“My Gawd, Laura Lee, you’re fat as a pig.” Ignoring Eleanor, the newcomer stopped at the bottom step. “Where’s Jed?”
“He rode into town.” Lorly crossed her arms over her bulge. “Would you like to come inside for a glass of cool cider. It’s going to be a scorcher today.”
The visitor stood her ground, evidently untempted by the offer of a cool drink. She had three chins, one thrust forward, the other two quivering. “When’s he coming back?”
“Who?”
“Jed! Who did you think we were talking about?”
“Well, it could’ve been George or it could’ve been your husband. I declare, if I have to carry all this weight around much longer, my mind’s going to be full of holes as a tea strainer. Did it serve you that way before little Petey was born?”
Eleanor saw a new side of the woman she had known less than a day. Lorly was a lot smarter than she let on, definitely nobody’s pushover. They sparred for another few minutes and then Vera—Jed’s beloved Vera of the flowery language and the highly embellished handwriting—swung herself back up onto the seat of her gleaming black trap, slapped the small mare with the reins and left, kicking up a cloud of dust behind her.
“Notice she didn’t once look over to where the shed used to be,” Lorly said dryly.
“You think she knows who burned it?”
“She knows.”
“You don’t like her,” Eleanor ventured.
“Like her? I despise the woman. The Lord says, ‘Judge not lest ye be judged,’ but she made a play for George right after Jed left. George says he sent her packing. He said she’d chase after anything in pants, but you couldn’t tell Jed that. ’Course, that was after Jed left home and went to work for her daddy. I don’t reckon George saw him much that last summer before he ran away.”
As curious as she was, Eleanor knew she shouldn’t pry into something that was none of her business. Instead of asking what had happened that long-ago summer while she swept up the hair off the porch, she said, “Jed still carried a letter from her when I met him.”
There, that was all right, wasn’t it? If he hadn’t minded her knowing about it, he shouldn’t mind his own family knowing. “He said it was to remind him of all he needed to achieve before he went home again.”
“I don’t know about any letter, but I reckon he achieved it, whatever it was he set out to do. Lord knows, if he hadn’t been able to come up with the money, I don’t know where we’d be now. My folks are both dead. George doesn’t know anything but farming, and after that bad drought I don’t know of any farms that can afford to hire help.”
Eleanor started to throw the trimmings into the trash, but Lorly shook her head. “I’ll sprinkle them around the garden to keep the deer away. They say it works for snakes, too, but it’s not snakes feeding on my early greens. Go on inside and look at yourself. There’s a mirror in our bedroom, first one on the right at the head of the stairs.”
“I’m almost afraid to.” Eleanor touched her hair, tried to measure the length with her finger, and sighed. It would grow back. It might take a year, but eventually she would look normal again.
Laughing, Lorly gave her a gentle push. “Go look!”
Chapter Twenty-One
Eleanor looked. Turning this way and that, she stared wonderingly at the big-eyed urchin in the mirror. Surely this wasn’t the prim Miss Scarborough, third-grade teacher at Corner Gum Academy on the outskirts of Charlotte. Surely not Mrs. Devin Miller, widow of the late miner who blew himself to smithereens trying to burrow under a hill in search of an elusive dream.
“If I thought my hair would look like that,” said Lorly, coming up silently behind her, “I’d take the shears to it this minute. It’s those curls of yours. Growing up, I used to pray every night for the Lord to curl my hair, then I’d have to pray forgiveness for the sin of vanity.” Chuckling, she stepped back and looked at the faded green dress Eleanor was wearing. “I could take it in before Jed gets back. I’m right handy with a needle.”
Reba came in and stared up at Eleanor. “What happened to her hair?”
Lorly whispered, “Hush, sugar.”
“Mama, I hafta go to the pribby.”
Lorly sighed. Taking her daughter by the hand, she explained, “She thinks she’s too old to use the chamber pot, but she’s afraid to climb up on the seat in the privy, afraid she’ll fall in.”
After the two of them left, Eleanor took one last look in the mirror, marveling at the transformation wrought by a simple haircut. Simple? It was no more than two inches long, all over her head.
She tried on a smile. Even her cheeks looked plumper. If she’d known what a difference it would make, she’d have cut her hair off years ago, fashionable or not.
At least a dozen times before dark she went out onto the porch, hoping to see a lone rider on a big bay mare riding down the switch, which was what the Dulahs called the road at the far end of the property that crossed directly over the low ridge. It was possible, just barely possible, she told herself, that Jed had reached town before the bank closed, concluded his business sooner than he’d expected and headed home instead of staying over.
Either way, he wouldn’t be hurrying back on her account, she told herself, but hope refused to die.
It was while they were cleaning up after breakfast the next morning that Lorly brought out a wrinkled gown of silk pongee with a small bustle and gigot sleeves. The lace overskirt had yellowed until it looked as if it had been dipped in tea. “It was my wedding dress,” she confided, holding it up to her distorted figure. “Can you believe I ever wore something this size? My waist was nineteen inches then, and my bosom was…well,” she said, laughing. “A lot smaller, at least. Babies will do that to you.”
Eleanor thought about the rose silk she had worn as a bride. She would have preferred something else—something like this gown, in fact. Instead, she had made over one of her cousin’s Sunday gowns, and Devin had claimed he liked it even better than white satin. More practical, he’d said. Rose silk taffeta—practical?
“I’m sure it will still be in style when Reba and Sara grow up,” Eleanor said diplomatically. “Lemon juice and sunshine should lighten the lace several shades.”
“I wasn’t thinking about the girls,” Lorly said with a sly glance at Eleanor, who was drying the cutlery and dropping it into the drawer.
“Then it’s time you did. If this one’s a girl, you’ll have three daughters lined up waiting to wear their mama’s wedding dress. Do you think George can bear giving away three daughters?”
Draping the gown over a chair, Lorly sat—sprawled was more like it—in another chair and slipped a hand behind to rub her lower back. “What kind of gown did you wear for your first wedding?”
Eleanor slammed the drawer harder than necessary. Without turning around, she spread the towel on the rack. “My only wedding,” she stressed. “It was rose silk taffeta. Nice enough, but yours is truly lovely.”
“What happened to it?”
And so Eleanor told her the story of their escape, which sent both women into gales of laughter. In retrospect, Eleanor could see the humorous aspects, although at the time there’d been nothing at all funny about it.
“Lord, it’s nice to have another woman to talk to,” the older woman said, and Eleanor nodded agreement. Then she went on to describe her wedding dress in detail, along with the shoes she’d worn with it. “Poor Varnelle probably won’t be able to wear any of it, but thank goodness I kept everything, even though the shoes pinched and I would never have worn the dress again. If I’d died, they might have laid me out in it, but you know what? I’ll bet anything they’d have stripped it off before they buried me. The Millers didn’t believe in wasting anything. I’d like to think Varnelle will enjoy it, but I honestly don’t care if she sells it to buy sugar for her brother’s still.”
“If she wanted it enough to defy her family and help you get away, I bet she won’t sell it for any amount of money.”
�
��Actually, just the thought of getting rid of me would probably have been enough. It was Hector she really wanted, not a silk dress and a pair of spool-heeled shoes that would twist her ankle if she ever tried to walk in them. Hector didn’t love me—he didn’t even approve of me. The Millers like manageable women, and I’m afraid I was never that.”
She got up and looked out the window again, then sat back down. “It was Devin’s shares he was interested in, like all the others. He spent a lot of time down in those tunnels under the hill, and nobody was supposed to set foot in Devin’s tunnels. They were supposed to be off-limits until one of the men married me, and then everything that had belonged to Devin would be his. Me, included.” She stared down at her feet. She was wearing a pair of Lorly’s crocheted slippers. “I saw him there several times. Hector, I mean. I never called him on it, because I really didn’t care where he went as long as I didn’t have to marry him.”
Lorly flexed her swollen ankles. “Yes, well…all that’s behind you now. Unless you’re wanting to go back and claim your gold mine?”
“Ha. That’ll be the day.”
The sound of children playing outside drifted in through the window. The fire had been banked after breakfast, but the room was still warm. On the far wall, a wagtail clock loudly counted off the minutes. It was almost time to start preparing the noon meal, but neither woman moved.
Lorly, a secretive smile lighting her plain features, said, “Don’t be surprised if Jed brings you a bolt of dress goods and some trimmings. I don’t know about the shoes, though. Does he know what size you wear?”
Eleanor’s jaw dropped. Eventually, she remembered to close her mouth. “Dress goods? Why on earth would he do that?”
“Well, because he wants to marry you, silly. He won’t care if you’re wearing a feed sack, but I reckon he knows you well enough to know you’d be happier wearing a pretty gown. Might even feel guilty because you traded your wedding dress to help him get away.”
“To help me get away, you mean. Lorly, I think you might have jumped to the wrong conclusion. Jed and I—that is, Jed…”
“Wants to marry you.”
“Oh, my mercy,” Eleanor whispered. She could feel her cheeks burning. “Honestly, there’s nothing like that between us. I mean, we—that is…”
“I wasn’t born yesterday,” Lorly smiled, then winced and shifted her position. “This baby’s kicking me in the back. I’d have sworn that wasn’t possible.”
“Another little boy, then.”
“Sara was a kicker, too. Don’t change the subject, just answer me this. Do you love him?”
Eleanor propped her elbows on the table and covered her face with her hands. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m afraid I do, but honestly, Jed’s never said a word that would lead me to believe he wants to—to marry me. It’s not for want of opportunity, either. We’ve been together almost constantly for weeks.”
“Deny it all you want to, but just remember I told you so.” With something that looked almost like a smirk, the older woman said, “If you don’t mind, I’m going to sit here and watch you work. Just set the beans and corn bread out when they come in for dinner. There’s apple butter in the pantry and buttermilk in the cool house.”
Eleanor had offered to take over any tasks that involved standing. Lorly hadn’t objected. Now as she got out bowls and sorted out enough cutlery she was remembering snatches of conversation among her married friends about pregnancy and the various afflictions that went along with it. They had usually fallen silent when she approached out of consideration for her unmarried state, but she’d heard enough to know the changes could be horrendous.
Was a tendency to hallucinate among them?
She honestly couldn’t remember. Now she wished she’d paid more attention. What was going on? Could Jed have said anything to lead Lorly to believe what she obviously believed? If he’d had any intention of offering for her, wouldn’t he have come to her first? And if he did, would it be because he loved her, or because he thought he’d compromised her?
One thing she was fairly sure of—it wouldn’t be for her supposed gold shares.
She glanced out the window toward the switch, then looked over toward the barn where George was sharpening a plow. Lorly had explained that they’d had to let the hired man go as they could no longer afford to pay him. Everything, she’d said, hung in the balance until they found out whether or not they were going to lose the farm.
Just as Eleanor brought in the things from the cool house, a lattice affair built up off the back porch where it could catch the slightest breeze, they heard the clip-clop of a horse riding in on the hard-packed soil. “He’s back,” she whispered, her heart clutching almost painfully.
Lorly grabbed the table and used it to hoist herself out of the chair while Eleanor set the food down, then both women hurried outside in time to see an old-fashioned trap pull into the yard, the bay mare tied off behind.
Two men sat on the high seat, one of them easily recognizable. Eleanor felt her breath constrict in her lungs. The children darted past her, all but Sara, who grabbed hold of her skirt and clung. Evidently, to the two-year-old, one skirt was as good as another.
Eleanor scooped the child up in her arms, instinctively seeking a barrier as Jed climbed down and turned to assist an elderly man wearing a frock coat, a bowler hat and thick, gold-rimmed spectacles.
“Told you so,” Lorly whispered.
“Told me what?”
“Brought the preacher with him.”
“As a witness,” Eleanor hissed. “You heard what they said. They’re going to need a witness when they pay off Mr. Stanfield. George could hardly call on you, wives don’t count.”
“How about you? You’re not a wife…yet.”
Jed cautioned, “Watch your step, Pepper, there’s toys scattered around everywhere.”
Pepper? Eleanor was still standing there clutching his two-year-old niece when Jed helped the elderly man up the front steps. “Pepper, I want you to meet my family.” He proceeded to introduce the Reverend Pepperdine, recently retired from the ministry. “Pepper took me in when I needed a friend, didn’t ask any embarrassing questions, fed me real good and didn’t make me listen to more than three hours of Bible lessons a day, right, Pepper?”
“Didn’t do a speck of good, either. Pleased to meet you, folks. Understand I’m s’posed to witness a signature and marry Jed and his lady. Which one of you…?” After glancing first at Lorly, his gaze shifted quickly to where Eleanor stood, her arms filled with a squirming Sara.
“Potty, Mama, I need to potty,” wailed the youngster, lunging toward her mother.
Eleanor grabbed the child to keep her from falling just as Reba reached up and tugged at her sister’s foot. “Can I take her to the pribby, Mama?”
“No, you cannot. You all come on inside and I’ll pour us some cold tea. Reverend Pepperdine, have you eaten dinner? It’s ready to go on the table.”
Zach raced up to the porch on his broomstick horse and stared at the newcomer. “Who’s he, Papa?” the boy whispered loudly just as George walked up, wiping his hands on a filthy rag.
More introductions were made, and then Lorly reissued her invitation.
“I’d be much obliged for a bite to eat and a glass of tea, ma’am.”
In all the bustle that followed, a cold meal was set out, Sara was pottied and settled for a nap and the older children were assigned to take the kitten basket out into the sunshine and then come back inside and eat their dinner.
“Did you get it?” George asked, once the children were dispersed.
“Got it. Two thousand with interest, with enough left over to pay for a lawyer if we need one. But with Pepper to serve as witness, it probably won’t come to that.”
Eleanor filled the men’s glasses with cold sweet tea from a stoneware pitcher. Questions log-jammed in her mind, but first George and Lorly needed answers.
They talked some more about when and how to arrange the meeting with Sta
nfield, then Jed rose and held out a hand to Eleanor. “Come outside with me while I see to the horses. George, all right if I turn Pepper’s gray into the south pasture with the bay? I reckon McGee’s still in the paddock?”
George nodded. It occurred to Eleanor that he looked several years younger than he had just this morning. The lines in his face were less obvious and there was an almost jaunty lift to his shoulders.
Jed took her arm and ushered her outside. She started to go down the steps, but he held her back. “Wait up, we need to talk.”
She waited, her mouth too dry to swallow. What if Lorly had been right and he asked her to marry him? Did she love him?
Oh, my, yes! With all her heart and soul.
What if he asked her what her future plans were and offered to arrange for her to ride to Asheville with Pepper, whose ministry obviously included helping those in need?
“Talk about what?” She asked the minute they were outside. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.
Instead of replying, he turned and pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her hair. She had forgotten all about being shorn. “Smells good,” he said. “Looks good, too. So do you. And in case you’re wondering what I’m doing, I’m courting you.”
She stopped breathing. He was courting her?
“See, I’ve been thinking. It’s one thing to make love to a woman—that comes natural. It’s different, though, when a man wants to tell a woman how he feels about her and ask her if she could possibly see spending the rest of her life with him, even when she’s fine and educated and beautiful and he’s not any of those things.”
She was going to cry, either that or she was going to melt all over him like a burned-down tallow candle. “You are so beautiful,” she countered fiercely. “Besides, without you I’d still be up on Devin’s Hill with no hope of ever being free. You’re fine and you know far more than you think you do. So ask me.”
“Come out to the barn with me. I don’t need an audience.”
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