by Jane Hoppen
“Who is it?” she asked. “Can I help you?”
She took a close look at them and rushed outside. She took Evelyn in her arms. “Oh my God, you’re back,” she said. “You made it home.”
“Did you have doubts?” Evelyn asked as Helen released her.
“I had some worries,” Helen said. “I didn’t expect you back this early.”
“We had a bit of an altercation that cut the tour short,” Evelyn said. “This is Sarah. She’s a friend from the camp. I’ll explain later. Sarah, this is my sister, Helen.”
“It’s a pleasure,” Sarah said meekly, lowering her eyes.
Helen’s eyes fell on Sarah. “That’s quite a bruise you have there,” she said. “Let’s get you inside so we can fix you up.”
Evelyn grabbed their belongings and gestured for Sarah to follow her. Sarah glanced about the small abode, the dwelling that would be her home, for a time. Compared to this house, her home with Abigail had been a rather luxurious one. The children, still eating their evening meal, first looked at Evelyn and Sarah with no sign of recognition. Then they screamed with joy, jumping up from the table and surrounding Evelyn with a tangle of arms. Evelyn’s eyes moistened as she wrapped her arms around the children and pulled them close to her.
Sarah watched as Evelyn transformed from the robust and rigorous woman she had known as George into Evelyn, mother of three. She softened before Sarah’s eyes, her shoulders relaxing, her eyes filling with tenderness. Evelyn tousled her children’s hair and kissed them gently, and Sarah warmed at the sight, though she also felt a tinge of jealousy. That was the very affection she had craved since Abigail had passed away. When Evelyn finally let go of the children, she picked up the little girl and examined the boys.
“You boys have grown some over the winter,” she said.
She fought back tears. The boys smiled proudly. Evelyn turned to Sarah.
“Children, this is a friend of mine from the logging camp,” she said. “Her name is Sarah, and she’ll be staying with us for a while. Sarah, this is Peter, Karl, and Louise.”
“Hello, Sarah,” the children all said politely.
“Hi,” Sarah said timidly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Your mother told me about you up at camp.”
Sarah looked at each child. She could see some of Evelyn’s traits in them. Peter had her strong cheekbones, and Louise had her build. Karl looked the least like her, and she thought he must resemble his father more. Peter looked at Sarah’s swollen face and black eye.
“What happened?” he asked.
“A little trouble at camp,” Evelyn said. “Now, you boys finish up your dinner, and when you’re done, take the horse tied up outside to the barn and brush him down and feed him.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the boys said happily, returning to the table with Louise in tow.
“What’s its name?” Peter asked.
“I don’t know,” Evelyn said. “For now, let’s call her Henrietta.”
“Okay,” Peter said.
Helen smiled.
“I’ll put on coffee,” she said.
“Coffee would be good,” Evelyn said. “But we need a change of clothes first. I know I must smell like a hundred stinking jacks. We’ll take our things up to my room and be right down.”
She led Sarah up the stairs and to her bedroom. Sarah took in the room. Like the rest of the house, it was simple and quaint. Evelyn lit a lantern on a table and looked at Sarah.
“It’s no palace,” she said.
“Compared to the camp it is,” Sarah said, and for the first time since they had left the camp, she smiled.
Evelyn handed her a basin of water and a washcloth.
“You need to clean out that cut on your cheek,” she said. “Why don’t you sit and I’ll find something for you to wear. After the children go to bed, we can heat up some water for bathing. Won’t that be divine?”
Sarah nodded and tried to smile again, but she felt limp, as if she were wilting. Evelyn sat beside her and took her hand.
“Everything will work out, Sarah,” she said quietly.
“Regardless, I thank you for having me here,” Sarah said.
She didn’t want Evelyn to think she was ungrateful.
“I wouldn’t have had it any other way,” Evelyn said. “I would never have left you to fend for yourself up there.”
“I know,” Sarah said.
“I need to find us some fresh clothes before we go back down,” Evelyn said.
She went to the dresser and took out a shirt and a sweater, which she put on, and she looked at Sarah.
“I’m afraid my dresses would slide right off you,” she said. “At least you can keep up a pair of my pants with a belt.”
“Anything will be fine,” Sarah said.
“We’ll put all our clothes from the camp outside so we can burn them in the morning.” Evelyn handed Sarah some pants, a soft flannel shirt, and a sweater. “I don’t want any of the lice we might have brought back with us to settle into the house.”
“I don’t think I’d want to wear any of those clothes again, anyway,” Sarah said.
“I agree,” Evelyn said. “Now, the moment I’ve been waiting for.”
She took off her mackinaw and long john shirt.
“Finally, I’ll be able to breathe.”
She reached down to unfasten one of the pins holding the wrap in place.
“Let me help,” Sarah said.
She stood and unfastened the pins and then removed the wrap while Evelyn raised her arms above her head. With the wrap off, Evelyn released a long sigh.
“Never again,” she said.
She put on a clean shirt and sweater, picked up the mackinaw and long john shirt that she had taken off, and pulled her other change of clothes out of her pack.
“Bring down all your clothes after you change,” she told Sarah.
“All right,” Sarah said.
Evelyn left, closing the door behind her, and Sarah sat on the bed. She ran a hand over her cheek and stood up to look at herself in the crude mirror sitting on the dresser.
“It looks as bad as it feels,” she said.
She turned and surveyed the room. The wood on the floors and walls was a dark, knotted brown. Two photographs were on the dresser. One was a picture of three men standing side by side, cradling rifles in their arms, the man in the middle holding a large dead bird. The other was of two women, sitting on a porch, with children nestled in their laps. A few small trinkets were on the dresser, too—a small wooden box, a bird whittled out of wood, and a daintily decorated egg that had been hollowed out. In a corner of the room by the one window was a wooden rocking chair with a table beside it. There was another kerosene lamp on that table and a small stack of three books. Sarah picked one up—Jane Eyre. She smiled. All this to tend to and Evelyn still finds time to read, she thought. She admired her stamina.
She put down the book and glanced at the bed—big enough for two. She wondered if she’d be sleeping there tonight, with Evelyn. Her pulse quickened with the idea, the thought of some closeness. Then she felt a sense of doom as she wondered how long Evelyn would allow her to stay, and where she could go when she finally did leave. What if the children don’t like me? What if I can’t keep up with the work? What if…? This is my life now—a bunch of ifs.
* * *
When Evelyn returned downstairs, she put her camp clothes outside on the porch.
“I’ve got no more need for those,” she said.
She closed the door and Louise ran to her. Evelyn hoisted her up and kissed her on the cheek. Louise snuggled into her neck.
“I missed you, Mommy,” she said.
“I thought about you every day, darling,” Evelyn said.
She moved to the kitchen table and sat on a bench, with Louise curling into her lap. Helen finished clearing off the table and set down cups of coffee for her and Evelyn.
“Would you like some soup?” she asked.
“Not now,” Evelyn sai
d. “Just sitting here is like heaven.”
“How was it up there?” Helen asked.
“Dreadful,” said Evelyn. “The conditions were deplorable, indescribable really. At first I thought I might lose my mind. It was the work that actually saved me. Inside the bunkhouse at night, with all those stinking jacks crammed in… Someone was always egging on someone, trying to start a fight.”
“I can’t even imagine,” Helen said. “And Sarah?”
“She discovered I was a woman by accident a few months in,” Evelyn said. “We became confidantes, friends. She had lived with a woman who passed away. That’s why she was working in the cook shanty. The head cook was the other woman’s brother.”
“What happened to her?” Helen asked. “How did she get hurt?”
“The cook was also a drunkard,” Evelyn said. “He was the one who attacked her last night. He was trying to rape her. Another jack and I intervened. I hammered him with a branch, hurt him pretty bad. That’s why we had to leave.”
“Where does she live?” Helen asked.
“That’s the problem,” Evelyn explained. “Until all this happened, she had planned to return to the house she had shared with the other woman in Pine Creek, but she probably won’t be safe there now, not with him lurking around. The only thing I could think to do was to bring her here.”
“Well, you can always use some extra help,” Helen said.
“We’ll just see how it goes,” Evelyn said. “Right now I’m too tired to think.”
* * *
When Sarah joined them downstairs, carrying her clothes from the camp, Evelyn was sitting at the table with Helen. She had Louise in her lap and a cup of coffee in one hand.
“You can put those out on the porch,” she said. “We’ll tend to that in the morning.”
When Sarah returned from the porch, Helen got her a cup of coffee and a bowl of soup.
“Please, sit and eat,” she said to Sarah.
“Thank you so much,” Sarah said.
She sat at the table across from Evelyn and Louise. She took a sip of coffee and ate some soup, finally beginning to relax.
“This soup is delicious,” she said. “If I never have to eat another bean or piece of shoepack pie again, I’ll be fine with that.”
Evelyn took a gulp of coffee.
“I’ll second that,” she said.
The front door swung open and Peter and Karl entered, stomping their boots off on a mat.
“Horse is in the barn, Ma,” Peter said.
“Thank you,” Evelyn said. “You boys should get ready for bed now, and I’ll bring Louise up in a bit. After you finish milking the cows in the morning, you can help me show Sarah the lay of the land.”
The boys nodded and went over to Evelyn to give her a hug.
“I’m sure glad you’re home, Ma,” Peter said.
Evelyn smiled.
“Me, too,” she said. “You have no idea.”
“Good night,” the boys said to Sarah, before turning around to give Helen hugs good night.
“Good night,” Sarah said.
The boys hugged their aunt and raced for the stairs.
“They seem sweet,” Sarah said to Evelyn.
“They’re good boys,” Evelyn said. “They have their moments, as all children do, but they have George’s temperament. He was a steady man, not easily ruffled.”
Sarah looked at Evelyn. She wondered if she still grieved for him, longed for him in his absence, as she did Abigail.
“How did things go here?” Evelyn asked Helen.
“The winter’s been fairly mild, except for one storm,” Helen said. “We only got about seven feet of snow, and that has now thawed down to about four or five in most places. We had some cold snaps, but beyond that, everything was business as usual. Peter and Karl made it to school most days after tending to the animals, thanks to Will. He was a great help. He made sure the woodpile was well stocked, made repairs when needed, kept the well from freezing over, and made sure the animals stayed healthy. A fox broke into the chicken coop one night and killed two hens, but he took care of that the next morning. Jess and I took turns taking care of Louise during the days so one of us could keep the school going.”
Evelyn released a sigh of relief.
“It could’ve been worse,” she said. “I was so worried, thinking about everything that could go wrong.”
“Peter and Karl had some rough days, mainly just feeling the absence of you and George, I think. But they passed. They’re growing up so quickly. They just wanted to know when you’d be coming back home.”
“Well, I’m happy that it was sooner instead of later,” Evelyn said.
Louise shifted in her lap. Evelyn looked down at her.
“Time to put this one to bed,” she said.
Louise was cocooned against her, sound asleep. Evelyn rose from the table, cradling her in her arms, and took her up the stairs.
* * *
Helen put her cup in the sink while Sarah sipped on her soup.
“Evelyn said you ran into a bit of trouble up at camp,” Helen said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Sarah nodded.
“I don’t know what I would’ve done without your sister,” she said. “I would have gone out of my mind if I hadn’t been able to talk to her. I’ve never felt so isolated in my life. And Sam… I hate to think of what would have happened if Evelyn and the other jack wouldn’t have intervened.”
“She’s a strong woman, a defender,” Helen said. “What do you think you’ll do now? Evelyn said that you had been living with a woman prior to going to the camp, but that she had passed away.”
Sarah felt herself sinking. She had no idea how to answer that question. She had nowhere to go.
“Her name was Abigail,” she said. “She died of pneumonia. She took me in from the orphanage when I was seventeen, taught me her trade. She was a seamstress and a tailor. I had planned on returning to the house when I left the camp, but that notion has since been ruined. Now, I…”
Her voice trailed off.
“You’ll stay here until you figure things out, but I’m sorry for your loss,” Helen said. “You and Evelyn are in somewhat the same situation. You are now both without the key people in your lives, your partners.”
“I know,” Sarah said. “The adjustment will take time.”
“You might find you like life on the farm,” Helen said.
“Where do you live?” Sarah asked.
Helen was so different from Evelyn that Sarah was intrigued that they were sisters. Helen was more petite than Evelyn, more refined, feminine, but Sarah wasn’t drawn to her the way she was to Evelyn. She was enamored by Evelyn’s melding of female and male characteristics, her ability to be so strong and resilient, and yet gentle and caring.
“I stay in town with another woman, Jess,” Helen said. “We have a small house, and we run the town’s school. That’s how we support ourselves.”
Sarah was relieved that she didn’t have to hide her past relationship with Abigail. Evelyn would have no need to lie for her. Evelyn returned downstairs with an arm full of towels and a smile. She put the towels on the table and went to the sink and began to pump water into a large pot. She placed the pot on the woodstove and went to the pantry. She came out, pulling a large steel tub over the floor. She took it into the sitting room and placed it close to the fireplace. When she returned to the kitchen, she looked at Sarah.
“As soon as the water’s hot, you can bathe.”
“Never before would those words have caused such comfort,” Sarah said. “I realize now how many things I have taken for granted.”
“It’s too late for me to head out tonight,” Helen said. “I’m going to set up the cot in the sitting room when you’re done with your baths.”
Evelyn gave her a hug.
“I know you’re ready to return home,” she said. “I can’t thank you and Jess enough for taking care of the children.”
“They’re my nephews
and niece,” Helen said. “And you know I’d do anything for you.”
“I know,” Evelyn said. “I’ve always known that.”
When Sarah stepped into the tub of warm water and slowly sat, submerging her body, she felt such a release that tears streamed down her face. The water eventually relaxed her, and she realized that from the first day she had arrived at the sordid camp with Sam, she had been a bundle of anxious nerves, tense and taut, and ever hypervigilant. The days had taken more of a toll than she had realized, and though she wasn’t home in her home, she was at least someplace safe, someplace warm. She could not imagine what the days ahead would be like, but she trusted Evelyn, and in that moment, that was enough.
* * *
After Sarah finished bathing, Evelyn pulled the tub outside, emptied it, and returned inside to refill it.
“The moment I’ve been waiting for,” she said to herself.
When she immersed herself in the warm, soothing water, her entire body loosened and unraveled. She felt as if her muscles were turning to jelly, and she rested her head on the back of the tub and closed her eyes. Only then did the exhaustion from the months of rigorous work overcome her. Even her bones felt weary. She felt as if she could sleep for a month and never stir, but she was excited to be home, back with her children, and she was invigorated by the thought of preparing for the spring planting. She knew that the work that lay ahead would be strenuous, but she was accustomed to that, and she also knew that the days would be without the tension and turmoil that were ever-present at the camp.
Evelyn finally forced herself out of the tub, dried herself off, and put her clothes back on. She emptied the tub outside and then returned it to the pantry. Helen and Sarah were quietly sitting at the table.
“That was a little piece of heaven,” Evelyn said. “I never knew a bath could feel so wonderful.”
Sarah smiled in acknowledgment.
“I can only imagine,” Helen said.
She rose and gave Evelyn a quick peck on the cheek.
“Time for me to turn in, sister,” she said. “I want to get to town in time to open up the school with Jess in the morning. Back to business as usual. I’ll stop by Will’s on my way in and let him know you’re back.”