“For today at least, I’ll walk thee home,” I offered. Chatting with her for only a moment had already raised my spirits. “Would strolling together suit? It’s a lovely afternoon, and I would welcome a chance to visit with thee.” Maybe after our conversation I’d be reinvigorated enough to make the effort to find Bertie in the last place I could think of.
“Then we’ve got a deal.” She extended a hand toward me.
“Let’s see. I’m with my bicycle, and it walks best if I have both hands on the handlebars. How about if thee holds this one here.” I guided her hand to the left handgrip. “I’ll place my hand next to thine and we’ll walk together.”
“I like the way you think, Rose. But warn me if I’m about to encounter obstacles like bricks out of place or tree roots growing up out of the paving stones.” She rubbed her nose with her free hand. “I came by this crooked nose courtesy of a sawhorse set up where it oughtn’t have been. I got all tangled up in it and crashed right onto my face.”
“Ouch. Is thee ready?”
She laughed again. “I’m about to trust you with my baby’s birth. I’d better be able to trust you with walking me home safely.”
We made the turn onto School Street and past the police station. I avoided even casting my eyes up the stairs toward the doors. Bertie was not back in there. She simply couldn’t be. Instead I kept a careful eye out for obstacles that could present a danger to Jeanette.
“Watch out here,” I warned. “This shop has all kinds of wares displayed on the sidewalk.” I steered her around an array of buckets, brooms, and shovels. So many things to trip on if one wasn’t aware they were there.
“Who cares for Rebecca when thee is working, Jeanette?” I asked as we passed the Josiah Bartlett statue on the corner of School and Main Streets.
“Our long-suffering nursemaid. She’s a splendid woman from Quebec, so Becky speaks French with ease now, more to Mr. Papka’s dismay. But my daughter is a handful and a half, and her nounou certainly earns her keep. I’d trust her with my own life, too. Reliable through and through.”
“Thee is fortunate in having her. I hope to start a family before long and will need to find similarly competent and trustworthy help for when I am absent.”
“I’m pleased to hear you’re looking forward to having your own babies, Rose.” She squeezed my arm.
“I very much am.”
I slowed to a stop so we could wait for the horse-drawn trolley to finish ascending the hill and round the corner on Main Street before attempting to cross. “Careful here. There’s a gap between the cobblestones in the next few steps.”
“Thank you, Rose. You’re a good set of eyes.” She sniffed. “And there’s a pile of manure to avoid, too, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Indeed, but it’s to your left,” I said. “I hear the trolley might be electrified next year. William Ellis has already begun manufacturing them on Oak Street.”
“Do tell! Won’t an electric car be exciting?”
“I suppose.” I glanced up at her as we crossed. Her expression was more alert, listening to her surroundings, than when she’d sat in my office. “Although if a line went down, everything would come to a standstill. I should think horses would be much more reliable.”
“That’s very backward thinking of you, Rose,” Jeanette said. “I’m surprised.”
“I’m not a complete dinosaur.” I gave a little laugh so she’d know I wasn’t upset. “I do have a telephone, thee knows.”
“Of course I know. And you’re right about the lines. Still, if we don’t try new inventions, no one will ever be motivated to improve them.”
Two lads my twin nephews’ age approached us. One carried a covered lunch bucket, the other a strap tightened around two books. They nudged each other when they saw Jeanette. One stuck his tongue out and crossed his eyes, while the one with the books put his hands by his ears and waggled his fingers.
The latter snickered. “Look at the deaf-mute idiot.”
“Moron,” the other called.
“Boys, for shame,” I scolded, looking sternly at them. “Moron” seemed to be the word of the week.
“Careful, she’ll call her policeman friend on you both,” Jeanette said in a mild voice.
The boys’ eyes widened and they dashed around us.
“That was despicable,” I said. “What are their parents teaching them?”
“Who knows? They might have learned it from their father and mother.” She lifted a shoulder and dropped it. “I’m used to such treatment. Their ignorance is their problem, not mine.”
“It still doesn’t make it right.” I spied some edges of sidewalk brick sticking up. “Tread carefully here, my friend. There’s a set of bricks wanting to escape up ahead.” I slowed and watched as she paid close attention to where she placed her feet. “How were thy court assignments today?” I asked after we’d cleared the problem area.
“Funny you should ask. Remember when I mentioned Mayme Settle on Tuesday?”
“Of course. And thee knows she was murdered that very night.”
“Indeed I do. Well, today’s court business included a Polish man by the name of Szczepanski who recently came over from the old country.”
“What’s the name again?” She’d said something like “shuh-Pan-ski.”
“Szczepanski. It’s not so hard to pronounce, but the spelling of the start of the name is impossible. S-Z-C-Z-E, then P-A-N-S-K-I.”
“My goodness.”
“Quite a string of consonants, isn’t it? The man speaks about six words of English, which include ‘I no speak English.’ The magistrate claimed the Pole didn’t have papers allowing him to stay. The man claims Merton Settle is his brother, and says Merton absconded with the family riches thirty years ago. I was kept busy interpreting in both directions, Polish to English and English to Polish. It’s taken the poor fellow this long to track down Mr. Settle and then to raise the money for his passage across the ocean.”
“What an interesting tale. If this Polish moniker was Merton’s name, no wonder he changed it to Settle when he immigrated.”
She laughed. “I should say.”
“John Whittier had mentioned that Merton’s wealth came by way of inheritance. I hadn’t known prior to speaking with him earlier. And why should I?”
“Truly, Rose. The likes of you and me who work for a living have no need to concern ourselves with this inheritance or that. Heirs are the stuff of the Brits, them and their snooty classes.”
I laughed. “True words. Unless the brother’s tale is true and Merton didn’t rightfully inherit his funds.” We were almost down to Patten’s Pond and Jeanette’s house, but her speaking about working had given me an idea. “Jeanette, nearly a year ago I delivered a baby boy who has ended up without the use of his eyes. I wondered if thee might be willing to speak with his parents about raising him so little Charlie can grow up with the most opportunities possible. I’m not sure they have any idea which way to turn.”
“Of course I will meet with them. What a splendid idea. How did he come to be blind?”
“I’m afraid his mother had the clap and it infected his eyes during the birth.”
She tsked. “It’s a bad disease, and so very common. Such a shame there’s no medicine able to cure it.”
“I agree completely.”
“You introduce us and I’ll spend as much time as they like talking about schooling and ways to keep him active and out in the world. He should be as independent as possible when he reaches adulthood.”
“I thank thee. Where was thee educated?”
“My parents had the foresight and the funds to send me to the Perkins School in South Boston. It’s quite a forward-thinking establishment. Why, they introduced us to braille, and they even taught us world geography with relief maps.”
“So you could feel the boundaries of the countries?”
“Yes, and the mountain ranges and the seas, as well. I can still remember how high the Himalayas rose up.”
She laughed. “They were quite strict about the girls not consorting with the boys once we entered our teen years, but you can bet we found ways. They finally instituted a series of social events, and even dances with sighted young people our age, so we would learn to comport ourselves properly.”
“Why not simply gather with your classmates of the opposite sex?”
“And give us the notion that two blind people could eventually marry each other? I don’t see a problem with such unions, but the school was dead set against it. If you ask me, they were willing to educate us but still regarded us as somehow defective rather than simply different.”
I steered a bit to the right but an overhanging tree ahead was still in Jeanette’s way. “There’s a branch about to whack thee in the face. How about if thee lays thy right hand on my shoulder from behind and puts up thy left arm to shield thy face from the branch?”
She did so. “It’s my neighbor’s tree. I keep asking him to trim it back and he never does. It gets me every time I go out walking alone. I’m going to come out some night and trim it myself, I swear.”
“And thee won’t need a light to do it by either.”
“So true, Rose.” Jeanette gave a hearty laugh. “I never need a light to do anything. It’s quite convenient, really.”
Twenty
Bertie had, in fact, been at the post office the rest of the afternoon. When I stopped by after leaving Jeanette at her destination, Bertie welcomed me to come home with her when she closed the office at five o’clock.
“Come along and we’ll have a bite to eat,” she urged.
I agreed, and we walked our steeds together, one large and breathing, one compact and steel.
She whooshed out a breath once we’d cleared downtown. “People just can’t mind their own business, Rose.”
“What does thee mean?”
“I received a note from the head of the Whittier School. Remember I’d offered to come in and speak to the children about how the postal system works?”
“Yes. Betsy in particular was quite excited about the prospect.” She had told me of the planned visit and, since she already knew Bertie, was beside herself.
“I am apparently not welcome around their children. My so-called immoral ways might corrupt their tender souls. I would surely turn them all on the path to the dreaded lesbianism.”
“No!” I halted and stared at her.
“Yes, indeed. As if I would ever bring harm to anyone, especially a child, or try to persuade someone to . . .” Her voice trailed off in frustration. “I just want to live my life. Is that too much to ask?”
“It shouldn’t be. They have no right to judge thee.”
Twenty minutes later, our transports stowed—and watered and fed, in Grover’s case—I was in Bertie’s sitting room speaking on the telephone with my brother-in-law.
“No, Frederick, I will not be home to cook thy supper, nor the children’s.” I paced up and down Bertie’s kitchen at five thirty, ranging in my frustration as far as the telephone cord would take me. I’d joined the Bailey household back when we all were sorely grieving Harriet’s—my sister’s—sudden death. I’d done my best to state my position: Frederick had his job and I had mine. I was happy to help with the meals and the children, as I was able, in return for a rent-free room, but I’d told him it wouldn’t always be possible. He’d agreed to my conditions at the time, grateful to have even a portion of a woman’s presence in the home. And of course I loved being with Harriet’s children, and they with me.
“What are we supposed to do for our meal, then?” Frederick now growled over the line. “Everyone had a long day and is hungry. Doesn’t thee care about thy family?”
I held out the receiver from my ear and stared at it as if it was my curmudgeonly brother-in-law in the flesh. His moodiness had generally been improving since he’d been spending time with Winnie, which had been since mid-winter. Tonight? He’d reverted to form. I’d had an even longer day than any of them and did not find it in my powers to deliver a calm, understanding response.
“Frederick, as I made clear when I first moved into thy home, I am neither thy cook nor thy housekeeper.”
He made a harrumphing sound but didn’t interrupt me.
“Thee has many choices,” I continued. “Thee and the children can eat bread and cheese. Mark can make omelets and biscuits. He’s quite good at both, in case thee hadn’t noticed. Thee can walk with the family into town and purchase dinner at the new hotel. The only choice not available is for me to return home at thy beck and call and provide dinner out of thin air. I am needed elsewhere.” He didn’t need to know I wasn’t at a long labor but instead was spending time with my good friend, a friend who needed me.
“Very well,” he said, despite sounding as if nothing I’d said had gone down very well at all. “I will take this opportunity to tell thee I plan to ask for Winnie’s hand in marriage soon. She might not want thee occupying her parlor once we are wed and she moves her belongings here.”
Good try, brother. Threaten me with expulsion and assume Winnie will accept thy proposal in the same breath. “Good night. Please give the children my love.”
He grunted. I hung up with rather more force than necessary. David and I still did not have a date certain for our union. If Frederick ejected me from the house before I was able to marry and live with my dear husband, I would have to return to the boardinghouse where I’d lodged before Harriet’s death. It would be unseemly, even for an independent Quaker female like myself, to live alone, and I doubted I could afford to rent a small house by myself. I would no longer have an office in which to conduct my business unless I was able to rent a suite that included a sitting room.
I turned to see Bertie staring at me. She had her stocking-clad feet up on the chair opposite her and a half-empty glass of sherry in her hand.
“Well, well. Rose asserts herself to the man of the house. Cheers and well-met, my friend.” She raised her glass toward me and sipped. “I was more than ready for a glass after what I went through this afternoon.”
“What did you go through?” I sank into the third chair at the round table and removed my shoes. Bertie didn’t stand on ceremony. I rested my own feet on the fourth chair.
“Are you quite sure you don’t want a drink?” she asked with a sly grin.
I was so tired and upset I made a snap decision. “Pour it.” I could barely believe the words had left my lips. I’d played with a few sips of alcohol in a fit of teenaged rebellion against the strictures of my faith, but my last drink had been nearly a decade ago. At this moment I wasn’t really able to summon up the sensation it had left me with at the time except it had been momentarily pleasurable. Why not rediscover the pleasure?
A moment later a lovely pink stemmed glass with floral etchings was in my hand, which Bertie had filled nearly to the rim. She topped up her own, too.
“It’s my very finest aged sherry. Cheers, Rosetta.” Bertie extended her glass across the table, so I did the same. When our glasses gently touched, they made a delightful tinkling sound.
She sipped. I did the same. The amber liquid was lightly sweet but not syrupy. It left a round feeling in my mouth, and warmed me in the gentlest of ways as it went down.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“It’s so . . . soft.” I sampled another taste and smiled at my friend. “I very much like this.” I resolved to not dwell on what my fellow Friends would think if they could see me now, or worse, if they got word after the fact of my imbibing.
“So Freddy wanted you to run home and be the obedient little sister-in-law, making his dinner?” She raised a single eyebrow. “The man needs to learn to cook. And acquire some manners while he’s at it.”
“Thee knows how he gets. Charming and polite one moment, full of temper the next, and somehow it’s always the other person’s fault. Frankly? I have no idea what Winnie sees in him. She’s such a dear. And Frederick? The furthest from a dear I can fathom.”
Bert
ie gentled her tone. “I’m sure she sees in him the same thing your sister loved about her husband. You know, Rose, none of us can truly know what goes on in the hearts of two people who care for each other.”
I nodded, tears filling my eyes unbidden. I thought about my dead sister. I thought about my beloved David, about Faith and Zeb, Bertie and Sophie, about all the couples who loved each other. I sniffed and swiped at my eyes. And sipped again. Then laughed without restraint as my stomach complained loudly of emptiness.
“Bertie, I will need to put something nourishing in my stomach soon or I will fall drunk and asleep on thy kitchen floor before the hour is out.”
She laughed, too, and sprang up in a flash. “Then you’re in luck. I made a delicious ham and cheese pie last night and a full half remains.” She padded over to the pie keep in the corner and drew out the dish. “What do you think? I don’t have the stove going. Is eating it at room temperature acceptable?”
“Of course it is.”
“Let’s take it outside and eat in the arbor, shall we? It was a long, cold winter. I, for one, am ecstatic about the coming of summer.”
“I shall follow thy lead.”
She divvied the pie in half, placing one piece on each of two plates. She darted outside with a folded cloth, then came back in and handed me both plates. “Please.”
I accepted the plates and set them on a tablecloth-covered low table in the cool, fragrant arbor behind the house. Bertie and Sophie had a rather wild garden back here, with flowering trees, all shades of greenery, and annual flowers in every hue tucked in here and there. It was a most welcoming respite from the noisy world beyond the fence. The time was past six by now, and the heat of the sun had diminished along with its position on the western horizon.
I’d turned to fetch more of whatever she handed me when Bertie appeared with forks and knives, our glasses, and the bottle of sherry.
“I can’t keep drinking like some lushey,” I protested. “What will the Meeting elders think of me?”
“They’re not going to find out unless you tell them, Miss Goody Two-Shoes.” She grinned.
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