by Carré White
“What say you to sharing the burden?” asked father.
“I’ve already taken on far more than is necessary.”
“See. He’s a horrible man.” I glowered at him. I had escaped an unwanted marriage to a man I had no feeling for, but it seemed fate was determined to ruin me.
“Sir, you’re a reasonable man,” said father. “Reasonable men compromise, especially where ladies are concerned.”
Pastor Bailey had closed his eyes, mumbling, “God give me strength.”
I glanced at mother, who eyed him with astonishment. The man had crumbled before our eyes. “How can we manage five children? There’s no room.”
“It’s simply not feasible,” said mother.
“There’s the bunkhouse,” said father. “The boys could sleep there. It’s empty at the moment. Then the girls can room in the house…somewhere.”
“But he won’t compromise,” I said. “It doesn't matter. Look at him.” He had his forehead on the desk. “He’s…there’s something wrong with him.”
Mother shook her head. “This is what being at the end of your rope looks like. Pastor Baily, are you willing to compromise?”
“You’re leaving me no choice. It’s not my problem, and yet, I feel you’ve made me out to be the bad guy.”
I would not feel sorry for him, although he looked utterly pathetic in that moment, a far cry from the confident man I had seen on the pulpit. “Will you not look at me?” His surrender had given me strength. “I’ll watch them for half the week, if you take the other half.”
“You’ll have to drive them to school.”
“Fine.”
“You’ll have to bring them here…by Thursday and take them back on Sunday.”
“Then you have them from Sunday to Wednesday?”
“Will you two shake on it?” asked father.
Pastor Bailey got to his feet, approaching, although I took a step backwards. I eyed him with distain. “If I must.”
He extended a hand. “Let’s shake on it.”
Reluctantly, I took his hand, feeling something akin to electricity that seemed to vibrate from our joined fingers. “This will be temporary, sir, until something else can be worked out.”
“Yes, until you get married and take them permanently.”
“No, until you get married and take them.”
His glare was hostile. “I’m doing you a kindness, Mrs. Hatch. You forget that I’m not legally bound. You are.”
“You could adopt them.” The grip on my hand suddenly tightened. “Oh!”
“All right,” interjected father. “My goodness. If I were to leave you two alone in a room, I suspect someone would emerge with a black eye. Let’s try to remember that we’re adults. The welfare of the children should be a priority…for all of us. It’s our duty as human beings to take care of them. You both need to remember that.”
Pastor Bailey had yet to let go of my hand. He scowled at me, looking as if he wanted to say something else, but thought better of it. “You may take them now. Good day to you.” He turned on his heel, leaving us in the small office.
I glanced at mother. “Whatever shall I do? I’m saddled with five children.”
“What a pickle.”
Chapter Six
“My impression of Pastor Bailey is quite unfavorable,” said mother. “What gentleman treats a woman with such inconsideration? Fanny’s in no position to take care of children, especially when she doesn't have a home of her own.”
“We’ve all been misled by Jason Hatch, Emma. I can understand why he lied, but such behavior was beneath him.”
I slammed my hand on the desk. “I’m the wronged party! I was lied to from the beginning. Why am I being punished in such a manner? What have I done to deserve this?” Tears flooded my eyes.
Father looked resigned. “That is all in the past now. We can curse that man until the cows come home, but it won’t change anything. We’re late for brunch. Let’s take the children and worry about it later.”
Mother patted my back. “There now, dear, don’t fret. We’re never given more than we can handle. You’ve us to help you. You’re not alone.”
“Poor Hannah. Her house will be like an orphanage.”
“She took in the Montgomery children when they needed a place to stay. She’s a generous woman. She’ll graciously open her home, as she has done before. We could all learn a lesson or two from her charity.” Mother’s look was meaningful.
“Then I’m uncharitable? I’m not a good Christian? Is that what you’re implying? I’m giving up my chance of happiness to…to mind someone else’s family. I don’t even know these people! It’s not fair at all what’s happened to me. Don’t you realize the implications? My life is over. I’ll never find a husband now. No man in his right mind would marry a woman who has five children. I might as well wear black from here on out!”
Father closed his eyes, as a deep, strained breath lifted his chest. “I’m developing a dreadful headache.”
Mother took my arm. “Now listen, Fanny, and listen good. You may not be happy about it, but God is asking you to do the right thing. It’s imperative that you set aside your wants and selfish inclinations. Your sister Paulina has a child she’s minding whose parents have died. She loves Laura, as if she were her own. Louisa has three children that aren’t hers, yet she adores them. You’re being asked to do the same. I’m sorry if you feel your life is over, but this situation is rather urgent. There are five innocent souls who need care and nurturing. They need a mother. The oldest might be helpful to you. She seems to have taken charge of the little ones for quite some time.”
“Your mother is right, Fanny. Accept your fate, my dear. There’s no way around it.”
“Fine.” It felt as if my world had just imploded. I was far too distraught to think clearly. What I really wanted was to find a quiet room and weep, but the luxury of self-pity would not be mine, as I had to attend a brunch. “They’ll need their things. I have no idea where Pastor Horrible lives. I assume their belongings are there.”
“Oh, Fanny,” mother intoned. “Goodness. I hope the Lord gives me the strength I need to make it through the day.”
“We’ll share a brandy later, my dear. We’ve earned a few sips.”
“Let’s do this then.” I sniffed, clearing my nose, while thrusting my shoulders back. “I’m ready.”
The children waited patiently in the church, sitting in a pew, while Hannah spoke to Pastor Bailey. Her eyes lit when she saw me. “Fanny.” She smiled sympathetically. “I’ve been told about…the situation. We have room for them. We’ve a bunkhouse that’s empty at the moment. It can sleep the boys. The girls can stay in the house.”
“Your kindness is appreciated.” I refused to look at Pastor Bailey. “We’re to get their things. I don’t know where…where…he lives.” I couldn’t bring myself to say his name out loud.
“I’ll escort you to my apartment.”
Hannah glanced between us. “Well, I guess that’s settled then.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Weaver. I wish all my parishioners were as gracious and selfless as you.”
Steam all but began to seep out of my ears. I wanted to scream at him for deliberately provoking me, but the eyes of a young boy, who stared at me with expectation, stymied the impulse. His brother stared as well, and his sisters, who were all quietly seated. The girls wore simple bonnets, with wisps of blonde hair escaping around the edges. The older sister seemed the most composed; her face was bland, yet there was an edge to her look. She appeared older than her age, and, perhaps, the hardships of life had taken a toll.
I experienced a moment of intense shame then. It was as crushing as it was humbling. I hadn’t really considered how difficult this had been for the children. They had lost their parents and their uncle and now…they were being handed off to strangers.
“I’m Fanny, by the way.” I held out my hand to the youngest. “How do you do?”
“My name’s Connor.”
He couldn’t have been older than five or six. “Hello, Connor.”
“I’m Peter.”
I shook his hand. “Hello, Peter.”
“I don’t like broccoli. You won’t make me eat it, will you?”
That was a surprise. “I…suppose not. We don’t have it often. We’re more likely to eat beans and carrots. Do you like beans and carrots?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m Fanny.” I shook one of the girl’s hands.
“Susanna.”
“That’s a pretty name.”
“Thank you.”
“What foods do you object to?”
“I…don’t like liver.”
I made a face. “Nor do I. It’s revolting.” A hint of a smile appeared around her mouth. I glanced at the girl next to her. “And you are?”
“Mary.”
“Hello, Mary. What won’t you eat?”
“I like all food. I’m quite hungry at the moment, Fanny…um…Mrs. Hatch.”
“You may call me Fanny.” I glanced at the oldest.
“Jane,” she murmured, before I could say anything.
I shook her hand. “You’ve been minding your brothers and sisters all by yourself?”
“Mostly.”
“They are very well-behaved. You’ve done an excellent job.” She blinked, clearly not expecting such praise.
“Th-thank you.”
Having initiated the introductions, I felt a semblance of control over the situation and my emotions. I’d surprised my family, as father gaped at me with his lips slightly parted. Mother seemed gobsmacked, while Hannah grinned. I turned to face Pastor Bailey, exuding the coldest stare I could muster.
“We need to get their things. Would you be so kind to show us where you live, sir?”
His look was nearly as frigid as my own. “I’d be pleased to.”
“Thank you.”
The children would be with me until midweek; therefore, they needed several days’ worth of clothing. Pastor Bailey lived in a two-room flat above the bakery. We crowded into the parlor, while the Hatch children gathered their things. The room was bordered by bookcases, which were filled with volumes. Two wooden chairs flanked a brown velvet sofa. Pastor Bailey helped carry the things down, as did father, and, once we were all settled within the wagon, we began the trek to Paulina’s house. She had already gone ahead to prepare for our arrival.
Paulina had arranged a buffet of green beans, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and an assortment of desserts. We sat at the table, although extra chairs had been added to accommodate everyone. When the meal had ended, the Hatch brood joined Louisa’s children outside, laughing and playing, while Jane was with us. Her expression remained schooled, and her manners were impeccable. I sensed that she did not care for me. I needed her on my side as an ally, but winning her over might be a challenge.
I managed to catch her alone a while later. “Jane, might I have a word?”
“Yes, Mrs. Hatch.”
“It’s just Fanny. I was hardly married to Jason.”
“But you did marry him.”
“Well,” I sighed. “I suppose, I was married. Now I’m widowed.”
She considered me carefully. “You’re not much older than I am.”
“No, I’m not. I’m eighteen.”
“I’m fifteen.” I detected a hint of disdain, but it was quickly masked.
“You know your brothers and sisters better than anyone. Can I ask that we be friends, Jane? I’m going to need your help.”
“You want me to watch over them.”
“Well, partly, but there’ll be others in the house. It shouldn’t all be on you.”
“Why not? You don’t want this responsibility.”
“I…am shocked by it all. I didn’t know Jason had children. I only found out today. I’m still processing everything.”
“I’m prepared to do whatever I must. If you’ll provide food and shelter, I can manage the rest. You needn’t put yourself out on our account.”
“Well, this isn’t an orphanage, Jane. You’ll be treated like family. There will be chores and things and school, but I would hope you come to feel at ease amongst us. I’ll try my best to adjust to this change. Perhaps, we can even be friends. We’re far too close in age to be mother and daughter, of course, but you could look at my mother as your mother. She’s a kind lady.”
“I’ve no need for a mother.” There was that distant look, but something simmered beneath the surface.
“I understand.”
“I’ll do what I can to help. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
Her coldness was puzzling, but I expected it to thaw, once we became better acquainted. “I will. Please ask me anything you want too. If you have any troubles, I’d like to help you.”
“I doubt that will be necessary. Very little troubles me.”
She was putting up a front, yet I saw straight through it. “I commend you on your strength. Your family is lucky to have you. I can see now why your brothers and sisters are so well-adjusted.”
A flicker of unease danced in her eye, but it was gone within a second. “Thank you.”
“I can only imagine how difficult this year has been. I’m sorry you lost your parents.”
And now she had shut down completely, because a void look fell upon her like a mask. “Thank you, Mrs. Hatch.”
“Fanny. You may call me Fanny.”
“If you insist.”
Oh, dear.
We stayed for hours, chatting and eating, while the children played. The boys had soiled their Sunday clothes, as knees were stained and hands and faces were dirty. When it was time to go, they scrambled into the back of the wagon. It would be nearly an hour before we arrived at Hannah and Nathan’s house, the sun slowly approaching the mountains in the distance, where it would eventually set and disappear behind the higher peaks.
Maria hurried to make beds, setting the boys up in the bunkhouse, while Nathan brought out several cots for the girls. We were in the spare bedroom together, and Letty would now be with her parents. I’d pushed my bed against the wall, but there was hardly any room to maneuver. My parents were across the hall.
Once things had been organized, I wandered down to the kitchen, tying an apron around my waist. “You have to let me help you.” Hannah was in the process of making a quick dinner.
The children had gone outside with Nathan, who gave them a tour of the property, introducing them to the chores they would be required to do every day. These consisted of milking the cow and feeding the chickens and pigs.
“Ham and beans with rice is simple enough,” said Hannah. “We can get some vegetables from the garden.”
“Are you sure you’re fine with this?”
“Of course. They can’t be as bad as the Montgomery children.” She grinned. “They were nearly feral. You should’ve seen all the mischief they caused.”
“This is asking so much of you and Nathan.”
“You’re fine, Fanny. Don’t worry. We’ve plenty.”
“Oh goodness. What a mess my life’s become. Now I’ve dragged you into it.”
She sighed. “You were misled. He should’ve been truthful with you. It’s not your fault you married a dishonest man.”
“I suppose he was desperate for a wife.”
“A man with five children would be.”
“They seem quite well-behaved. I can’t find fault with their manners or anything.”
Hannah removed a knife from a drawer. “We can only hope it continues to go smoothly.”
Mother appeared in the doorway holding Letty. “Oh, I’m in grandbaby heaven.”
“You’re going to spoil her,” said Hannah.
“I most certainly am.”
“Where’s father?”
“Admiring your cornfield. They’ve taken a walk through it. I suspect someone will get lost.”
“It happens every season.”
“Here, let me help you.�
� I reached for the knife. “I can cut the pork, while you do the beans.”
Later that evening, after preparing for bed, the children had settled down for sleep. I had returned from the privy, leaving the lamp on the kitchen table. The girls were in my room; the low murmur of voices told me that they were still awake. My parents had gone to bed an hour ago, and the boys were in the bunkhouse. Nathan had just checked on them.
“She seems nice,” said a voice I recognized as Mary’s.
My hand was on the knob, but I remained still, wondering what they were discussing.
“She’s putting on a fine act.” That sounded like Jane. “I can see right through it.”
“This house is nicer than Pastor Bailey’s. We can play outside. I think the baby chickens are divine.”
“You would think that, Susanna. I wouldn't make yourself too comfortable here. I suspect it’s only temporary. She’ll get rid of us at the first opportunity.”
“Really? I don’t get that feeling,” said Mary.
“The old people are building a house. We can live there when it’s done.”
“I doubt we’ll be here long enough. You need to trust me on this one. I’ve always been right about things. I’m thinking of taking matters into my own hands soon. I’m tired of being tossed around like a bag of rice.”
“What are you planning?” asked Susanna.
“A solution will present itself. It always does. When I say my prayers, I’ll ask for guidance on this matter. He’s never let me down.”
I wasn’t exactly sure what she was talking about, but the conversation was worrying. Jane’s siblings listened to her advice, as they had been alone with her for more than a year, but I would have to watch her carefully. My knuckles grazed the wood on the door, as I pushed it inward.
“Does anyone need to go to the privy?” I’d flattened my expression, lest they know I had overheard them.
“No, Mrs. Hatch,” said Mary. “We’re fine.”
“Do let me know, if you need to go out.” I slid into the bed, which I shared with Jane. She glanced at the blanket to avoid looking at me. “Well, isn’t this cozy? So many of us in the same room.”