Skirting Tradition

by Kay Moser

  “What could be more important than romance to a woman?”

  Miss Victoria shook a warning finger at him. “You’re about to get yourself in trouble, Mr. Hodges. Sarah hasn’t time for foolish stories about an old married couple like us.”

  Hayden nodded gravely. “It has been a torturously long three months.”

  Miss Victoria shook her head, sighed melodramatically, and turned to Sarah. “You better get on your way, Sarah, before it gets any darker. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon when you’ve finished at the Bellows’ house.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you for loaning me the book. Good evening, Mr. Hodges.” Happier than she’d ever been, Sarah raced down the steps.

  ***

  Victoria leaned against a pillar, stared at the sky, and felt happy for the first time since her arrival in Texas. “Just look at those colors, Hayden.”

  “I’m looking at your face, which is beautiful any time, but is positively glowing at this moment. Who is this Sarah, this girl who has raised your spirits so high?”

  “Someone who needs me.”

  “I need you. Isn’t that enough to raise your spirits?”

  “This is different, Hayden! Sarah is a godsend.”

  “Hmm ... I can’t say I understand, but anyone who makes you this happy is most welcome. She is about the age of a daughter, I suppose.”

  Victoria stood up straight and planted her fists on her hips. “For your information, Mr. Hodges, this is more than maternal, much more! This is about all of us.”

  “All of us who?”

  Victoria glared at him.

  “Ah ... I see ... all of us women. Is that it?”

  “Yes, it is!” Victoria punctuated each word by stamping her foot. “I can’t change the past, but I can impact today and shape tomorrow, and I plan to do just that.”

  “Hurricane Victoria!” Hayden pantomimed sheer terror, then burst out laughing as he enfolded her in a bear hug. “Batten the hatches, Riverford!”

  ***

  Sarah was so happy she almost flew the three miles home. She reveled in the peachy tones tinting the clouds’ lower edges in the blue-gray sky as she relived the sensory joys of the day. Her fingertips felt the leather of the many volumes she had touched, the silkiness of their gilded edges, and the thick cotton fibers of their pages. She laughed aloud and sang, “After the ball is over ...” as she mimicked the dance she and Miss Victoria had attempted in the entry hall. Then she remembered her first glimpse of Lee Logan at the door, and just as she had done that morning, she blushed and stopped in her tracks.

  “He is the handsomest man I’ve ever seen!” she announced to the roadside weeds. “Oh, why did I have to look like a farm girl?” She kicked a clod in the road and stomped on. “Every time he sees me, I look like something the cat dragged in!”

  Her spirits sagged until the word “serendipitous” floated through her mind. “He did say our meeting was ser ... en ... dip ... i ... tous.” She pronounced each syllable separately and took delight in their sounds, for she had looked up the word in the giant dictionary she found on a stand in the library. “‘A fortunate accidental discovery.’ That’s what the word means, that’s what he said about finding me at Hodges House.” Sarah squealed with delight and returned her happy gaze to the ever-changing clouds. “Oh thank you, God, for today! For the books and the poetry and Miss Victoria and—yes—for Lee Logan!” She danced on down the dusty road as the peach light turned rose and finally mauve.

  ***

  When she reached the farm, she barely spoke to her mother before rushing up to her attic bedroom. Whirling around, she looked for the perfect spot to display the treasured books Miss Victoria had given her. Finally, she dragged an old trunk over to the dormer window and set the novel, the notebook, pen, and bottle of ink on it.

  “How was work?” her mother asked as she handed Sarah a bowl.

  “Fine.” Sarah hastened to the pantry to scoop out the cornmeal. She paused in the privacy of the small closet and confronted the uncomfortable issue of sharing the truth of her day. Should I tell Mama about Miss Victoria? What if she tells Pa? What if he won’t let me go back? Sarah’s panic increased with each question and reached its zenith with her last. What if he won’t let me keep Little Women? Her decision was made.

  Silently, Sarah returned to the kitchen and busied herself stirring up cornbread, then shoving it into the oven. When she raced over to set the table, her mother came to Sarah’s side and stilled her hands. “Is something bothering you, Sally? Something about working for Mrs. Bellows you’re uncomfortable with?”

  Sarah grabbed the lifeline her mother had unwittingly thrown her. “Yes!” she answered a bit too brightly. “I mean, it’s nothing I can’t handle. It’s just that she’s awfully spoiled, and Mr. Bellows has a bad temper.”

  “Temper? I don’t like the sound of that. Has he done anything to make you feel afraid?”

  “Oh no! He just seems mad at Mrs. Bellows, so he’s rude to me. That’s all. I don’t care ’cause he just goes off to work.”

  Her mother peered into Sarah’s face, obviously unconvinced that she had heard the whole story but prevented from asking more when the front door burst open. The boys raced in, jostling each other and calling out, “Where’s supper? I’m starved!”

  “Hold your horses!” she ordered her sons. “Get on back outside and wash up and take those dirty boots off. I’m not of a mind to clean this floor again today.”

  A chorus of “Ah, Ma!” and “Do we have to?” captured Mama’s attention, and she called out, “Yes, you do!” and asked, “Where’s your pa?”

  “Right here!” Pa stuck his head in the door. “And hungry enough to eat the barn.”

  “So what’s new?” Mama countered. “Get washed up. The cornbread will be ready by the time you are.”

  Once the men had settled at the table, all chance of interrogation from her mother evaporated, and Sarah’s conscience took a rest. She served the menfolk, then ate a bite herself, and finally cleared the table and hurriedly scrubbed the dishes while her mother tended to the baby. All the while, she longed to enter the magic world of Little Women awaiting her overhead. As soon as she finished, she excused herself to go to bed.

  “It’s a bit early, ain’t it?” Pa asked.

  “Well, I did get up awfully early this morning,” Sarah said as she kissed him and her mother good night and hurried to the narrow staircase.

  “I knew she’d be tired,” she heard Pa say as she left. “Didn’t I tell you she’d be glad to see her bed?”

  ***

  Sarah sat cross-legged in front of the trunk in her room, reading Little Women by the light of a dripping candle. The house had been still for well over an hour, but Sarah was so absorbed in the story she didn’t hear her mother climb the stairs or realize she was there until she softly spoke. Sarah jumped guiltily and moved to hide the book in the folds of her nightgown.

  “It’s after eleven o’clock, Sally,” Mama observed as she put a lantern down on the old chest and sat on the edge of Sarah’s bed. She reached for the partially hidden book. “What a beautiful book! Where did you get it?”

  Tears sprang to Sarah’s eyes as her conscience reasserted itself. “I’m sorry … I should have told you. It’s just that I couldn’t bear it if ... I mean ...”

  “Why don’t you tell me now?”

  “Mrs. Hodges loaned me the book, and she gave me this notebook and pen so I could write down any words I don’t know. She’s going to define them for me. See, I’m leaving space after each word”—Sarah held out the notebook to her mother—“so I can fill in the definition.”

  “Yes, I see. She brought these things to you at Mrs. Bellows’ house? That seems strange.”

  Sarah ducked her head and stared at her lap. “Actually, I was at Mrs. Hodges’ house, working for her. You see, Mrs. Bellows had a terrible headache, so she didn’t want me to work today. After I left her house, I met Mrs. Hodges, and she needed help setting up her library
.”

  “I don’t believe we know Mrs. Hodges, Sarah. I don’t know what your father would say about you working for her.”

  “Oh, she’s just wonderful, Mama, and you should see their library! It’s a huge square room with shelves all the way to the ceiling, and there are crates and crates of books that I have to unload, and I have to study each one so I can put it in the right spot. It’s just the best job ever; I even have to read poetry out loud!”

  “Shhh,” her mother cautioned. “Why? Why do you have to read out loud?”

  “Mrs. Hodges says she gets bored easily, so she wants me to read to her. I guess you could say it’s just part of the job.”

  Mama laughed softly as she leaned over and hugged her daughter. “And a part you don’t mind at all, I’m sure.”

  “Do I have to tell Pa?”

  Brows knitting in concentration, her mother studied her, and when she finally spoke, her words startled Sarah. “You’re not like most children, Sally. I’ve known that from the day you were born. You were always alert; your little eyes darted everywhere, watching everything around you. And as soon as you started talking, you asked nonstop questions. I had never seen a girl like you before—well, maybe one.”

  “Who, Mama?”

  “Never you mind about that. The point is, I’ve known all of your life that a girl’s usual path would never satisfy you. I just couldn’t imagine how I could give you a chance at a better—I mean, different—life, but I knew I had to try ’cause I couldn’t stand to see you just slowly dry up like I—like some people do. Maybe this Mrs. Hodges is the answer to my prayers, a gift from God, plain and simple.”

  Sarah raised herself up on her knees and leaned into her mother’s lap. “Oh, Mama, she said she would educate me!”

  “But you gotta be working, Sarah, ’cause your pa won’t accept a handout. You know how he is about that.”

  “I will work! There’s so much that needs doing, and she really does need help.”

  “I’m sure she does. A fashionable lady like that coming to live in Hodges House ... well, she’s probably gonna want to spruce up everything.”

  “And I have to help her with all the company that’s coming and with her wardrobe and just all kinds of things.”

  “What about Mrs. Bellows?”

  “Mrs. Hodges said I must work for her first if she wants me. But, Mama, work with Mrs. Bellows is gonna be kind of ... kind of uncertain. She says she wants me to work, but when I get there, she won’t let me stay. That’s what she did today. To be honest, Mama, I don’t think she’s very happy with her life. She pretends she is, but then she goes to bed with a headache and cries.” Sarah paused before whispering, “Mr. Bellows says awful things about her.”

  “Poor woman. I’ve often wondered—well, never mind. This Mrs. Hodges, is she paying you regular wages?”

  “Better wages, ’cause I’m not just a maid—that’s what she says. Oh, Mama, I don’t want to be just a maid. I want ... I want to be ... oh, I don’t know how to say it! I just want to know so much more and see the world.”

  Her mother’s eyes took on a glint of determination as Sarah continued. “I want to hear great music and try to paint a picture and listen to brilliant people talk and—do I have to tell Pa?”

  “You’re gonna have more than I had, Sally!” Mama’s vehemence startled Sarah. “I’m determined on it.”

  Tears sprang to Sarah’s eyes as exalted hope filled her heart.

  Her mother leaned forward and gently stroked Sarah’s head in silence for a moment before observing, “You know, your pa is awful busy right now, and I don’t think we should bother him with this. He’s got more important things to worry about.”

  Sarah threw her arms around her mother’s neck, and they clung to each other as Sarah’s tears moistened her mother’s cheek. Their natural alliance was now enhanced by their shared dream.

  “Now get in this bed,” her mother insisted as she pushed Sarah away and rose. “It’s gonna be quite a balancing act you’re gonna have to live. You’re young, but you still gotta rest.”

  “I can do it.”

  “I know you can.” Mama moved toward the narrow stairs as she spoke, “But you keep that lantern up here to read by tomorrow night. An education won’t be any good to you if you go blind getting it.” When she got to the doorway, she turned back and took a long look at her daughter. “I’m proud of you, honey. Whatever it takes, whatever it takes—”

  Sarah lay awake just long enough to wonder what her mother’s dreams had been.

  CHAPTER 5

  As the sun peeped over the horizon and turned the landscape golden the next morning, Sarah ran all the way to town. Her precious notebook and Little Women were safely wrapped in cloth and stored in her knapsack, and every time it banged against her side, a little thrill of anticipation shivered through her. She had a plan; she would work double-time for Mrs. Bellows, leave early and spend time with Miss Victoria in her library. She had ever so many new words to learn!

  Sarah had the porch swept, the door brass polished, and the front parlor dust free by the time Mr. Bellows, an unlit cigar clenched between his teeth, clomped down the stairs and scowled at her on his way to the dining room. Sarah drew a deep breath, set her face in a rigid smile, and followed him. By the time he had settled his cumbersome body at the table, she had silently poured him a cup of coffee.

  “Good morning, sir,” she greeted him. “Will Mrs. Bellows be joining you for breakfast?”

  “Not if the gods are on my side.”

  “Shall I take a tray to her room?”

  Without lowering the paper, Mr. Bellows growled, “What a brilliant idea, girl.”

  Sarah flushed but bit her tongue as she turned on her heel and hurried out to the kitchen to arrange Mrs. Bellows’ breakfast tray.

  “You’s mighty perky this morning,” Ada dourly observed. “You thinking you gonna get paid more for working hard? Well if you is, you can just forget about it.”

  “I just want to finish early today.”

  Ada jeered, “Yeah, I guess you needs time to get ready for that ball you goin’ to tonight, don’t you, little Miss Farm Girl?”

  Stung by the remark, Sarah’s temper flashed red hot, but she controlled herself. I will not be drawn into a fight. I won’t waste my time!

  Seeing that her words had hit their mark, Ada laughed as she turned back to the bacon and eggs she was frying.

  Why is she so mean? Sarah jerked silverware from a drawer. She’s always angry and for no good reason. “Don’t you think there’s enough hatefulness in the world without us creating more, Ada?”

  Surprised, the cook turned and gave Sarah a hard look. “You ain’t got no idea,” she finally spit out.

  “Probably not, but it just seems to me that we could be friends.”

  “Friends? You and me? How’s that gonna happen? Ain’t no way in this town. You’s white, and you ain’t nothing but trouble for me. If they like you better than me, I’s gonna be gone. This ain’t much of a job, but it’s all I got.”

  “I won’t be taking your job, Ada. I can promise you that.” Sarah intentionally stopped her words, but her mind was screaming, I’m not staying here! I’m going up in the world! Do you hear me? I’m going up!

  “That so?” Ada cocked one eyebrow at her. “Well, well, don’t that make me feel better.”

  “It could. It’s your choice.” Sarah shrugged. “Are you about finished with Mr. Bellows’ breakfast?”

  “I’s finished.” Ada scooped up the bacon and eggs from the skillet and recklessly slid them onto a plate. “But you better learn right now, he ain’t gonna like nothing you do.”

  “I suspect you’re right about that, Ada. He seems like a troubled soul.”

  “Troubled soul? More like mean as Hades.”

  “Whatever he is, he is, but Mr. Bellows is not going to be my world.” Sarah loaded up a tray for the dining room and turned toward the door.

  “Then you’s lucky, girl,” Ad
a called after her.

  ***

  The harder Sarah worked, the more Mrs. Bellows gave her to do. She had cleaned every room except the kitchen by noon when Mrs. Bellows sat down to dinner. Sarah tried to stand by to serve her, but Mrs. Bellows planted her elbows on the tablecloth and just stared down at her full plate. Finally she muttered, “Get on about your work, Sally.”

  Sarah postponed eating her own dinner, and, with rug beater in hand, she hurried out to the back porch where she had draped the smaller rugs over the railings. She was good and hungry herself, but this was the last of the day’s truly dirty tasks, and she wanted it finished before she washed up for her meal.

  Whack! Whack! Sarah attacked a rug with a vengeance and sent clouds of dust swirling over the railings. Whack! She went after it again and had raised her arm for the next blow when she heard a loud sneeze beneath her feet. Then another sneeze and a girl’s voice, “Now you’s done us in for sure!”

  Sarah descended the stairs and squatted down to peer under the porch. Three sets of dark eyes stared back at her as a small child’s whimper filled the air. “Hush!” an older girl ordered. “Ain’t you got us in enough trouble already?”

  Thoroughly confused, Sarah continued staring into the darkness until she heard the back screen door slam and looked up to see Ada walk to the edge of the porch and sit on the top step.

  “Now you knows.” Her shoulders wearily slumped forward. “And I guess it ain’t gonna take you no time to tell.”

  At the sound of her voice, the children scrambled out from under the porch, their eyes blinking in the bright sunlight. The youngest, a boy of about three, tottered up the steps to Ada, peered up into her face, and cried, “I’s hungry, Mammy.”

  At his words, Sarah’s spirits plummeted.

  “You’s always hungry,” Ada sighed. “You’s just gonna have to wait. I ain’t got no food yet; Mrs. Bellows ain’t through with her dinner.”

  “I have food!” Sarah blurted out as she ran past Ada and slammed through the back door. When she returned, she was already digging into her knapsack. “Here!” She handed out biscuits with ham to the children and watched in horror as they wolfed them down. “And apples, too.”