The remark was acid on a wound. I pulled myself to my full height, annoyed to still have to look up at him. He couldn’t know my father was a madman, but my voice still came out low and dangerous, a snake hidden in the grass. “It’s anything but considerate to poke fun at a person’s sanity,” I said.
“Are all Yankees this touchy?” Abel tilted his head, appraising me. “I meant it for a joke, that’s all. Look, I stand by my offer, whether you like it or not. I’ll get the mama and her little one situated by myself.”
“I don’t want your pity. And please don’t talk down to me.” My voice shook, like it always did when I was angry. Blowing out a hot sigh, I looked around the barn, suddenly furious that this was my new life. I set my face in stone. “I’m here to work, not to be coddled.”
Abel’s expression darkened. “Fine. I apologize for being friendly. I won’t make that mistake again.”
I nodded. “I’ll earn my keep as long as I’m stuck in this place.”
“‘This place’?” Under a day’s growth of blond stubble, Abel’s cheeks reddened. “I see now. You think you’re too good to live here.”
“I most certainly don’t think that,” I retorted. Abel snorted in reply. “And don’t make that noise like … like … some disgruntled horse.”
“I can read your opinion of Wheeler all over your face, Miss Pruitt.” He paused, frowning. “And yes, I can read. We’re not all illiterate.”
“If you’re feeling inferior, that’s not my doing. I certainly don’t consider myself better than you, or anyone else.” A half-truth, at best. My stomach twisted with shame, but I held my ground. I’d had bigger plans for myself than life as an indentured orphan, working on a farm, and I’d not apologize for that.
We faced each other, arms crossed and scowling, until the bawling of the calf diverted Abel’s attention. He stooped to rub behind its ear again, then pointed to an empty bucket. “All right then. Haul some water in for the cow and calf while I get them into a stall.”
I returned with my dress splashed from the knees down. My arm had gone rubbery with fatigue, and the bucket’s metal handle left a bloody scrape across my tender palm. I set the water down with a slosh. Abel doffed an imaginary hat, sweeping into a facetious bow. “Much obliged.” I gave a curt nod and marched out of the barn.
Sunrise broke over the tops of the distant trees, spreading a soft blush up and out from the horizon. A bank of low clouds trapped the glow and cast it back over the fields. I wondered if Lilah was awake to see this first dawn in our unexpected new lives. I turned a slow circle, taking in my surroundings for the first time.
The yard around the house was patchy, more dust than grass, with barns and sheds of all sizes cropping up like mushrooms across the property. To the east, a ring of spindly apple trees made a scant orchard near a rutted gravel road. Beyond, a barren field of wildflower-dotted grass divided the Weatherington land from the woods I’d noticed last night.
There were no other houses in sight. If I wanted to, I could easily pretend the farm was the only inhabited place on earth. Apart from the watchful inspection of a few goats in a nearby pen, I was alone.
I found I didn’t like it in the least.
4
After a quick wash at the outdoor pump, I crossed the back porch into the kitchen.
A long table circled by three chairs sat elbow to elbow alongside a large porcelain sink and a hulking cookstove. Ducking under the cast-iron skillets hanging from a rack overhead, I made my way past the table, noting a mismatched stool drawn up next to one of the three straight-backed chairs. That would be mine, I supposed.
Hettie pushed through the screen door, a basket of eggs in the crook of her elbow. She stopped when she saw me, and I realized we were both unsure of what to say.
“I’m sorry for not being much use this morning,” I began. “Anyone who wants to be a doctor can handle a little blood, but I’m afraid my muscles aren’t as stout as my nerves.”
Hettie took in the doctor remark with a cocked eyebrow, then considered for a moment. “Don’t be too hard on yourself,” she said at last, in what I was learning was her usual brisk manner. “You’ll do better next time.”
I mustered a smile. “I hope so.”
Hettie finished cooking while I set the table. Abel strode in, a pail full of frothy milk in hand. He set it by the icebox without so much as a glance in my direction, then moved to the stove, swooping in for a piece of bacon. “Quit!” Hettie said, giving his hand a sharp swat. Abel dropped into his chair with a smirk. As Hettie pulled back, I noticed a cord of thin leather tied around her wrist. It ran through two stones, one a smooth, pale blue-gray, the other brown and knobby. Neither looked like my idea of a pretty accessory, but I asked about them in the spirit of making conversation.
“Where did you get your bracelet?”
“My charms?” Hettie’s rough fingers strayed to the little stones. “Had them since I was a girl. Blue river rock for luck, and a bladder stone from a deer, to fend off sickness.”
Hettie seemed like such a levelheaded person. I hadn’t expected her to fall prey to superstition. “Do they work?” I asked, knowing full well they did not.
Hettie shrugged a scrawny shoulder. “Maybe they do, maybe they don’t. But they can’t harm nothing, the way I see it.” Deciding that flights of fancy were true could indeed cause harm, as I well knew from my father’s experience.
I pulled up my wobbly stool just as Big Tom lumbered in to settle at the head of the table. Hettie took her place at the far end. When they bowed their heads, I followed suit. There was an unexpected mix of folklore and faith in this place.
Big Tom’s prayer was brief. “Lord, bless this meal to the nourishment of our bodies and our bodies to your service. And if you see fit, send some rain. Amen.”
Hettie and Abel echoed his “amen.” By the time mine followed, a beat too late, Hettie was already handing around a plate of fluffy biscuits. I grabbed one and reached for a second to pass to Lilah. My hand hung in the air for an awkward moment as I remembered that, for the first time in years, I didn’t have another mouth to feed.
“My sister, Lilah, was taken in by Miss Maeve Donovan. Do you think she’ll be good to her?” I asked, surprising myself with the question.
Big Tom looked up from his plate, nodding slowly. “If anybody was ever born to be a mama, I reckon it’s Miss Maeve.”
Relief seeped through my sadness. At least Lilah would have someone competent to care for her until I could reclaim her.
“I about dropped dead from shock when I heard old Lybrand was letting her take in a little one,” Hettie went on. “Nicest thing he ever did, to be sure.”
“They got a fine place to raise a child,” Big Tom noted. “They live on the edge of the woods, about two miles from here. Nice, big house. Old Lybrand’s got plenty of money.”
Hettie’s lips thinned. “I reckon we’d all live high on the hog if we were crooked as Mr. Lybrand. And Heaven knows he treats Miss Maeve bad.”
“What do you mean by that?” My fingers tightened around my napkin, my momentary relief dissipating. “Is Lilah in danger?”