by Kay Moser
“It isn’t Tintern Abbey, I know. The old barn is nothing like the ancient ruins I saw pictured in the poetry book, but it is the kind of natural beauty Wordsworth wrote about. And oh! It does have the power to move me. ‘The nurse, the anchor ...’” she murmured the words.
Her memory skittered through the poem until it hit the phrase, “‘Let the moon shine on thee in thy solitary walk,’” and she understood more of the reason for Miss Victoria’s commitment to her. “Wordsworth shared his love of nature with his sister, but Victoria has had no one to share her soul’s journey,” Sarah whispered. “Not really. She never got a chance to know Amelia, and she has no daughter. How blessed I am!”
CHAPTER 14
The Saturday morning after Thanksgiving dawned dreary and icy cold, but Sarah built the usual fire under the black iron pot and started boiling the family’s laundry. Carefully protected by a quilt, her history book was propped up a safe distance from the fire, and as she stirred the boiling lye-soaped water, she memorized dates and names. Several hours later, when the clothes were all hand wrung and hung on the lines, she looked up at the gathering clouds and prayed that the rain would hold off long enough for everything to dry.
By noon, it became obvious that she would lose the battle against the weather, and she and her mother rushed out into the first drops of rain to rescue the clothes. Jerking them off the lines and wadding them into baskets, they shivered as the first storm of early winter gathered force.
“We’ll just have to finish drying them in here,” Mama said as she pushed through the front door and headed toward the fireplace.
“I could go ahead and iron the shirts and pants,” Sarah suggested. “They’re almost dry.”
“I didn’t intend for you to have to do that. I know you need to study.”
Sarah reached for the heavy irons and put them on the metal stove. “The boys won’t have anything to wear to church if I don’t iron, and I need to press my Sunday dress, too. I can memorize some verses while I work.”
“Do what you can, honey. I’ve got to get dinner on the table. The boys have been helping Pa log that back field, and you can be sure they’ll be coming in awful hungry any time now.”
“What about the baking and Sunday dinner?”
“It’s all got to be done sooner or—” Her mother’s response was cut short by the wail of the baby. “Oh dear! Kazi’s awake. Just what we need.” She rushed out of the room as Sarah shook her head.
“How does she stand it?” Sarah muttered as she hurried up the ladder to switch her history book with a book of verse. When she returned, she propped her book up and snatched several shirts. “It’s absolutely nonstop, one menial task after another.”
By the time the males jostled through the door a half an hour later, Mama had Kazi fed, midday dinner spread on the table, and bread rising in a bowl. Sarah’s pile of ironed, folded laundry looked meager compared to her mother’s work.
“Rain’s coming down hard,” Pa said. “Wouldn’t you know it? Just when I get the boys free from school, it pours.” He noticed Sarah shifting her attention from ironing to studying. “What in tarnation are you doing, Sally?”
“Just memorizing some verses, Pa, while I iron.”
“Ain’t nothing good gonna come of that. You’re either gonna burn yourself or make a mess of the ironing.” He walked over and closed the book.
“I hope you got done with some of the logging.” Sarah’s mother hurriedly diverted his attention.
“Thanks to Radek Sykora, we done pretty well. He came over with his son, Havel, and a team. Worked like mules, both of them.”
“Wish they’d show up every weekend,” Milos said as he and the other two boys slung themselves onto benches around the table.
“Well, maybe they will be helping out if we play our cards right,” Pa said as he joined the boys. “What’s in that pot, Jana? You got some awful hungry men here.”
“Beef stew.” Mama carried the iron kettle to the table. “Sally, you ladle this out, and I’ll get the cornbread.”
Pa and the boys fell silent as they began shoveling down the steaming food, and Sally circled the table, refilling their coffee cups.
In no time, Pa pushed his plate forward, leaned back, and rubbed his stomach. “Real good, Jana, real good and filling. You boys get on out to the barn and start your chores there. That field’s likely nothing but mud now.”
“Can’t say as I’m sorry,” Norbert quipped.
“Well, you should be,” Pa insisted. “Them stumps ain’t coming out by themselves. They’ll be waiting for us come Monday.”
The boys gulped the last of their coffee, rose, and stretched themselves before heading out the door.
Pa followed but turned back and addressed Sarah. “Havel Sykora’s been building him a cabin on his pa’s land, and he’s looking to marry. Asked if he could call on you tomorrow afternoon, Sally. Better make one of them cherry pies of yours. He’ll like that.”
“But, Pa, I don’t want to marry!”
“Oh, I know, Sally girl, you think you’re gonna be a schoolteacher.”
“Sally is mighty fond of books, Kazimir,” Mama said.
“I told Havel that, but he said he don’t mind. ‘Make her a better mother.’ That’s what he said. Don’t know as I agree, but that’s what he thinks.”
“Pa, I’m not studying to become a mother!”
“I think Sally ought to have a chance—” Mama began.
“Sally ain’t getting any younger. She’s gonna be seventeen in a couple of months, and the Sykoras are a good Czech family. They’re doing right well, and their property joins ours. What else can you ask for, Jana? You’ll have your daughter right next door and your grandkids running back and forth.”
“Seventeen isn’t that old, Pa. I have my whole life—”
“The man’s coming to call tomorrow afternoon. Get ready for him.” Pa slammed the door behind him when he left.
Sarah sank onto a bench and looked up at her mother. “Can he make me marry that man?”
“Pretty near it.” Mama collapsed onto a bench across the table. “When you’re eighteen, you can make your own decisions, but right now, we got to buy you some time.”
“What you mean is we have to manipulate and sneak around and play any game—”
Mama’s head snapped up. “Isn’t it worth it to you?”
Tears stung Sarah’s eyes as she nodded. “I’ll do anything.”
“Then go study while you can. I’ll make the pie.”
“You haven’t got time, Mama. You’re running yourself ragged—”
Kazi wailed in his parents’ bedroom, and her mother rose wearily.
“I’ll bake my own cherry pie. You can’t do any more.”
Her mother nodded, but while the baby continued to scream, she went into the pantry. When she returned, she carried a one-quart jar of cherries and a ten-pound bag of sugar. She pushed the cherries across the table to Sarah, but she lugged the sugar with her into her bedroom.
Sarah grinned through her tears.
An hour later, she pulled the tartest cherry pie any man had ever tasted out of the oven.
***
Pa’s furious accusations that she had intentionally shamed him still rang in her ears as Sarah entered the gate of Hodges House on Monday morning. She had not the slightest regret; in her view, any action to save herself was justified. She would not marry!
As she advanced along the walk toward the fountain, she was startled to see Miss Victoria bustling around in her bloomers, both hands filled with containers of plants, and William, the gardener, trailing behind.
“Oh, Sarah, come see! Just look at the ruby-red pansies. Aren’t they gorgeous? Hayden had them delivered late Saturday. I’m going to plant them in a wide ring around the fountain. Won’t they be stunning for Christmas?”
Sarah stroked one of the ruby petals. “Just like velvet,” she murmured.
“And there are pots and pots of camellias with fluffy
red flowers popping out. We’ll use those to decorate the house.”
Sarah’s face lit up. “Blooming flowers at Christmas time! Where did Mr. Hayden find them?”
“He pays a farmer to produce potted plants for the store. After Mother slammed out of here, my precious man sent for these to cheer me up.”
“And are you feeling better?”
“Not really ... But I plan to change that!” Miss Victoria declared through clenched teeth as she whirled around to William. “Be sure you space them close together, so we’ll have immediate solid color.”
William’s face lit up. “Yes, ma’am. Ain’t nobody gonna have flowers as pretty as these is.”
“It’s going to be beautiful,” Sarah encouraged. “And everybody in town is going to drop by for a visit.”
A shadow of sadness clouded Miss Victoria’s eyes, and Sarah’s chest contracted in sympathy. “Well, that would certainly be a change.” Miss Victoria’s tart response belied her forced smile. She jerked herself up straight. “No more of this moping, Victoria! Life is good.” Turning to Sarah, she grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the verandah. “Tell me about your weekend.”
“Lots of chores, and Pa arranged for me to meet an eligible bachelor yesterday.”
Miss Victoria stopped in her tracks and peered at Sarah’s face. “How do you feel about that?”
Sarah’s lips straightened into a tight line. “Let’s just say he won’t be coming back around unless he likes painfully tart cherry pie.”
“You wicked girl!”
“I don’t want to marry! Why can’t Pa accept that?”
“He doesn’t understand it. That’s the problem. He’s never visualized women as anything but domestic.” Miss Victoria sighed. “Most men haven’t—not yet.”
“I love my pa, but I don’t want my mother’s life.”
“Then let’s get to work. We have a lot to do to decorate the house, and there’s the store party on Friday.” Miss Victoria sighed again. “Hayden is expecting a record crowd, and I suspect I’m the main attraction.”
“People are curious about you.”
“That’s one of the prices of taking a different route in life, Sarah. You are sure to distance yourself from your family, and general society will define you as odd.”
“If they would just get to know you.”
“So far—as you know—most of Riverford society is keeping its distance, but—” She stopped on the verandah and stared at the pots of camellias.
Sarah watched as Miss Victoria’s features slowly lifted, her eyes glittered, and an amused smile preceded a playful laugh. “I plan to change that.”
“How?”
“By giving these people something they don’t even know they’re lacking. Beauty! Let’s get to work, Sarah. I have a stunning idea!”
Sarah hastened after Miss Victoria as she plunged through the front doorway and marched to the hall table. “Here!” she proclaimed as she held up a piece of paper. “Here is the answer.”
“What is it?”
“A letter from the civilized world. The answer to the holiday doldrums. If I can’t live in the world of culture and grace, I shall bring it here. And I bet you a dollar that Riverford society, such as it is, will be panting at our door, eager to participate.”
“What are you talking about?”
“This is a letter from Antonio Santoro. He is a famous violinist from Italy.” Miss Victoria rolled her eyes. “And a fabulously handsome man. He has been touring the eastern states this fall. He is considering coming to Galveston to escape the cold before beginning his spring tour on the West Coast.”
“I’ve never heard of him.”
“Of course not. Neither has anyone else in this town, but we’re going to change that.”
“How?”
“By inviting Antonio to come here and spend Christmas with us.”
“Would he do that? Would he really stay in Riverford when he could go to Galveston?”
Miss Victoria tapped the letter in her hand. “If I ask him to. I met him in England last spring, and we became very good friends. He was resting at a seaside hotel, recuperating from the strain of the concert season, and I was there painting. I met him on the boardwalk and—well, never mind about that. He’ll come if I ask.”
“And you and Mr. Hayden will have a friend here to share the holidays with.”
“More than a friend, Sarah, an artist. And wherever Antonio goes, happiness follows. If I can’t persuade my own family—” Miss Victoria bit her lip. “I won’t think about that now!” She turned to Sarah. “The first order of the day is to send a telegram to invite him. I want you to take it to the telegraph office.”
Miss Victoria swept into the drawing room. “I’ll just jot down the message.” Halfway through she stopped, pen in hand, and announced, “I’m going to wear the red silk.”
“Ma’am?”
“Hayden asked me to wear my red silk to the store party, but I refused because it’s too grand for Riverford. I’ve changed my mind, Sarah. We are not lowering ourselves to this town’s level; we are raising them to ours.” She scribbled a few more words. “Now, tell Sam to take you to the telegraph office.”
“Oh, I can walk—”
“No, you cannot! From now on, we are going to set the style. You will ride in the carriage as befits my secretary. Go arrange it, Sarah, and don’t wait for a reply.” She paused and raised her chin. “Yes, tell them to deliver the reply here. Tell them—don’t ask them. When you return, we’re going to unpack my red silk and decide what you will wear.”
“Me?”
“You!” Miss Victoria laughed. “If I must act the part of the royalty of Riverford, then you must be my lady-in-waiting. Now go on. We have tons to do this week, and I refuse to allow you to miss a single hour of study. Maude would kill me!”
***
By noon, Sarah had been downtown and back, unpacked several steamer trunks filled with evening gowns, and tried on several of Miss Victoria’s dresses.
“I like this one best,” Miss Victoria announced as Sarah stood before her in dark green velvet.
“It’s far too elegant for me.”
“It’s too old for you,” Miss Victoria corrected, “but it won’t be when we finish making it over. And it won’t be as elaborate either. It will be simple elegance. All we need is a talented seamstress.”
Sarah ran her hand down the lush pile of the velvet skirt. “Really, Miss Victoria, I’ve never even seen a dress like this. I wouldn’t know how to wear it.”
“You will by Friday night. I’ll teach you. The only question is, what will your father say? I don’t want to upset him. Your education comes first, so we must not do anything that will give him an excuse to keep you home.”
“I don’t know what he will think …”
Miss Victoria snapped her fingers. “Christine will know the best dressmaker in town as well as how to handle your father. I’ll jot a quick note to her and send Sam down with it.”
“I can take it.”
“No, you can’t.” Miss Victoria turned and winked at her. “You are about to eat a quick luncheon with me and then turn yourself into a scholar. What are you supposed to be reading today?”
“I only wish I were reading,” Sarah moaned as she unhooked the bodice of the velvet dress. “Maude assigned me geometry every afternoon this week as well as the usual Latin translation.”
“Sounds like we better get you fed and off to the library. Just leave this dress situation to me.”
***
They had barely finished their luncheon when they heard the staccato of the door knocker, and Delphie hurried in with an envelope in hand.
“It’s a telegram, Miss Victoria. I hope ain’t nothing bad happened.”
A bright smile lighting her face, Miss Victoria grabbed the extended envelope. “It’s sure to be from Antonio!” She tore it open and read the contents aloud. “Pleased to accept your invitation. Stop. A godsend. Stop. Arrive December 18 a
t noon.”
“He’s coming!” Sarah clapped her hands.
“Who be coming?” Delphie asked, then, embarrassed by her boldness, quickly hung her head and stared at the floor.
Miss Victoria laughed. “The most handsome man you will ever meet, Delphie. Send Frances to me. We have plans to make.” She turned to Sarah as Delphie stacked the luncheon plates on a tray and started toward the door. “What a wonderful Christmas we are going to have, Sarah! You and I are going to decorate this house and plan an elegant reception for Antonio. There will be so much joy in this house, we won’t even miss Mother and Amelia.”
***
By the time Sarah left for the evening, all the anger and worries of the weekend had been erased by another of the dramatic turns that were becoming more and more frequent in her improving world. The Christmas season would bring another new person into her life, a man from a foreign country who spoke another language and lived life as a full-time musician. She had never known such a person. Even geometry was beginning to seem conquerable. Of lesser importance, but still capable of sending a thrill up her spine, was the knowledge that she was to wear Miss Victoria’s green velvet skirt with a new bodice of ivory lace to all the Christmas events.
“A year ago, the Christmas season was a one-day event, the simple gift-giving and dinner of the family,” Sarah whispered. “Just extra work for Mother and me. This year it will be music and flowers and finery I’ve never dreamed of. I can hardly take it in.”
Chapter 15
Friday evening and the Christmas party at Hodges Store came faster than any of them could have imagined.
Mr. Hayden and Sarah were waiting in the main hall when Miss Victoria descended the staircase an hour before the store’s Christmas reception. Hayden whistled, and Sarah cried, “Ohhh! You look gorgeous!”
“Well, I guess we know what the old biddies of Riverford will be talking about tomorrow,” Mr. Hayden teased. “My dear madam, don’t you know that redheads are not supposed to wear red?”