Deborah appeared in the doorway. “What’s all the fuss? A person can’t even hear themselves think with all this noise.”
Lizzie felt her face grow hot. “I . . . well . . . I came rushing out the door . . . and . . .”
“She threw herself at me – plain and simple,” G. W. said, still grinning.
Deborah shrugged. “Well, it’s about time someone did. You need a wife, G. W. Now, if you’ll both excuse me, I have work to do. Maybe you two could take your courting outside.” She closed the door, leaving G. W. and Lizzie to stare in stunned silence.
Finally, Lizzie gathered her wits and hurried away. After all this time, she thought, you would think I’d be used to Deborah’s outspoken ways. But just when I think she can’t surprise me any more, she goes and says something like that.
CHAPTER 8
Euphanel Vandermark was always at her chores long before anyone else came downstairs. She liked this time of day, when the house was cool and quiet. She could pray and seek God’s direction for her life. She would put on a pot of coffee, then start the bacon to fry. While it cooked, she would cut potatoes or mix corn dodgers. Once the bacon was cooked, she’d pull it from the cast-iron skillet and put the potatoes or dodgers into the grease. By this time, she would have asked special blessings on all of her children and kin and would be ready to go down her list of praises. With the coffee perking and the food set aside, she would go out to the hen house to feed the chickens and gather eggs.
It was the way she’d lived her life most every morning for the last twenty-some years. At forty-three, she felt well seasoned in the duties of motherhood and keeping house. Having married at sixteen, Euphanel had spent far more of her life married with children of her own than alone. She supposed that’s why it was so hard now to be a widow with children who no longer needed her as they once had. Oh, they still enjoyed her cooking and were grateful to have the cleaning done, but there were no bedtime stories with little ones or moments of lingering in the arms of her man.
She pushed aside the sad thoughts and opened the gate to the chicken yard. She threw out some feed as she called, “Chick, chick, chick. Come along, little chicks.”
With the hens and their broods busy eating, Euphanel could quickly gather the eggs – what there were to gather. The hens were laying light, no doubt because of the heat. She made her way toward the house with Decatur and Jasper now at her side. Dottie, the larger of the two milk cows, lowed miserably as if to remind her that she was in need of Euphanel’s attention even if no one else was.
“Don’t you worry, Dottie girl. Sissy will be here soon.” This drew the attention of the other cow, which seemed to think it necessary to join in. Euphanel laughed. “Now, Dorothy, you just keep Dottie company, and we’ll see you both in a few minutes.” The dogs looked up hopefully at the sound of her voice. Euphanel shifted her basket and leaned down to give Jasper a rub behind the ears. “Yes, you’ll be taken care of, as well.”
By the time she arrived in the kitchen, Euphanel was surprised to find Lizzie and Deborah setting the table.
“Boys will be right down,” Deborah told her mother. “Any sign of Uncle Arjan?”
“I didn’t even think to look,” she replied, putting the basket of eggs on the counter. “Guess my mind was otherwise occupied.”
“I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” Deborah said. “He’ll smell the coffee and bacon and that will bring him running.”
Euphanel laughed. “It always has in the past.”
“Can I do something?” Lizzie questioned, looking ever so hopeful.
“Absolutely. Come on over here. You wipe off these eggs and I’ll go get the few we had left from yesterday. We’ll fry up a batch for breakfast and then mix up some flapjacks.”
Lizzie began the cleaning process while Euphanel fetched the additional eggs. How merry it was to have the girls with her in the kitchen. In a few moments, the boys had joined them, and by the time the flapjacks were done and the eggs fried, Arjan had made his way to the house, as well.
“We have a lot of work to do today, boys,” he declared. “Better pack us a big lunch, Nel.”
Arjan was the only one besides Rutger who had ever called her by the nickname. She smiled and placed a platter of flapjacks in front of him. “Don’t I always?”
He grinned up at her. “I thought yesterday’s was just a mite on the small side.”
Euphanel met his teasing expression and cocked a brow. “I thought you looked like you were wasting away.”
He laughed and leaned back to pat his ample but well-muscled midsection. “Glad you noticed.”
They all chuckled at this as Euphanel took her place at the table for prayer. Bowing, she couldn’t help but remember when Rutger had started the tradition. Shortly after they’d arrived in Texas, he’d gathered her and his brother to the breakfast table one morning and announced that it was about time they got their priorities straight.
“We need to be startin’ and endin’ the day in His presence,” her husband had begun, “and we need to be mindful of our heavenly Father throughout the day. It’s the only way to get through, and I’m convinced we’ve been rather poor in this.”
No one had questioned Rutger’s decision. Euphanel smiled to herself. Her broad-shouldered husband had a way of commanding respect without ever raising his voice. She’d only seen him mad twice in his life, and both times were more than justified – once when a feisty mule had kicked him square in the head, and the other when a wild hog had cornered her. Rutger had seen red both times, but once the trouble was behind them, he had calmed down just as quick.
“Gotta get glad in the same clothes I got mad in,” he used to say. “Might as well be quick about it.”
“Mother?” Deborah called.
Euphanel looked up rather sheepishly as she realized the prayer had ended. “Amen.”
She was about to offer some excuse when Sissy bustled into the dining room. “It be a glorious day. The Lord is good and the world rightly declares it.”
“The Lord is good,” Euphanel replied. “Good to see you feeling so fit this morning. I was worried about your hip.”
“Bah, my hip ain’t gonna stop me.” The older woman gave her leg a slap. “I’m too ornery to let the devil catch hold of me.”
Euphanel added food to her plate. “I’ll be out to help you in just a few minutes.”
“You take yor time, Miz Euphanel. Ain’t no bother to me,” Sissy declared. “I heard Miz Dottie and Miz Dorothy callin’ for me.” She chuckled and took up the clean milk pails. “We’ll have ourselves a little time of praisin’ the good Lord.”
“You do that,” Euphanel said. “The girls love to hear you sing.”
The black woman made her way outside, leaving everyone in the room feeling more lighthearted. Deborah was the first to comment.
“I swear that woman is the best medicine. If you could bottle her and sell her to people, you’d make a fortune.”
Her daughter was right, Euphanel thought. Sissy always had a way of making folks feel better. It was almost impossible to stay troubled or discouraged when she was around.
Euphanel ate her breakfast quickly and made a mental list of all that she wanted to accomplish that day. She had plenty of gardening to tend to and canning to do. She had laundry and mending, meals to fix, and she still hoped to get some cleaning done upstairs.
First, however, the cows needed milking. Sissy would have already started with Dottie, but poor Dorothy would be beside herself if Euphanel didn’t make haste.
“Mother, Lizzie and I can fix the lunches,” Deborah offered as Euphanel got to her feet.
“That would be a great help to me,” she said. “That way I can get right out to help milk.”
“Could I learn how to milk the cow?” Lizzie asked.
“You sure you want to learn?” Rob asked in disbelief.
Lizzie nodded and looked to Euphanel for an answer. “I need to start learning useful skills. I might know about art and music, but I haven’t h
ad an opportunity to use my knowledge here.”
Euphanel smiled. “Of course you can come and learn how to milk a cow. I’ll be happy to teach you most anything. Just remember, though, when the heat of the day is upon us, I want you to take it easy.”
“I promise I will.” Lizzie set aside her napkin and got up from the table. Looking to Deborah, she asked, “Can you handle packing the lunches by yourself?”
“Of course. Go on and enjoy your new experience.”
“And don’t get yourself stepped on – Dorothy’s real bad about that,” Rob declared.
G. W. nodded and added, “And watch the bucket – she likes to kick it over.”
Euphanel held out her hand to Lizzie. “Come along. I’ll show you all the tricks.”
–––––––
Several hours later, after seeing her friend busily occupied with Mother and Sissy in the kitchen, Deborah announced she was going to Perkinsville.
“I have some journals to return to Dr. Clayton,” she told her mother. “Is there anything I can bring back from the store?”
“Sissy can go with you and get the supplies we talked about,” her mother replied. “I don’t like you going all that way by yourself.”
Deborah didn’t argue with her mother. It wouldn’t have done any good. It was probably best that her mother never know about the many times she’d walked unescorted through the city streets of Philadelphia. Probably wise, too, that she not mention the times she’d attended evening functions unaccompanied.
“I’ll hitch the wagon,” Sissy said, pulling off her apron.
It was also wise not to argue with Sissy. The woman might be fifty years old and shorter than Deborah, but she was a powerful opponent if the situation arose.
“I’ll be back soon, Lizzie. Is there anything in particular I can bring you?”
“A letter from my father would be nice,” Lizzie said, looking up from a bowl of green beans.
Deborah knew her friend longed for news. It had already been several weeks, and still no word. “I’ll do what I can,” she promised.
Sissy had the team harnessed and ready to go in no time at all. Matthew and Mark were two of the sweetest Morgans ever trained. Their temperament even allowed for them to be ridden from time to time, although it was usually bareback.
Deborah climbed up on the wagon and sat down beside Sissy. “You wanna take the reins?” Sissy asked.
“It’s been awhile, but there’s no time like the present to get back in practice.” She clucked her tongue. “Walk on, Matthew. Walk on, Mark.”
The day was warm, and the building clouds threatened of storms to come. Deborah hadn’t noticed them until they were nearly to Perkinsville or she might have stayed home. Texas thunderstorms were not to be ignored.
“Looks like we may have rain,” she told Sissy.
“Yes, Miz Deborah, I do believe we will. Guess we’ll get a soakin’ on our way back.”
“Unless we wait it out here,” Deborah said. “You’ve got friends to visit, don’t you?”
“Shore I do, but yor mama don’t pay me to visit.”
Deborah laughed as a loud rumble of thunder sounded. “I don’t think Mama would want us out in this storm. I have things to do myself. I’ll meet you back here at the store after the storm has passed.” She handed the reins to Sissy and stepped down from the wagon. “Why don’t you go visit first, and then when the storm lets up, you can get our shopping done. That way, we won’t have supplies getting wet in the wagon.”
“I reckon that be best,” Sissy said.
Deborah smiled. “I’m sure it is.” She hurried off in the direction of the doctor’s office, careful to keep the journals close in case it started to rain. She’d just reached the door of the office waiting room when the first large drops started to fall.
Opening the door, she called out. “Hello? Are you here, Dr. Clayton?”
He immediately appeared from the opposite doorway. “Well, hello. What brings you here today?”
Lightning flashed and Deborah hurried to close the door behind her. “I brought back your journals.”
“And did you enjoy them?” he asked with a smile.
“Actually, I did. I was hoping to maybe borrow another.” She held out the collection.
He took them and motioned her to step into the office. “Help yourself, but I have to ask: Was there anything in particular that you found appealing?”
Deborah headed to the stack of journals on the bookshelf. “I was rather fascinated by the article on Dr. Robert Koch.”
The doctor’s face lit up. “He discovered the tuberculosis bacillus, and his work on cholera has been highly discussed.”
“Yes. That’s the very man,” Deborah replied, quite excited. She jumped at the boom of thunder. “The storm caught me by surprise. Our cook, Sissy, came with me to town, and I’m afraid we’ll be stuck here until the storm passes.”
“Well, why don’t you wait here with me? We can discuss the article.”
“I wouldn’t want to keep you from your work . . . and folks might think it strange for me to be here.” She considered leaving, then shook her head. “Let them think what they will.”
He chuckled and rubbed his bearded chin. “By all means, have a seat. Free time is all I seem to have.” He motioned for her to take a chair.
She frowned. “Why do you say that?”
“Because it’s true.” He sat at his desk and leaned back to stretch his arms behind his head. “I have all the time in the world – it’s patients I don’t have. Not one person this week, and only one in the weeks before.”
“I was hopeful that word would get around regarding your good work with John Stevens. His hand is healing well.”
“It would seem Mrs. Foster’s word holds more weight. She’s got the town stirred up, believing that if they come to me for help, it’s going to offend the spirits or some such nonsense. Mr. Perkins is quite beside himself. He’s hired me and pays me a good salary, and here I sit idle.”
“Give them time,” Deborah advised. “I’ll be sure to say good things about you and encourage others to do the same. Many of the folks here are uneducated and steeped in superstitions and traditions. It’s always a headache for the preacher, too.”
“I suppose I was expecting folks to be grateful to have a doctor.”
“Maybe they’re afraid they can’t afford it,” she offered.
“Mr. Perkins takes fees out of the mill workers’ wages each week for their doctor and hospital needs. They’re entitled to my services.”
She shrugged. “Like I said, it will most likely take time. The people around here have to come to terms with change. It’s always hard for them. In the meanwhile, Mr. Perkins is doubling the size of his mill and hiring a great many new people. Maybe they’ll be able to bring in folks from outside the area who won’t be so superstitious.”
Dr. Clayton looked unconvinced. “I have no patience for ignorance.”
“Neither do I, but I find that often the only way to get folks to see things right is to give them an example. John’s hand is a good one. In time, word will get around that it was your handiwork, and not Mrs. Foster’s poultice, that did the trick.”
Rain hitting the window drew her attention and a brilliant flash of lightning filled the room. The boom of the thunder came nearly on top of it. “I do hope the men working outside got to safety.”
“Seems we can use the rain,” Dr. Clayton offered.
“Yes, I suppose we should be grateful for that.” She brushed imaginary lint from her brown skirt. “Dr. Clayton . . .”
“Call me Christopher,” he suggested. “We are friends after all.”
She looked at him for a moment and saw a glint of amusement in his expression. “It would be scandalous if I were to do so. You’re new to the community. I didn’t grow up with you around. And you’re my elder.”
“I’m not that old. I’ve yet to start using a cane, and I still hear quite well.”
Debora
h giggled. “It would be inappropriate. I can just hear the reprimands. Why, the preacher would probably be informed on his next visit, and I’d be called before the congregation to repent of my sinful ways.”
He leaned forward and crossed his arms. “Well, I suppose I can’t have that. Still, couldn’t you call me Christopher in private?”
“I don’t think it would be wise. I might become too comfortable and blurt it out accidentally.” She sobered. “There are a lot of rules for young women – for any woman, actually. I wouldn’t want to stir up trouble after just arriving home. To be honest, I think people are looking for something they can point at.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
Deborah went to the window. The rumble of thunder seemed to be growing less frequent. “I know I’m being watched carefully by those who knew me before. They will want to see that I didn’t pick up any bad habits while attending school in the East. They don’t really value education.”
“Why is that?”
“No one can afford the luxury of it,” she replied. “Children are needed to help earn a living, so school for them is usually done by the eighth grade – if they get to attend that long. Adults have no time for pleasures like reading. Even so, few can read – especially among the men. When I went off to school, folks were mixed on how they felt about it. Some thought I was lucky and wished me well. Others frowned on it and said I was sure to be ruined by the ways of the world.”
“You don’t look too ruined to me,” he said with a chuckle.
Deborah studied him and found she liked the way tiny lines formed at his eyes when he laughed. He was a handsome man – perhaps Dr. Clayton would find a woman here in Perkinsville and marry. Maybe it would even be one of Mr. Perkins’s daughters. They had certainly enjoyed his company when they’d been at the Vandermark house for supper.
She put aside such thoughts. “It will be scandal enough that I’m here. Of course, the storm will be my excuse. I brought back your periodicals and took refuge until the rain let up.”
“What of when you brought me doughnuts?”
“I was doing the good Christian thing in greeting a new neighbor. I stayed to help, because anyone would have done likewise. But mark my words: Someone will have seen me come here today and make a comment about it later. Hopefully it won’t cause harm to your reputation.”
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