by Jan Watson
She stood in the doorway and watched Mrs. Ashcraft struggle down the sidewalk, Zack bouncing on her hip, her pregnant belly causing an ungainly waddle to her walk. Where did the confidence come from to diagnose illness? What if she told someone the wrong thing and they got worse or even died because of what she did or didn’t do? The very thought made Copper shudder.
She pulled the door closed and turned the key in the lock. Seemed funny to lock the door, but they kept those drugs in the little pharmacy. Simon said you shouldn’t tempt folks; you shouldn’t be their stumbling block. Thinking of Birdie, she understood.
Copper went around to the back porch to check on Mr. Brock. He was out cold. One arm hung over the side of the hammock. An empty whiskey bottle lay beside his outstretched hand. His breathing was unlabored, regular and deep.
There was nothing to keep her from calling on Alice, though she dreaded the visit. Alice had sent word to the office yesterday that she wasn’t feeling well, but Copper had forgotten all about her during the excitement of the day. No help for it now, she thought as she started down the walk. Might as well get on with it.
A maid escorted Copper to the bedchamber where Simon’s sister reclined on a fainting couch. Alice wore an elegant gray covert-cloth dressing gown edged with pink piping. Its flared collar framed her face in ashen shadow. She dabbed a fine sheen of perspiration from her upper lip with a dainty hankie. Not a hair was out of place.
“How kind of you to fit me into your busy schedule, Laura Grace.” Alice’s dark eyes stabbed at Copper. “My, you look like a common shopgirl.”
“Goodness, I’m sorry, Alice. I forgot to leave my apron at the office. You look ill. Is there something I can do for you?”
“What has become of my brother?”
Without being asked, Copper perched on the edge of a green silk lady’s chair. “He spent the night caring for Mr. Clough. You must have heard about the accident.”
Alice looked like she had that day in the garden when Paw-paw stuck his nose up the cat’s tail. “I should think you would want more for your husband than nights spent in some run-down farmhouse caring for people who have no intention of paying him.” When she dabbed at her lip again, her collar fell open. A violet stain marred her swanlike neck.
Copper stared hard. “Alice?”
Alice pulled her gown tight and held it there, turning her face away. “Simon could treat the best of society if he didn’t have an office full of paupers. He can’t expect people of affluence to sit in that waiting room and catch head lice.”
Copper felt heat rush to her cheeks. “We’d be glad to have the rich folks bring their nits in the back door if that would make them feel better. The last thing we want in the office is mixed nits,” she fired, then bit her tongue. Better leave before she said something she couldn’t take back. “Can I get you anything before I go?”
“I think not.” Alice’s handbell rang with a dismissive toll. “Joseph will show you out.”
Copper hurried down the elegant, curved stairway without stopping to admire any of the oil paintings or even the crystal chandelier. She was so angry she thought she might have a stroke. Stopping on the manicured lawn, she fanned herself with her offensive apron. Thoughts of mayhem raced through her mind. She pushed Alice down the curved staircase; she stabbed her with a rat-tail comb; she held her hostage among the riffraff in Simon’s waiting room; little Zack Ashcraft wiped his runny nose on Alice’s skirt.
Copper marched down the sidewalk, giving no thought to her sister-in-law’s distress. Righteous indignation clung to her like a shadow cast at high noon and trailed her all the way home.
Simon was home in time for supper. Mr. Clough had stabilized enough to be transported to the hospital, but he could not move his legs.
Simon praised Copper for the mixture of pain-relieving morphine. “Between you and Andy,” he said, “I couldn’t have had better assistance.”
She had so much to tell him, so much to ask, but he fell asleep at the table with his fork in his hand. She drew a bath and laid his nightclothes on the bed. When at last he lay down, she rubbed his shoulders with liniment until he slept. Kneading the knots from his neck, she whispered, “Lord, please be with Mr. Clough tonight and with Mrs. Clough. It must be so hard for her. And, Lord, keep me away from rat-tail combs.”
Before she climbed into bed, she retrieved the letter that had come for her that morning. Finally, Mam’s reply. Disappointment, nothing but disappointment. Giddy with pleasure when she’d found the light blue envelope in the post, Copper had rushed to the stable to saddle Rose. She had to be away from the house and all its restraints before she delved into the secrets of her past.
Reuben intercepted her, finishing the task although she hadn’t asked for help. “Careful, missus.”
“Oh, Reuben, I’ll be safe, and I won’t be gone long. It’s just that . . .” She felt in her pocket for the folded envelope before she saw the wary look in his round brown eyes. Mounting the horse, she choked back her words. She needed to be careful not to overstep her bounds.
It had felt so good to be alone—alone and free—just her and Rose and nobody watching. It was nearly like home, where some days she’d wander the woods for hours all by her lonesome. She hadn’t realized how much she missed that. But, oh, she had Mam’s letter. The letter that would help her figure out why Alice didn’t like her. With understanding, surely friendship would follow. She’d looped the horse’s reins over a low tree branch and hurried down the bank to Willow Springs, her and Simon’s special place.
Now she stood in her nightgown and pulled the heavy drapes against the night sky. Taking the pins from her hair, she shook it free and stood pondering the navy blue ink of her stepmother’s words. There was no help there, but news of the boys and Daddy had been welcome. Funny, she thought, even on paper Mam’s words can sting. The lavatory door closed softly behind her. She crossed the floor, lifted the lid of the indoor toilet, and pulled the handle. Tiny scraps of blue paper swirled away, down and out, leaving only the trace of unanswered questions behind.
Life returned to its normal pace soon after Mr. Clough’s accident. Copper was careful to treat Alice with respect whenever she came to call. She’d even begun to accompany her sister-in-law on some of her societal duties, rolling bandages at the hospital auxiliary and attending missionary meetings. She was determined to worm a place into Alice’s cold heart because she knew that would please her husband.
Simon was continually busy, spending much of his time on house calls. Sometimes he took the buggy, but most often it was just him and Pard and a saddlebag full of supplies.
Copper kept the office humming; she learned quickly and started caring for minor problems—superficial cuts and colds and such—on her own. Her days were pleasantly full with her work, her charitable duties, and now a Bible class every Wednesday morning for Searcy. But still she missed her mountain home. She had a mantra: Someday.
Once a week she wrote to her family, but she’d stopped asking hard questions. Correspondence from home was always from Mam, with an occasional note tacked on from Daddy. He always said the same thing: We are fine. The weather is good. Take care of yourself. It seemed strange, all those words from Mam and so few from Daddy, when it was she and her father who talked when she lived at home. Every night rocking in side-by-side chairs on the porch or in front of the fireplace, Daddy with his pipe and his Bible, Copper with a cup of tea and a piece of embroidery. Words on paper made some folks shy, she knew, but she’d give a pretty penny to know how her father really was.
Mam told her lots of things—that the boys were growing like weeds, that the family had postponed their move for a time. It seemed Daddy was dragging his feet, but his health had improved somewhat. Copper was thankful. She couldn’t imagine her family living anywhere but on Troublesome Creek no matter how much Mam hoped to be elsewhere.
Tommy Turner had a standing invitation to supper and chess with Simon every Tuesday night. One evening after their game, Coppe
r and Simon stood in the doorway and watched him leave. When he reached the corner, he turned and gave a jerking salute.
“Simon?” Copper asked. “I’ve been wondering why you don’t pay Tommy to clean your office. It doesn’t seem right somehow.”
Simon removed his spectacles and polished the lenses with a square of soft linen he always kept in his breast pocket. “When Tommy left the asylum, he had lived off the welfare of others his whole life. I arranged a loan to give him a start. Now he’s paying me back a little at a time. It’s a matter of pride. His.”
She turned to kiss his cheek. “You’re just about the best man I ever knew.”
“Just about?” He held her arms. “Come clean, Mrs. Corbett. What other man has impressed you as much as I?”
She tapped her cheek with her index finger. “Hmm, let me think. Henry Thomas comes to mind. He’s quite an impressive chicken thief.”
“Ah, the wily Henry. But I’m the one who bought your pie.”
She fluttered her eyelashes against his face. Butterfly kisses. “But would you dare steal for me, Dr. Corbett?”
Pulling her close, his voice was husky in her ear. “I would filch the chickens, the rooster, and the fox himself if you asked me to. I guess you’d have me be a common thief in order to prove myself.”
“That could be interesting, Simon.” She pulled away and started up the stairs. He followed. Stopping on the landing, she turned to face him, teasing. Enjoying, for a moment, her power over him. “A common thief married to a common shopgirl. We could start a whole new life.”
“A shopgirl?” He looked up at her, perplexed.
She hooked her hands in his suspenders and pulled him close. “Dear husband, I wonder how you’d look in stripes.”
It was an August day so hot you could fry an egg on the sidewalk. Midmorning, Copper opened all the office windows and propped the doors in order to catch the slightest breeze.
Simon had gone out into the country that morning to treat a young woman burned when her dress sleeve hooked a frying pan of smoldering grease. Her family had buttered her up, then sent for the doctor.
The bank teller came in for his usual script, and Mrs. Johnson brought her brood: three husky, stair-step sons and baby Matilda, who was wailing and pulling on her ear.
“Matilda is so delicate,” Mrs. Johnson said as she hefted her pudgy daughter onto the exam table. “My boys never gave me a minute’s worry, but this one . . . I’m up every night with something or other.”
It was difficult to discern any delicacy in the roly-poly baby so chubby that her eyes disappeared in folds of flesh when she cried. She was such a charming infant. It was all Copper could do to stop herself from kissing her dimpled knees.
Matilda’s brothers stood guard as Copper examined the infant, until a raucous noise drew them to the open window. Whoosh, suddenly the three little boys charged out the door.
The ladies followed to the porch. Matilda snuggled against Copper’s neck; a few drops of warmed sweet oil held in place by a plug of cotton batting soothed the baby’s earache.
The city was astir. People spilled onto the sidewalk from every office and business up and down the street. Mrs. Johnson’s sons joined a pack of boys tagging after an oddly dressed stranger who was nailing playbills on the lamp poles. The man was dressed in a baggy orange suit, and his face was painted white. A ruby red smile stretched from ear to ear. The top of his tall black hat hung askew like the lid of a partially opened tin can, and a tiny wizened monkey peeked out. A yapping dog nipped at the heels of the stranger’s silly floppy shoes. From the pocket of his billowing pants, the clown extracted a child-size trombone and with great gusto blew a long rusty note. The dog turned tail and ran under the office porch.
The excitement in the air was as thick as caramel icing. The circus was coming to town!
Several days later, Copper sat on the porch swing and waited for Hester. Simon was escorting them to the circus parade. Copper and Searcy had filled a basket with fried chicken, potato salad, cabbage slaw, corn-bread muffins, and lemonade. For dessert, Reuben had a big watermelon cooling in the washtub.
After the parade, there would be a picnic for everyone in the town park. Copper had thought Searcy and Reuben would share with them, but Searcy told her they’d spread their quilts in the place set aside for them. It was hard to keep it straight, this everybody being different. She’d never get used to it.
Copper adjusted her straw hat in the reflection of the parlor window. Its rolled brim was adorned with a blue grosgrain ribbon, which complimented her blue- and white-striped silk taffeta resort dress. The overskirt of her dress was trimmed with white silk fringe, and she had a blue parasol to protect her from the sun. Copper laughed to think of that. Why, this time last year she would have been hoeing weeds from the cabbages in the garden with no thought to her face or hands. She stretched out her legs and admired her new white kid high-button shoes. These were surely not for hoeing weeds.
Just as Simon stepped out the door, smartly dressed in a blue-and-white pin-striped cotton shirt, a red tie tucked in at the fourth button, tan knickerbockers with long stockings, and boot-cut shoes, Hester bounced onto the porch and plopped herself beside Copper in the swing.
“Oh my, I may wilt in this heat,” Hester complained. Picking up a church fan, she waved it mightily at her ruddy face and helped herself to a glass of lemonade and one of the sugar cookies Copper had put out on a tray. A bit of her drink spilled onto the bosom of her white poplin dress. “Fiddlesticks. I’m always spilling something. Simon,” she bossed, “fetch me a cloth.”
He handed her his clean handkerchief.
“Simon always minds me. He’s used to bossy women.” Hester’s jolly face broke into a huge grin at Simon’s discomfiture, and she poked Copper in the ribs with her elbow. “Don’t take offense. My mother says I was born without a filter.” She ate another cookie and drank her lemonade. “We may not be kin, Simon and I, but we’re as close as kissing cousins.”
Leaping up, Hester planted a noisy kiss on Simon’s red cheek before opening her white dotted swiss umbrella. “Shouldn’t we be going? All the good viewing spots will be taken if we sit here and gab all day.”
They found a spot among the crowd of people on Main Street, directly across from Benton’s bank. A scrawny locust tree provided sketchy shade. Copper could scarcely contain herself as she took in the sights. Children dashed back and forth, jockeying for the best position, while adults stepped back to let the smallest ones stand in front.
Vendors hawked their wares. “Popcorn! Get your fresh-roasted peanuts! Ice treats!”
Simon bought red and purple ices. Copper’s tasted of grape and made her mouth numb. She and Hester exchanged glances, then burst out laughing to see their colored lips.
A man dressed like President Lincoln, top hat and all, sold toy monkeys on sticks. Copper bought two to send to her brothers. When she squeezed the sticks together, the monkeys did flips. She wished Willy and Daniel were here. What fun they would have.
Music thrummed their way; you could hear it with your ears and feel it through your feet. Shading her eyes against the glare, she looked down the street. Here came the parade! First the band, all members dressed in uniform, marched past, music blaring; then acrobats flipped past them just like the monkeys on sticks. A man juggled colored balls higher and higher and never missed a beat. A dark-haired woman dressed in a skimpy jeweled costume stood on the back of a white horse led down the street by a midget. They stopped right in front of Copper. The woman looked at her and smiled, then raised one leg over her head and held it there as the horse high-stepped away.
Hester grinned and nudged Copper in the side.
Copper averted her eyes; perhaps they should take offense. But then the clowns came bursting along! They were everywhere at once, pulling nickels from children’s ears, chasing dogs, stealing men’s hats, and making a funny loud racket.
Copper leaned into Simon and laughed until her sides ached. And a
ll the while the band played on.
Copper had never had so much fun. She glanced about the crowded street and was surprised that she knew so many people. There was Tommy Turner leaning against a lamppost across the way. Waving at the Johnson family, she laughed when Mrs. Johnson waved baby Matilda’s hand back at her. She caught a glimpse of Tony Brock weaving in and out of the crowd, nearly falling off the curb. Hopefully he’d find an alleyway and sleep it off. If she saw him at the picnic, she’d get him to eat something. And was that Mrs. Archesson with her carpetbag? Just a flit of her behind Mrs. Johnson? Copper hoped the bird lady was enjoying herself and that she’d stay on her side of the street.
One frowning face in the midst of all the smiles caught her attention. On the balcony above the bank’s closed doors, Alice stood glaring at her. Whatever would warrant such a look? Copper was using her parasol, and her gloves were the proper length. Uh-oh. Paw-paw had wagged his way to her side and stood drooling happily at her knee. It was impossible to keep him in the backyard, and she refused to keep him tied all the time. Copper dropped one hand and placed it on Paw-paw’s nose. With just a little pressure he was soon secreted behind her. Maybe Alice would forget she’d seen him.
The Lincoln clown, now on stilts, strutted past the crowd as he hoisted a large American flag. Everyone quieted as he went by. A wagon followed, hauling a load of veterans, some minus an arm or a leg. The men removed their hats, and some folks saluted.
And then—oh my—elephants! As if they were in Africa or India, a string of large gray beasts strolled up Main Street, tail to trunk to tail to trunk, and the last one was a baby! Copper clapped to see such a thing.