Chapter 16
I’ve been back at Anna’s house for most of the day since seeing my ma’s childhood home.
I ate a painful, silent lunch because Sir Harris was very angry about something happening with his investments that I don’t understand.
Then supper, Sir Harris and Russell weren’t there. I’m not too sure where they were. It was kind of nice, just being Anna, Josephine, Sadie, and me.
Now, I’m back in my room reading the letter from Ma again. I’m beginning to know every word on this paper. It’s still so special, knowing Ma wrote this for me. That even while she was sick, she had the time to think of me.
It’s dark outside now, but Jane shut the curtains, much to my protest. Figuring since she’s gone now, I can open them. I stand from my spot on the bed to the window, pulling the sheer curtains away. I feel rather trapped when they’re closed, plus the view from the window is astonishing.
I turn down the gas lighting, more sure with it tonight and once again move all the extra pillows off the bed. It’s chilly in the house tonight, and as soon as I crawl under the covers, warmth spreads through me.
Sometimes, while I’m here, I wish my sisters could’ve all come with me. At the same time, though, I think I’ve grown up a little since being here. I’ve only been here a few days, yet talking to strangers hasn’t been too hard. I guess most of the time I’ve been either, desperate, lost, or trying to get the most out of my trip. Maybe that’s why I’ve been doing okay.
All I know is, tomorrow I want to go somewhere by myself. Just me and the letter.
* * *
I reread number two on the list over and over again when I wake up.
2) Find Mrs. Taylor’s bakery. (I used to go there every day when I was nine, and Mrs. Taylor would give me a free pastry because I was her favorite customer.)
Smiling, I stand and set the letter on the bed. I’m dressed in the blue dress my sisters’ made me. And Jane has done my hair up in a braided knot. I’m not even sure what to call it, but it’s absolutely lovely.
It’s quite early in the morning, so I figure I should be safe to walk around Northwood in search of this bakery.
I head downstairs to find Anna reading in the sitting room. She smiles, looking up from her book.
“I’m going to go for a walk and look for Mrs. Taylor’s bakery. Do you happen to know where it is?”
“Mrs. Taylor’s bakery? Not that I know of. I’m sure you’ll find it. If it’s anywhere, it’s probably by your ma’s old house. She didn’t go places outside the area of her house very often.”
I nod. “Good idea.”
I step out onto the streets of Northwood. The sun is bright in the sky, and the morning breeze tickles my face.
A few people walk past me but seem to not even notice I’m standing here.
Smiling, I walk in the direction of where we went yesterday to see Ma’s old house. I figure if I get lost, I have money from Pa in my bag and can get a ride back to the Harris’s home.
Making my way down the sidewalk, I walk past many buildings. Some are houses—big like Anna’s—others are a normal size.
There are businesses too, a blacksmith’s shop, and a dress fitters. It’s rather interesting to see all the new things Northwood has to offer.
Many people in carriages and wagons drive past, and people are laughing and talking.
“Good day.” A woman smiles at me as she walks past.
“Good day,” I repeat back to her.
Maybe Northwood isn’t as different as I thought it was from Riverbend…
* * *
I feel like I’ve been walking for hours. Though, I’d say it’s only been half an hour.
I’ve walked up and down several roads and have not found any sign of Mrs. Taylor’s bakery.
I decide to sit down on a bench and rest for a few minutes before searching some more. After a minute of me sitting here, trying to decide which way to go next, a woman sits down a few spaces away from me on the bench. She smiles down at a little girl I assume is her daughter, who’s standing on the ground.
“Ma’am? Do you happen to know where Mrs. Taylor’s bakery is?”
She smiles, turning to face me. “If you mean Mrs. Taylor and Mrs. Walker’s Bakery, then yes.”
Two people? I figure it’s better than nothing. “Yes. Where is it?”
“A few buildings down from here. If you go straight-ahead that way, it’s on the left.”
“Thank you.” I smile, standing up and begin walking in the direction she pointed me in.
Maybe Mrs. Taylor had someone else join her in running the bakery.
I soon find the small store located a few buildings down. It’s tucked in between two large buildings. I don’t think I would’ve found it if that woman hadn’t told me to watch for it on this street.
It’s got “Mrs. Taylor and Mrs. Walker’s Bakery” painted on the window with pink and blue curtains hanging on the inside. I push open the door and step inside.
It’s lovely. Old-fashioned yes, but adorable at the same time. The counter is at the back where a woman who looks to be in her eighties is standing. Another woman steps out who looks Freida’s age with a tray of baking in her arms.
“Hello there,” the old woman says, a smile bright on her face.
“Good morning…” I say slowly, taking in my surroundings. The walls have peeling, blue floral designs on it. There are a few tables with pink and blue painted chairs.
“Are you looking for anything?” the younger woman asks.
“Yes. Actually, I’m looking for Mrs. Taylor.”
The older woman smiles, coming out from behind the counter. “That would be me.”
“Do you remember a young girl named Elsie Foster?”
She smiles, folding her hands over her chest. “Oh, little Elsie. Of course I do.”
“Well, I’m her daughter, Lydia. And I have quite a story to tell you.”
I explain to Mrs. Taylor how my ma died and how I’d come here with the instructions to complete different tasks.
Tears are drying on her face. “She was too young.”
I frown, looking down at my hands.
“Well as tradition goes, your ma would’ve run in the door yelling ‘Mrs. Taylor! Mrs. Taylor!’,” she pauses smiling, at the memory. “I’d always be waiting by the counter because I knew she would come in every day on her way home from school. Then she would come behind the counter and pick out a special treat. She’d eat it at that table right by the window. I’d sit with her, and she’d tell me all about her day.”
I smile, imagining my ma doing these things. Mrs. Taylor stands and limps behind the counter, motioning for me to follow.
“Come pick a treat, dear.”
I step behind the counter and peer into where the pastries are, pointing at a donut.
“Go ahead.”
I lift it carefully and smile down at it when it’s in my hand.
“C’mon, let’s go visit.”
I follow after Mrs. Taylor, and we sit at the table where my ma used to sit. I’m in the exact chair ma apparently sat in every day.
I smile at Mrs. Taylor. I can see why my ma liked her.
I’ve long since finished my donut. It was delicious, but Mrs. Taylor and I’ve been visiting for a while. A few customers have since come in and Mrs. Walker’s dealt with them.
I’ve learned that as Mrs. Taylor grew older and found running the bakery a little difficult, she began to look at selling. But then her daughter Rosa offered to help her run it. And now they work together.
I told her about my sisters and where my ma moved to after she left Northwood. I also tell her about where I’m staying and how I’m finding Northwood so far.
“Your ma was the most kindhearted child I’ve ever seen. Her smile could make anyone happy,” Mrs. Taylor says, resting her hand on top of mine.
“I know.” I feel tears brimming in my eyes, but I blink them away. “She was the best.”
“I’m
very sorry to hear she’s gone, dear. And do come back during the remainder of your stay here.”
I smile, pushing the chair back as I stand. “I will. Although I get lost fairly easy.”
“Do you know how to get back to where you’re staying?”
Chuckling, I push the chair in. “I’ll figure it out.”
Mrs. Taylor pulls me into a warm hug. “I’m glad you came.”
“Me too.”
With a small wave, I step out of the bakery and shut the door behind me. That was so wonderful.
* * *
I’m not lost. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself, but now I’m not so sure. I’ve walked past a few places I remember, but now there is nothing.
Well there is stuff all around me, just nothing I remember.
I decide to just keep walking. Surely, it’s around here somewhere…
But it’s not.
Now, I am definitely lost. For sure this time. I don’t remember seeing any of these buildings before.
Just as I’m thinking this, a familiar black carriage goes past.
“Wait!” I shout, picking up my skirts and running after the carriage. At least, I hope this is one of the Harris family’s chauffeurs.
“Miss Lydia?” The man sitting at the front of the carriage asks.
“Yes. You don’t even know how relieved I am to see you. Could I catch a ride back to the house?”
“Of course, miss. I was just getting a few things for Lady Harris.”
I smile. “Well I’m glad you were.”
As the carriage begins moving again, I look out the window. I’d say it’s after lunchtime now. I watch the people we pass. Some are by themselves. One man walks down the street, holding onto a little boy’s hand.
I rather like it here. However, I don’t think I’ll venture out in the dark anytime soon.
Chapter 17
Since I arrived back at the house, I worked on my weaving until I went down for supper. Everyone was there this time.
And now I’m back in my room, working on my weaving once again, sitting on the bed.
I hear a soft knock on the door.
“Come in.”
It’s Anna. I set my weaving down on the bed.
“How was your day? I didn’t get a chance to ask you during supper.”
I give her a smile. “It was such a wonderful experience. It took me awhile to find it, but Mrs. Taylor, the lady who owns the bakery, remembered my ma. She told me all about how Ma was when she used to go there.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself here. I had hoped your first few days here didn’t put you off too much, but I’m glad to see it hasn’t.”
Nodding, I run my hand down the soft thread of my weaving.
Anna looks down at it. “You’re incredible. Where did you learn such intricate stitch work?”
I smile. “My ma taught me.”
* * *
It’s been a few days since I went to Mrs. Taylor’s bakery. I decided to wait for a bit before going to the next place Ma’s sending me to. I don’t want to rush this experience.
I’ve mostly visited with Josephine and Anna. I rather like their company. Sadie mostly keeps to herself in her room.
I also found a library in the house. I keep reminding myself to write about it and tell Hazel to let Genevieve know. She would spend all her time reading in the library if she were here.
Now I’m walking around Northwood, enjoying the afternoon sun. I’ve taken a different route, than the one I went on to search for Mrs. Taylor’s bakery.
I’m now in an area I didn’t think I’d see in Northwood. There is a large area of trees, a small meandering stream, and a bridge going over it. The flowers are blooming everywhere, and people sit on blankets eating.
I venture over the wooden bridge and find a little bench located next to the stream. The water is so clear that I can see the bottom.
I think of my family again. I notice myself doing this often. I always think of how much they’d love this, or even maybe hate it. I wonder what they’re doing at this very moment. Are they thinking of me right now too?
I know since I’ve been here, I’ve had to start using my voice. It’s like in a place where there are people everywhere, you can’t live by not talking to people. I’m sure if Hazel had ended up coming with me, I would’ve let her do all the talking.
Hazel is my sister, and I love her dearly, but perhaps all this time I needed to get away in order to grow. Just maybe.
* * *
I left the little nature area a while ago and kept walking. I must admit, I find the house rather boring. There’s only so much I can do there. I have no idea how Sadie spends so much time in her room. I suppose she’s used to living like that, though.
I walk past a little shop that has a display in the window. Deciding I might as well go look, I push open the door and step inside. The room is filled with shelves, and I make my way down the first one. There is fabric, wool, and other materials for sewing and weaving.
I find a set of thread that has a whole bunch of colors. There is a light purple, a lovely light blue, and a deep green. Riverbend never had this much selection. I could only ever get the basic colors.
I lift the package off the shelf and flip it over. It’s not even as expensive as I thought. I haven’t had to use my money yet, so luckily I have it with me.
I go to the till and pay for it. The woman working smiles and wishes me a good day.
Satisfied, I step out of the building and back onto the streets of Northwood. I’ve spent most of my afternoon walking. I’m not really sure where I’m going. Just exploring I suppose.
I walk past a building marked “Sal’s Saloon.”
It looks like it’s crowded in there. Why are people in there so early in the afternoon?
I shake my head and keep walking.
Hearing a door slam behind me, I turn around to see a very angry young man storm out of the saloon.
And to my shock, it’s no one, but Oliver Hayes.
“Oliver?” I say, stepping toward him.
He looks up, his dark brown eyes meeting mine. As soon as he sees me, he smiles, his furrowed eyebrows disappearing. “Lydia.”
“Are you all right? You looked rather upset coming out of the…the saloon.”
“Never mind that. What’re you doing in this end of town? Please don’t say you’re lost again.” His eyes sparkle.
Laughing, I reply, “No, I’m only going for a walk. I didn’t know I would run into you, though.”
“How’s your time here been so far?” he asks, moving to sit down on a bench.
I do the same. “It’s been pretty incredible. However, living in that house is quite different from what I’m used to. They have maids and everything there.”
“I couldn’t stand that. I suppose they don’t let you do anything.”
“You’re right. The one time I went to help clean up from supper, everyone looked like I’d committed a crime.”
Oliver laughs, and then his eyes shift to the saloon. A man steps outside, squinting from the sun’s bright light.
Oliver turns his head back to me, eyes widened. “Would you like to come to my house for some coffee or something? It’s rather hot out here.”
He’s angling himself, so I can’t see the man.
“Oliv—”
He cuts me off and stands up.
“C’mon,” he says, urgency clear in his tone.
Not this again. I’m tired of having to run from people coming out of the saloon. I realize now where I am. This bench was the one I was on the night I first got here. And that saloon must be where that drunk man came from.
I stand up quickly, and Oliver begins to walk a fast pace. I struggle to keep up.
“Who is he?”
He smiles, looking down at me. “Who?”
“Oliver. I saw him come out of the saloon. You looked rather terrified. Like you were trying to protect me from him.”
“I never saw
anyone come out of the saloon. I just remembered that my sister was baking cookies when I left this morning and—”
I stop in my tracks, crossing my arms.
“Lydia.” He looks to me and then behind me. He sighs. “I don’t want him to see you.”
“Who is he?”
He groans. “He’s…he’s no one. Just not good. Let’s go. Please.”
My eyes meet his. They seem to be pleading with me. I turn to look in the direction of the man who’s still standing outside the saloon.
Oliver grabs my arms gently, and I’m forced to keep moving.
“Why won’t you tell me who he is?” I whisper, struggling to keep the same pace as Oliver.
“Because it’s personal.”
“Were you fighting with him? Is that why you came out of the saloon upset?”
“No.” Oliver pauses. “Well yes, but no.”
I furrow my eyebrows. “You got in a fight with him?”
His eyes widen, and he shakes his head rapidly. “No! No. Not like that. A verbal fight.”
“Oh.” I feel relieved.
We reach his house, and when I get inside, his two sisters Ophelia and Ada are sitting at the table. Once they see me, they both stand up.
“What happened? Is she all right?” Ophelia rushes over and touches my arm.
“Oh, I’m fine. Just was out for a walk and met up with Oliver. He invited me to come for a visit.”
Ophelia smiles. “What a relief. I feel like I didn’t even get a chance to say a proper goodbye before you left the first time.”
“Me too. Those first few days I was here were so rushed it seemed.” I move my eyes to look at Ada. “How are you, Ada?”
“I’m good. I like your hair.”
I smile reaching to touch it. Jane had done the same hairstyle she’d done the day I went to Mrs. Taylor’s bakery. “I wish I could tell you how it’s done, but I haven’t a clue.”
“But didn’t you do it?”
Oliver chuckles, sitting down at the table. “No. She likely had a servant do it for her.”
I laugh. “It’s not really optional, though. Trust me, I’d rather get ready by myself.”
The Letter (Carter Sisters Series Book 4) Page 7