by Vivi Holt
She sighed, let the sock fall into her lap and stared out the window. Life hadn’t always been this way. When Charles was alive, they’d had money to spare, at least in recent years. The first few years of their marriage, after the Civil War, they’d had to scrimp and save, but she didn’t care, being so much in love and accustomed to a life of poverty. After his death, she discovered he hadn’t saved a penny over their years together. But while he was with them, they’d lived the life she’d always dreamed of.
After growing up in the poor coal-mining town of Morgantown, Virginia, Holly Sweetman had longed to attend lavish parties, wear pretty dresses and have her hair done in the latest style. When she and her sister moved to New York after the war, she’d attended a church picnic, hoping to catch the eye of one of the eligible bachelors in the city, in an attempt to change their fortunes and put the past behind them.
And she’d succeeded. Charles Bristol was handsome, enigmatic and soon had eyes only for the pretty, vivacious Holly. He’d returned from the war with a new outlook on life, and though his parents didn’t approve of the match he refused to heed their warnings. He and Holly were married on a Friday down at the courthouse – a great scandal at the time, but she sighed with pleasure at the memory. In her mind his rebellion had been spurred by love, and she could think of nothing more romantic.
After his folks finally recovered from the shock of their eldest son marrying an Appalachian orphan girl at the local courthouse, they told him he’d have to make do on his own – since he’d refused to listen to them, he wouldn’t inherit a penny. But he didn’t budge, just tipped his hat, smiled and walked away with Holly’s hand on his arm. And the two of them never looked back.
She sighed as she returned to her darning. A fire crackled in the hearth, its warmth filling the parlor. She heard the cook in the kitchen banging pots and pans and humming a Gaelic tune. Her mind wandered while she worked. Dreaming of the past had become a way for her to escape the present, and she indulged more than she should.
She and Charles had it all. With the income from his job as a bank manager, he bought them a house in one of the most prominent neighborhoods in town. She had everything she wanted: a ladies’ maid, fashionable clothing, a barouche to carry her to parties and events, even a cook to prepare their meals.
When Tripp arrived, a chubby baby boy whose hearty cries could wake the entire neighborhood, Holly felt her heart might burst with pride and love. He was a handsome little fellow and she had difficulty disciplining him – especially since he always knew his own mind, something Holly had rarely experienced. As a result, he usually got his way and was hardly ever reprimanded. His parents were grateful that he was generally cheerful and kind, and their home was a warm and happy one.
When Tripp was two, another bundle arrived. Sarah came into the world with a serious look on her heart-shaped face, and Holly and Charles often joked that she seemed to have been born a schoolmistress. Her goal in life was to make certain everyone did as they ought and that all were treated rightly and fairly. She was soon followed by Heather, the opposite of her sister – messy, unruly and forever covered in mud or jam or both. She seemed determined to never wear a pair of matching stockings or be found with shoes on both feet.
Two more years passed and their happy family of five became six when Edward joined their brood, and seven when Eleanor arrived. By this time, the house that seemed so large and spacious when Charles bought it years earlier suddenly felt cramped and crowded. The noise the children generated often left Holly with a headache by day’s end, and though Charles hired a nanny to help her, many nights she fell into bed exhausted before he even returned home from the bank.
Charles worked long hours to provide for his family, though he never complained about it. When he was home, he smiled wide and roughhoused with the kids, chasing them around the house until, laughing, Holly had to remind him they needed to settle before bedtime. Those were happy times, and remembering them made her throat ache. The scarlet fever that took him from them last winter came so suddenly, there was no way to prepare.
Only after his death did she find that the ongoing financial panic had wiped out their savings. With no income, they’d lost their house soon afterward. She was grateful for her sister and brother-in-law, who’d taken her and the children in when they had nowhere else to turn. Her sister Eve visited the day before their eviction and offered a place in her and her husband Rodney’s home until she could get back on her feet.
Holly ran her hand along a window frame in the three-story brick house and bit her lower lip. When would she be back on her feet, and how? She couldn’t work, not with five children to care for. And even if she could, there was no way she could earn enough to house, feed and clothe them all. She ran a hand over her neatly combed blonde chignon with a sigh. There was only one thing she could do, and she knew her sister was counting on her to do it. Remarry. But who would marry a woman with so many children?
Through the window she saw Edward, now five, digging in the garden. His favorite thing in the world was to dig. And since he didn’t have a spade of his own, he used anything he could get his hands on: sticks, rocks, even the gardener’s tools (much to the gardener’s dismay). She’d chastised him so many times, she couldn’t bring herself to do it again now. Watching him so happy, mouthing the words to a song while he worked, she hated to interrupt.
When she’d been mistress of her own home, she’d let him dig in the pumpkin patch as much as he wished. He’d been as happy as a lark there, his small shovel clutched between chubby fingers and a mud-smudged grin on his round face. But now they were visitors in someone else’s home and she couldn’t make the rules any longer, couldn’t give her children the freedom they longed for.
She stood with another sigh and set her darning on the small side table next to the horsehair settee where she loved to spend afternoons watching the children play in the garden. She’d better have a word with Eddie before he uprooted his uncle’s prize rose bushes. She hurried through the parlor, past the roaring fireplace to the mudroom, tugged on her coat and scarf and stepped outside, rubbing her hands together in front of her mouth to warm them with her breath.
Just as she reached the staircase that led down to the garden, she saw Rodney, her brother-in-law and master of the house, marching through the gate. She gasped, realizing it was too late. She could tell by the black look on his rotund face, his reddening cheeks and the way his thick dark eyebrows were drawn low over his small piggish eyes. He’d spotted Edward’s digging.
Rodney reached the boy in a few long strides and picked him up by his collar. “I caught you, you little beast!” he bellowed, his eyes looking as though they might pop from their sockets in his rage.
Edward cried out, a shriek of fear and pain that tore through Holly’s heart. She lifted her skirts and ran down the garden path toward them. She reached them and raised her hands toward where Edward hung, his feet kicking the empty air. “Eddie, I’ve told you not to dig around Uncle Rodney’s rose bushes. I’m so sorry, it won’t happen again, Rodney, I can promise you that …”
Rodney’s furious gaze landed on her. “You have no control over this child!” he huffed loudly. “I’ve seen your idea of punishment. There’s no discipline! He needs a firm hand and you fail to employ it. Well, no more – this time, I’ll set the punishment. He must stand in the corner of the parlor for the entire evening and go without his supper.”
Holly’s brow furrowed and she twisted her fingers together. “Now, Rodney my dear, it’s just a small hole in the dirt, nothing to get so worked up about. Look, I’ll just fill it in with my boot … see? There now, it’s all fixed. I don’t think we should take it so far. He’s only a small boy, he doesn’t understand …”
Rodney’s face turned purple as it contorted. “That is the exact problem, right here! You spoil the child!” He set Edward on the ground, keeping a firm hold on his collar, and marched into the house. Edward staggered behind him, sobbing and crying out each time
his uncle jerked him forward.
“Rodney!” Holly hurried after them, still wringing her hands. “Please, can’t you see you’re hurting the child?” Her heart felt as though a hundred horses were racing a circuit inside it, and sweat ran down her back, soaking the fabric of her bodice. What could she do? She couldn’t bear little Edward’s whimpering.
Rodney shoved Edward toward a corner of the parlor, then turned to her, combing his fingers through his beard until it looked wild. His cheeks burned like flames. “There – that’s what he deserves! And none too soon as far as I’m concerned!” He brushed his hands together as if pleased with himself and marched from the room.
Holly glanced at Edward as she fought back tears. It was completely unfair to treat him that way – his entire life had been uprooted, his father was dead and now he was being punished for being a little boy. She wanted to leap onto her brother-in-law’s back and pound him with her fists, but instead she folded her hands in front of her and scurried from the room in his wake.
He’d retired to his office, throwing himself into the oversized armchair behind the mahogany desk where his papers were neatly stacked beside a large ashtray. He pulled his pipe from the top drawer and set the end of it between his teeth.
Holly took a long breath. She should think before she spoke, lest she say something she’d regret. “Rodney …”
“Don’t bother trying to petition me on the boy’s behalf. He’s done his dash with me.”
She frowned, her nostrils flaring.
“And I’ll ask you to leave me be, as I’ve a good mind to … no. I’ll say no more on the subject now. But if you care for your own wellbeing, you should go.” His eyes narrowed and he patted his vest pockets, one at a time, until he found a pouch of tobacco and removed the pipe from his mouth to stuff its round end full. Finally he lit the pipe and inhaled a mouthful of smoke with a satisfied smile.
Holly closed her eyes and pushed her shoulders back, tipping her head up until her chin jutted forward. This wasn’t the end of the matter as far as she was concerned. She knew it was his house, but he had no right to discipline her children for her. That was her job, and though she’d had everything else taken from her and felt as though she couldn’t sink any lower, the children were still hers. She spun on her heel and left the room. “Of all the pompous …,” she muttered, gaining speed and steam as she went. “How dare he?”
But as she made it up the stairs and flung herself onto her bed, her anger dissipated and was replaced by fear. There wasn’t anything she could do – she and the children were at Rodney’s mercy. They had to take whatever treatment he deemed fit to give them. She rubbed her eyes and released a single sob. “Oh Lord, what shall I do?”
The question hung in the air, and she felt hopelessness descend over her. There was nothing to be done. She and her offspring lived off her brother-in-law’s charity, and she was being ungrateful after all he’d done for them. Of course he had a right to insist Edward not dig up his garden, or Heather not whistle in the house as he’d done earlier that morning. It was his house, and his rules must be upheld.
She sighed and let her mind drift back once again to Charles. This time she was digging in the garden, kneeling on a rug beside the bed, pulling weeds with gloved hands. Her distended belly, Eleanor inside, made her back ache. She held her hand over it as the kick of a small foot brought a smile to her face, then reached down again to yank a particularly stubborn weed.
Charles snuck up behind her just as the roots gave way. She sent the weed flying over her shoulder, her eyes widening in dismay as she saw it smack her husband in the forehead. Dirt fell in his hair and down the collar of his shirt. He froze, his eyebrows low over sparkling blue eyes. She grimaced and shrugged … and he leaped at her, tickling her beneath her arms and up and down her sides.
She laughed hysterically and attempted to wriggle free, but he tightened his grasp. His own low chuckle only made her laugh harder. Careful not to bump her bulging stomach, he threw his arms around her and pulled her close as his lips closed over hers. Her eyes drifted shut and she relaxed in his embrace as a deep sense of warmth, belonging and love flooded her soul.
When he pulled away, he looked at her, the corners of his mouth twitching with glee. “You’re a terrible gardener, Mrs. Bristol,” he’d crooned. “Just as well I didn’t marry you for that, but for other reasons entirely.” She’d blushed beneath his gaze and giggled as he bent to kiss her again.
Holly sighed and opened her eyes, the memory fading as she stared at the vaulted ceiling above the bed. Charles was gone, and so was the home they’d built and shared. Now she had to rely on the fragile largesse of her family to care for her children.
A sharp rap on the bedroom door made her sit up straight with a start. “Yes?”
The door creaked open and her sister Eve peered around its edge. “Holly, do you have a moment?” she asked in her thin high-pitched voice.
Holly nodded. “Of course, Eve dear – come on in.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, hoping her sister hadn’t seen.
Eve sat beside her on the bed and drew a long, deliberate breath.
Holly’s pulse quickened and she glanced with worry at her sister’s peaked face. “What is it, Eve?”
Eve faced her and took Holly’s hands in hers, her cheeks growing pinker with each passing moment. “Holly, I don’t know how to say this …” Her gaze dropped to the bed and she sniffled, then pulled a handkerchief from her skirt pocket and dabbed at her nostrils.
Holly waited, her breath frozen in her throat.
“I do wish you wouldn’t fight with Rodney so.” Eve sniffed again, looking up at Holly with bloodshot eyes.
“I’m sorry, Eve, I didn’t intend to. It’s just that … well, you know how protective I am of the children, especially after losing Charles and the house … I just want to take care of them and perhaps I overreact sometimes.” She squeezed her eyes shut.
When she opened them again, her sister’s glimmered with unshed tears. “Holly, Rodney says you must leave.”
Holly frowned. “What?”
Eve burst into tears, covering her face with her handkerchief. “He says you’ve overstayed your welcome and you and the children must find somewhere else to live. Oh, I’m so sorry, Holly! I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t listen …”
Holly’s eyes widened. What was Eve saying? Leave … how could they leave? She had five children – there was nowhere else for them to go. Charles’ family had disowned him, so they certainly wouldn’t take her in. Her own family consisted only of Eve, Rodney and some distant cousins in Massachusetts she’d never met. “But Eve, what in Heaven’s name do you mean? Where will we go?”
“Rodney says he doesn’t care where you go, so long as you don’t come back. Oh, my darling sister – what will you do?” Eve collapsed against Holly’s shoulder, her tears wetting the wool of her dress
Holly’s heart thundered in her chest. She sat still, thoughts whirling in her head. She’d talk with the children, tell them to behave better. Surely Rodney would change his mind. Perhaps if they played more quietly, helped more around the house … maybe they could stay. Fear wove itself around her heart and curled into a lead ball in her gut.
2
Kurt’s eyes flicked open. He blinked. The room he was in tipped and swayed, out of focus. He kept blinking, and slowly his eyes adjusted to the dim light. He could hear rainfall pounding on the roof. He was in a small space, felt the walls closing in on him. He sat up quickly with a gasp, feeling as though something was crushing his chest.
“There now, Mr. Sawyer, just lay back down again. Yer hurt real bad and ya need the rest. Dr. White’ll be right back – he just stepped out to get fresh bandages. We had to wash ‘em after the Stanton boy got his leg run over a few days ago and had to be wrapped from ankle to hip.” The woman who spoke chuckled and stepped closer to him, a cup of water in her plump hands. “Here, have a sip.”
Kurt nodded, took the cu
p and swallowed a mouthful, then winced as the pain in his head rushed back. He’d hurt himself, but how? His head was foggy, and he found himself reaching for thoughts, but they kept swirling away. “What am I doing here?” he finally rasped.
The woman’s eyebrows arched in surprise and she rested a hand on his shoulder. “Lay back down, Mr. Sawyer, and I’ll tell ya all about it.”
He complied, grimacing as more pain flooded his neck, shoulder and back.
“Ya came knockin’ on our door a half-hour ago. Ya didn’t say a word, just fell down soon as my husband opened the door. Wasn’t hard to figger out why – ya had hoof prints on yer head, big ones. That jog yer memory any?” She reached for a damp washcloth on the edge of a porcelain bowl beside the bed, then dabbed his forehead, gradually working toward the crown of his head.
He shuddered as a wave of pain and nausea burst over his consciousness.
“Sorry. I’m sure that hurts. Just tryin’ to get it clean – ya got all kinds of mud and grit in these wounds.”
Kurt studied her face as she bent over him. She looked like a kindly grandmother – gray curls, blue eyes sparkling beneath thin eyebrows, a turned-up nose, dimples at the corners of her mouth. “Thank you,” he mumbled.
“Don’t mention it.”
He heard footsteps and glanced at the foot of the bed. Dr. White was there, frowning. “Howdy, Doc.” He tried to smile, but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate.
“Mr. Sawyer. Glad to see you’ve recovered your senses. Can you tell me what happened?”
Kurt closed his eyes, feeling the room spin. He sat up – and immediately threw up, right into a bowl the doctor swung in front of him at the last moment. Mrs. White wiped his mouth clean, then rinsed the washcloth in the bowl. “Sorry,” Kurt mumbled, laying back down again with a gasp as another stab of pain shot through his head.
