by Delia Parr
Aunt Frances waved away Emma’s question. “I doubt the animal will venture out of the woods again for a while, but I’ll grab an umbrella for each of us. That way, if we do spot the panther, we’ll have something to use to protect ourselves.”
Emma snorted. “An umbrella?”
Aunt Frances narrowed her gaze. “Did you ever get poked with one?”
“No, but—”
“Enough said,” Mother Garrett argued. “We’re going to town. While we’re there, we’ll stop at the General Store and ask that nice Mr. Atkins to send Steven up here with supplies to strengthen up that pen for the chickens, too. And don’t argue with us. We’re your elders,” she added.
Mother Garrett untied her apron and laid it across the back of her chair. “Come along, Frances. If we hurry, we can be back well before supper. Emma, you rest up and don’t worry about finishing up these pies. Liesel just went upstairs to fetch Judith Massey. She wanted to help after she took a bit of a nap.”
Emma set down her tea. “Please. You really can’t venture into town alone. It isn’t safe,” she countered, also anxious that Mother Garrett and Aunt Frances might be so busy matchmaking again for poor Mr. Atkins, they would forget the real purpose for their trip into town.
Aunt Frances got up, stored her own apron away, and grinned. “We’ll take Anson Kirk with us. He’s just sitting in the front parlor waiting for us to finish up in the kitchen so he can try sweetening up to one of us anyway. A good walk in the cold might settle him down a bit.”
Grinning, Mother Garrett hooked her arm with Aunt Frances’s. “Maybe we can lose him in town.”
Before Emma could choose another argument to make to convince the two women not to leave, they had already left the kitchen. “Oh, I’ll rest easy now,” she grumbled and took a sip of tea. “Why shouldn’t I? I only have two elderly women venturing outside, using one old man and two umbrellas to protect themselves from a starving panther that’s roaming about the area looking for a meal. I’ve got an artist in residence now, sixteen other townspeople, and the Burkes, not to mention a flock of chickens who probably are so agitated they won’t lay a single egg for weeks, assuming Steven can get here with stronger wire anytime soon.”
She shook her head. If she had any sense at all, she would find that old pair of skates of hers, strap them on, and skate away up the frozen canal to escape this lunacy.
Then again, the last time she strapped on those skates, she had fallen, twisted her ankle, and spent two weeks in bed.
“At least I had a bed then,” she griped and settled for another sip of strong, hot tea.
9
THE BOARDINGHOUSE WAS SO QUIET two hours before supper, Emma could almost pretend the day was normal.
While Liesel and Ditty were busy straightening and cleaning both parlors, Emma sat at the kitchen table and helped Judith Massey crimp the top crust on the last of the apple pies while the others finished baking. The kitchen was warm and heavy with the sweet scent of apples and cinnamon, but the companionship was just as heartwarming.
Unlike Emma, who was getting closer to old age every day, Judith was in the prime of her life. Just months from delivering her first child, she had a mop of unruly dark curls that framed her full, round face.
Since Emma had sold the General Store to purchase Hill House before Judith and her husband moved to Candlewood from Connecticut a few years ago, she only knew them in passing and hoped to get to know this young woman better. “You’re probably close in age to my three sons,” she prompted as she twisted the edge of the crust on one of the pies between her fingers.
“I’m twenty-four,” Judith replied, working in tandem with Emma on a separate pie.
“My youngest, Mark, is twenty-four.”
“He doesn’t live nearby, does he?”
Emma shook her head. “No. In fact, all my boys moved away when they got married,” she replied and paused to turn the pie to reach the dough on the other side. “Mark is living in Albany. Benjamin is my middle child. He moved west to Ohio. Warren is living in New York City.”
Judith frowned. “You don’t see them often, then.”
“They come back home from time to time for a visit, but they write. In fact, they’re all planning to bring their families home in April to celebrate my birthday, and I’m looking forward to seeing all of my grandchildren together at the same time. I have seven,” Emma said proudly.
“Solomon’s parents are both deceased, but this will be my mother’s first grandchild. I don’t have any brothers or sisters. I was hoping she would be able to be here when the baby was born, but she and my stepfather won’t be able to visit until summer.”
Emma shook her head. “Life gets very complicated when our children grow up and move away,” she said, wondering what it would be like to be able to share in the ordinary moments of day-to-day living with her sons and their families.
Judith used a knife to trim the last bit of excess crust from one pie, then handed the knife to Emma. “Your life here at Hill House has certainly gotten more complicated with all of us suddenly appearing on your doorstep. I can scarcely believe how many pies we need just for supper.”
Emma chuckled. “We’ve got over twenty people to feed, but that’s only a few more than we have now and then during the tourist season. You’re used to baking for two, but that will change soon enough, won’t it?”
“By mid-March, I believe, but the midwife tells me babies don’t always arrive on time. You know Mrs. Sherman, don’t you?”
“Very well. She helped all three of my boys into the world.”
Judith caressed her swollen abdomen. “I . . .I almost wish it were a bit longer. I just love the feeling of having the baby inside, where it’s safe and warm.” She blushed. “I suppose that sounds silly.”
“Not at all,” Emma countered as she trimmed another pie crust. “I had the same feelings carrying my boys. Until my time got close and they got bigger. Have you chosen any names yet?”
Judith snatched a piece of raw crust and nibbled on it. “I think Solomon really wants a boy so he can teach him to help in the cobbler shop. In that case, we’ll call our son Isaac. If it’s a girl?” She shrugged. “We can’t decide. I think I’d like to call her Susan, for my sister. She died when she was very young.”
“How old was she?”
“She’d just turned thirteen the week before she got the measles,” Judith murmured. “Solomon thinks it would be better if we named the baby something else, so I wouldn’t be sad every time I called her Susan.”
“What do you think?”
Judith let out a sigh. “Maybe he’s right. But I think I’m going to have a boy, so I won’t have to worry about it. At least, not this time.” She sniffed the air. “Do you think it’s time to check the pies in the oven?”
Emma rose from her seat. “I’ll do it. You finish up that last crust.” She opened the oven, saw the crust on the two pies was golden brown, and reached for a pair of heavy cloths. “You’re right. The pies are done.”
After setting both pies on trivets Mother Garrett had put out at the far end of the wooden table, she slid two more into the oven to bake. Instead of returning to her seat, Emma picked up the remnants of raw crust for a moment. On a whim, she retrieved a whole apple from the larder and peeled it.
She coated the outside of the apple with butter and dusted it with cinnamon before she sat down next to Judith again. She rolled out some dough and pressed it around the buttered apple. “Has anyone ever made one of these for you yet?”
Judith furrowed her brow. “For me? No, why?”
“I always thought it was an old wives’ tale, but maybe it was just something my mother made up herself. Each time I was carrying a babe, my mother would bake a whole apple for me, just like this.”
She retrieved a small baking tin, placed the pastry apple inside, and popped it into the oven before taking her seat again. “When it’s done, we’ll let it cool until we have dessert after supper. Then you can scoop a s
poonful of apple from the center and count the seeds on your spoon. If there are an odd number, you’re supposedly having a boy. If there are an even number, it’s a girl.” Emma chuckled. “I’m not sure how reliable it is, but I always got an odd number of seeds, and I had all boys.”
Judith cocked her head. “What if I don’t get any seeds at all? Do I try again?”
Emma laughed. “Fortunately, that never happened to me, but my mother said it meant you’d be having twins.”
Judith glanced down at her abdomen. “Really?”
“No, I’m teasing. You just try again.”
“Oh, good. I’m not sure I know what to do with one baby, let alone two.”
Emma took the younger woman’s hand. “You’ll do just fine. Mrs. Sherman is very good about helping new mothers. I’m sure there’ll be neighbor women who will stay with you for the first week or two. And I’m here, too, if you need help. Just send for me.”
“Thank you. I will.”
“What about your home? How are the repairs coming along?”
Judith’s dark eyes welled with tears. “Thankfully, Solomon’s cobbler shop on the first floor was spared or we wouldn’t have any hope of repairing anything. Since the fire started on the roof, our living quarters upstairs were pretty badly burned. We lost everything we couldn’t carry out in a hurry. I shouldn’t complain, though. Other folks lost everything they owned. Solomon thinks it’ll be the better part of a month or two before we can move back home.”
“Then you’ll be there in plenty of time to have your babe.”
Judith sniffled. “I hope so. We can’t stay at Hill House for that long.”
“Why not?” Emma asked, anxious to know if Judith was aware of the sad history of the house she had converted into a boarding-house.
The younger woman dropped her gaze to her lap. “Solomon said I was being foolish to worry about it, but I . . .I would be lying if I said it didn’t bother me. I know what happened to the people who lived here when the house was first built.”
Emma swallowed hard. “And you’re afraid that because Mrs. Foxleigh died in childbirth, along with her babe, that the same thing might happen to you,” she said gently.
Judith lifted a teary gaze and nodded. “I know it’s foolish, and I don’t mean to appear ungrateful but—”
“It’s not foolish at all,” Emma argued. “It’s perfectly natural for you to feel especially vulnerable to what happened here. I hadn’t brought the matter up before because, frankly, I wasn’t sure if you knew about the original owners.”
Emma paused and put her hand atop Judith’s. “If it makes you feel better, I can promise you that as your time draws near, if you’re not back at home by then, I’ll see about making arrangements for you to stay elsewhere. Unless you’d like to move now,” Emma offered. “I’m not sure if it’s possible, but I can certainly try to find another place for you and your husband.”
Judith sniffled again. “You’re very kind, but I’d like to stay here for a while to see if I can go home first before I put you to all that bother. That might be difficult, though, now that the Burkes are here.”
Emma put her arm around the younger woman. “I wouldn’t worry about them. They’re far too busy with Mr. Lewis to be bothered with much else.” She quickly explained the Burkes’ plans to have their portraits painted. “That’s why they’ll be in the library most of the time.”
“They filed a complaint against Solomon, you know,” Judith murmured. “Or Mr. Burke did. He said Solomon didn’t repair a shoe right. The one for his deformed foot.”
Emma drew in a long breath. “No, I didn’t know, but I can’t say I’m surprised. How did the complaint get resolved?”
“Solomon won in court, but he repaired Mr. Burke’s shoe again anyway, for free. Not that it made any difference. Every time Mr. Burke brings in another pair of shoes, he barks at Solomon and threatens to file another complaint if he doesn’t do it right.”
Emma hugged her. “Mr. Burke won’t be barking at anyone while he’s here.” She rose and started cleaning up their work area. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll make sure to sit next to you and Solomon at supper. That way, I’ll be right there to remind the man how cold it is outside, which is where he’ll be if he forgets his manners.”
Judith chuckled. “Don’t forget to tell him about the panther.”
“That too,” Emma replied and whispered a silent prayer for the trio who had gone to town to warn the others about the panther. On second thought, she added a prayer for the poor panther that had no idea how dangerous it would be to run into those three.
Supper was a boisterous affair, filled with the joyful noise of laughter, lively conversation, and enthusiastic celebrations that easily eclipsed the presence of the Burkes.
Naturally the panther sighting and the town-wide alert were the centerpiece of the hoopla, and everyone was intrigued to have an artist in their midst. The announcement by the Wiley family that all five of them would be leaving after supper to return to their home was only supplanted by other hopeful news. All five members of the Kirk family, except for the elderly winter suitor, would be leaving the following day, on Saturday.
While Liesel and Ditty carried in slices of warm apple pie for dessert for everyone, Emma placed the baked apple and a plate in front of Judith and sat down next to her.
Before she attempted to take a spoonful, Judith quickly explained the ritual to everyone. For his part, Solomon merely smiled in that characteristic way a man smiles at his very-pregnant wife, as if he would agree the sky was green and the grass was blue, if it pleased her.
Beaming, Judith scooped a spoonful of apple from the center and let it slide onto the plate. Under the watchful eyes of everyone present, she used the tip of her spoon to separate the seeds from the pulp and counted them out loud. “One. Two. Three. Four.” She smiled. “It’s a girl. Oops. No, look! There’s one more. Five. It’s a boy!”
Solomon grinned from ear to ear.
Everyone else clapped, especially the children, where the boys outnumbered the girls five to two.
Emma’s heart swelled. The spirit of goodness that prevailed, with friends and neighbors and guests gathered together around this table, was the epitome of everything she had hoped and dreamed would be the essence of Hill House. As she slipped her hand into her pocket and caressed her keepsakes, she whispered a prayer to thank Him for the many blessings she had received, along with a prayer that the owner of Hill House would arrive soon so she could convince him to sell the boardinghouse to her.
“I wouldn’t start calling the babe Isaac until he’s actually here,” Mother Garrett teased. “Just in case the seeds are wrong.”
Judith blushed. “It’s just in fun. I know that. All we really want is a healthy babe.”
“With God’s grace, I’m sure you and your babe will be fine,” the older woman replied. “You’ve had no problems so far.”
Orralynne shook her head. “I don’t think it matters much if you’ve had problems or not,” she quipped. “Lucy Smith had a babe a few months back that was stillborn, and some years back, Elsie Taylor’s baby only lived a day or two. I didn’t hear they had any problems before their babes were born. In any event, I suppose you’ll still need a name for the babe. There’s no telling what could happen when the babe is born, especially if you’re still here. You must know what happened to the last woman who gave birth at Hill House.”
The stunned hush at the table was immediate and heavy; even the children grew silent.
Judith’s bottom lip quivered, and her eyes filled with tears. Solomon’s face flushed scarlet. When his wife bolted from the table and ran from the room, he followed her, but not before he cast a dark look in Orralynne’s direction.
Orralynne looked around the table, as if struggling to understand what she had done wrong. Apparently frustrated by the stony faces glaring back at her, she stormed from the room.
The happy mood was irrevocably broken, destroying the camarad
erie that had filled the room throughout the meal.
One by one, everyone left the table until Emma was sitting there alone, left only with the bittersweet memory of a wonderful evening that had ended far too soon and on far too bad a note.
This time, when she thought about escaping, she made a mental note to find those ice skates of hers. She wanted to take them with her when she went to speak with Orralynne. That way, Emma could give the woman a choice: Either Orralynne apologize to Judith, or Orralynne could strap on those skates and start skating north and keep skating—until she decided she would.
10
EMMA WAS A WOMAN ON A MISSION, poised to engage in a battle of wills with Orralynne, and she chose her weapons carefully. One pair of skates, a bit rusty and dull, but serviceable. Two gifts usually given to guests when they left: a wooden cross made of candlewood, whittled by Reverend Glenn, and an embroidered handkerchief, handmade by Aunt Frances. And three very heartfelt prayers for guidance, wisdom, and patience.
Fully armed and equally determined to win, Emma planned her approach carefully. Given Orralynne’s flustered state, she suspected the woman had holed herself up in her room, Emma’s converted office, rather than the library, where Lester would likely be with Mr. Lewis. She ruled out using the outer door to reach her office to avoid the risk of encountering the panther again. She also dismissed going to her office indirectly via the library for fear Lester might block her way.
Instead, she slipped into her second-floor bedroom, where Aunt Frances would be sleeping later, and cautiously descended down the familiar staircase that connected her bedroom to her office. Although it was now dark, she carried no candle to light her way and let the dim light coming from the oil lamp on her desk in the room downstairs guide her steps.
She did not want to frighten Orralynne, only to have her run from the office. When she was halfway down the steps, just after the grandfather clock chimed the hour of eight o’clock, she announced her presence. “Orralynne? It’s only me, Emma. We need to talk,” she said, keeping her voice as gentle and nonthreatening as she could.