Eventide

by Sarah Goodman

  Unease slithered over my skin. We moved a few paces away, but I kept an eye on Lilah, who carried on a bashful conversation with Miss Maeve.

  Miss Pimsler placed a hand on my shoulder. “I would’ve liked to prepare you both, but the board of directors asks us to wait until a family is ready to take custody of the child before we explain.” She took a bracing breath. “Please understand, this is the policy of the Children’s Benevolence Society, and we stand by our rules. Like all new parents, Miss Maeve is approved to adopt one child.”

  I felt myself sliding toward a precipice, clutching for anything to stop the descent. Miss Pimsler fixed me with a determined stare. At her next words, I plummeted over the edge. “She’s taking Lilah. And you won’t be going with them.”

  2

  I rocked back on my heels, the words slamming into me like a physical blow. They couldn’t take Lilah from me. It was impossible. From the tumult of protests and arguments in my mind, a single question surfaced. “Why?”

  “It’s for the best.” Miss Pimsler spoke each syllable with precision. “Adding only one child is less of a burden to new parents, both financially and emotionally. And starting with a clean slate is better for the children. No reminders of the past, you see.” She nodded, the feathers on her ridiculous hat trembling. “Now, if there had been relatives willing to take you both, that might be different, but since there were none—”

  “Take us back to New York,” I demanded. Blood pulsed loud and wild in my ears. “I can take care of us. I always have.” Curious eyes turned in our direction. “You have no right to separate us!”

  “Mr. Lybrand and Miss Donovan agreed with the policy, as did all parents who applied to take in a child,” Miss Pimsler said. “We typically don’t send siblings on the same train, but in your case … well, after all you’ve been through, we made an exception. Be grateful for this opportunity, Verity. Some people have a difficult time welcoming strangers, children or not. Finding homes, even separate ones, is a blessing indeed.”

  I turned to Miss Maeve, who looked at me with sorrowful eyes. “Please, Miss Maeve. I can work to earn our keep. I’ll do anything. I’ll sleep in the stable if there isn’t room in the house. Speak with your uncle.” I looked around wildly for Mr. Lybrand. “Or let me talk to him.”

  Miss Maeve backed away, looking unsettled by my agitation. She twisted her hands miserably. “Verity, I’m so sorry. I tried—”

  “Then try harder!” I shouted, grabbing the woman’s sleeve. Beside us, Lilah’s face was pale under her freckles. Miss Maeve gasped, trying to pull away, but I held my ground.

  A heavy hand clamped down on my shoulder. I lashed out, throwing an elbow without stopping to see who I might hit. The blow landed against something hard and sharp-edged. Whirling, I found myself facing a barrel-chested man with dark eyes.

  He straightened the badge pinned to his chest. “That’s enough.” He set his feet with a jangle of spurs. “I’m Sheriff Loftis, head of the adoption committee. If you can’t behave yourself, young lady, I’ll have you back on that train and shipped off in two shakes.” His threat sent a wash of cold through my chest.

  Lilah shook her head. “I don’t want you to leave me, Very.” Her voice hitched when she spoke.

  Miss Maeve bent to Lilah’s eye level. “Shhhh.… Don’t fret. I’d be upset too, if I were in your place. But you’ll be happy at our home. I promise. And Verity can come visit us.”

  As Miss Maeve comforted my sister, Sheriff Loftis leaned close, his breath smelling of snuff tobacco. “Miss Maeve’s kind to offer visits with your sister, but they won’t be allowed if you prove to be a troublemaker. This town isn’t a place for those who can’t follow the law and act respectable.”

  Lilah’s eyes shone with unshed tears. I swallowed my own swelling panic, shooting a glance at the dwindling crowd of locals who might take me in. If I didn’t wrangle my emotions, I could easily find myself kept from seeing my sister. Or worse, living in another state altogether.

  I plastered on a smile. “Miss Maeve will take good care of you; I just know it.” Miss Maeve shot me a grateful look. Being separated from Lilah shook me to the core, but in truth, I had no reason to believe she wouldn’t be looked after. “And I’ll see you soon.”

  Lilah’s chin wobbled, just a little. At last she nodded, looking as stunned as I felt. Miss Maeve rubbed her back, easing her gently away from me. “You let us know where you’re staying, Verity. We’ll arrange a visit as soon as possible.”

  The grumble of an engine announced Mr. Lybrand’s return. His dark green Model F Ford barely registered in my panicked mind as he pulled to a stop nearby. Miss Pimsler was talking at me now. “… and from what I’ve gathered, Miss Maeve Donovan is tremendously well liked. She’s the teacher at the local school, you know. Lilah is a lucky girl.…”

  Everything sounded muffled and distant. I stared at Lilah, tucked neatly between the smartly dressed Mr. Lybrand and the pristine beauty of Miss Maeve on the car’s shiny leather seat. She looked like the happy ending to a sad story, the fortunate child rescued by wealthy benefactors.

  Lilah waved a hesitant goodbye over her shoulder. I lifted my hand in reply, dazed, as a cloud of dust covered their departure. And in one fell swoop, I was utterly alone.

  Sheriff Loftis watched the car disappear, then marched away, spurs jingling. Miss Pimsler’s attention was immediately taken by a family asking questions about their new little boy. I snatched the opportunity and slipped away. Something she’d said had given me an idea.

  My trunk sat forlorn on the dusty ground near the front of the church. I flung the lid open, pausing at the sight of pages covered with Lilah’s looping cursive.

  With no blank sheets left, I tore the flyleaf from a biology text. Damaging Papa’s book felt almost sacrilegious, but it couldn’t be helped. Using Lilah’s pen, I dashed off a letter to our aunt Susan.

  After folding another flyleaf to form a makeshift envelope, I gathered my few remaining coins for postage and hurried across the square to a post office I’d spied earlier. I borrowed some sealing wax from the postmaster and sent the letter off with a silent prayer. “Please let this work,” I breathed.

  Stepping back out onto the awning-covered sidewalk, I paused to let a buggy driven by Sheriff Loftis pass. A dark-haired girl of about my age rode beside him. The sheriff ignored me, but the girl gave a covert wave. I nodded my acknowledgment and crossed back to the churchyard, where Miss Pimsler was fluttering about.

  She turned a mildly annoyed gaze my way. “Where have you been, Verity? There aren’t many families left who haven’t made a choice, and it’s harder finding people to take the older children.” She pursed her lips. “Especially those who don’t try to make themselves agreeable.”

  “In that case, you’ll have to excuse me.” I gave a slight curtsy. “I need to mingle with the good people of Wheeler and find someone in the market for a disagreeable girl.”

  I made my way back to the court square, looking for any adults holding adoption paperwork who didn’t already have an orphan-train passenger by their side.

  A skinny woman with well-worn furrows on her forehead and a mountainous man sporting a white push-broom mustache appeared to be the only remaining couple. The woman picked a stray bit of hay from the man’s overall strap as she spoke in an anxious voice. I moved closer, catching fragments of her words. “… supposed to have been older ones. The paper said all ages, girls and boys. If we’d seen that list with their names and ages before we came to town, we could’ve saved the trip.”

  I paused a few feet away from the pair and cleared my throat. The woman turned, crossing her arms. “Do you need somethin’?” She was a direct person, then. I could deal with direct.

  “It looks like I’m the runt of the litter and nobody wanted to take me home.” The woman set her lips in a grim line. “I’m Verity Pruitt, and I need a place to stay.”

  “Hettie Weatherington,” she said. “And this is my husband, Big Tom.”
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br />   A wordless exchange passed between them, and then the giant man said in a slow, deep voice, “We could always hire a hand from the next county over.” The final few carriages rolled away, leaving me standing before my last hope, a couple who didn’t seem to want me.

  “No, please.” I moved closer, tilted my head up to look the towering farmer in the eye. His shaggy gray brows lifted in surprise. “Whatever you need help with, I can do it, if you’ll only give me a chance.” I’d manage to spin straw into gold if it meant holding on to my last opportunity for staying near Lilah.

  Hettie shot a glance at Big Tom. “What do you think?”

  He raised one shoulder in a slow shrug. “I reckon it can’t hurt to give her a try.” He stretched the a in can’t so that it rhymed with saint.

  “You strike me as a girl with a lot of want-to.” Hettie tightened the knot of graying hair at her nape, then thrust a sinewy hand in my direction. I tried not to wince at her grip. Hettie was short and thin, but strong.

  “We’ll do this as an indenture, on a trial basis, mind you,” she said. “After a month, if you’re doing well, you’ll start earning a wage. It won’t be as much as a hired hand would make, but it’ll be something more than you’ve got now.”

  And enough, I hoped, to get back home when the time came. “Thank you. You won’t regret it.”

  Hettie nodded, looking dubious. “Go on and tell that woman we’re taking her,” she said to her husband. Big Tom’s mustache slid up with a hidden smile as he ambled away to do his wife’s bidding.

  When he returned a moment later, Miss Pimsler scooted along in his wake like a tugboat after a steamer. “I believe you’ll find farm life suits you far better than you expect, Verity,” Miss Pimsler said, rubbing a hand over tired eyes. “Hard work and fresh air are wonderfully invigorating.” She looked suddenly weary, as if worn out by her own relentless optimism.

  Big Tom proffered the indenture papers. We’d been told older children might be indentured rather than adopted, since we were close to adulthood and, theoretically, independence. If only the Children’s Benevolence Society had waited a few more months, until I was of age, Lilah could’ve stayed with me and none of this upheaval would’ve been necessary. I stooped to rest the papers on the trunk that held the remnants of my former life, then crossed the t’s in my last name with a violent slash before handing the documents back to Miss Pimsler.

  Despite my resentment toward the woman, a part of me understood she was doing what she believed was best. She just happened to be wrong. “Goodbye, Miss Pimsler. Have a safe trip back to New York.”

  “I’ll see you and all the others when I return for a welfare check in the fall,” she said, her face unexpectedly somber. “Verity, give this new start the chance it deserves. Try to bloom where you’re planted.”

  I turned to follow the Weatheringtons, thinking how foolish it would be to put down roots in a place I’d be leaving soon.

  My trunk left shallow trails in the dusty ground as I dragged it to Big Tom’s buckboard. I heaved it in, hauled myself up, and leaned against the splintery wood of the side rails. Fatigue crashed over me. I yawned and didn’t bother to cover my mouth. If Big Tom or Hettie cared to examine my molars to see if their new workhorse was a good one, now was their chance.

  When Big Tom resumed his seat and the wagon was again in motion, Hettie gave me a bundled napkin and a Mason jar of water. “Figured you’d be hungry.” She’d packed a slab of salt meat and a thick slice of fresh bread for the boy she’d expected to bring home. I wished Lilah were here to share it. Had she eaten yet? I chewed, forcing my eyes to stay open, and watched the tiny town of Wheeler fade until it was swallowed by the endless sky.

  We followed a dirt road that was little more than wagon-wheel ruts, heading toward the woods I’d noticed earlier. But when the path drew within shouting distance of the tree line, it abruptly broke off, running parallel to the woods in both directions. In my weary state, I wondered why the road ringed the little forest instead of passing straight through. Perhaps everyone here was so unhurried, the circuitous route hardly mattered.

  The ride from town took half an hour with the cart horse’s leisurely pace. We reached the Weatheringtons’ farm as twilight drifted down. Fireflies hovered low over the grass, their greenish-yellow glow winking off and on.

  Big Tom stopped the buggy in front of a faded white two-story farmhouse. My legs had gone to sleep during the ride and I stumbled as I followed Hettie across the parched front yard.

  “Your room is in the attic,” she said, pushing open the squealing screen door. I mumbled my thanks, following her up a set of creaky stairs into a room with a sloped ceiling. She handed me a lit candle and bid me good night. “Get some rest, girl,” Hettie said, her no-nonsense voice edging toward gentleness. “You look dead on your feet.”

  I could only manage a nod in reply as she left. Concern for Lilah took up all my remaining energy. Would the stern Mr. Lybrand be harsh with her? Would Miss Maeve have the courage to defend Lilah if her uncle was unkind?

  But even my worries couldn’t survive the siphoning fatigue, and I fell into bed. Consciousness blinked out like the lights of the fireflies in the field.

  3

  An agonized noise shredded the air. I sat bolt upright in the dark bedroom, adrenaline surging through my limbs.

  For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. Then the last few days came back in a rush: I was in Arkansas, on a farm, where I was supposed to be the new hired help. And based on the thump of feet hurrying up the stairs to my attic room, I feared I was about to receive a sudden initiation into my new job.

  Hettie barreled in as I scrambled out of bed. She frowned at the candle stump still guttering feebly on the table at my bedside. I’d fallen asleep without putting it out.

  “We’ve got a mama cow having trouble.” Hettie tossed a bundle on the foot of the bed. “Here’s work clothes and boots. Get on out to the barn, quick as you can,” she said before rushing out.

  I buttoned the short-sleeved work dress, tugged on the too-big boots, and clattered down the stairs with nerves humming. The screen door gave an indignant creak when I pushed it open. Shoulders back, I headed out across the dew-spangled lawn.

  A heavy wash of stars covered the sky, pinpricks of light against the inky blue-black. In the dim predawn, a huge barn loomed at the edge of the yard. The bellowing sound rolling from the open doors gave the impression that the building itself was screaming.

  I hesitated in the doorway. The cavernous space was full of the scent of manure and the rusty tang of blood. Big Tom crouched in the center of the dirt floor beside a massive black animal. His hands moved expertly over the creature’s distended abdomen. A lantern hung from a peg on the far wall, its feeble light shining on the cow’s heaving side. I’d seen cows before, but only as sides of beef. This was my first encounter with the living, breathing article.

  Another earsplitting bellow vibrated through the humid air. I felt my own eyes go wide when I saw two tiny hooves protruding from the cow’s body.

  Hettie emerged from a stall to the right, a thick coil of rope slung over her shoulder. She wobbled a bit under the weight before flinging it down beside her husband and motioning me over.

  “It’s full breech. We’ll have to pull it,” Big Tom said, securing a length of rope around the spindly legs poking out from the mother. Hettie stepped into place behind him. My breaths came quick and fluttery as I took up the rear. Big Tom gave a nod, and we pulled.

  The cow groaned, and a bit more of the calf’s legs appeared. Another tug brought the end of a tail into view. But on the next try, nothing happened. Big Tom’s face went red with strain. “Can you pull any harder?” Hettie looked over her shoulder at me, and I saw real worry in her lined face.

  “I’m trying,” I grunted.

  The sound of running feet carried over the cow’s labored panting. From the corner of my eye, I caught a blur of motion just before someone pressed in close behind me. “Sorry I
’m late, Aunt Het.” The voice was deep, with a molasses-thick drawl.

  “Where have you been?” Hettie sounded relieved in spite of herself. “I came to fetch you, but you weren’t in the loft.”

  I shifted enough to see a tall boy with hair the color of straw wrapping the rope firmly around his hands. “I’ve got places to go and people to see,” he said breezily. “Pull on three? One … two…” The “three” was cut short as we all strained in unison.

  With startling speed, the calf slipped to the ground in a wet tangle of limbs. The exhausted mother stretched her neck out on the dirt floor with a soft lowing sound. When her calf bawled in reply, I dropped the rope and released a long-held breath.

  The blond boy took down the lantern and knelt beside Big Tom. His brown britches were patched at the knees, but clean. A cotton shirt worn thin from countless washings hung open at the collar, showing a wide swath of suntanned skin.

  “Let’s see what we have here,” he said, untying the rope from the calf’s legs and carefully settling the ungainly, bloody newborn on its feet. Grabbing an empty feed sack from the ground, he murmured softly to the calf as he wiped it clean. His broad hands moved over the animal’s reddish hair with practiced, gentle strokes. “You’re a fine young fellow, aren’t you?” He glanced at the mother cow, his eyes soft with concern. “We’ll get your mama up and about in no time. Y’all will both be all right.” A flutter of surprise lofted through my chest. I hadn’t expected such tenderness on the farm.

  The boy looked up at me, his light brows raised. “Are you the new hand come to help out?”

  A little knot of defeat formed in the pit of my stomach. Big Tom and Hettie needed a worker who could make a real contribution. Until this boy arrived, my help hadn’t been enough. I had to improve. It was my only chance of staying and being near my sister.

  I nodded in reply to the boy’s question. His eyes locked on mine. “Well now, you’re not exactly what I was expecting.”