by Diane Darcy
Amanda was shaking her head. “How fascinating,” she seemed like she actually meant her words.
Sarah nodded. “Yes, incredible. I’ve never seen or heard the like. What handy information to possess. Do you remember that time when...”
Talk, talk, talk.
What did they want? Melissa looked for a way out again, and thought about simply walking to her cabin, going inside and shutting the door.
Talk, talk, talk. Smile, smile, smile.
Her suspicion grew. They were definitely up to something and she wished they’d just get on with it.
“Isn’t that right?” asked Sarah.
Emma nodded, her wispy blonde hair shining in the sun. “Yes, I agree.”
“So could you?” asked Amanda.
Melissa realized she’d lost the thread of the conversation. “Could I what?”
Sarah gestured to Melissa’s hand. “Teach us some of that fancy self-defense?”
Melissa stared at them. This was it? Their big plot? A few self-defense classes in exchange for their measly friendship? Melissa sighed, slightly let down, and reminded herself that these ladies weren’t in her league.
Well, this she understood anyway. She had something to offer, so suddenly they could be bosom buddies. For now anyway. But two could play that game. She’d make a trade. Cooking lessons for self-defense classes. “Sure, no problem.”
Amanda grinned at the other two ladies. “See, I knew she wasn’t as mean as a snake, after all.”
Melissa froze in place.
Sarah looked horrified.
Emma looked terrified.
Amanda’s hand flew to her mouth. “I, uh, no offense, my big mouth, I didn’t mean, uh, I’m so sorry...”
How dare she? Melissa drew herself to her full height, towering over the shorter women. And they wanted lessons from her? They could forget it. A cruel comeback on her lips, Melissa took a deep breath. She’d show these chubby, big-nosed, frizzy-haired, harpies the definition of the word mean.
Jessica slipped her hand into Melissa’s and squeezed.
Startled, Melissa met her daughter’s worried gaze. Jessica was worried she’d be cruel.
Mean as a snake.
Jessica’s pretty blue eyes were pleading.
Melissa looked down at their clasped hands and something soft and tender rushed into the vicinity of her heart. Slowly, she released the breath she was holding. She met Jessica’s gaze once more, clenched her own fingers around her daughter’s and nodded her understanding.
Lifting her head she met each woman’s gaze, ending with a stricken Amanda’s.
For Jessica.
She forced a laugh. “No offense taken. I would be happy to teach you,” she smiled for good measure.
Jessica squeezed her hand once more.
The warmth in her chest seemed to expand. First her daughter was proud of her, and now she held her hand? Voluntarily? Melissa didn’t know what to think.
Amanda smiled her relief. “Would you like to join us? We’re doing laundry this morning. It makes for a much easier time to do it together.”
Melissa hesitated. It wasn’t cooking lessons. And come to think of it, she hadn’t really closed that deal.
Jessica smiled eagerly and picked up their bucket, all the while continuing to hold Melissa’s hand.
Heart melting, Melissa nodded her agreement. “Sure.” Mean as a snake? Soft as the underbelly of a kitten was closer to the truth. With a sigh she resigned herself to a very boring day.
Kids. What do ya do?
Chapter Thirteen
Arms full of dirty clothes, Melissa walked beside Jessica toward Sarah’s cabin. Everything had worked out for the best. She would now have the opportunity to show the women how nice she could be.
Apparently she’d underestimated their worth when she’d first arrived. They could be an asset to her, a valuable resource while she was here, and it was in her best interest to befriend them. Besides, as ugly as her new clothes were, it would be nice to have a clean dress. She didn’t know where the washing machine was, and as antiquated as it was likely to be, she’d need help learning to use it. They rounded the corner and walked behind Sarah’s cabin.
Melissa stopped dead.
The women were gathered around three large kettles, fires burning beneath two. In their light-colored dresses they looked like good witches casting spells. Three wash tubs sat on the grass, a couple of washboards leaned against the fence, as well as two long poles. If Melissa didn’t miss her guess, they were for stirring the two huge mounds of waiting laundry into the pots.
“You have got to be kidding,” she said under her breath.
Jessica giggled.
Sarah smiled and waved them over. “Join us.”
Oh, joy. Melissa pasted on a smile. She didn’t deserve this. She’d never done anything in her life that was so bad that she deserved this. Slowly, she closed the distance.
Jessica ran to join a group of children, from babies to about age ten, where they gathered around something on the ground.
Sarah glanced at the clothes in Melissa’s arms. “You didn’t soak your whites? Well, no matter, whites in that pile, colored clothes here,” Sarah indicate the two huge piles laid out on a patch of grass.
Nodding, Melissa separated the few clothes she’d brought. Richard’s jeans, socks and shirt, the orangy dress Sully had given her, Jessica’s jeans, socks and shirt. Some towels and hand cloths.
Sarah smiled. “I guess you haven’t been here long enough to have much laundry. I expect your sheets can wait until next week?”
Numb, wishing herself elsewhere, Melissa nodded again.
Amanda lifted both hands, revealing a yellow block in one, a tool of some kind in the other. “The water’s almost boiling. Do you want to shave the soap?”
Melissa rolled up her sleeves in imitation of the other ladies. No doubt she’d be sunburned before the day was over. One more thing to look forward to. “Sure. Can you show me how?”
Amanda’s eyebrows rose. She turned and expertly shaved off small pieces of soap into the hot water, then handed Melissa the block and implement.
Carefully keeping her dress out of the fire, Melissa nodded and awkwardly carved off a chunk.
Picking up another block, Amanda quickly shaved soap into the second kettle.
“How much do I put in?” asked Melissa.
Amanda raised a brow. “The entire cake.”
“You girls run along and fill the buckets,” Sarah spoke to Jessica and a younger girl. “We need at least five more for the rinse pot, and two for the bluing.”
Jessica and the girl each took a bucket and headed for the well.
Sarah started to scrub a man’s white shirt. “Mrs. Kendal, will you tell us how you met your husband?”
Melissa sighed inwardly. Time to be friendly. “Well--” Melissa continued to shave the soap and carefully considered her answer. Telling them she met Richard when he was modeling clothes for extra money in college wasn’t going to fly. Even in their own time, Richard would have a fit if she told anyone. Now, in this century, he’d murder her. “We met in college.”
“College?” Sarah sounded surprised.
Amanda glanced up. “You went to college? Where?”
Their amazement startled Melissa. “Surely you know some college-educated women?”
Sarah shrugged. “I’ve heard tell, but haven’t ever met anyone who actually attended.”
“Oh.” What a horrible, horrible, backward place.
“Were you educated back East? Your husband said you’re from Boston?”
This was news to Melissa, but made sense. They couldn’t say they were from around here. Too easily disproved. She nodded. “Yes, back East.”
Emma, scrubbing vigorously in another tub, spoke for the first time. “Is that where your family is from?” she asked shyly.
“Was it love at first sight for you and Mr. Kendal?” asked Amanda.
“Is that where you purchased thes
e jeans? I’ve never seen the like.”
Melissa turned to see Sarah holding up Richard’s jeans. “Uh...”
They didn’t seem to need answers, simply continued to chat, and Melissa found all that was required of her was an occasional nod or murmer of agreement. She continued to chip at the soap, trying to imitate Amanda’s sure strokes.
Sarah dipped a freshly scrubbed shirt into the hot water. “Well, it’s apparent you come from money and have fallen on hard times. I don’t want to embarrass you, but it’s pretty clear you haven’t shaved soap before.”
Melissa grinned, unable to take offense at the good-natured tone. “That obvious?”
They all laughed.
“Well, your hands give you away too.” Sarah held up work-reddened hands.
“Oh dear,” Melissa said, feeling slightly queasy as she realized her white hands could look the same before long. Rubber gloves. One more thing to look forward to.
Amanda shrugged. “You get used to it. Rub some lard on your hands tonight and you won’t get cracks.”
Lard. Melissa swallowed hard.
Their chatter was unbelievable. Unstoppable. Sarah came from Ohio; she and her husband both grew up there. She loved his red hair and was thrilled when their oldest son took after his daddy.
Amanda was born and raised in California, had four older brothers, and loved cats, quilting, her sweetie and her children, not necessarily in that order.
Emma was a southern girl, whose family transplanted when she was a teenager, moving steadily west after the War Between the States.
The War Between the States. Criminey.
Sarah sighed. “I do miss my parents. Mrs. Kendal, do you miss your family? Your mother? If you ever need any writing paper, don’t hesitate to come use mine.”
Yeah, right. Like she’d write to her mother even if she could receive the letter. “My mother is dead, but I was never that close to her anyway.”
They stared at her, obviously shocked.
“Really?” asked Amanda.
How was she suppose to respond to that? “Ah, well, our family was really dysfunctional.”
The uncomfortable silence continued.
Sarah stirred the laundry. “I suppose when you’re wealthy, circumstances are different.”
Melissa had no idea how to answer. She’d been both rich and poor, and the distinction didn’t seem to matter. She still wouldn’t write to her mother.
Emma and Sarah rubbed the whites on a washboard, scrubbing the dirty spots then throwing the clothing into the boiling, sudsy water.
Hannah showed up to help, bringing another washboard with her. She took one look at Melissa and glanced away, obviously uncomfortable. Picking up a stick, she stirred the laundry in the other pot.
No one else seemed to think her silent entrance strange.
The children ran around, noisy and rambunctious. Jessica, apparently finished with water duty, played a game with her young co-worker.
Dropping the last tiny chunk of soap into the water, Melissa stepped away from the heat and copied the women, scrubbing at the laundry stains in the cold water, rubbing the clothing on the scrub board, then throwing the whites into the boiling pot.
The work was tiring, and sweat soon cooled her body in the morning sunlight. Competitive as always, Melissa tried to keep up with the other women.
“You have beautiful children, Mrs. Kendal,” said Sarah.
Melissa glanced over to where Jessica sat holding a baby. “Thank you.”
Amanda scrubbed hard at the cuff of a child’s dress. “You must have been awfully young when you had the twins? They must be thirteen or so?”
“They’re twelve. Yes, I was pretty young. Only twenty-three.”
Silence greeted her statement.
Melissa looked up to see the women exchange startled glances. It belatedly occurred to her that they were fishing for her age. Apparently she’d shocked them.
Surprisingly, it was Hannah who broke the silence. “I’m thirty-four. A year younger than you.”
Now it was Melissa’s turn to be startled. In looks, Hannah could be ten years her senior, perhaps more. Apparently the hard life, exposure to the sun, hard physical labor, and lack of hair dye and face lotion had taken their toll. Melissa wasn’t sure what to say.
Hannah ducked her head.
The women picked up the chatter again, talking mostly about their husbands and children. They seemed to live for their families, an attitude Melissa was unfamiliar with. In her world, most women tried to conceal the existence of families. Especially children. They didn’t want to be pigeon-holed into the ‘not a team player’ slot at work.
The scrubbing and chattering continued and slowly it occurred to Melissa that the women actually seemed happy. Granted, they didn’t know what they were missing, stuck here, living in the past, but still...they did seem happy. A claim Melissa was uncomfortably aware she couldn’t make for herself, or her own family.
How could these ladies stand to live like this? And be happy about it?
Happier than she was.
Suddenly chilled in the warm summer air, she shook her head in denial. She must be mistaken. How could they possibly be happier than she was? At home, in her real life, she had everything. A career, a nice house, a maid. And she’d be back to it soon.
These people had nothing. This was their life. They were probably putting on an act for her benefit. Or perhaps weren’t intelligent enough to realize how miserable they were. She should pity them. Did pity them.
Melissa watched as Amanda’s ten-year-old daughter came over and leaned against her, watching her mother work. They smiled at each other, the love between them obvious to see.
Chest tight, Melissa turned away. She needed to stop thinking so much. The faster she worked, the sooner they’d be done. In the meantime, she wished the lye soap fumes would stop stinging her eyes.
She was happy!
She was!
* * *
Richard watched as Jeremy ran to greet Jessica. The kids excitedly exchanged stories about their day as they headed around the corner of the cabin.
Richard smiled. He was bone weary, his muscles ached, and he felt great. And glad to be home. He just wanted to put his feet up, relax, and enjoy his family tonight. Walking up the steps to the cabin door, he opened it and his smile widened at the homey scene.
The table was set for dinner, fresh vegetables on plates in the middle. Melissa stood at the stove cooking, and it actually smelled good. He smiled. No, better than good, it smelled fantastic!
Slowly, he took in Melissa’s frantic motions, her stiff back and shoulders, and obvious agitation.
His smile died. He really didn’t feel up to handling any emotional outbursts tonight. He hadn’t seen his wife all day. Was it too much to ask to come back to a peaceful home, some pleasant conversation, and a kiss or two?
He resisted the impulse to turn around and leave again. “Hi,” he said warily.
Melissa didn’t even turn around. “Hi.” She threw a bowl into a bucket of water sitting on a chair. The water sloshed, but remained in the bucket.
It was over warm in the cabin, so Richard left the door open. He came inside and lowered himself onto one of the chairs, stifling a groan as he stretched out his legs. He picked up a piece of tomato from off a plate and popped it into his mouth. All of his muscles hurt. He simply wanted to lounge around and regenerate. He just didn’t feel up to dealing with temper tantrums. He really didn’t.
Melissa stirred the food again. Vigorously.
The distinct smells of onion and meat wafted through the air, making his mouth water.
With jerky motions she washed and dried a couple of wooden bowls, set them on the shelf, then wrung out the cloth and washed a drip off the stove. The rag steamed on contact.
He tried to relax, but it was impossible with Melissa acting like a crazed Martha Stewart. He wondered if there was anything he could say to diffuse the tension, or if she was like a ticking bom
b. Once activated, incapable of shutting off, the explosion inevitable.
Melissa sighed loudly.
He tensed. Here it came.
“Richard, do you think we’re happy?”
Ouch. Did she mean we as individuals, a couple, or as a family? Whichever it was, Richard wasn’t touching that one.
“Uh huh, sure, you bet we’re happy.”
She didn’t respond. She started to wash the window beside the stove. He was definitely in for a bad night. “That food sure smells good.”
“Some of the other wives gave me some cooking tips today.”
The words were normal enough and some of the tension left his shoulders. “Good. You’re making friends then? Settling in?”
Melissa turned around, her eyes flashing. She threw the rag into the bucket of water, splashing some onto the table, the chair and his outstretched legs.
She held up both hands, red and irritated. “No, I’m not settling in. What I’m doing is rubbing lard into my hands before bedtime. Lard!”
Richard pinched the bridge of his nose. His patience holding on by a thread. Barely. “You’re doing really good here, honey.”
She snorted in disgust. “I hate it here.”
That was it: the screechy tone, the negative words. His patience snapped as his fist smacked the table and he jerked to his feet. “Buck up, Melissa,” he said, his voice granite hard.
She turned to stare at him, her eyebrows raised. “What?”
Richard held up his own hands, covered in blisters, callouses and scratches. “Look at my hands. Do you see me whining?”
“Whining?” her mouth fell open.
Turning away, Richard rubbed his temples where they’d started throbbing. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. This was just great. Now he was upset too. He didn’t want to lose his temper, and it wouldn’t help the situation anyway. He needed to act like an adult.
He turned back and held up a palm. “Look, I’m sorry. I love you. I admire many things about you. But you need to shape up and get yourself under control. We’re going to be here a while. Accept it. This could be a fun experience for our family.”
Her face was set in stone. She nodded and crossed her arms.