Skirting Tradition

by Kay Moser

  “Now what you gonna eat?” Ada asked. “You done give away your food. What you gonna eat?”

  “Whatever you were going to give the children.”

  “Ain’t likely.” Ada’s voice softened. “Ain’t likely you’s gonna eat the leftovers off a white lady’s plate.”

  Sarah stared at the dark face in disbelief.

  “How you think I’s gonna feed them?” Ada demanded. “She’d notice if any other food’s missing.”

  “I never thought ...”

  “Course you ain’t. Why should you? Your family don’t know what poor is.”

  “My father works hard to grow cotton for another man. He doesn’t even own the land he works yet. And we have to grow all our food and just make do for everything else.”

  “‘Yet.’” Ada pounced on the word. “That’s a real important word, white girl. There ain’t no ‘yet’ in the world I come from. I ain’t ever gonna own no land. These here kids ain’t gonna own none neither. No matter how hard we works.”

  “Never?”

  Ada grabbed her oldest child, a skinny girl about ten, and jerked her forward. “This here be the reason,” she said as she pointed to the child’s dark skin. “Now you tell me why my baby girl don’t have the same chance you got.”

  “I ... I don’t know.”

  “Sally!” Mrs. Bellows’ shrill voice jangled every nerve in Sarah’s body. “What in heaven’s name are you doing out here? And where did all these little … these dirty—”

  “Children!” Sarah finished her employer’s question. “These are children.”

  “Well, whatever. Get rid of them, Ada! You’ve got dishes to do, and Sally, you’ve got ironing waiting on you.”

  Sarah hurried after her employer until she reached the shadows of the main hall. Mrs. Bellows pointed to a pile of chemises on the table. “Be sure and sprinkle those real good, Sally, before you iron them. And be careful; I’ll just have a hissy if you scorch them. And, Sally, you see to it that you mind your own business or you won’t be working here. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am, you do.”

  “Well, get to it, girl!” Mrs. Bellows turned, tossed her bustle after her, and walked away. Sarah stared at the heap of lace-trimmed cloth in her hands as a slight vertigo rushed over her. How could two such different worlds exist side by side? Why haven’t I noticed before? She hurried back to the kitchen.

  “Didn’t I tell you they’s just gonna work you harder if you bustles around here?” Ada demanded from her position at the kitchen sink where she was scraping leftovers into an old bowl.

  Sarah nodded as she put the heavy irons on the stove to heat and pulled down the hinged ironing board from its little cupboard.

  “Don’t you be getting in my way now, putting them irons on the stove. I’s got baking to do pretty soon here.”

  Sarah began sprinkling the delicate undergarments with water and rolling them into balls. “I’ll be through with this long before you start baking.”

  “We’ll see ... we’ll see.” Ada’s gaze wandered toward the screen door.

  “Take the food to them,” Sarah insisted.

  “I’s gonna keep it for their supper.”

  Sarah hurriedly bent over the ironing board, her eyes so full of tears she could hardly arrange the tedious lace-edged ruffles of the first chemise. Dear Lord, what is wrong with these people?

  ***

  Two hours later, Sarah opened the second drawer in Mrs. Bellows’ chest of drawers to put the chemises away. When she discovered a pile of wrinkled petticoats, she carefully set the chemises on the bed and returned to straighten the drawer. As she nimbly grabbed dainty undergarments and smoothed and folded them into an ordered stack, her gaze went to the window that faced the Hodges house. Will I ever get out of here? Surely this is the last thing I have to—

  Her thoughts were interrupted when her fingers felt something cool and smooth. She grabbed it and pulled it out.

  “What on earth is this?” She examined a silver container, cautiously unscrewing the top, but when she sniffed the contents, she jerked her head back and curled up her nose. “Oh, that’s awful! What is it?”

  “Sally!” Mrs. Bellows called her from the hallway.

  Quick as a hummingbird, Sarah capped the silver container and plunged it back into the drawer, covering it over with the garments she had folded.

  “Oh, there you are!” Mrs. Bellows grabbed the door facing as she gasped for air. “I declare, one of these days those stairs are going to be the death of me.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Sarah gathered the ironed chemises from the bed and turned back to the chest of drawers.

  “Not in that drawer!” Mrs. Bellows exclaimed as she hurried to Sarah’s side and slammed the second drawer shut. “It’s too full. Besides, I’m sure I distinctly told you to put those in the top drawer.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Here, I’ll open it for you.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Sarah avoided meeting Mrs. Bellows’ eyes.

  “I’ve put some petticoats on the ironing board for you to do next. You better get to it! But before you go, pull down the shades. I feel a headache coming on, but maybe if I lie down, it will go away.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Sarah hurried to the windows to adjust the shades. How her heart ached when she saw the Hodges’ serene white mansion just waiting for her on the other side of the garden! “When I’ve finished the petticoats, will that be all for the day?”

  “I should think so! It will take you hours to do those, and Sally, when you finish them, be sure you put them in the second drawer. Do you understand? I want them in the second drawer where you tried to put the chemises.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  ***

  When Sarah returned to the room well over an hour later, she discovered that Mrs. Bellows was stretched out on the bed, fast asleep. Quietly, Sarah crossed the room and opened the second drawer. It had been completely emptied, and the paper liner on the bottom stared back at her. She arranged the lace-adorned petticoats in the deep drawer and, delighted to finally be free, turned to leave.

  Mrs. Bellows stirred and sat up abruptly. “Oh, Sally! It’s you. I was just resting my eyes.”

  “I hope your headache is better, ma’am.”

  “Yes, yes. I was just coming downstairs when you came in. You go make me some tea. I’ll have it on the front porch. So much more air out there, you know. Perfectly stifling today.”

  As Sarah carried the tea tray through the hall, Mrs. Bellows descended the stairs, clinging tightly to the banister. At the bottom, she stopped and carefully arranged her clothing before staggering down the hall toward the porch. “Dear me! I seem to be a bit groggy.” She turned back to hold on to Sarah, who struggled to steady the tray.

  When Mrs. Bellows had reclaimed her balance, she gave Sarah a weak smile. “My, but you’ve been working like a busy bee, haven’t you, Sally? You’ve done two days’ work in one, and everything looks just lovely!”

  Sarah winced and her nose crinkled up as the strong odor from the silver container wafted past her. “Thank you, ma’am,” she managed to murmur.

  “Yes, indeed, you’re a good little worker, and you should be rewarded.”

  Certain she was about to be dismissed for the day, Sarah’s spirits rose as she followed Mrs. Bellows outside and watched her plop down onto the porch settee. Holding her breath, Sarah leaned over and placed the tea table in front of her.

  “I shall have to think of something special to reward you, Sally, but in the meantime, you have plenty of time to polish the silver.”

  Sarah’s heart sank. It was past four. I won’t be out of here before dark. Too late to work in the Hodges’ library.

  ***

  By the time Sarah climbed the ladder into her attic room, she was exhausted and disheartened. In spite of her extra efforts, Mrs. Bellows had paid her only a nickel for her day’s work and had dismissed her for the rest of the week. Memories of Ada’s chi
ldren waiting under the porch for table scraps moved her to tears. No wonder Ada’s so sharp-tongued. She’s scared I’ll take her job, and then what would the children eat? A picture of Ada’s skinny little girl floated through Sarah’s mind. Why shouldn’t she have a chance at a better life? If I should have an education, why shouldn’t she? How can Mrs. Bellows know those children are suffering and do nothing? The thought of Mrs. Bellows reminded her of the foul-smelling silver container. She’s miserable, and who can blame her, with a husband like Mr. Bellows? She sighed and lit the lantern. At least I can work for Miss Victoria tomorrow. And now, a little reading. She looked around the room for her knapsack.

  “Oh no! I left my knapsack in the parlor. Little Women, my notebook! Mrs. Bellows is sure to find them!” Sarah dove onto the bed and sobbed until she fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

  CHAPTER 6

  In her frigid, dark attic room, Sarah felt someone shaking her. When she finally managed to climb out of the depths of her exhausted sleep and open her eyelids, she found her mother bending over her.

  “Time to get up, honey. I washed and ironed your best dress,” Mama called over her shoulder. “After all, you’re gonna be working in Mrs. Hodges’ library today.”

  Those words whisked the cobwebs from Sarah’s mind like a magic wand. “Yes!”

  Her mother chuckled. “Fresh new day. No Mrs. Bellows today.”

  Sarah winced as she remembered her knapsack. “Oh, dear God, please ...” She dashed across the icy floor to her wash bowl. Shivering violently, she stripped, washed, and rubbed herself vigorously with the rough towel. “If I get to the Bellows’ house before anyone is up, maybe ... Oh please, dear God!”

  Sarah had gulped down her breakfast and was halfway across the yard when her pa called to her. Her feet itching to move, she clenched her jaw and waited while he walked over. “I ain’t seen no material for your mama, Sally girl. You ain’t forgotten?”

  “No, sir. I was waiting until I had more wages. I’ll go to the store this afternoon.”

  “Tomorrow’s her birthday.”

  “I know. Believe me, Pa, it’ll be worth the wait. I promise.”

  “Well, don’t stand around here. The day’s slipping by.” He pointed to the sunrise just starting to show in the east. “Gonna be a clear one, a good working day.”

  “Yes, sir,” Sarah called back over her shoulder. “And beautiful too.”

  ***

  Sarah dashed to town and arrived at the Bellows’ house out of breath. She climbed the back steps quietly and eased into the kitchen.

  “Good morning, Ada,” she said softly to the woman’s back.

  “What you doing here? I thought you was free of this place today.”

  “I am, but—”

  “You forgot something you needs?”

  Sarah’s heart sank. “Yes. Did Mrs. Bellows find it?”

  As silent as a stone, Ada leaned over, parted the checkered curtain that draped the shelves under the counter and pulled out a jar of soap. “You gonna be in a heap of trouble around here if you ain’t more careful.” She lazily scrubbed a pan while Sarah fretted. “I hid your stuff.”

  “You found it!”

  “Lucky for you I did, farm girl, but I got to say I’s disappointed. I never took you for no thief.”

  “Thief?”

  “Where you get them books if you didn’t steal them?”

  “Mrs. Hodges, the lady next door—”

  “I know who Miz Hodges be. Lord knows I hear enough about her in this house.”

  “She loaned me the book to read. And she gave me the notebook to write in.”

  “Why? Why’d she do that?”

  Sarah’s mind whirled around like a windmill in a storm, seeking a credible answer to the simple question that society made so complicated. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I think she believes in me.”

  “Believes in you? Believes in you? Ain’t you the lucky one!”

  “Yes, I am!” Sarah retorted. “I am!”

  Ada’s cold, dark eyes bored into Sarah’s spirit until she felt a shiver come over her, and then, surprisingly, Ada’s eyes misted. “I do too, missy,” she whispered. “You ain’t like the rest of them.” Ada leaned over again and pulled Sarah’s knapsack out from under the sink.

  “Oh, Ada!” Tears filled Sarah’s eyes. “Thank you for rescuing me and ... and for believing in me.”

  “Get on outta here before Mr. Bellows come downstairs.”

  Sarah nodded, placed her dinner on the kitchen table in front of Ada, and hurried out the back door.

  ***

  Just inside the Hodges’ garden, Sarah stopped at a secluded stone bench to regain her composure. She felt whiplashed by flashes of relief and stabs of regret. Her books were safe, her future was bright, but Ada’s life was still a slowly suffocating swamp, and her children would often know hunger. Sarah knew her dinner would never be enough, and she was just beginning to understand that half the town were duplicates of Ada’s children. Drawing in deep breaths of the cold air to steady herself, she wiped the tears from her cheeks with the end of her shawl.

  “Sarah?” A man’s voice interrupted her thoughts and made her jump. “It is Sarah, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, sir!” Sarah sprang to her feet at the sight of Mr. Hodges.

  “I’m sorry if I startled you. Are you all right? You seem distressed.”

  “Yes, sir. I just needed a moment—I mean, I’m supposed to work for Mrs. Hodges today, and—I’ll go around back, sir.”

  He smiled and leaned toward her slightly. “No need for that when the front door is closer. Come, let’s both go in and get something hot to drink. It’s cold out here.”

  “Yes, sir.” A wave of relief washed through her as she followed him up the front walk.

  “This is the first real cold snap we’ve had, isn’t it?” he asked. “I couldn’t resist a stroll through the town before everybody else wakes up. I confess I like it better when the streets are deserted. How about you?”

  “I guess I like it any time,” Sarah admitted. “I don’t get to see it often.”

  “Ah. There’s the difference, I’m sure.” He opened the front door and gallantly stood aside for her to enter. Sarah was so surprised, she couldn’t move. “Come on in.” He waved her through. “My beautiful wife may not be up yet, but—”

  “Your beautiful wife has been up for at least ten minutes!” Miss Victoria startled them both by calling down from the top of the stairs. “Good morning, Sarah! I’ve been worried about you. Would you ask the cook for a tea tray and then come on up?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Sarah rushed ahead a few steps before she realized she had never seen the kitchen.

  “Straight down the hall, out on the back porch and to your left,” Mr. Hodges directed. “And tell Frances I said to behave herself.”

  “Yes, sir.” Sarah hurried forward through the back door and found the kitchen, which was attached to the house by a breezeway. When she reached the door, she paused and listened to the small group of servants gathered inside.

  “Not coffee!” an older, dark-skinned woman scolded. “I declare, Delphie, I believe you’re still half asleep. You know full well Miz Victoria don’t drink coffee. She favors hot tea.”

  “Wish I was still asleep,” a young woman answered back. “Nearly froze my toes off hitting that cold floor this morning.”

  “You don’t know what cold is,” an older man countered. “Why, when I was growin’ up—”

  “Oh Lordy! Here he goes.” The older woman started laughing as she leaned over and pulled a pan of biscuits from the oven.

  “Quick! Stuff something in his mouth ’fore he get started.” The younger woman giggled.

  “That ain’t no way to talk about your pa,” the man protested. “What this world comin’ to when a girl start talking to her pa so disrespectful like. Why, when I was growin’ up—”

  He spotted Sarah. “Well, lookee here! We got company.”

  “You
must be Miss Sarah!” The older woman stepped forward, wiping her hands on her apron. “Miz Victoria say to expect you. Come on in, honey! We won’t bite.”

  “Leastways, we women won’t bite.” The younger woman laughed. “I’s Delphine, and this here is my momma, Frances, and my pa, Samuel.”

  “Glad to meet you, Miss Sarah.” The man bowed. “We understand you’s gonna be Miz Victoria’s maid.”

  “Personal secretary!” Frances corrected him. “She ain’t no maid. Fine ladies like Miz Victoria got a personal secretary.”

  “Actually, I don’t know what I am,” Sarah admitted, “except I know I’m awful glad to be here.”

  Frances stepped forward and hugged her. “We’s glad you’s here, too, honey. That Miz Victoria is a blessing from heaven for this house, and we’s glad about anything that’ll get her to stay. I didn’t think we was ever gonna get Mr. Hayden married again!”

  “Momma raised Mr. Hayden,” Delphie added. “Made him everything he is.” She ended with a giggle.

  “I guess I did!” Frances agreed. “And there ain’t a finer man in this here town.”

  “Well now, I remember doin’ some of that raisin’,” Samuel added.

  “You didn’t do nothing but bring in the firewood,” Frances insisted. “And speaking of that—”

  “I’s on my way, woman.” Samuel patted Sarah on the shoulder as he passed her. “That old woman is mean, young lady. You better watch out for her!”

  “Oh, get yourself on out of here and get me some firewood!”

  Delphie giggled. “He ain’t in no hurry to go out in that cold.”

  “He’s got work to do,” Frances said. “We all got work to do. Now let’s get this here breakfast together for Mr. Hayden so as he can get on over to the store, and you two get Miz Victoria’s tray up to her before she sends back to England for better help.”

  Minutes later, Sarah was cautiously carrying a heavy tray loaded with a full teapot up the grand staircase. Careful. Don’t slosh the tea on that embroidered napkin. When she finally reached the top, she paused. Made it! But which room?

  “Good heavens!” Miss Victoria exclaimed as she popped her head out of a doorway down the hall. “That’s too heavy for you. What is Delphie thinking?” Her long dressing gown swishing, she hurried down the hall and tried to take the tray.