Wintering Well

by Lea Wait

  It was a beautiful October Sunday, the air sharp with the beginning of winter, the yellow and orange leaves of the sugar maples covering the fading grasses.

  The Ames family, all but Will, had spent the morning in church. Even Cassie had gone this week.

  Will rubbed his eyes and struggled to pull himself up on the pallet and pull on the shirt. He and Jamie and Sam had been friends since they were babies learning to walk at church picnics. They’d explored the woods together, handed notes to one another under their school desks, and spent hours fishing and talking of their futures. No one could have closer friends. For the first time since his accident he grinned as they walked into the small room.

  They stood near the door, awkwardly shifting from one foot to another. Jamie spoke first. “Hello, Will. We’ve missed you.” He did not look at the place Will’s leg should have been. “How are you?”

  Sam laughed slightly and turned red with embarrassment. “We know what happened. We are sorry, Will.”

  They looked at each other self-consciously. “We should have come before this,” added Jamie. “But it is a busy time. Harvest chores. You know.”

  “Get another stool from the kitchen so you both can sit down,” Will answered. From where he lay he had to look up to see them. It would be easier if they were all on one level. “It is so good to see you! Tell me all the news.”

  They relaxed a little as Sam pulled up the other stool.

  “This week I leave for Bath. I am to work at Stetson’s Shipyard,” Jamie shared proudly. “You know how many years I have dreamed of this! I will be cleaning up and fetching things and watching at first, but soon I hope to be a full apprentice. By the time I am eighteen, I should be well on my way to being a master shipwright. And I will be close enough to home to come back for holidays and such.”

  “That’s wonderful news, Jamie,” Will said quietly.

  “I am leaving too,” added Sam. “I stayed as long as I could, but now that Jamie is going, and you …” He hesitated, then rushed on, “And there is no reason to stay longer; I’m going over to Wiscasset to work for Mr. Sullivan Wright, to learn silversmithing and clock making. I will be living near your sister Alice. Maybe in a few years I will be making a clock for her and her husband!”

  Will brushed a tear away, hoping no one had seen. Jamie and Sam were going on with their lives. He was staying.

  Finally Sam broke the silence. “Are you … going to be all right, Will?”

  Will spoke a bit louder than necessary. “Dr. Theobold, from over to Wiscasset, says I am healing and should be just fine soon. Pa is going to make a crutch for me so I can start walking again.”

  “When we are home for Thanksgiving, we can all get together,” Sam said.

  Will thought of what they always did together. Tobogganing, skating on Abner’s Pond, snowshoeing through the woods.

  Jamie and Sam must have thought the same thing. “We will come and see you then. When we are home again,” said Jamie.

  “I will write to you from Wiscasset,” Sam added.

  “I would like that.”

  There was another long silence. Finally Jamie cleared his throat. “We should be starting to home. We don’t want to tire you.”

  Will nodded. He was not tired, but there was nothing more to say. He could not remember a time when there was nothing to say to Jamie and Sam. They were moving on to other lives. He was trapped in a windowless room, unable even to go to the privy by himself.

  CHAPTER 8

  November 13

  I am writing by light of a candle when I should be to bed. Today I was not patient with Will, and now I cannot sleep because of it. There is so much to be done to prepare for Thanksgiving dinner, and he does nothing to help. I am weary trying to meet his needs and those of Ma and the rest of the family. Some days I am proud to be doing what is necessary, the same as a grown woman must. But I do miss seeing Mattie and Tempe and the other girls. To be sure, I see much of Will and Ma and Ethan, who is sweet but everywhere he should not be, and I see the older boys and Pa at supper time, but still I feel very alone. There is no one to talk with about plans for the holiday, or any of the other thoughts that fill my head. Ma is too busy; Alice is too far away; and the boys would not understand. Sometimes, as today, I do not behave as I should. I must learn patience. Ma says it is my age, as if the number of years a person has been alive changes her mood. But it is not being eleven years old that is hard. It is being in this house for days at a time and watching Will do nothing but stare at the wall. If only life could be as it was before I screamed at seeing that silly snake. I wonder if Ma or Alice ever felt as though the walls of a house were like those of a prison.

  “Cassie, get me some more apple pie. I have finished mine.” Will sat in the chair he favored, near the kitchen window. Again today he had not dressed below his waist, but covered both his stump and his good leg with a quilt. The wooden crutch Pa had made leaned against the wall next to him.

  “The rest of the pie is just on the table; you can get it.” Cassie was kneading a large bowl of dough for the day’s bread, and her hands were covered with flour. Ma had left early this morning for young Mrs. Evans’ home. Mrs. Evans was near her time, and Ma had promised to be there to help her prepare for the new baby. She had left the Ames kitchen to Cassie.

  “I can wait until you have time.” Will looked out at the small patch of the yard. Some days he looked out that window for hours.

  “Cassie, may I have some pie too?” Ethan crawled out from under the kitchen table and pulled Cassie’s apron strings.

  She grabbed at him and at the apron. “Ethan, I’m busy! Leave my apron alone. And you have already had two pieces of pie. You do not need another now.”

  “Will is going to have another.”

  “Will is not going to have another unless he gets up out of his chair and gets it himself.”

  “But Cassie, Will’s leg is hurt.”

  “He could walk better if he’d practice more with the crutch. His leg is healing.”

  “This morning it really aches, Cassie. You cannot know what the pain is like. You don’t know what my life is like. And even if I did get myself to the table, what would be the use?”

  “The use would be you could get your own apple pie. And if you want to be of help, there is plenty you could do. There is pumpkin to be cleaned and sliced before it’s strung in the attic to dry. There’s pewter to be scoured before Thanksgiving. There are pieces of pork and suet and herbs to be chopped for mincemeat, if you want a pie. Or you could read a story to Ethan or play a game with him to keep him away from my apron strings!” Cassie retied her apron with her floury fingers. “There is plenty to do. All you do is sit and carve those stupid animals for Ethan.”

  Will concentrated on the moose he was carving. Its antlers were not right yet. “All that is women’s work. Not work for a man.”

  “Well, if you cannot do a man’s work, then you had better find something else to do!”

  Will’s face reddened and his hands clenched around the moose so hard one of its legs broke off. He threw the broken animal, hard, against the wall.

  Cassie stopped kneading, wiped her hands on her apron, and went over to Will. “Forgive me. That was cruel. It is just that I am tired, and I really could use your help. Please.”

  Will scowled at her. “I will cut up the pumpkins, if I must, if you bring them to me. But I will not do any cooking!”

  “Fine!” Cassie pulled a large basket full of small sugar pumpkins from the corner and set it next to him. “You have no trouble eating, I notice.”

  Ethan picked up the broken moose from the floor. “Will, the moose has a broken leg. Can you carve a crutch for him so he can walk again?”

  A knock on the door stopped further talking. It was Reverend Adams.

  “I was in the neighborhood and thought I would pay a short call on Will.” The reverend walked in, speaking to Cassie. “I hope the time is not inconvenient.”

  “You are always
welcome, of course, Reverend Adams,” she answered, pulling over a chair for him. “I’m sorry, but Ma is to the Evans place this morning, and Pa and the boys went over to Bath for supplies.”

  Will winced. Three months ago he had been one of “the boys.”

  “I am sorry to have missed them, but it is Will I have come to see.”

  “It would be well if he had someone new to talk with, I’m sure.” Cassie gestured at Will. “Would you care for some molasses cakes and cider?”

  “Can I have cakes too?” Ethan smiled in delight at having company. “Cakes are very good.”

  “If your sister says you may,” answered the reverend. “But I would like to visit with your brother for a short time.”

  Will looked at him. “I am here.”

  “So you are. We have missed you in church these past weeks.” Reverend Adams pulled his chair closer to Will’s so they could talk quietly.

  Will looked at him incredulously. “I cannot walk. I have only one leg.”

  “True. But you have a crutch, I see. And I am sure your pa and brothers would carry you if you could not walk the distance from the wagon to the church.”

  “I am not a baby! I do not wish to be carried!”

  “Well, then, since you have missed services, perhaps we could pray a bit here this morning.” Cassie moved a stool next to Reverend Adams and put a plate of molasses cakes and some cider on it. Ethan reached over and took two cakes, one for each hand. Cassie headed him back to the far end of the kitchen.

  “I have prayed,” said Will, “and it is of no use. God let me be crippled. He has not healed me. He has not answered my prayers.”

  “No doubt your accident was God’s will. All that happens in the world is God’s will. But He has answered your prayers. You are alive!”

  “I do not live. I breathe, I eat. But how can God leave me like this? My life was planned! You know—I was going to be a farmer. How can I do that now?”

  “Perhaps God has another plan for you. In God’s eyes all things are made to meet a purpose. Why else would He have made apples round to fit easily in a hand?”

  “Well, He has not told me what His plan is for me. I should have died. I would rather have died if I cannot sow and harvest crops, and milk the cow, and lumber the woods. How can I be anything but a cripple in a kitchen chair now? God took away my life.”

  “He left you your life, Will. He took away your leg.”

  “He took away my dreams.”

  “Then, you must find new ones. With His help.”

  Will sat, silent.

  That night the family woke out of a deep sleep to hear a crash and a cry. Cassie reached the top of the stairs just as Pa did. “Will!”

  By the time they got down to Will’s room and lit a candle, he had pulled himself up to a sitting position on the floor.

  “What happened, son?” Pa reached over to help Will back onto his bed. Sunshine, who had chosen to leave Cassie’s bed in favor of Will’s, streaked around the corner.

  “I was sleeping, and I thought I heard Ethan calling. He had fallen into the fireplace. He was calling me. I had to go to him; I had to get him out of the fire.” Will hesitated. “I did not remember I could not walk.” He turned his head away from Cassie and Pa and sobbed.

  CHAPTER 9

  Thanksgiving, November 25

  I am almost too tired to write, since this day have worked and eaten and talked enough for three. The family is together again. Alice and Aaron joined us for the holiday, and Will’s friend Sam also stopped in. Ma and Alice and I were up before the sun this morning to put pies and bread to bake, and to prepare the turkey Nathan shot and the ham we smoked in September. All of us—even Will, leaning on his crutch and Pa’s shoulder—went to church. After church we ate, and then Ma and Alice and I did the cleaning up, leaving the men to talk. We women did our share of talking too and found much to discuss. It is good to have Alice with us.

  “The hope that Maine will become an independent state has been common talk in the taverns and streets of Wiscasset since two thirds of the District of Maine citizens voted in July to separate us from Massachusetts.” Aaron raised his tumbler to the other men.

  “Here on the farm we’ve had other concerns this season. We are interested, but no one here has the time to sit at a tavern table and debate issues of the world.” Pa leaned toward Aaron. “Do you think it’s going to happen this time? Maine will be a state?”

  “Difficult to say for sure. On the first Monday in December there will be town meetings all over Maine, where we can vote on whether or not to accept the state constitution our delegates wrote down to Portland. The agreement we have with Massachusetts says we will separate from her if Congress accepts us as a state by next March fourth. We cannot apply to Congress to be a state until the constitution is voted on. And southern states that support slavery do not want Maine coming in as a free state. They say it would upset the balance; give the north a majority of votes. So we cannot assume Congress will vote us into the Union.”

  Pa smiled. “Makes Maine sound pretty important to have the whole Congress debating her.” He turned to Will’s friend. “Do you hear all that in Wiscasset too, Sam?”

  “Yes, sir.” Sam sat a little straighter, proud to be included in the circle of men. “And there is much talk about whether ‘Maine’ is the right name for us, and whether farming or sailing should be pictured on our state seal.”

  “Well, that is easy to decide,” Nathan put in. “Got to be farming. You cannot bake bread out of fish! Without farmers, where would be the food for our Thanksgiving dinners?”

  “But those spices in the pumpkin pie and mincemeat tasted pretty fine, and they came from trade with the Indies,” Simon said.

  “Why do folks feel it is finally time for the District of Maine to go off on its own?” Pa asked Aaron.

  “If we were separated from Massachusetts, those gentlemen down in Boston wouldn’t be able to give our tax money to their Harvard and Williams Colleges and allocate practically nothing to our Bowdoin. We’d have our own judges. And if another war should come, we’d defend ourselves, and not let the British invade our state, as Massachusetts let them invade Castine during the War of 1812. Our own governor would understand what was important to us. We wouldn’t just be ‘that wilderness district down east.’” Aaron’s voice rose as he got more excited.

  “Well, don’t get yourself all churned up, Aaron. There is always something to talk about.” Pa stretched out his legs and patted his stomach. “Would be nice to get to town more often, to keep up with the news, though. And it would be a grand thing if we were to be our own state and could make our own rules and decide where our tax money is to be spent. Be sure to write and let us know how it is all coming.”

  “For certain, I will.”

  “Last time we heard news was when your Dr. Theobold stopped in to see Will.” Pa looked at Will. “The doctor says he’s doing fine. Walking a little with his crutch. But what the boy is to do but help his Ma in the kitchen, I couldn’t say. Not much use for a cripple on a farm.”

  Will shrank. Pa talked as though he weren’t there.

  Sam spoke up. “In Wiscasset a man about Simon’s age, name of Jeremiah Crocker, has a hand crippled from an accident on the wharves. But he works at the county offices. And I have seen Mr. Peleg Tallman. He’s an old man now, but he lost his left arm in a sea battle during the Revolution, and he is on the board of the Lincoln and Kennebec Bank and owns a shipyard over to Bath.”

  “That is true about Tallman, sure enough. He has two big houses, too. One on the other side of Woolwich and another in Bath. But he is a schooled man and had high friends in Boston to help him out in the beginning.” Pa shook his head. “He is a very different person from our Will.”

  “Maybe Will could get a wooden leg.” Sam looked sideways at his friend.

  “I am no wooden doll,” Will sputtered. “What could I do with a stick of wood where my leg should be? You don’t know what you are speaking of.
”

  Aaron looked at him. “I had not planned to say anything just now, but Sam may have a thought. I was talking to Dr. Theobold last week, and he mentioned it, knowing Will is my brother-in-law.”

  “Mentioned what?” Pa put down his tankard.

  “The possibility of Will’s getting a new leg. Would not be easy, the doctor said, but if Will would work at getting used to one, then it could be done. Dr. Theobold said with a new leg Will could walk pretty well, and both of his hands would be free from the crutch.”

  “If I would work … what did he mean?” Will asked.

  “First you would have to be completely healed. At least six months, he said, after the accident. And then a carpenter or cabinetmaker would make the leg. There would have to be a harness and padding to hold it on. And as you grow you would have to have new legs made.”

  “You could walk again, without help!” Sam grinned at Will.

  “No running races, you understand,” Aaron cautioned. “And you would have to be close to the doctor while you were getting used to the whole rig. Could be painful for a time.”

  “I am not afraid of pain.” Will was defiant. “I have pain without a new leg. But even with a wooden leg, how could I plow damp earth or climb stairs or work in the barn loft?”

  “True. Those things would be hard. But at least you could get to the privy yourself, even in the snow!” Simon said.

  Will turned scarlet. How could Simon mention such things with everyone here? Not being able to manage the crutch on rough ground for long enough to get himself even to the privy was the worst part of not having a leg. Cassie or Simon helped him sometimes, but most times he still used the chamber pot inside, and Cassie emptied it. He hated that chamber pot. Most of all he hated depending on Cassie or Simon.

  Pa’s voice broke the awkward silence. “Sounds as though it would take some trouble to get such a leg, especially since we live far from those folks in Wiscasset who could make it happen. And even with the leg, Will is right that he still could not farm, or do much of anything, as far as I can see. Will is a cripple, and that is his burden, and ours. We can manage just fine the way things are.” Pa stood up. “It is getting late. Sam, you need to get on the road before the dark is any thicker.”