9 Ways to Fall in Love

by Caroline Clemmons

“B—But Ma’ll be all right?”

  Kathryn wrote with a pencil on a sheet of paper. “Oh, yes, I believe so, but it will take time. I’m writing a set of instructions for you and a copy of menus for Rosa that Aoife needs to build her strength and restore her blood. And she needs to cut down her use of the laudanum.”

  She looked up. “It’ll be hard to reduce, because laudanum is habit forming and doing without causes pain and sweating, but she must. To continue is more harmful than doing without.”

  Harmful? Dear Lord, she’d been giving Ma laudanum a long time. “What’s wrong? The doctor we asked said it was only her age and women’s complaints and offered no help except the laudanum.”

  Kathryn looked up from her writing, and her eyes sparked fire. “So Aoife said, and that makes me furious. I’d like to give that quack a piece of my mind.”

  She waved her hand as if she dismissed the careless physician. “Aoife has a number of problems, but all can be treated. The most uncomfortable is the dropped womb, which requires a sponge pessary, cleaned regularly. I’m leaving a spare so she won’t be without while one is thoroughly soaked clean.”

  Cenora had no idea what Kathryn meant, but mayhap Ma could explain later. “You’ve shown all this to Ma?”

  Kathryn nodded. “And I’m writing it here. I’ll send someone over tomorrow with more of the herbs she needs and tonics. I'll stop back by in a few days. In the meantime, your mother should rest for a few days and follow the diet I laid out.”

  Kathryn handed two sheets of the written instructions to Cenora. “Give this one to Rosa, and the other is for you and your mother.”

  The bottom dropped out of Cenora’s stomach, and she caught Ma’s wide-eyed gaze. What should she do? She had to speak up. But Dallas and his family obviously put such store in reading. How could Cenora tell them she could print only her name and a couple of words?

  She’d not be shaming her new husband before his family, nor making Ma and Da out to be Irish idjits. And she wouldn’t be giving her husband a reason to send her away. Cenora took the two sheets of paper as if they were in flames. She couldn’t meet Kathryn’s gaze, so she concentrated on the neat rows of whorls across the pages.

  It looked the same—all the words looked the same to her. Up and down and around. Row after row of scrawls. How did a body pick anything out of it?

  Fearing she’d give herself away, she forced a smile. “Thank you. You’ve done a wondrous thing to give Ma your healer’s skill. ‘Tis lucky we are you’re so kind.”

  “Sometimes people have trouble making out my instructions. Why don’t I go over them with you to be sure they’re clear?”

  Cenora felt her face flush. Did Kathryn suspect? She took one of the sheets from Cenora’s hand and let her finger follow the words as she read.

  “Let’s see, you know about the teas. The pessary has to be removed, cleaned, and reinserted. While it’s out, the astringent ointment must be applied to help your mother heal.” She looked at the things lined up on the table, “The ointment is one of the items I’ll send tomorrow. Then there’s the beef each meal for a week to strengthen the blood. And some vegetables—spinach and other greens and sorghum syrup.”

  Cenora smiled, “With Dallas’s store of food, that should be easy enough.”

  “Yes, in fact, I think all of this will be easy.” Kathryn turned to Ma. “I have to warn you, Aoife, some of the teas and tonics are enough to make you hold your nose and gag. They’ll work if you take them faithfully. As ill as you are, though, it will take months before you’re feeling fit again.”

  “Kathryn, I’ll try anything. Sure and you're so gentle and understanding it gives a body comfort and hope.”

  “After a week of rest, you’re to walk each day, starting with ten minutes and add five minutes a day to build to half an hour. After a month of that, you can start gradually increasing your activity. A year from now you’ll be back to your old self.”

  Praise be, Ma would be all right.

  Kathryn smiled as she set out several packets then snapped her satchel closed. “Here are the teas. In case you wonder about the little drawings on the packets, I see many people who don’t read, and that’s my way of giving the instructions.”

  Others who don’t read? Cenora picked up one of the envelopes. “Aye, I see the row of cups for how many times a day and the spoon for how much in each cup. Sure and ‘tis that clever you are, for ‘tis plain enough for anyone.”

  Kathryn bustled about the room tidying up after herself, then grasped her healer’s case. “Unless someone else in the family is ailing, I’ll just put this back under the wagon seat and check on Becky. Cenora, why don’t Becky and I help Rosa with dinner while you get your mother comfortable?”

  As soon as Kathryn left the room, Cenora rushed to Ma. She waved the two sheets of paper at her mother. “What are we to do? I can’t be after telling these people me shame. Dallas would send me away for sure, for he puts great store in folks reading. Bad enough he has a wife forced on him. Think how embarrassed he’d be to know me an idjit.”

  Her mother sighed. “He does seem to set store by books, so perhaps you’re right and we shouldn’t let on. You’re a bright enough lass, though, so don’t tear yourself in bits. Your da can probably read this to us. No one else need know.”

  Cenora paced the room. “The feeling’s been on me that something like this would happen since I saw Himself’s books. He said he reads every evening that he’s home. Can you imagine a body readin’ so much? Who’d think there’d be so many words?”

  She rushed over and grabbed her mother’s hand. “You heard what she said. You need care for a year, so we must manage to stretch our stay for that long. What am I to do, Ma?”

  Ma squeezed her hand. “Calm yourself, lass. I’ve heard lots of settled folks put great value in reading and writing like the English back home. O’ course, if the English had let us Irish go to school, we wouldn’t have this problem eating away at us. Lucky for us your da learned. Sure and reading would come in handy for us all at times such as this.”

  “Why didn’t I have him teach me?”

  Too late now. Too late to save herself this pain.

  Though it took him considerable time, Da did what little reading and writing was called for in the family, and for all the Travelers as well. Seldom did it matter, for their life required no such knowledge. They went where their elders decided and followed the road ahead. When they traded horses or played for crowds in a town, they gathered information from those they talked to. Once a month Da wrote to the man who’d paid their way to America, but the short letter took him most of a day. That had seemed writing enough for them all.

  Cenora repeated her question. “Ma, what are we to do now?”

  “We’ll think o’ ways around this. Haven’t we always?”

  After she’d waited with Ma for half an hour or so, Cenora went into the kitchen to hand Rosa the menus Kathryn had written. She turned to go back to Ma, but Rosa called to her.

  “Ah, Cenora, you have given me the wrong paper.”

  Cenora knew she flushed red as Ma’s silk scarf. She looked down at the paper in her hand and feigned surprise. “Sure and I have, how silly of me.”

  Did everyone on this ranch except her and her family know how to read?

  Handing her paper to Rosa, she folded the other one and shoved it into her pocket as if she did so every day. She picked up a small pitcher and filled it with water.

  “I’ll take Ma some cold water. Like as not she’d like a drink before her rest.”

  “Why not make her one of the teas?” Kathryn asked.

  “O’ course, let me run and get one.” Mortified at her repeated blunders, Cenora fled from the kitchen.

  In Ma’s room, she rushed to the table where the packets were laid out. “Kathryn said I should make up some of your tea.” She picked the one with the most cups drawn on it and hurried back to the kitchen.

  Pressing a hand to her cheek, she forced herself to slow
to a walk before she reached the kitchen. She pretended a calm she didn’t possess and pasted on a smile. “Would you like to show me anything special about the way I should prepare the tea?”

  Kathryn looked puzzled. “Well, just as I’ve written on the packet.”

  Cenora thanked the saints for the drawings. “Yes, two spoons for a cup of water.”

  Kathryn rummaged in the cupboard. “Knowing my nephew, there’s probably no such thing as a teapot in this house.” She looked at Rosa for help.

  The cook produced a small metal pot. “Sí, this tiny one I brought for my own use. You are welcome to use it for Cenora’s pobre madre.”

  “Oh, thank you, Rosa.” Kathryn measured two spoons of the tea into the pot and poured hot water from the kettle over it. She grabbed a cup and handed it to Cenora. “She’ll need this. In about five minutes the tea will have steeped enough. She may have to add honey in order to abide it.”

  Cenora found a plate to use as a tray and carried the honeypot, teapot, spoon, and cup into her mother. She sat it on the bedside table and then sank into the rocker. Leaning her head against the chair’s back, she closed her eyes.

  All the life drained from her. How much of this pretending could she bear? She knew. To preserve her life with Dallas, to insure this place for her family, she would become the best actress in the world.

  “Lass, what’s wrong?”

  She sat up and smiled her reassurance, for Kathryn had said Ma needed rest, free from worry. “Nothing, Ma. I’ve brought you your tea, but we must wait a couple more minutes to pour it. Kathryn said to use the honey if it’s too horrid.” She forced a giggle. “Weel, that’s not exactly the way she said it, but sure and ‘tis what she meant.”

  She helped Ma sit up then plumped pillows behind her mother’s head and back. “Now aren’t these lovely, fluffy pillows?” No fretting Ma, so Cenora must be the actress here as well as elsewhere. When could she be herself and give in to her own cares?

  Ma protested. “Seems disgraceful to be lying abed when everyone else is busy.”

  “Kathryn said ‘tis necessary for you to rest most o’ the time for now. Dallas said she’s such a good healer that even the town doctor calls her in to help him sometimes. She studied with a curan, cura, oh, I don't remember the word. I think it means a powerful healer, though.”

  Ma patted Cenora’s hand. “Gentle and kind she was. Sure and I’ll do as she says for a time and give her way a chance.”

  Cenora handed her mother a cup. “Here’s your tea now. I’ve added a spoon o’ the honey.”

  Ma took a sip and shuddered. “Akh, it’s vile stuff. All the honey in the county wouldn’t sweeten this.”

  Cenora put her hands on her hips and stared down at her mother.

  Ma sighed. “Aye, you’re right. I’ll be drinking it all, for anything this evil tasting must be powerful.”

  ****

  Rosa rang the dinner bell, and the men drifted toward the house. Dallas had enjoyed his time with his horses and his kin. Even Mac eventually joined in to talk about breeding and training, and for a few minutes, the young man forgot to scowl.

  Back at the house, the men washed up at the outside pump, then went into the house through the front door.

  Dallas nodded at his grandmother ensconced in the best chair in the room. “Evening, Gran. Did you have a nice nap?”

  “Of course, why wouldn’t I? Victor gave you the very best bed available. Spent a lot more than was necessary, if you ask me.”

  Why had he bothered? Although he longed for his grandmother’s love, he knew he would never gain it or even her approval. How could he? He couldn’t change being half Cherokee, and that was a fact his grandmother couldn’t overlook.

  That Gran accompanied the rest of the family here surprised him. He figured only her curiosity and her wish to let everyone know most of the furniture came from her accounted for her presence. Hell, he wished he could believe she cared even a little, but she’d spent too many years proving otherwise.

  Cenora rushed up to him as if he were the only life boat for a sinking ship. “Ma’s having supper in her room, as your aunt kindly suggested.”

  Rosa called them, so they all filed into the dining room.

  Cenora grabbed his arm and joy radiated from her pretty face. “Oh, Dallas, Kathryn says Ma will get better.”

  “Hey, that’s good news. Aunt Kathryn’s a wonderful healer.” Dallas seated Cenora beside him, and he took the head of the table. Felt odd, but damn good to sit at the head of his own table with kin around.

  Gran opened her fan and waved it in front of her as Grandpa held her chair. “Hmph. Not a suitable pastime for the wife of one of McClintock County’s leading citizens.”

  Austin helped Kathryn, and Dallas saw the reassuring squeeze Austin gave her shoulder. “So you’ve said about a thousand times, Mama, but the rest of the family are proud of Kathryn’s gift.”

  “And most of the county have benefited and sing her praise,” Josh said and flashed his mother a smile. “Even the doctor turns to her for help.”

  Becky slid in next to Finn and sent admiring glances his way. Dallas saw the surprise when it registered on Finn that Becky wanted to sit beside him and could hardly suppress a smile.

  Brendan nodded to Dallas’s grandmother. “Meaning no disrespect to you, Missus McClintock, sure and ‘tis a great gift that’s already eased my dear wife’s mind. Like as not her body will be healing soon, and me family will owe you more thanks than we can ever put words to.”

  Finn smiled at Becky but focused his attention on his father. “And if Da can’t think of the words, there aren’t any.” Finn laughed, and his family joined in.

  Dallas addressed his father-in-law. “Why don’t you give us a toast or a blessing before we dig into our food?”

  Puffing out his chest, Brendan stood at his place. Though they had only coffee, milk, or water, Brendan raised his glass in a toast. “May you have warm words on a cold evening, a full moon on a dark night, and the road downhill all the way to your door.”

  “Here, here. Well said, and tonight’s a full moon.” Austin smiled his approval as Rosa served slabs of her beef roast with potatoes and onions and a thick gravy to ladle over them. More of the corn she’d canned last summer and this spring’s peas accompanied the meat.

  After the meal, when they were all seated around the parlor, the air tensed.

  Brendan winked at Dallas. “Shouldn’t we be having a ceilidh to celebrate the joining o’ our two families?”

  Dallas nodded. “Yep, I reckon it might be a treat for everyone.” To his family, he explained. “A ceilidh is a party with music.”

  Brendan sent Finn and Mac to the wagons to get their instruments. Learning the odd drum belonged to the O’Neills surprised Dallas for he’d not seen them play it. Finn held the violin, Brendan the concertina, and Mac the drum.

  Tapping his feet in time, Brendan led off, and the other two joined in.

  After a rousing tune, Finn said, “Ho.” Each of the three O’Neill men passed his instrument to the right with Mac rushing to give the bhodrân to his father. They struck up another song, then switched instruments again.

  Dallas wasn’t that fond of the noise, but it eased the way between the two families. His kin always talked ranching, but that excluded the O’Neills. And at least Gran couldn’t complain during the music.

  Brendan called to Cenora. “Give us a hand, lass. Sing for us.”

  She looked at Dallas, and he smiled at her and shrugged. He wanted her to do as she pleased.

  Apparently she wanted to sing, for she joined in with a voice pure and sweet. She sang several songs—some in English and others in Gaelic—with applause from his family, then she begged off to sit quietly by Dallas, though he saw she tapped her foot.

  After an hour’s entertainment, Grandpa stood. “I hate to break this up, but old bones need rest, and we’ve a long ride before us.”

  When his guests had departed, and his in-laws retired
to their rooms, Dallas walked through the parlors and dining room. Gran had insisted on hanging pictures and setting out clutter. Becky had gathered wildflowers for the vases Gran provided. The place looked different. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the trappings that went with a home.

  His knees almost buckled when it hit him. Dang, that was it.

  His house looked like a home.

  Cenora came up beside him. “It was nice o’ your family to share. Do you not think it strange there would be so much not in use?”

  “Oh, likely some of this is from distant kin and neighbors as well. Besides, Gran’s always redecorating or changing her mind about this or that. She always wants what she thinks is the latest thing so she can be the envy of her haughty friends.”

  “Why does she not approve of you? ‘Tis sorry I am if ‘tis because o’ me, but I think ‘tis something else.”

  He exhaled. How could he explain such narrow-minded thinking? “It’s because of my mother being a Cherokee. Remember I told you that’s a tribe, like a clan, of Indians?”

  She nodded. “But you’re her own grandson, the son of her son.”

  He slid his arm around her and started for the stairs. “My dad was her favorite, her eldest. When he went back east on business, Papa’s horse spooked and threw him. Some folks found him unconscious and brought him to Mama. She nursed him. She was a healer like Kathryn.”

  “Is that why your grandmother doesn’t like for Kathryn to heal people?”

  “Partly. She doesn’t think women should do anything but go to parties and do ladylike thinks such as embroidery. But Papa and Mama met because she was a healer, and Mama cared for his injuries.”

  She gasped. “A wee bit like us?”

  He didn’t answer right away. His parents had love and a choice. Still uneasy with marriage and resentful of the burden of people he’d acquired, he took a deep breath and guided her down the hall.

  When she looked at him with a questioning frown, he said, “Well, they fell in love and wanted to marry. Mama wouldn’t marry him and move here until he’d told his parents, so he came home and told Grandpa and Gran.”