“Yes, watch the twins.”
A whoop to the right of the hedgerow sounded, and Briar set out into the forest to wrangle the boys. She found them kneeling on the ground, ten feet from the path that led to the backside of the Prince property, their strawberry blond heads together over a little bunny caught in a trap. How in the world?
“Benny! Jack! What are you doing to that innocent critter?”
They beamed up at her, cute little cherub faces that got them out of more scrapes than Briar cared to admit. Their matching grins and freckled noses were proud. All the Jennys had freckled faces, but the boys had them from top to bottom.
“Supper, Briar. We was hopin’ for a spring turkey,” Jack said, “but we caught him instead. He’ll do, won’t he?”
“One day that bunny might be supper, but it’s too little right now. You’ve got to let it grow up. Now, let it go.”
“Aw, can’t we keep it, Bri?” Jack gave her his best pleading face. He was covered in dirt up to his elbows and had a fresh bruise on his right knee. Nanny would have had a fit if he came into her house so dirty.
“We’ll take care of it,” Benny piped in. “We’ll give it food and water and Nanny’ll never even know we got us a cottontail.”
“‘Specially since she ain’t here.”
“Isn’t here,” Briar corrected. She thought for a moment. Caring for a contraband pet might be the right kind of distraction to stop the boys from causing more trouble. “If you can find a way to keep it from escaping back into the forest, and keep it hidden from Fanny, then yes.”
“Who’s Fanny?” Jack asked.
Good question. “Let’s go find out.”
The walk back to the cottage took a considerable amount of time because the boys kept taking turns holding the bunny. They chose the back of the overgrown garden as the ideal location to hide it. Nanny did have a hard time growing things. The patch of dried and bent cornstalks was tall enough to hide a makeshift pen. The boys raided the junk heap for boards and chicken wire, then rigged up a temporary pen for the night.
When Briar and the children finally came around the house, Fanny was outside, sprinkling flower petals in front of the door and on the windowsills.
With a tiny squeal of joy, Pansy skipped over. “May I help?” she asked in her most polite voice.
“Of course, dearie. Here, you do that window. Make sure you get the corners.” Pansy took a handful of petals from Fanny’s little pouch while the boys ran inside, not interested at all in the strange decorating.
“What are you doing?” Briar asked.
Fanny looked up, surprise on her face. “Primroses. I looked for them in your garden, but I shouldn’t be shocked not to find any. Prudence never was a gardener. Your family is Irish, yes? Didn’t your mammy teach you about primroses in spring?”
“No,” said Pansy, wide-eyed. She drank in any information that might relate to Mam. “What about primroses in spring?”
Fanny checked with Briar.
Briar shook her head. Mam had never spoken of such things.
“Primroses on the thresholds keep the bad fairies away.”
Chapter Four
Pansy’s face paled. Briar put her hands on her hips. “Please don’t go putting thoughts into the wee one’s head. She comes up with enough on her own. You’ll have her up all night scared to fall asleep.”
“Oh, she’ll sleep fine, won’t you, lass? Now that we’ve spread our primroses.”
Briar stepped over the petals, into the cottage, and found the boys about to dip their fingers into the stew.
“Stop! Go wash your hands.”
They grinned at each other before scampering out to the water pump while Briar set the table.
Fanny came in and ladled the stew into bowls. Then she placed thick pieces of bread smothered in butter at each spot. The twins raced back through the door, and their eyes grew wide. They’d never eaten this well under Nanny’s watch. Nanny wasn’t motherly or domestic, simply practical. She burned everything she tried to cook and left the majority of chores to Pansy, then Briar on weekends, so they would be “well-trained” for managing a future household.
Of all the potential mother figures in her life, Nanny was too much of a distant and stoic caretaker to be considered motherly. Miss Olive, keeper at the boardinghouse, was more like an aunt. But there was something friendly and warm about Miss Fanny. Briar could understand why the children had taken to her so quickly.
She caught Fanny’s eye as the boys dipped their bread. “Thank you,” Briar said, and she hoped Fanny felt the depth beneath her thanks.
“Where did all this good food come from?” asked Pansy, diving into a second bowl.
“Manners, Pansy.”
“She just wants to know if it came from the magic cupboard,” Jack said.
“Children, don’t be rude,” Briar scolded. What would Fanny think of them making fun?
“But I’m not,” Pansy said. “She goes into the sideboard and brings out whatever we want.”
“Pansy—”
“The children are so easily pleased,” Fanny interrupted. She laughed, sounding like tinkling bells. “And I love to cook,” she said, winking at Pansy. “It’s the one thing I can do well. I hope you love to eat.”
All the children nodded. Feed a stray dog and he’ll be your best friend for life. Well, Fanny had certainly walked into a pack of stray dogs who hadn’t received much food or affection. At the rate she was going, they’d never let her leave.
“When is Nanny coming back?” Pansy asked. “Soon?”
Fanny shrugged. “Soon, late, it’s all the same. She’ll be back when she’s done her business.”
“She’s never had business before,” Briar said.
“Yes she has,” Jack said. “Lots of business when you’re gone and she thinks we’re not looking.”
Fanny’s eyes grew wide at Jack’s confession, but then she masked her expression and turned back to Briar. “There you have it. Lots of business.” She quickly plunked more food onto Jack’s plate. “Fill your mouth.”
“How do you know Nanny?” Briar again asked the question that had been ignored earlier. She took another bite. Fanny was indeed the better cook. The children would be well fed if not well supervised.
“We go way back,” Fanny answered flippantly.
“To the Old Country?” Pansy asked.
Whenever someone in the countryside spoke of going back, it was when they were reminiscing about the Old Country. Briar had heard it often enough from Mam and her friends who used to gossip over tea on Sundays. They’d talk about the things they missed: sea air, the old folks talking about the free days, and the things they didn’t miss: the hardship, the lack of food. The more they talked, the thicker their brogue, even from those who emigrated when they were wee things.
“I suppose you could say so,” Fanny answered thoughtfully. “I hardly remember a time when I didn’t know her.”
“How come we’ve never met you before?” Benny asked. His spoon paused its rapid ascent to his mouth.
“You are young and there are a lot of people you’ve never met before. You might meet someone new tomorrow.”
Benny and Jack looked at each other with wide eyes. Briar could see their brains whirling, wondering who would be sitting to tea in their cottage tomorrow. They were still so literal in their understanding.
“Did Nanny leave a note or a message for me?” Briar asked.
“She was in a bit of a hurry,” Fanny said. “There wasn’t much time for her to do anything but leave.”
“Didn’t she pass you on the road?” Pansy asked. “I thought she might have gone to tell you.”
“No, she didn’t,” Briar said. “I wish she would have.”
“Did Miss Mim send me anything?” Benny asked eagerly.
Briar smiled and pulled out a lemon drop for each of the children. She held them in her palm. “For dessert. Make sure you fill up first.”
As Fanny buttered more br
ead for the boys, there was a knock at the door. Briar answered it to find Henry standing there with his straw basket.
“We had extra eggs today,” he said. “Ma thought you might take them off our hands.” He pushed his way into the room and set the basket on the table. When he saw Fanny, he gaped in surprise. “What are you—”
Fanny jumped up to shake his hand. “The name’s Fanny,” she said, pumping his arm up and down. “Nice to meet you.”
“And you,” Henry said slowly. “I brought eggs?”
Briar stepped toward the two. Why did he say that like a question?
Henry darted a glance to Briar and then back to Fanny. “Should I have brought anything else?”
“Oh, no,” said Fanny. “We’re fine. Nanny has only gone off to take care of a little something, and I’m here for the children while she’s gone. Would you like to eat with us?” She stood and indicated he could take her seat.
“No, no, thank you.” He jerked his thumb. “I should be getting back to my family?”
Briar cocked her head. Surefooted Henry Prince suddenly seemed so very unsure of himself. She narrowed her eyes. What is he up to?
“And how is your family?” asked Fanny.
“Fine. They’re fine. As far as I know. I would know if they weren’t…wouldn’t I?”
Fanny nodded encouragingly.
Briar scrunched up her forehead, trying to figure out this odd exchange.
Henry nodded in time with Fanny as he backed his way to the door. He waved to the children. “See you, Briar.” With that he was out the door, not even trying to find an excuse to spend more time with them.
“Anyone for dessert?” asked Fanny.
“Dessert!” yelled the boys.
Briar quickly transferred the eggs into a bowl on the counter. “I’ll be right back.” She flew out the door with the basket tucked into the crook of her arm. She looked up and down the lane, but Henry had disappeared with the sunset. She hurried to the corner and spotted him. Running.
“Henry!” she yelled. He heard and stopped, allowing her to catch up to him.
“What’s the rush?” she said.
“Nothing.” He slowly grinned. “Did you want me to stay?”
“No,” she said, irritated. “It’s just that you usually do. To play with the twins. They’ll be disappointed you didn’t stay longer.” She pushed the basket at him. “And you left this.”
“Thanks.”
Briar stood awkwardly, waiting for him to say something else. He didn’t. He was silent but fidgety, and kept wiggling his legs like he wanted to go. “Do you know Fanny?” she finally asked. “It seems like maybe you two have met before.”
“There’s something I need to tell you.” He wiped his hand over his face. “I’ve been thinking on what you said. How we Princes never go anywhere.”
“Oh?”
“I think it’s time one of us does leave. Me. There’s something I have to do.”
Why does everyone have something to do all of a sudden?
“What is it?” She eyed his frayed pants and bare feet. How was Henry going to go anywhere? Didn’t his family need him working at the mill, same as the rest of the young people in the valley?
He looked over Briar’s shoulder. “Prove myself, I guess.”
“To whom? Me?” She felt her face going hot and was glad for the twilight. “I was angry about Wheeler is all. I shouldn’t have said what I did. You love it here. Don’t leave because of me.”
His gaze returned to hers. “Beautiful Briar.”
He’d said it without a hint of flirting, and Briar caught her breath.
“It’s something I have to do for my family. If we all continue the same thing that’s gone on before, nothing changes, right? I’ve watched you, Briar. I see how hard you work so those children won’t have to enter the mill too early, if at all. You’re making a difference for your family. It makes me think I can be the one who makes a difference for my family.” He took in a deep breath and gazed up into the hills. “Just because you love a place doesn’t mean you don’t ever feel stuck there.”
Briar shook her head. “Where will you go? Next town over? The next one? You already told me they’re all the same.” Henry wasn’t the type to feel stuck. Was he?
He laughed. “I did say that, didn’t I? Well, that means I’ll have to go farther then, maybe over the ocean to the Old Country where the Princes started out. Our old forest is now part of Germany. I’ll find my roots. Settle some old family debts.”
First Wheeler, then Nanny, and now Henry. Henry the dependable one. She had to convince him to stay. She couldn’t imagine what the valley would be like without him. “How are your parents to survive without your mill wages?”
Henry avoided her eyes. “They’ll be fine.”
“Who’s going to be my doffer if you go?”
He gave her a crooked smile. “I shouldn’t be doffing for you anyway, Bri.” He splayed his hands out. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m way too big to be climbing all over the frame, swapping out the bobbins. I have been for years, and it’s only slowing you down. You’ll see when you get a little one to help you.”
“But—”
“And I can tell another machinist how to fix your frame when it breaks. I don’t do anything special to keep it going. I just tweak it every time I doff.”
As twilight turned to dusk, he was left in shadow, a silhouette. He was taller, and his shoulders broader, more like a man’s than a boy’s. When did this happen? While she was watching Wheeler? All the other boys Henry’s age had moved on to other tasks at the factory long ago. It hadn’t occurred to Briar that being held back to help her would bother Henry.
“Besides, you have more options than you think, Bri. I know about that book you keep in your apron pocket. I know you have dreams. Why don’t you join the other girls in one of their Improvement Societies?”
Surprised, Briar absently touched her pocket and traced the edges of the book. So much had occurred since she got home, she’d forgotten to take off her apron. The slim book was a novel given to her by her teacher the day Briar left school to start work at the mill as a doffer with Henry and the others. Years later, she still hadn’t finished it. How does he know me so well?
“Not much time for learning when I get paid for doing.” Annoyed he’d found her sore spot, she changed the subject. “Nanny left without saying good-bye. Is this your good-bye?”
He shook his head. “I’ll need to make arrangements, so I can still walk you back into town after church tomorrow and then catch the train.”
Why did everyone keep leaving her? She tried hardening her heart to protect it.
“Don’t delay on my account. Good-bye, Henry Prince.” Briar spun around and marched down the lane. When she got to the corner, her still-tender heart battled her pride to look back. She turned but couldn’t see if he was still there. The way was too dark.
Chapter Five
Sunday morning, the boys woke Briar up early as they tried sneaking out of the house on their own. For all their effort, they were about as loud as the mail train pulling into town.
“Hurry,” Jack whispered loudly. “’Fore she wakes up.”
Briar opened one eye, but her back was to the boys. The other half of the bed she was in was empty and rumpled. Had Nanny been home, the sheets would have been made neat as a pin already. Judging by the amount of light, no one should be up and moving yet. Briar rolled over to see Pansy still asleep on the floor mat where she slept Saturday nights.
Carefully, she pushed herself off the bed and padded after the boys to the door.
“Where are you boys off to this early? We’ve got church today,” Briar whispered, stopping them by grabbing the necks of their shirts.
“The bunny, Briar,” Jack said, twisting loose.
“We’ve got to make sure he’s still in his pen,” Benny added. “He might’a got out last night. Besides, we told you we’d take care of him an’ he needs his breakfast.”
Jack held up a squished slice of bread he must have put in his pocket during suppertime and then slept on.
Nodding, Briar followed the boys outside. “Did you see when Fanny got up?” she asked.
“Nope,” Benny said.
“She was awake even earlier than Nanny,” Jack said. “Didn’t think anyone waked up as early as she did. Where did Nanny go, Briar? Is she coming back or is she gone forever like Mam and Da?” Questions asked, Jack ran ahead, not waiting for the answers.
Briar sighed. She didn’t know what to tell him.
Benny took off running after his brother. By the time she’d caught up with the boys, they’d both climbed into the secret pen. Intuitively, Jack had cradled the bunny on its back, making it calm enough to endure the petting Benny was giving it. The food they’d left for it last night was gone, but it didn’t seem interested in the bread.
“I’ll get you some plants from the forest today, boys, but you’ll be on your own tomorrow.”
Briar left them making cute faces at the bunny and wandered onto the path, glad for the quiet and the slowly warming light. She peered through the trees to the forest floor trying to find some Solomon’s Seal, not for the bunny but because Henry said they’d started blooming and she wanted to see.
Voices coming down the path made her pause. She didn’t want to get pulled into neighborly chitchat when she needed more time at the cottage getting to know Fanny. Quickly, she gathered some clover, dandelions, and tall grasses, enough for two days in case the boys had trouble on their own. But then she distinctly heard Henry’s voice.
He was just the person she needed to see. She’d stayed up late after the children had gone to bed to write a letter to someone she had never met and didn’t know if she was even still alive. Mam had a sister who’d stayed behind in Ireland, and they’d lost touch. It was a long shot, but Henry was the first person she knew who planned to go overseas. He might be able to do what the general post had not.
But what was he doing back here so soon, and who was he talking to? It could be his mother if he told her his plans to leave the valley. She might be trying to talk him out of it. After all, no Prince ever left the valley. Under pretense of gathering more food, Briar inched closer to the voices. She peered through the leaf cover until she saw Henry. However, she couldn’t see the person he was talking to unless she stepped out from behind her hiding spot.
Spindle Page 3