by Kit Morgan
Jonathan thought he heard a floorboard creak. His eyes flicked to the front door, then the parlor window, but no one disturbed them. He wondered if the entire house was listening from the other side of the wall. Well, maybe they could help. “So what do we do about it?”
Her eyes popped open. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
She snorted in frustration. “Why are you so difficult?”
“I’m not. In fact, I wish someone had done for me what I’m doing for you.”
She stared at him in fascination. “Really?”
He nodded. “I’d have given my two front teeth for someone to tell me this about six years ago. My family wasn’t going to change, Maisie, and I barely got away from them with my head on straight. But your mother wasn’t like this before, was she?”
Maisie slowly shook her head.
“And you want her to get better, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
He didn’t say another word, just raised both eyebrows.
“All right, all right. I won’t coddle her anymore.”
“Good.” He smiled, put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a sideways hug. “She’ll pull through, you’ll see.”
Maisie looked into his eyes, then shyly rested her head against his shoulder.
Jonathan smiled, enjoying the feel of her next to him. And so they sat undisturbed on the porch swing, until cold and propriety drove them indoors.
“YOU WANT TO WHAT?!” Mama asked in surprise.
“I want us to go for a walk. For Heaven’s sake, one would think I’d asked you to walk a plank instead of stroll through town.”
Her mother glanced at the novel Maisie had been reading to her – an adventure novel with pirates. “Yes ...”
It had taken Maisie a day or two to come up with some ideas to get her mother to cooperate. With Jonathan’s help, she’d concocted a plan to help her mother get her life back. Provided Mama still wanted it.
“Outside?” Mama asked warily.
“Walks usually are,” Maisie pointed out. “I’d like to show you the new dresses the mercantile has in. They’re lovely.”
Her mother gripped the arm of her chair. “Mercantile? Don’t you have to go to work?”
“It’s Saturday, Mama. I have the day off this week.”
Her mother swallowed and began to glance furtively around the room. “But it’s cold out.”
“How would you know? You never go outside.” Maisie went to the window and opened it. “See? It’s a lovely day.”
Her mother stared at the open window as if one of the novel’s pirates might jump through it. “Cold.”
Maisie rolled her eyes. “Mama, it’s warm and sunny out – a beautiful autumn day. Come enjoy it with me.” She held her hands out to help her mother up from her chair.
Mama stared at them and took a shuddering breath.
“Mama? Are you ... afraid?”
“No!” she snapped.
Maisie wasn’t so sure. But why would her mother be afraid to go outside? How strange ... and yet, quite in keeping with her strangeness all this past year.
After a moment, Mama stood and peeked out the window. A soft breeze blew into the room, bringing the smell of autumn leaves, wood smoke and Mrs. Whitehall’s apple tree in the backyard. “See?” Maisie said. “It’s lovely out.”
Her mother closed her eyes. “All right. Just this once.”
Maisie turned to fetch her mother’s shawl with a sigh of relief. She’d given up asking her mother to go anywhere months ago – it only caused a fight, and she’d grown tired of fighting. But today she didn’t force it, delivering the request in a positive light. Before she’d get impatient, which obviously didn’t help. Giving up too quickly didn’t help either – that was Jonathan’s coddling, pure and simple.
Downstairs it was all Mrs. Whitehall could do to stifle her gasp of surprise as Maisie coaxed her mother out the front door. “Why, Sarah,” she said with a smile. “Are the two you of going out?”
“Yes, for a walk,” Maisie said with a relieved smile. “Listen, Mama, the birds are singing. Not all of them have gone south yet.” She glanced at her mother who was gazing out the open door, her face more relaxed now. A good sign. “Would you like to join us, Mrs. Whitehall? You don’t mind, do you, Mama?” The thought had just come to her that it might be good to have someone else along, in case her mother took a turn for the worse.
Sarah Woodhouse turned to look at her, then slowly shook her head before staring out the door again, as if she was seeing the world for the first time.
Mrs. Whitehall mouthed the words, is she all right?
Maisie smiled and nodded back. “Why don’t you fetch your shawl?”
Mrs. Whitehouse glanced between mother and daughter. “I think I will. It’s a fine day out – be a shame to miss it.”
Soon the three women were on the porch. Maisie and Mrs. Whitehall started down the steps, but Sarah held back. “What’s wrong, Mama?” Maisie asked. Her mother’s face was stricken, but why, Maisie wasn’t sure. “Mama?”
“I ... I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She stared at the porch steps as if they were poisonous vipers.
Maisie went halfway up the steps and held out her hand. “Come on, Mama. Everything’s fine.” For whatever reason, her mother was obviously afraid of more than losing her daughter to a beau – she was afraid to even set foot outside their door!
“I don’t know if I can ...”
Maisie joined her on the steps and put an arm around her. “Mama, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“I want to go back to our room,” her mother whined.
“No, you don’t. You know as well as I do that sitting in that room all this time hasn’t done you any good. I won’t let you hide any longer. Just look at what it’s done to you.”
Her mother looked at Maisie. “Oh, my darling, it’s true. But ... I don’t think I can move.”
Just then, Jonathan opened the front door and stepped outside. “Well, hello, ladies. Fine day, isn’t it?”
“Yes, very,” Maisie agreed, her eyes still locked with her mother’s. Glad as she was to see him, part of her was worried he’d mess this up. The last thing she needed at that moment was her mother losing what little composure she had over “that man.”
He approached slowly. “It’s good to see you out, Mrs. Woodhouse.” His voice was gentle, coaxing.
“Thank you.” Mama’s eyes went to the porch steps. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath.
“We’re going for a walk,” Maisie informed him, though he already knew. “Mama hasn’t been out for a time and ...”
“... is feeling quite overwhelmed,” her mother finished.
Maisie’s jaw dropped at so honest – and public – an admission. “It’s all right, Mama.”
“Of course it is,” Jonathan agreed. “I remember the first time I stepped out my door after being sick in bed for weeks. It was like seeing a new world.”
Maisie’s mother nodded. “Yes. That’s it exactly.”
“Well, then.” Jonathan offered her his arm. “May I escort you to the mercantile, Mrs. Woodhouse, for a peppermint stick?”
Maisie felt herself blush. But her mother did too – most encouraging! “I ... I suppose,” Mama replied, wrapping an arm around Jonathan’s. And so their plan to bring Sarah Woodhouse back to herself began on a positive note.
Twelve
“I’ve always liked peppermint sticks,” Jonathan announced before biting off a chunk of his and sucking on it a moment. “What’s your favorite candy, Mrs. Woodhouse?”
Maisie’s mother looked at him as if he were an outlaw asking her to hand over her jewelry. “I’ve not had candy in a long time. Too expensive.”
He noticed she spoke with an effort, and appeared to have trouble breathing. “Are you quite all right?” He wasn’t about to ask her if she wanted to go back to the boarding house, not yet. She needed to know she was safe – and that th
e boarding house was no fortress.
She nodded jerkily.
“Here, Mama – try a licorice whip,” Maisie offered.
Jonathan smiled at the flicker of delight in Mrs. Woodhouse’s eyes. “Is licorice one of your favorites?”
“Yes, long ago.”
He exchanged a quick glance with Maisie, who could only shrug. “Why long ago?”
She took the candy from her daughter. “Samuel and I ... we used to walk to the corner sweetshop when we were younger. Back when we were courting ...” There was a hint of a smile on her face.
“My father was quite the romantic,” Maisie added. “He and Mama used to walk all the time together and talk and talk and talk – isn’t that right, Mama?”
Mrs. Woodhouse nodded, nibbled at the candy in her hand, and pleasure washed over her face. “Lovely.”
“Come look at the dresses, Mama. Licorice isn’t the only thing that’s lovely in here.”
Jonathan smiled again as Mrs. Woodhouse followed her daughter to a rack of ready-made clothes. From the looks of it, she was starting to relax – she’d been terribly nervous, or terrified, earlier. Now she just seemed a little stiff. Maisie was beginning to relax too.
Abigail suddenly appeared in the storefront. “My heavens, how long have you all been here? I didn’t even hear the bell ring.”
“No matter – Jasper helped us,” Jonathan told her. “Then he disappeared down the hall. I figured he was talking to you.”
“No, he went straight out back to unload the wagon.”
“Does he need any help?” Jonathan offered. He glanced at Maisie, who smiled and nodded that it was okay for him to leave them for a while.
“He won’t turn it down,” Abigail said. She noticed that Maisie’s mother was with her and grinned. “Mrs. Woodhouse – how nice to see you! Maisie is showing you the new dresses, I see.”
Mrs. Woodhouse looked at her with a weak smile. “Yes, they’re lovely. But we could never afford one.”
Abigail cast a quick glance at Jonathan, then looked away. “Well now, it doesn’t cost a cent to look, and they’re so much fun to try on. See a particular one you like?”
“Oh, but I couldn’t ...”
Jonathan watched Abigail assure the woman it was perfectly all right. He imagined womenfolk did like to see what they looked like in a pretty frock, though what was the point when you couldn’t buy it? “I’ll mosey to the back and help Jasper,” he told Maisie. “Fetch me if you need me.”
“Fine – we’ll be right here.”
He strolled down the hall and out the back door, where Jasper was unloading crates. “Can I lend a hand?”
“Sure,” he said. “But should you leave Maisie alone with her mother?”
“Abigail and Mrs. Whitehall are with them. I don’t think Mrs. Woodhouse is going to bolt and run,” Jonathan grabbed a crate, hefted it out of the wagon and added it to the stack Jasper was making.
“It’s great to see her out. Did you have to drag her?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘drag’. Maisie was just firm about the fine weather.”
Jasper set a crate down and stared at him. “About what?”
“The weather.” Jonathan waved at the sky. “You know – ‘it’s a beautiful day, be a shame to waste it.’ The only way to prove it was for Mrs. Woodhouse to come outside. And Maisie just wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“Land sakes, it’s about time someone didn’t. But I’m glad it was Maisie. We’ve mentioned to her before we thought Sarah got away with too much. We watched that poor woman slip away for months.”
“Why didn’t you convince Maisie of what needed to be done?” Jonathan asked as he hauled another crate from the wagon.
“Partly because it’s none of our business. And both of them were so fragile after Mr. Woodhouse passed. Maisie pulled out of it, but Sarah didn’t.”
“Hello, gentlemen,” a voice interrupted from the other side of the wagon. Both men turned to find Rev. Howard Latsch making his way around the vehicle. “Fine day, isn’t it?” He did a double take when he saw Jonathan. “Excuse me, but you look familiar.”
Jonathan laughed. “I knew I should’ve stopped by to visit you earlier, Reverend. I’m Jonathan Bridger. Last time you saw me I was just a youngun, helping with the town’s first Christmas festival.”
“Oh yes, I do remember you!” He suddenly froze, his eyes darting around as if checking for poisonous spiders. “Er ... is the rest of your family here?”
Jonathan cleared his throat. This seemed to be the normal reaction for most Cutter’s Creek residents when first encountering him. “No, I’m on my own now.”
Rev. Latsch visibly relaxed. “Oh, are you now? That’s fine. You must come have supper with Mary and I some evening. You remember Jack and Willow Carlson, don’t you?”
“Yes, I remember them.”
“Jack’s preaching this Sunday. You ought to come hear him.” He raised one eyebrow at him. “How long have you been in town? I haven’t seen you at Sunday services yet.”
Jonathan smiled ruefully. “Only a couple of weeks, but I’m long overdue to come to church – and I’d love to hear Mr. Carlson preach.”
“Splendid!” He turned to Jasper. “How’s Miss Woodhouse?”
“She’s in the mercantile with Abigail.” Jasper grinned. “And her mother’s with them.”
“Mrs. Woodhouse?” Rev. Latsch said in surprise. “Then if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I must go say hello.”
Jonathan watched him go in the back door rather than walk around the building and use the front. “That’s one thing I like about Cutter’s Creek – everyone is so at home.”
Jasper laughed. “None more so than Rev. Latsch. But I’m glad he’s going in to check on Maisie and her mother. Mrs. Woodhouse refused to see him anymore – he and Mary tried, but the only person she’d let near her was Maisie.” He removed another crate and added it to the pile. “It’s a miracle she’s out of the house.”
“Well, miracles do happen,” Jonathan said. “And a lot of prayer doesn’t hurt either.”
“It certainly doesn’t. Let’s get the rest of these out of this wagon and join the others. I feel like we’re missing out on watching the Almighty work.”
Jonathan smiled but said nothing. If Mrs. Woodhouse got better, could he court Maisie? She was a sweet, kind and lovely girl, even when she was worn to a frazzle. If this was her worst, then her best had to be wonderful. And she seemed as attracted to him as he was to her. He just hoped and prayed that Mrs. Woodhouse would let the good Lord work so he could find out.
“OH, MAMA, THAT LOOKS beautiful on you!” Maisie gushed as her mother stared at the full-length mirror. Abigail had taken several dresses off the rack and brought them into her and Jasper’s quarters in the back of the building. They were in the sitting room off the bedroom, happily helping each other try on different frocks.
Sarah Woodhouse smoothed the skirt of the green velvet day dress. “I’ve never seen anything so fine.”
“It looks lovely on you, Mrs. Woodhouse,” Abigail said.
“It certainly does,” agreed Maisie. She held up a dress in front of herself. “What do you think of this, Mama?”
Mrs. Woodhouse turned to her daughter and smiled. The first smile Maisie had seen from her in a long time that was genuine and not the result of the woman’s mind latching onto the past. Then she held up a purple and white ball gown.
“Oh my,” her mother said. “Will you look at that?”
“I’d so much like to try it on, but ...”
“But what?” Abigail said. “We’re playing dress-up, remember?”
“Dress-up?” Maisie’s mother said, then laughed – a genuine, honest-to-God laugh!
Maisie felt tears sting the back of her eyes. “That’s right, dress-up.” It was more fun to think about playing rather than ‘trying something on that you couldn’t afford.’
Now her mother giggled! “Yes, indeed.” She looked at the dress in Ma
isie’s arms. “Go ahead, try it on. I’m sure it will look beautiful on you.”
Maisie smiled and fought the urge to wipe her eyes. “Thank you, Mama, I will.” She went behind the changing screen and began to undress. This was the first time she’d seen her mother act like her old self in over a year. It was a good sign – maybe she could get her mother out of the boarding house a little every day from now on.
After several minutes of struggle, she stepped out from behind the screen. “Oh, darling!” her mother said, clapping her hands. “That’s beautiful!”
Maisie twirled in a circle. “Do you really think so, Mama?”
“Well, if she doesn’t, I do,” Abigail said. “Heavens, Maisie, you look divine in that.”
Mrs. Woodhouse made a choking sound, and Maisie rushed to her side. “Mama, what is it?”
Her mother shook her head as tears filled her eyes. “I’m sorry. I am so sorry ...”
“For what?”
“F-f-for not being able to provide for you. For wasting our time. I’ve been so ... so ...”
Maisie pulled her mother into her arms. “Don’t cry, Mama. We’ve both suffered since Papa died.”
Her mother gently pushed away. “No one more than you, my dear. But I can’t seem to help myself ...”
“But look at you now, today. You’re doing wonderfully.”
“But I feel so ... frightened. Of everything.” Sarah glanced around Abigail’s sitting room. “I don’t remember the world being so big or scary.”
“Is it because Papa isn’t here anymore?” Maisie asked softly.
Her mother nodded. “That and other things. I’ve been so afraid since he passed, so helpless ...”
“But you don’t have to be, Mama,” Maisie said. “Together we’ll be fine.”
Tears began to stream down Sarah Woodhouse’s face. “I cheated you. I cheated you out of time. I am so sorry.”
“Don’t say such things, Mama. We’ll get that time back, don’t worry.” Maisie hugged her again as Jonathan’s words rang true: love and time. Followed by don’t coddle her! Her mother had just confessed how horrible she’d been. Maisie wasn’t going to say Mama’s behavior these last months was all right, because it wasn’t. But there was something she could say. “Mama?” she whispered as she stepped away from her.