The Endless Forest

by Sara Donati

  “Go on,” Martha said. She couldn’t think what Birdie might want, unless it had to do with the trunk of books she had brought with her from Manhattan. The girl loved to read, and was always looking for new stories.

  “I think you would make a very good teacher,” Birdie said. “And I’d like you to think about teaching at the Paradise school.”

  This request was so unexpected that Martha stopped where she was. Birdie reached out and tugged Martha’s cuff.

  “You don’t have to answer now,” she said. “Just think about it.”

  Martha would have preferred to put such a nonsensical suggestion out of her mind completely, but it stayed with her until the adults were all gathered around the supper table. And of course Lily and Simon weren’t here, but Hannah and Ben had come over so all in all there were the three married couples, each sitting side by side. Daniel and Ethan sat at one end of the long table, and Martha and Birdie at the other.

  It was Birdie’s first time at the adult supper table. She had been campaigning for a place for months, Elizabeth told Martha.

  “She’s not even six months older than her eldest nephew,” Elizabeth said. “But she claims precedence because she’s of his father’s generation.”

  “And how did that go over with Nathan?” Martha asked. The Bonner grandchildren were the source of many dramas every day, many of them oddly compelling.

  Nathan was a sensible boy, she was told, and he knew better than to take on Birdie on such a matter as this. He had gone off to bed with the rest of the grandchildren without a fuss and now Birdie sat next to Martha, looking around herself as if she had landed in Aladdin’s cave.

  Surely, Martha consoled herself, surely Birdie would not raise the topic of teaching at this supper table.

  The LeBlanc girls came in with platters and bowls until the sideboard was filled, and then the long process of passing plates began. There was a lot of small talk around the table, Jennet and Hannah had their heads together about something, while Luke was telling Ben something complicated in a combination of French and English. A living French, nothing like the parlor language she had learned. She could discuss painting and music and the health of relatives, but the language she had been taught had been stripped down and, in the process, crippled. She found herself listening. Birdie was just as interested, her head swiveling back and forth between the two men, as if she needed to see the mouths making the words to understand their meaning.

  Then came the small silence that always preceded the very first topic of discussion. The question that had no answer, and Martha herself was the cause. She could taste it on the air.

  “You look tired, Ma,” Daniel said from the other end of the table. “Not sleeping well?”

  Elizabeth smiled at Daniel in the hope that he would let the subject go, but Nathaniel answered for her.

  “Hardly sleeping at all.”

  “Lily really is doing well,” Hannah said. “If it’s her health that’s keeping you awake at night.”

  “I am satisfied that Lily is well,” Elizabeth said.

  “Curiosity?” Jennet asked.

  “She may outlive us all.” Hannah said this in a perfectly serious tone. Elizabeth’s stepdaughter could laugh and joke when the mood was on her, but never when she talked about her work.

  She could trust Hannah; Elizabeth knew that. Lily was being well looked after, and she seemed in high good spirits when Elizabeth sat with her. And still she lay awake at night, wondering what more could be done. The truth was, she felt Lily’s absence like a burn, but it was something she had to keep to herself. Short of building an extension onto the house, something she could not in good conscience ask Nathaniel to do, she saw no immediate solution. Not while so many families were still living rough after the flood.

  “Today Lily drew Mrs. Thicke’s likeness,” Birdie was saying. “But she left the big mole with three hairs out. She meant it as a kindness, I think. But Mrs. Thicke asked about it straight away.”

  “And what did Lily say to that?” Nathaniel encouraged Birdie, which was probably not the best strategy, to Elizabeth’s way of thinking.

  “She said, ‘Give it back and I’ll add it in,’ but Mrs. Thicke clutched it to her bosom and scuttled away to the kitchen like a beetle.”

  “Birdie,” Elizabeth said. One word of warning that the girl understood immediately.

  “I like Mrs. Thicke,” she said, as if she must explain herself. “She’s very friendly and she makes jellies every day because she thinks they’re good for Lily. But mostly Simon eats them.”

  “With your help,” Hannah prompted.

  “Yes,” Birdie said. “I like jellies too.” Not a hint of embarrassment.

  “An admirable lack of artifice,” Ethan said.

  “Don’t encourage her,” Daniel said, but he winked at his little sister.

  Elizabeth had been so concerned about Lily that she hadn’t been paying Birdie the attention she needed and deserved. For weeks now she had been running wild. Elizabeth was thinking back over that period of time, trying to remember where Birdie had been and what she had done, so deep in her thoughts that it took her some time to realize that Martha was answering questions about Callie Wilde and her plans for rebuilding.

  “That won’t happen anytime soon,” Nathaniel said. “She’s short on cash.”

  “You know Ethan will lend her what she needs,” Hannah said.

  “Or I will,” Martha said.

  All heads turned toward her and her color rose.

  “Why should I not?”

  Nathaniel cleared his throat. “You just took us by surprise. It’s a fine thing if you can help Callie out. That’s a hardworking young woman.”

  Daniel was watching Martha thoughtfully. He said, “Did she ask, or did you offer?”

  Martha seemed confused by the question at first. “I’m not sure. Does it matter?”

  “Of course not,” Elizabeth said, irritated with Daniel.

  “A day out in the open air agrees with you,” Luke told Martha.

  “It does,” said Ben. “Your skin glows.”

  Martha put the back of her hand to her cheek in surprise and unease.

  “Stop,” Jennet said, but she was grinning. “You’re embarrassing the puir thing. Never mind them, Martha.”

  Into the silence that followed came Birdie’s voice again, this time directed to Daniel at the other end of the table.

  “Is it true school will start again next week?”

  “Barring unforeseen circumstances,” he said. Elizabeth caught his gaze and he raised a brow. Birdie’s voice took on a certain tone when she was about to announce a plan of some kind, and it was there now.

  “It’s aye high time,” Jennet said, and then when everyone looked at her, she ducked her head in embarrassment. “I love the bairns one and all, but it’s enough to wring a woman dry, having all of them about at once.”

  Luke put a hand on her shoulder and rubbed it. “I can take the boys with me, you know. You only have to say.”

  “Och, I think not.” Jennet laughed and brushed his hand away. “The last time I let them go with you to buy furs they cursed like sailors for a month.”

  “I look forward to having your monsters at school,” Daniel said. “But I will be glad to have the new teacher here in the fall so we can split the class in two.”

  Luke looked up from his soup. “When do you expect him?”

  A whole chorus of voices answered him: “September.”

  “Not that we’re anxious,” Ben said dryly. “Except of course Birdie. Little sister is more than anxious.”

  Birdie sat up very straight, her mouth pressed into a hard line. Arguing with herself, wondering if she dare say what she was thinking or if she would be banished to the children’s table if she did such a thing. In the next years she would learn to hide what she was thinking, but for now Elizabeth could still read her youngest child’s face like words on a page.

  Ethan’s attention was on Birdie. He said,
“I think you like school more than you want to admit. Martha was just like that, always pretending not to be interested.”

  Martha looked surprised at this observation, but Birdie gave her no chance to respond.

  “I don’t like school,” Birdie said, each word pronounced clearly, like a finger tapping on the table.

  “But it’s only because the classroom is overcrowded,” Elizabeth said. “When there are two classrooms and Daniel can give all his attention to the more advanced students, Birdie will stop chafing.”

  “I should hope so,” Nathaniel said. “You’re made of sterner stuff than that, Birdie. You can survive the rest of this school year. And—” he looked at her intently, “you can do it without complaint.”

  “But Da, that’s not the only problem,” Birdie said, her tone rising. “Everything moves so slowly—I know, the others need a chance to learn too, but it’s so frustrating. Sometimes I feel like I have to scream.”

  “Surely not,” Elizabeth said firmly.

  “But I’ve got a solution,” Birdie said. She looked around the table. “Will you listen?”

  Everyone stilled at the idea of one of Birdie’s plans, but Martha flushed so deeply that the color touched her hairline.

  She said, “Birdie, please don’t.”

  “I must,” she said, and her next words came rapidly, as if she expected to be physically stopped, but was determined to get as much said as possible.

  “I think Martha could take the other classroom for the two months left in this school session. Wait! Let me finish. Ethan saw to it that she got an excellent education and she’s good with children; you’ve seen how the little people follow her around and pay attention when she talks.”

  She stopped to draw in a breath, and Martha stepped in.

  “I want to say clearly that this was not my idea, and that when Birdie raised the subject to me, I told her no.”

  “You said you’d think about it!”

  “I did not,” Martha’s color was still high, but her tone was calm. “You asked me if I ever thought of teaching and I said I didn’t have the training. Ethan, please tell them I don’t have the education I would need.”

  Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Truth be told, I don’t think I can say such a thing. You went through the entire trivium. It’s true you rebelled now and again, but you were an excellent student.”

  Martha’s expression lifted. “Why then, Ethan, why don’t you take the second classroom until the session ends? You do have teaching experience.”

  “Now, that’s an idea,” Nathaniel said, turning in Ethan’s direction.

  “One I already thought of,” Daniel said. “Maybe you’ll have more luck talking him into it than I did.”

  “Daniel asked and I did think about it,” Ethan said. “But there’s so much rebuilding to get done, I just don’t see how I could manage.”

  Martha turned to Elizabeth, a pleading look on her face. “I have no experience, you know that. Would you please put an end to this discussion?”

  Elizabeth knew that she should do just that, but instead something entirely different came out of her mouth. “You have more formal education now than I did when I began teaching, and just as much experience.”

  With the floodgates opened, everyone began to talk at once, questions and declarations bumping into each other so that nothing sensible came out anywhere. In the middle of all that, Daniel was quiet, his expression thoughtful. Not happy or unhappy, but alert and watchful.

  Nathaniel raised a hand, and just that simply the talking stopped.

  “One at a time,” he said. “Boots, did you have anything else to say?”

  “Well,” Elizabeth began slowly. “I see some advantages to the idea, if all parties were agreed. That is, both Martha and Daniel have to come to the conclusion that the arrangement would be a beneficial one. For everyone.”

  “Daniel?”

  He cleared his throat, and then cleared it again. His good hand moved to touch his left shoulder, a gesture Elizabeth recognized and which she was very surprised to see at that moment.

  “But you must see,” Martha said, her tone almost insistent. “This has put Daniel in an awkward position. So please let me say, Daniel, if you will speak sense on this matter I would be thankful. Let’s let this subject go, can we please? It is very hard to refuse you, you’ve all been so good to me in these last weeks—” She paused to catch her breath.

  Elizabeth watched Daniel, the son she knew best and understood least. He had withdrawn from them all to nurse his wounds in isolation, and she had watched him go and despaired. For years she counted herself fortunate if she saw him at their table even once a week. But since they were come home from Manhattan that had changed. Now he came to the house every day, and usually stayed for supper. There was something in his expression she had not seen for a very long time.

  Openness, for want of a better word. Open to the world around him. It had something to do with Lily coming home, but it also had to do with Martha Kirby. And she was beginning to believe that Martha was the primary source of the change in his behavior.

  Now he was smiling, but it was a quiet smile and there was nothing of teasing in it.

  He said, “It’s premature of you to reject a proposal I haven’t even made yet, don’t you think, Martha?”

  Elizabeth heard herself gasp in surprise, and she was not the only one. Martha looked ready to bolt, in embarrassment and anger. She stood suddenly, but Daniel kept talking.

  He was saying, “I think there would be some advantages to having Martha’s help, but it was rude of Birdie to raise this subject at the supper table. It was selfish of you to raise the subject at all, Birdie. I know you are frustrated with school, but that is no excuse for embarrassing Martha in front of her friends.”

  All the color left Birdie’s face. She turned stiffly toward her father. “God-kissing carrion, Da. If she’s embarrassed it’s because Daniel’s flirting with her in front of everybody.”

  “Enough,” Nathaniel said in the tone all the children recognized. “And please, Birdie, if your ma can resist quoting Shakespeare at table, you could do as much.”

  Birdie dropped her head and studied her plate, but her expression was mutinous. She was mumbling to herself, her whole person twitching with frustration. They all listened to this for a moment. Even Martha stayed where she was, turned toward the door.

  “Go on then,” Nathaniel said. “Say whatever it is you’ve got stuck in your throat. And then go up to bed. We’ll not see you at this supper table again, not until you’ve seen the error of your ways and made amends.”

  Birdie stood up, wounded and angry that her plan had come to nothing. She said, “I am not being selfish. I am not. It’s for Lily; the whole idea is for Lily.”

  “How would my teaching help Lily?” Martha asked, her tone calmer.

  Jennet said, “Ach, that’s the plan.” And to the table: “Birdie is thinking that Martha could move in to the apartment in the schoolhouse and then Lily and Simon could move up here and take her chamber.”

  “It’s small, but I don’t think they’ll complain about cramped quarters,” Birdie said, trying to sound dignified.

  Luke said, “But that would mean that Martha would have to live alone in the apartment. There would be a lot of talk.”

  Daniel said, “Exactly. Which is why it’s out of the question. Not the teaching—that’s something I’d want to talk about—but Martha living alone in the schoolhouse, no.”

  Birdie opened her mouth as if she had something more to say, and then slumped back down into her chair when she saw her father raise a single eyebrow in her direction.

  “Are ye saying that the people in the village would keep their children awa in protest?” Simon asked.

  “It’s likely,” Daniel said. “An unmarried woman living in the school-house just wouldn’t sit with most anybody.”

  “He’s right,” Elizabeth said, and all eyes turned toward her. “Even if Martha wanted the apartmen
t, it wouldn’t be a good idea. She came home hoping to start fresh and avoid the gossip that made her life so difficult in Manhattan. But we’ve been talking about this as if Martha had no voice and could not speak for herself. Martha, what do you think?”

  The girl’s complexion was splotched with color and her eyes flashed in the candlelight; she was holding back tears.

  “It would cause talk,” she said quietly. “That’s true.”

  Birdie was bouncing in place in her earnest need to be heard.

  “Birdie, go on.”

  “Ma,” she said, resolutely refusing to look at Daniel. “You are always telling us that we have to make decisions based on our own understanding of right and wrong. It’s the way we’re supposed to live our lives. It’s our way.”

  “Birdie,” Martha said. She drew in a deep breath and let it go. “Birdie, you forget, I am not one of you and I won’t be judged as if I were. I also understand now that I am the one who has been selfish. Your plan was meant to bring Lily back home, and that’s as it should be. She should be here. Tomorrow I’ll go see about taking a room at the Red Dog. I should have done that on the first day.”

  Birdie reached out to take her wrist before she could walk away.

  “I never meant to drive you away! That wasn’t the idea at all!”

  “Now ain’t this a mess,” Ben said. He pitched his voice just so, and they all turned to him. “Everybody’s so wound up you can’t see what’s sitting right in front of you. Martha, stay a minute and hear me out, and if you’ll listen, I’ll see if I can untangle things. Elizabeth? Nathaniel?”

  Nathaniel made a sweeping gesture with his hand, an invitation to go ahead.

  Ben Savard didn’t often speak up, but when he did people paid attention. His eyes were a strange and compelling blue-green that even the most conservative of matrons, the ones who disliked Africans and Indians on principle and were horrified by the very idea that nature would allow a human being of mixed race to survive birth—even they could not look away when Ben Savard smiled. Elizabeth had seen it happen more than once in the village, and it happened again around the table as postures relaxed.

  “Fifty years ago they would have called him a witch,” Hannah had once said about her husband. “He only has to look at you hard and say a word to get his way.”