Papa picked up his whiskey glass. “Theo, how has your sleep been since you’ve been back home?”
He was referring to my sleepwalking, which had come back after the war. I’d had a few incidents as a child. When I returned from battle, I’d had more than a few rough nights. However, at university, I’d not had a single incident. “No problems thus far.”
“I hope they don’t return,” Papa said.
I didn’t think they would. Both times I’d had problems were directly after a trauma. The first being my mother’s death, the second my time at war.
“Have you been sleeping all right?” Mama asked.
“I’ve slept like a baby every night.” This wasn’t completely true. I’d had a few restless nights with strange dreams. However, as far as I could tell, there wasn’t any evidence of sleepwalking.
“Good news,” Papa said.
“I know you two worry about me, but I’m fine.”
“We’re delighted to have you home,” Mama said. “Being here doesn’t bring back bad memories, does it?”
“Mama, the best memories are all in this house.” The worst, too. However, those were such a small number compared to the happy ones. “Especially after you came to us.”
Mama rose from the chair to place her cool hand on my cheek. “My sweet Theo, we missed you very much.”
“I missed you too.”
“No regrets, then?” Papa asked. “About the decision to become a general practitioner?”
Originally, I’d hoped to be a surgeon. However, the longer I was in school, the clearer it became that I wanted to come home to my family and to the small town I loved. “Not one.”
Mama cocked her head to one side, clearly observing me for cracks.
“What is it?” I asked, teasing. “I can see you want to ask me something.”
“I was wondering about your feelings for Louisa. Are they still there?” Mama asked.
“I already asked him,” Papa said, chuckling.
“And what was the answer?” Mama asked.
“That I was a boy scared to leave for war,” I said. “Please, don’t give it another thought.”
“Wonderful.” Mama clasped her hands together. “I worry about your tender heart. I worry about all of our children, but especially you and Addie.”
My little sister Adelaide was sensitive and observant, as I had been. Those two in combination made it harder to maneuver our way through life. Today, at the gathering, I’d noticed she hadn’t played with the other children. She’d tucked herself away in a corner of the porch, reading or writing in her notebook. Not terribly unusual for a twelve-year-old girl, I supposed. The age between childhood and young adulthood could be confusing. No longer little and not yet grown.
“She’ll be fine,” Papa said. “Just as Theo is. Look at him. A doctor.”
“Yes, he is. I always knew you’d do something scholarly,” Quinn said. “From the moment I set eyes on you at nine years old.”
I smiled. Of all the days in our family’s history, that was the one day we all remembered best. Quinn Cooper, a young woman who’d come all the way from the east to be Emerson Pass’s first teacher, had hit her head when Harley’s horses were spooked by a gunshot and lost control of the sleigh. He’d brought her here when she was still out cold. When the five of us children came into the library and found her lying supine on the couch, we’d all thought she was dead. To our delight, she wasn’t. We’d decided right then and there that Quinn Cooper should be Papa’s wife. And our new mother. Happily, fate agreed.
“I should spend some time with the little girls,” I said. “I missed so much.”
“They’d love to do most anything with their big brother,” Mama said. “You’ll have to keep an eye on Delphia. She’s like Cymbeline.”
I laughed. Enough said. We all knew exactly what that meant.
***
The next afternoon, I arrived home from work shortly before teatime. I parked the car in the garage and strolled out toward the barn, enjoying the late-afternoon sun on my shoulders. Our chickens were in their outside coop pecking at the ground. A kingly red rooster strutted around them as if supervising. This was a new rooster since I’d been away. One morning, the girls had found our former rooster, Doodle, dead. Sadly, no one mourned him much. Not even Flynn and Cymbeline, who loved animals a little more than they did most people. Cymbeline claimed Doodle was the meanest rooster that had ever lived. This new one the little girls had named Red. Not a terribly creative name, but it did the job.
Red eyed me as I approached but didn’t come over to threaten me as Doodle always had. The hens didn’t pay me any mind, too busy with their search for bugs.
I walked back toward the house, passing by the vegetable garden. Our gardener, Marc, was bent over a tomato bush. A stone pathway went around the house as well as out to the cottage and garden. Today, flowers bloomed in fiery reds and luscious pinks. Our lawn, kept green from regular watering, sprawled out to the picket fence. Beyond, the wild grasses swayed. As warm as it was today, the children might all be down swimming at the creek. I suddenly longed for those lazy summer afternoons of my childhood. We’d had such adventures. Our imaginations were as big as the Colorado sky.
The cottage was quiet with no sign of its new occupants as I headed toward the back of the house. This time of day, my family would be having tea. My stomach rumbled. Lizzie’s cakes and biscuits were always welcome, but especially after a long day’s work.
To my surprise, no one was on the back porch. I went inside and down the hallway. For a moment, everything was dark before my eyes adjusted. The house was cool. Mama always asked the maids to close all the shutters during warm afternoons. Hearing voices, I made my way down the hallway toward the front of the house. Mama and Mrs. Lind were talking quietly in Papa’s study. So quietly that they jumped when they saw me. I wondered for a moment what had been so secretive that they had to speak in hushed voices.
“Theo, you’re home early,” Mama said.
I explained that Dr. Neal had insisted I go home first. “He said something about having time to find a wife,” I added.
Mrs. Lind and Mama exchanged a glance.
“Where is everyone?” I asked, deciding to ignore the distinct feeling that they’d been talking about me. Along with the subject of marriage.
“They’re all down at the swimming hole,” Mama said. “We convinced Louisa she could take off her mourning clothes and cool off in the creek with your sisters.”
“That sounds nice. I was feeling nostalgic for the summer days of my youth,” I said.
“Join them,” Mama said.
I thought longingly of the cool water. “You know, I just might. Why not?” First, though, I grabbed a few biscuits from the tea tray.
***
My sisters plus Louisa were at the swimming hole. Although it was only a creek, the water was deep enough to swim in if you could stand the temperature. This time of year, the water had warmed some and on a hot afternoon like this one felt good.
I stopped to watch the scene before alerting them to my presence. Reflecting the summer sky, the waters of the creek appeared blue. The swimming hole was a deep section of the creek with gentle rapids on either end, as if they’d been placed by God as bookends. The water deepened gradually, making it the perfect spot for even the younger of the Barnes children. Papa had taught Flynn, Josephine, and me to swim when we were small. Flynn, as was true with all things physical, was a strong, sure swimmer. When they were old enough, he’d taught Cymbeline and Fiona to swim. In turn, Cymbeline had taught the youngest of my sisters. Addie was the only one of us who didn’t care for the water. She’d told me once she worried sharks lurked at the bottom waiting to bite her feet. Cymbeline and Flynn had laughed and assured her sharks were only in oceans. She remained unconvinced.
Wildflowers mingled with wild grasses on this side of the creek. The thick forest started on the other side. Through those woods the Cole family had once lived. Mrs. Cole a
nd her daughter had moved to Chicago. The boys remained here, running a café in town. When we were younger, all of us had played together, not realizing that the color of our skin was noted in other places in the world. A lesson I’d learned during the war when the black men had been assigned their own battalions. I couldn’t understand it to this day.
***
Cymbeline stood waist-deep in the water and tossed a ball to Delphia, who was knee-deep in the shallower part of the creek. Delphia missed but grabbed the floating ball from the surface and tossed it back to Cymbeline. She caught it with one hand in a way that made me think of a frog and a fly. Cymbeline had muscles in her arms and legs that were odd for a girl. Also, she must have been down at the creek a lot this summer, because her skin had a toasty glow. Not surprising given her activities—skiing and skating in the winter, helping in the barn as well as assisting Poppy in her veterinarian duties from time to time.
Delphia’s white-blond hair was damp around her shoulders. She squealed every time Cymbeline threw her the ball, clearly delighted to be playing with her big sister.
Addie sat on a blanket under the shade of an aspen reading from a book propped on her skinny chest. Seeing her without the covering of a dress alarmed me. Her spindly arms and legs looked as if they might snap at the slightest touch. Her mind, however, was sharp and keen. I hoped her body would someday match her brain.
Wearing bathing costumes, Louisa and Fiona were on a blanket with their backs against a log and straw hats pulled low over their foreheads. They were chatting quietly, their words drowned out by the tinkling of the water as it ran over rocks.
Louisa’s skin was milky white with just a slight pink flush from the heat. I couldn’t help but notice how shapely her legs were. She walked everywhere, I thought, which would explain why. Both Louisa and Fiona were petite, but Louisa had the curvy body of a woman whereas my younger sister was narrow-hipped. I didn’t linger long looking at the rounded parts of Louisa’s figure. She could no longer turn my head, I reminded myself.
Nonetheless, I took a second to look at Louisa again. She had her fair hair in a braid and pulled to one side of her shoulder. There was a coolness to her beauty—an aloofness compared to the wide-open expression of our Fiona. Almost as if she had another layer of skin, perhaps as a way of protecting herself? One that she’d had to develop early on, given her birth father. I inwardly cringed, remembering all that she’d endured from the despicable man. He’d chased her through this very land in his demented hunting game. Teaching her to be tough, he’d told her. Even all these years later, I burned with hatred for the man.
I drew closer and called out a hello. “May I join you?”
“Theo’s here,” Cymbeline shouted. She was still more a mischievous child than polite lady of society. I loved her for it. Sometimes, anyway.
“Theo, come play with us,” Delphia shouted, imitating her older sister’s tone.
Addie looked up from her book to give me a brief smile before returning to the world within the pages. Josephine and I had been just that same way. More alive inside books than walking around in the real world.
Fiona sat up to get a better look at me from under the brim of her hat. “Theo, what’re you doing here?”
“Dr. Neal sent me home early,” I said. “Mama told me you were all down here, so I thought I’d join the fun.”
“How nice of Dr. Neal,” Fiona said in her sweet way.
Louisa, also, had sat up from where she’d lounged against the log. “Hi, Theo.”
“Louisa.” I tipped the brim of my straw hat. “How are you?”
“Well, thank you,” Louisa said.
I sat on a rock near the water and took off my socks and shoes, then rolled up the cuffs of my pants. I’d changed into a pair of leisurely cotton trousers and a thin shirt before coming down to the creek. If it had only been my sisters at the swimming hole, I would have worn my bathing costume, but with Louisa here, it wasn’t appropriate. Regardless, without a tie or jacket, I felt quite comfortable. While away, I’d continued the vigorous exercise routine that we’d had in the army. Without the physical work I usually did at home, I’d been afraid to grow soft. For some reason, in that moment, I was especially glad of my strong physique. Not because I wanted to show off to Louisa, I told myself. She probably wouldn’t notice even if I did.
The water cooled my warm feet. Once the ripples ceased, minnows swam over to nibble on my toes. Delphia waded through the water toward me. “Theo, did you save any people today?”
I scooted over to let her sit beside me. “I didn’t save anyone, but I did help a baby to be born.” Delphia’s bare arm was cold against my skin as she snuggled against me.
“Was it a boy or a girl?” Delphia asked.
“A boy,” I said. “Fat and loud.”
“Who was the mother?” Cymbeline had swum out to the middle of the pool and treaded water.
“Do you know the Danes?” I asked. “They’re new to town, I believe.”
“I think I’ve seen them at church,” Fiona said. “They have a little boy, right?”
“That’s correct. The husband works out at the lumber mill. They’re Swedes. New to America.” I was fairly certain Mrs. Dane had cursed in Danish in the throes of labor. “What have you young ladies been up to today?”
Cymbeline, still pumping her arms and legs to stay afloat, answered first. “I helped Poppy deliver a calf out at the Cassidys’.”
“Cymbie, was it disgusting?” Delphia asked, elongating the last word of the sentence.
“Nah. Not for me.” Cymbeline’s breath had quickened from her vigorous exercise. “I’ve helped her do it more than a few times since spring.”
“Was there a problem?” I asked. Typically, a cow could birth a baby without human assistance.
“Yes, he was too big,” Cymbeline said. “We had to help him out. Poppy knows just what to do. I’m learning from her.”
“Do you want to work alongside her?” I asked. Two female vets in town would be something. Poppy had apprenticed with a male veterinarian down in one of the prairie towns. She couldn’t go to school, but he’d taught her enough that the local farmers trusted her. In addition, she was all we had. Now we would have Cymbeline, too?
“For now,” Cymbeline said. “While I’m waiting for my adventure to call.”
Adventure? What could she mean by that? I’d leave it alone for now. She was a wild thing, like the Rocky Mountains themselves. I wished staying right here and marrying Viktor could be her adventure.
Louisa had risen to her feet and now stood in the shallow part of the creek. Her hat cast a shadow across her face. “What kind of adventure?”
Cymbeline swam over to Louisa, then stood and plopped down on the blanket next to Addie.
“Ooh, you’re cold,” Addie said, moving as far to one side as she could without moving off the blanket. “And don’t get my book wet. This is from the library.”
Cymbeline flicked her wet fingers toward Addie. “Little one, don’t be such a bluenose.”
I smiled at the Cymbeline’s use of a slang word. She might be stuck in our little town, but she somehow figured out all the latest trends. Including cutting her hair into a bob. I’d not really noticed how short it was until now because she wore it pinned back in a mimic of a bun. This afternoon, her black curls were damp and plastered to her cheeks and cut to an inch under her chin.
“What did Papa say about your hair?” I asked Cymbeline.
“Nothing really,” Cymbeline said. “Mama wasn’t happy with me at all. She’s terribly old-fashioned.”
“She didn’t like that you ran off and did it without asking,” Fiona said. “If you’d only asked, she might not have been as irritated.”
“I couldn’t very well have asked,” Cymbeline said in a dismissive retort. “Or she would’ve said no.”
“Jo was scandalized too,” Fiona said. “She gasped out loud and went all pink.”
“She’s no fun at all, especially now tha
t she’s a mother,” Cymbeline said.
“Don’t be unkind,” Fiona said. “She’s simply busy with all her responsibilities.”
Cymbeline stretched her legs out and shook her head. “That’s the problem.” Beads of water flew from her hair and landed on Addie, who brushed them from her book. “Once a woman marries, her life is nothing but duty. How can a woman think when all she does is change nappies?”
“What do you think, Louisa?” Fiona asked. “Would a baby ruin everything?”
“I don’t know,” Louisa said. “I’ve not thought much about it. I know only that I need to find work of my own to take care of Mother.”
“What kind of work?” Cymbeline asked. “We might know of something.”
“I’ve no skills.” Louisa swatted away a bug that had landed on her leg. I quickly looked away. Darn those legs anyway. “Finishing school was a ridiculous waste of money.”
“Why?” Fiona asked.
“They don’t teach you anything about real work. Only how to be feminine and polite.”
“I’ve no uses for either,” Cymbeline said.
I laughed. “You don’t have to be so adamant about it, Cym. It’s not like you’ve had anyone stopping you from doing just as you please.”
“Are you chastising me for that?” Cymbeline’s eyes flashed.
I shook my head while putting up my hands in defense. “I’m merely mentioning that Papa and Mama have always let you do whatever you wished. Skiing, skating, traipsing through the woods, cleaning horse stalls.”
“All of which gave you many more skills than I have,” Louisa said.
“Do you know how to cook?” Delphia asked. “Lizzie needs help in the kitchen. Mrs. Wu is getting older and Lizzie’s worried about her health. I also heard her tell Mama the new girl wasn’t working out.”
“She isn’t?” Fiona asked. “I didn’t know that.”
“Something about setting a curtain on fire,” Delphia said, sounding pleased with herself for knowing gossip her sisters had missed.
The Scholar Page 8