, however, that once or twice Merriman’s wife glanced at her furtively. Actually, Jenny was looking at her blouse! Given the plain gray calico Jenny was wearing, Johanna understood. It was only natural. Jenny couldn’t be more than nineteen. Like any young girl, she loved pretty things. Probably she had nothing of her own like Johanna’s Cluny lace-trimmed blouse.

  Johanna tried hard to think of some comment to make, but all she could think of was to compliment Eliza on the food. It seemed insane. She had never before felt so tongue-tied. She wanted to please Ross by being friendly to his family, but everything she said seemed to fall flat. She ended up being quiet while Ross and Merriman talked about mutual friends, the crops planted, the weather. Maybe the Davisons didn’t talk much at meals, unlike her own family, who always entered into a lively discussion at mealtimes. She should stop trying so hard, she decided. It wasn’t that Ross’s family disliked her, she assured herself. It’s just that I’m a stranger, an outsider, that I don’t belong here yet. It will take time for them to get to know me, for me to know them.

  Johanna had heard somewhere that to find out what kind of a husband a man would be, watch how he treats his mother. She was touched by the gentle way Ross spoke to Eliza, the respect he showed her.

  Johanna was relieved when Ross got to his feet, saying they must go if they were to reach their own home before dark. Johanna thanked Eliza, said good-bye to Merriman and Jenny, urging her new sister-in-law and brother-in-law to come see them as soon as they were settled. She gave the little girls a special invitation to come up and visit. Ross kissed his mother’s cheek, hugged his sisters, then brought the horses around and helped Johanna mount, and they started back up the hillside.

  In spite of the fact that she had wanted it so much, that first meeting, brief as it was, put Johanna off slightly, put her on her guard. Although she had not known exactly what to expect, it had not been the welcoming she had hoped for.

  Ahead of them the mountains loomed, clouds, wreathing the summits, or opened to reveal peaks crowned with a glorious golden light. The path zigzagged upward. In the clear evening light, the mountain was bathed in sunlit isolation. “There it is, honey.” Ross pointed and Johanna saw the peaked roof of a log cabin with a wide stone chimney just ahead. “That’s our place.”

  Johanna’s heart lifted. “Our place,” Ross had said. The place where they would live as husband and wife. After all these months of longing and waiting, here at last they would begin their life together.

  When she stepped inside the cabin, it seemed dark after coming in from the brilliant sunset. She looked around. One large room with a stone fireplace at one end. Ross was behind her, waiting for her reaction. He had spent the previous week getting it ready for her. Then she saw the rocking chair. She walked over to it, admiring its smooth finish.

  “It’s a wedding present from Uncle Tanner,” Ross said. He gave it a gentle push and stood there smiling as it moved back and forth without a sound, without a creak. His hand smoothed the gleaming arms caressingly.

  “Who is Uncle Tanner?” Johanna asked.

  Ross smiled. “You’ll find out soon enough. I reckon they’ll be by to visit ‘fore too long. He and Aunt Bertie—”

  “Your aunt and uncle?” Johanna was curious because she’d never heard Ross mention them.

  “Not really, but we’ve always called them ‘Aunt and Uncle.’ I think actually they’re Ma’s cousins.”

  “Oh, I see, like my ‘aunties’ are my mother’s first cousins.”

  “That’s right,” Ross agreed, then said, “Now I’ll show you the spring.” He took her hand and led her outside. He guided her up a little rise to a clump of poplar trees, over to a ledge, and pointed, “There it is.” Johanna looked to see a natural bowl of water stan
ding clear as glass, surrounded on three sides with a ledge of rock and a tangled web of roots. Around the spring and beside the stream that flowed from it were beds of moss, and galax, and vines of other plants that bloom in summer. On the far side, overhanging the spring, were a dozen wild blackberry stalks. As they drew nearer, Ross said, “This is the lifeblood of our place, Johanna. The purest, sweetest water you’ll ever taste.” He reached down and picked up a dipper lying on the stone, filled it, and handed it to her to drink. It was just as he said, icy, delicious. She closed her eyes as she swallowed, and then she felt his lips warm on hers.

  He took the dipper from her, laid it back on the stone, put his arm around her waist, and together they walked back down the path.

  On the porch, Ross turned and pointed. “Look there, Johanna.” A summer moon was rising slowly over them. Arms around each other, waiting, they watched until it hung, a great silver dollar, above the trees. It was so exquisitely beautiful, Johanna drew in her breath.

  Then Ross swung her up into his arms and carried her into the house, saying softly, “Welcome home, Johanna.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Johanna stirred slowly out of sleep. Not fully awake, without quite opening her eyes, she was aware of brightness under her closed lids. She felt warmth. Sunlight. It’s morning, she thought drowsily. She felt a floating sensation, almost like flying. This is happiness! What I’m feeling is real, true, and it’s me and I’m happy!