by Kay Moser
“But you’ll be going back to church tomorrow, won’t you?”
“I think so. Kazi is such a quiet baby.”
***
By late afternoon, Sarah had the washing finished, the cake made, the table set, and supper sitting on the stove. Her hands were red and raw from the diapers she had scrubbed, but she happily anticipated her mother’s surprise when she found them all clean, dry, and folded. She checked on Kazimir before she raced upstairs to wrap Mama’s present with the colorful, flowered paper and ribbon Hodges Department Store had given her.
“This will be the first present ever given in this family that is wrapped in colored paper,” she exulted, “and Mother is going to be so surprised when she sees the quality and color of this twill. And oh! That paper dress pattern Miss Victoria is loaning me is perfect. Mother will love that new tailored style—” The distant sound of a wagon caught her attention.
“They’re home, Sally!” one of her brothers yelled up the stairs.
Back downstairs, Sarah placed the package in the middle of the table with the three-layer chocolate cake as the other boys came tumbling in the front door.
“Is it all ready?”
“Wow! Look at that cake. I’m starving!”
“You’re always starving. I think your legs are empty.”
Milos checked out the window. “Pa’s helping her down from the wagon. Everybody get in place.”
They dashed to arrange themselves around the table, and, just as their mother walked through the door, they yelled, “Surprise!”
The rest of the evening was everything Sarah wanted, but undoubtedly, the best moment was when Mama unwrapped her package and spied the royal-blue twill.
“Oh ... look at this color!” she exclaimed. “It’s not black! I thought it would be ... Oh, Sally, I know you’re the one who picked this out—”
“And look at the pattern, Mama.” Sarah picked up the envelope that had fallen to the floor. “See, it’s the new Eton jacket with a gored-style skirt. All the fashionable women in the cities are wearing them, and you’ll have the prettiest one at church.”
Mama gazed at the drawing. “I never imagined I would ever have a paper pattern. Oh, Sally, where did you ever get such a pattern? It must have cost a pretty penny!”
Sarah stole a look at her father, then answered cautiously. “The lady I work for loaned it to me. We’ll be very careful with it and give it right back to her, and oh, can’t you just see this blue twill made up like that. And look at this black braid I found. It’ll be so fashionable to outline the collar and lapels of the jacket, and the bottom of the skirt, too. That’s what the ladies’ magazines are showing as the latest thing.”
“I just can’t believe it.” Mama turned to Pa, “You’ve spent too much, Kazimir.”
“Don’t know nothing ’bout material goods. This is Sally’s doing, honey, and she paid for a good bit of it too. Why, I didn’t have any idea she was buying something so fancy.”
“Maybe we should take it back and—”
“No!” everyone else shouted.
“I’m right proud of Sally,” Pa conceded. “She’s worked all week at Mrs. Bellows’ house, and I’d guess that woman’s mighty hard to please.”
Sarah’s mother shot her a look that communicated, Say nothing. Let me handle this.
“What about the cake?” Norbert demanded, and he was soon joined by shouts from his brothers.
***
Contented but exhausted, Sarah climbed to her room early that evening and propped herself up in bed to read. She had identified herself as Meg, the responsible one in Little Women, but she dearly wished she could be more like Jo. “And perhaps I can be,” she reflected, “with Miss Victoria’s help. Not a writer, of course. That’s wishing for too much, but maybe a teacher. That way I could spend my life with books. Oh, that would be heaven on earth!”
***
Since the next morning was cold and drizzly, her mother decided not to take Kazi out. Sarah left her reluctantly and only at her father’s insistence. Once they had arrived at the Baptist Church, Pa handed the reins over to Norbert and accompanied Sarah and her other brothers into the foyer.
Mrs. Bellows walked so close to Sarah and her father that Sarah could have reached out and touched her, but when Sarah said, “Good morning,” Mrs. Bellows turned her head away and walked on. Startled by the snub, Sarah glanced up at her father, who simply shrugged. “Must not have heard you. Let’s get on in and sit down.”
The sermon was long and thunderous, but finally, the closing hymn was sung. As the congregation stirred to leave, Pa leaned over and said, “I gotta talk to some workers I see up in the balcony, Sally. You and the boys meet me out front.” He slipped up the center aisle before it became congested, and as soon as his back was turned, Sarah’s brothers dashed down the pew and up the side aisle. Sarah lingered, watching the town couples coming up the aisle, chatting eagerly with their neighbors. She was surprised when Mrs. Boyd paused to greet her.
“Good morning, Sarah dear.” Mrs. Boyd’s voice always made Sarah think of music. “How is your mother? I was hoping to see her here today.”
Sarah jumped to her feet. “Oh, thank you for asking, ma’am. She’s quite well really. We had a surprise birthday supper for her last night, but she didn’t like to take baby Kazi out in the damp cold this morning.”
“Wise of her, I’m sure, dear.” She motioned up the clearing center aisle. “Are you going out into the vestibule? Perhaps you’d like to accompany me?”
“Yes, ma’am, I would!” Sarah nervously smoothed her skirt. She was thrilled at Mrs. Boyd’s notice but worried that she wouldn’t think of a single interesting thing to say.
“Are you enjoying being in town during the week?” Mrs. Boyd eased the two of them into conversation.
“Yes, ma’am. I like seeing new things, and every morning I stop for just a minute to study one of the shop windows. I never knew so much stuff—I mean, clothes and things—existed.”
Mrs. Boyd laughed softly. “Factories are turning out ever-changing and supposedly improved goods every day. I do sometimes wonder if we need so many new things. Perhaps it’s as Thoreau wrote, ‘Beware of the enterprise that requires new clothes, and not a wearer of new clothes.’”
Sarah blushed at her ignorance. “I don’t understand.”
“Thoreau is simply suggesting that we need to use our time to perfect our minds and souls rather than worrying so much about fashion.”
Mrs. Boyd took the girl’s arm and tucked it into hers as she added, “Thoreau is a writer from New England, dear. You’ll read his works in time, I’m sure.”
“I hope so. Oh, Mrs. Boyd, I really do want to be well-read.”
“Of course you do. Oh, look. There’s your father over there with Mrs. Bellows. Why don’t we go say hello?”
As Sarah approached her father, anxiety surged through her. His face was the plum color it turned when he was angry, and Mrs. Bellows was shaking her finger at him.
“Oh no!” Sarah unconsciously tightened her grip on Mrs. Boyd’s arm.
“Dear me,” Mrs. Boyd commented as they drew close enough to hear Mrs. Bellows’ comments.
“Strutting around in bloomers all over the yard, and yesterday she had your daughter on one of those bicycles! Riding right down the middle of the street she was. Your daughter!”
Pa turned and saw Sarah approaching. “Get in the wagon, Sally!” he ordered, then lightened his tone as he addressed Mrs. Boyd, “Good day to you, ma’am.”
Sarah hurried out to the church portico. “Let’s go!” her pa barked when he caught up to her.
The ride home was the longest three miles Sarah could ever remember enduring. The boys cut up in the back of the wagon, taunting each other and wrestling from side to side, but Pa said nothing to them. Instead, he sat as fixed as a stone next to Sarah, who struggled to breathe.
When they finally arrived, the boys bolted to the house, more than ready for the Sunday dinner the
y could smell on the breeze. Pa was immovable, and Sarah sat next to him, certain her dreams were about to crumble.
“I ain’t happy with you, girl,” he finally said. “You’ve shamed me in front of the whole town.”
“How have I done that, Pa?”
“Mrs. Bellows says you been working for that highfalutin woman from England that Hayden Hodges done gone and married. She says you been making a spectacle of yourself, riding in a buggy—even riding one of them bicycles.”
“I was just doing my job, Pa, helping Miss Victoria—I mean, Mrs. Hodges—unpack and set up the house. We went into town to buy supplies.”
“Why wasn’t you working for Mrs. Bellows like you was supposed to?”
“She sent me away, Pa. She wouldn’t let me work. She has these headaches, and she made me leave after I walked all the way into town, and I just had to earn some money for Mama’s dress.”
“Don’t you go blaming your mama, girl!”
“No, sir. I didn’t mean that. I mean I just wanted to buy some fine fabric, and Mrs. Bellows wouldn’t let me work even when she told me to come, and then I had the chance—”
“I’ve heard enough!” Pa thrust the reins into her hands. “Put up the team, and see you rub ’em down good, you hear?”
“But the boys usually take care of the horses—”
“Seems there ain’t any ‘usual’ anymore! What’s wrong with you, girl?” His voice rose as his face turned magenta. Sarah wrapped her arms around herself and bowed her head. “You got all kinds of prospects. Your mama done taught you how to run a home and cook. Look at you!” He was now yelling. “You’re a good-looking girl. You ain’t gonna have no trouble getting a husband, probably somebody with a good piece of land. But is that good enough for you?”
Sarah’s head popped up. “No,” she said, her voice quiet but resolute. “No, Pa, it’s not enough.”
“You see that barn?” Pa demanded. “Your mama and I had to live in a barn half that size when we first come to Texas, but we was glad to have it after them New York tenements. You was born in a barn.”
“Yes, sir, I know.”
“Now you think you gotta have a fancy house! Well, since our house don’t suit you, maybe you oughta try living in a barn like your mama did! Put up the horses and just plan to stay with them!” Pa jumped from the wagon and strode off.
Every nerve in Sarah’s body twitched, demanding she jump down and run, but she waited until he had slammed into the house before she drove the wagon into the barn. She was so anxious she hardly knew what she was doing as she began the heavy work of unhitching and caring for the horses. What if he won’t let me go back to town? Her mind filled with images of books—finely tooled, leather-covered books. She remembered the feel of a pen between her fingers, the sheer joy of dipping into the ink bottle and producing words on clean, bright paper.
“I’ve only just begun,” she wailed into the coat of the horse she was brushing. “Only scraped the surface. I can’t stop! Oh, dear God, I can’t bear to stop. Help me!”
Finally, her fingers aching from the cold, she threw herself onto a bale of hay and hugged herself in a desperate attempt to get warmer. Sadness filled her at the thought of the break with her pa, but it was outweighed by her grief that she had lost her access to books. “How will I ever learn?” she cried out to the loft.
***
The answer came at about three o’clock when a fashionable buggy descended the hill into the farmyard, and Sarah saw Mrs. Boyd sitting next to an elderly gentleman she didn’t know.
Seconds after their arrival, Pa rushed out the front door, his face alight with a smile. He assisted Mrs. Boyd as she descended, a prettily wrapped package in one hand, and entered the house. When the gentleman also stepped down, Sarah noticed he was dressed in an old-fashioned, formal style. He stood ramrod straight as he extended his hand to Pa, who bowed to him in a way Sarah had never seen before. When Pa tried to escort him inside, the man motioned toward the barn. The two of them walked toward Sarah. Her pa, an amazed smile etched on his face, followed respectfully behind the older man.
Sarah watched, her face numb from the cold air, and clamped down on her chattering teeth. Much to her surprise, the elderly gentleman smiled at her, stepped forward and bowed. “You must be Miss Novak,” he said. “I’m delighted to meet you at last. My daughter is most impressed with you and very fond indeed of your dear mother.”
“Yes.” Pa hurried forward, clearing his throat as he came. “This is our Sally. A big help to her mother, she is.”
Disregarding Pa’s words, the gentleman addressed Sarah directly. “It’s far too cold for you out here, Miss Novak, and my daughter will be disappointed indeed if she misses the opportunity to visit with you. I hope your duties here in the barn won’t detain you long.”
Sarah looked at Pa for direction.
“Sally was just going in,” Pa said. “Don’t keep your mama waiting any longer, Sally.”
Bewildered, Sarah murmured, “Yes, sir,” and walked toward the barn door, looking back over her shoulder at the remarkable gentleman.
When she entered the house, her mother rushed toward her. “I’ve been so worried! It’s so cold—well, never mind that now. Look who’s here. It’s Mrs. Boyd.”
“Good afternoon, Sarah.” Mrs. Boyd extended her hand to Sarah. “Goodness, dear, you’re freezing. Better come sit next to me here by the fire. Maybe your mother could pour you a cup of tea.”
“Oh, I can get my own!” Sarah insisted, in spite of her chattering teeth.
“No, Sally.” Mama’s voice quavered with emotion. “Let me get you something to eat. You just go sit close to the fire, honey.”
Mrs. Boyd looked from Sarah’s mother to Sarah’s stiffly cold face and back to her mother. “Yes indeed,” she agreed as she stood. “It’s time to take care of Sarah.” She took the shawl off her own shoulders and wrapped it around Sarah. “Sit here, close to the fire. Now, isn’t that better?” she asked as she smoothly led the conversation away from its emotional danger point. “You know, Sarah, you have the loveliest soprano voice. I so enjoyed your singing this morning, especially on our final hymn. I do so love the words of that hymn. How do they go?”
“Lord, lift me up ...” Sarah’s voice choked.
“‘And let me stand,’” Mrs. Boyd continued, “‘on higher ground.’ Yes, that’s it. Here, dear, have some hot tea.”
Sarah’s mother handed her a cup of steaming liquid as she awkwardly changed the subject. “Oh, you must see the beautiful handkerchief Mrs. Boyd has brought me for my birthday. It’s monogrammed in blue, just like the fabric you bought me.” Sarah’s mother snatched up the wrappings with the handkerchief still cradled in them. “Isn’t it lovely, Sally?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sarah agreed between eager sips of the warming liquid.
“Sally worked so hard all week to earn money for dress fabric for me, Mrs. Boyd, and it’s just the loveliest shade of royal blue—not black.” She laughed nervously. “I’m being a bit impractical, I’m afraid.”
“Most deserved.” Mrs. Boyd smiled up at her. “And now Sarah must earn a new dress for herself.”
“I don’t think ... I mean ... well, Pa wants me—”
“That is all being worked out right now, Sarah.” Mrs. Boyd tucked her shawl around Sarah’s neck.
Hope sprang up so forcibly in Sarah that her hand quivered, and she clattered her teacup into the saucer. “It is?”
“Yes, my dear.” Mrs. Boyd stilled Sarah’s hand. “My father is speaking to your father. He will straighten out this little misconception your father has about your behavior and dear Mrs. Hodges.”
“Your father?”
“The general, dear. General Gibbes is my father. You didn’t know?”
“No, ma’am. I’ve never seen him at church.”
Mrs. Boyd leaned over and winked at Sarah. “He’s an Episcopalian. We’re from Charleston, you know.”
“An Episcopalian like Miss Victoria?”
“Yes, but more importantly, he’s a very persuasive man. Things will be worked out. I hope you won’t mind the little arrangements I’ve made. I’m afraid I have the most dreadful habit of arranging other people’s lives.”
The front door opened, and General Gibbes entered, followed closely by Pa. “Ah, Mrs. Novak.” The general bowed to Sarah’s mother. “May I have the privilege of presenting my unworthy self?”
“Yes, Jana,” Pa spoke up. “This is General Gibbes. I’m sure you’ve heard the townsfolk talk about him. He led the South Carolina Army during the War.”
“I’m glad to meet you.” Mama hesitantly offered her hand, all the time her eyes searching her husband’s face.
“General Gibbes has kindly driven all the way out here to explain Mrs. Bellows’ comments this morning, and ... well, the long and short of it is that he thinks Sally should work for Mrs. Hodges.”
“If she would like to do so.” General Gibbes smiled down at Sarah. “Your services are most needed, I assure you, my dear.”
“Oh yes, sir!” Sarah jumped to her feet, and her mother had to grab the teacup to save it. “Oh yes—that is—” She turned to Pa.
“Well, now that I understand the circumstances—” Pa began. “If you promise you’ll remember who you are and won’t be sneaking around anymore.”
“I will, Pa. I mean, I won’t. Oh dear!”
Mrs. Boyd laughed gently. “I’m sure your father understands what you mean, dear.” She turned to Pa. “What a wise man you are, Mr. Novak, to understand the situation with Mrs. Bellows, and what a kind man to take pity on Mrs. Hodges. She has had so little chance to meet people thus far, but Sarah and I are going to change that, aren’t we, dear?”
Sarah cocked her head. “I don’t understand ...”
“The reception on Thursday,” Mrs. Boyd answered. “I shall need your help, Sarah, to make that day run smoothly.” She turned back to Pa. “I do hope you’ll allow Sarah to help?”
“Of course, ma’am. Anything for you.” Pa beamed down at the petite lady. “My Sally will be glad to help you out.”