The midday sun beat down on Frances’s head and the wind blew strands of hair into her face. She brushed them away and continued on towards Julian’s workshop. It was the first time she had a chance to visit the shop. There was simply too many things to do in the house.
When Julian had announced that morning that there were too many orders to complete and that he would not be joining them for dinner, Frances decided to bring dinner to him. It wasn’t good to miss a meal simply due to lack of time. On the large metal dinner plater in her hands, was a slice bread, a handful of diced carrots, and two pieces of cold chicken breast. Gertrude, one of the red hens, had gotten her foot stuck in the fencing and, panicking, broke it in half. Julian thought it better to simply end it then try to fix it or dull the pain. So, the night before, they had warm juicy chicken. It was just as good cold.
Frances poked her head into the workshop. Julian sat at one of the tables, sanding down a small square board of wood. The cover was etched with beautiful carvings. Julian looked up, his face shined with perspiration and he squinted against the sun.
“Yes?”
Frances held up the platter. “I’ve brought you dinner. Where should I put it?”
Julian glanced down at the meal. “Um...I can take it.” He got to his feet and Frances handed him the platter. He turned back to his worktable but it was cluttered with wood shavings and carvings. He stared down at the tabletop for a few moments, realizing that he hadn’t thought it through.
Frances laughed and carefully cleared a space for the platter.
“It’s very beautiful.” Frances pointed to the board once Julian has placed the platter down. “What is it for?”
Julian handed it to her. “For Winnie and Jem. It’s the cover of the box I promised them. For their coins.”
Frances stared down at the carvings, her eyes wide and her mouth loose. It was exquisite. The edges were framed by a border of soft cloud like curves. At the top, in elegant cursive, was written “Winnie & Jem”. Beneath it was written:
Chase your dreams and you will find
All your cares are left behind
“It’s beautiful,” Frances said handing it back.
Julian shrugged but his pride in his work was clear. “I still need to attach the hinges and paint it, but I think they’ll be pleased with the final result.”
“They’ll be ecstatic.” She shook her head playfully. “And here I was, thinking that you had orders to complete.”
The smile fell from Julian’s face. “Um, well. I’m not taking as many orders as I was.”
“Oh? Really?” Frances smiled softly, hoping to retain a bit of the friendliness that had suddenly gone cold.
“Yes.” Julian turned away and sat in front of his dinner. He picked up his fork and looked up at her expectantly. He wanted to be alone. He was waiting for her to leave.
For a moment, Frances considered following his silent wishes, but she drew back her shoulders and puffed up her chest. Julian did intimidate her with his hidden reasons and the secrets behind his eyes, but she wouldn’t run off like a guilty thief. Not yet, in any case.
“I actually have something to ask of you,” Frances said. The moment the words came out, her confidence waned. Acting haughty wasn’t how one got the reply they wished for...or any reply at all.
Julian did not move, his gaze unwavering, his eyes blank. Frances took his expression as one of consent. At least he wasn’t tell her to leave with more than his expression.
“I was hoping to go with you the next time you went into town.”
He sucked in a small breath and pulled away, apprehension shadowing his face. Frances quickly explained. “I only wish to mail a letter and pick out a few things for the children to replace my pennies. I am afraid my supply is drying up.”
Julian took a few moments but then conceded. “I suppose that can be arranged. We’ll have to take the children with us. They’ll enjoy spending some time away from home. It isn’t often they get the chance to go into town.”
“And what of your wife?”
“One of our neighbors usually comes and spends time with her when there is no one around, just in case something happens to her. She is an old friend; she enjoys time with Helena. They used to get together often enough, quilting and embroidering and whatnot.”
“I do not mean to sound intrusive, but you left Helena with just the children when you came to pick me up from the train station. Could not something happen to Helena then as well? And with no one around that could help?”
He shook his head. “Winnie knows to press an ear to her mother’s door and listen for anything out of place once in a while. She also knows the way to the neighbor’s homestead if something goes wrong. It isn’t the best option, but I can’t bring them with me each time I go into town and our neighbor’s wife can’t watch them.”
Frances smiled. “Having the children with us will be wonderful for them. Perhaps they can help me pick out their own prizes, but I think that it might get out of hand. When do you think you’ll be needing to go into town next?”
“I finished an order yesterday. A few cabinet shelves. But I’d like to have another done before we go. Perhaps at the end of this week?”
Frances nodded. “Thank you for letting me accompany you.
Julian arched an eyebrow, a shadow of a grin on his lips. “You sound as if it would be a burden. Should I be worried?”
Frances shook her head and shrugged, an unsuspecting rush of heat flowering on her face. She spun on her heel and scurried away, an excuse of having to check on the children mumbled from her lips.
That afternoon, with Rebecca fast asleep in her bed and Winnie and Jem playing in the creek, Frances decided that it was time to liven up the dinner menu. But she needed butter. She looked all over the house for a butter churn but even with some tidying it was nowhere to be found. For a moment, she considered asking Julian but he was hard at work and she knew she would find it eventually if she kept looking. Besides, she had the time.
The barn door swung open a foot and Frances peered into the dark building. Hazy sunshine filtered in through the dirty windows, casting squares of light on the sawdust floor. A single aisle lead to the back of the barn, stalls covering the wall on the right and two or so on the left at the far end. The left corner merged with the aisle into an open clearing where garden tools hung and lay around, collecting spider webs. On the back half of the barn a second floor had been installed, a ladder leaning against the wall.
Frances walked among the gardening rakes and shovels, her eyes peeled for a butter churn. With cows, there must be one laying around. As if on cue, a cow mooed from her stall. Frances looked over. A brown and white cow rested her head on the stall door, big brown eyes gazing at her with a blank curiosity. Frances smiled. She had always liked cows. They had always reminded her of her mother: warm, steady, and comfortable. Even despite her mother’s dislike for any animals.
She turned back to the piles of tools and realized she would not find a single thing in the mess. She began to organize the tools: rakes and hoes in one corner, shovels and spades in another. Buckets and pails in a third and all other tools in the last. Frances grunted as she wrapped her arms around a pile of hoes and rakes and placed them in their corner. Most of them were identical and only a couple were broken. What would a carpenter have need for all these gardening tools?
A second cow mooed, this one a deep and annoyed sound. Frances spun around and came face to face with a large hairy face. She nearly yelped but she quickly caught herself. She mustn’t alarm the cow. She slowly stepped back, holding up the final bucket between her and the cow.
The heifer snorted and continued chewing what what still in her mouth. Frances glanced over her shoulder and noticed the open stall door. It was the last of the three occupied stalls. The bolt must have slipped out of its lock.
Frances held a hand up the cow and slowly inched her way forwards. She stroked the heifer’s neck and the cow sighed, leaning into her touch. Frances couldn’t help smiling. She pushed on the cow’s side and she began to turn around. Using nudges and pushes, Frances managed to herd the cow back into her stall. She bolted the stall shut and reached inside for a final pat.
She then faced the three empty stalls. If the churn wasn’t with the garden tools, perhaps they had been stored in one of the unused stalls. She looked in each but they held nothing more than a layer of settled hay.
She turned to leave, but something caught her eye in the last stall. With brow furrowed, she pulled open the stall door and kneeled in the hay. Reaching into the straw, her fingers felt something cool and smooth. She lifted it up to the light. A piece of broken brown glass. She moved aside and brushed away a layer of hay. More glass, perhaps enough for two or three bottles. But the hay covering them was old. They had been laying here for some time. It was dangerous to have such things lying around. But at least the stall was unused and the children never came in the barn to play.
Heavy breathing huffed against the back of her neck. Frances sucked in a breath and turned to see that the cow had once more escaped from her stall. She stood over Frances, her large limpid eyes half closed in disinterest. Frances replaced the straw and shepherded the cow back into the aisle. She closed the door behind her and stared at the large brown piebald cow. She’d have to find some rope to fasten the door shut. Perhaps that would keep the cow from nudging the bolt out of its lock.
She raised her hands and drove the cow back towards her stall.
“What are you doing?”
Frances jumped and turned to the door. Julian stood in the entrance, his body casting a long shadow down the aisle. She turned back to the cow but the animal gazed back at her as if asking the same question.
“Um...the cow escaped from her stall. I’m just trying to put her back. I think something has to be done about the bolt.”
Julian stepped closer. “I know about the bolt, but how is the cow letting you so near?”
Francs frowned and glanced between the heifer and Julian. “I’m sorry, should I have stayed away from her?”
“Not particularly. I’m just a little surprised.”
Frances glanced at the cow. She looked calm and sleepy. Frances glanced back at Julian, a little confused but amused at his surprise.“Why?”
Julian stepped closer and the cow suddenly reared her head and stomped her hoof. Her tail flicked out angrily, almost nicking the back of Frances’ legs. “This cow is the orneriest cow this side of Malborrow Creek. She doesn’t like people, or other cows, or really any sort of living thing. Even her own tail gets her angry sometimes.”
“Really? She seems kind of sweet.” Frances eyed the cow. The large mellow eyes were locked on Julian and he made no motions of drawing nearer. “What should I do?”
“You said the cow had gotten out of her stall twice. How did she get back in the first time?”
Frances shrugged. “I kind of just nudged her in the right way.”
“She let you touch her?”
Frances nodded and blushed. She felt like she had when Amelia’s best friend had decided to spend the afternoon with her shopping instead of with her younger sister, sewing. Like a thief.
“Do it again. Put her back in her stall.”
Frances cautiously approached the cow again, Julian’s words of warning ringing in her ears. The cow immediately responded to her touch and ambled back into the stall. Frances shut the door and bolted it. “The bolt doesn’t work.”
Julian joined her at the door and the cow huffed and stomped her feet. “I know. We’ve only had her for a few months and already she has figured out how to unlock her stall and also nudge the barn door open.” He knelt down and picked up a strip of rope. “Tying the door shut doesn’t work either.” He help up a frayed end. “She chews right through it. Help me push something against the door and we’ll see how long it holds her.”
Julian retrieved an empty chest from the second level and they filled it with unneeded rakes and spades. He pushed it against the wall and dusted his hands. “That should hold her in better. It’ll be more work to milk her, but well-worth it if it actually works.”
Frances smiled sadly at the cow who rested her head on the door and seemed to glare at Julian from the corner of her eye. There would hopefully be no more adventures for this heifer.
“What are you doing in here?” Julian asked.
“Looking for a butter churn, actually. There isn’t one in the house and I thought I might as well look in here.”
“It’s in my workshop actually.”
Frances grinned. “Were you hoping to get some butter churned in between some chests and cabinets?”
Julian chuckled. “No...frankly, I don’t know why it is in there in the first place. I sure don’t remember when it was brought in. Or even who brought it in. I’ll bring it to the porch when I have a moment.”
Frances turned back to the cow. “She really is sweet,” she said. “She just stood behind me watching me most of the time.”
Julian chuckled. “You’re lucky. Whenever I milk her she tips her bucket as if it’s a sport and uses my face as target practice for her tail.”
Frances smothered a giggle. “I could milk her for you once in a while, if you would like.”
Julian arched a brow. “You know how to milk a cow?”
Frances shook her head. “You could teach me.”
Julian nodded. “Then let’s get started.”
***
The wagon seat was cool through Frances’ dress as she pushed her hair behind her ears. Winnie and Jem giggled in the back, hidden among the few pieces of furniture. Frances held Rebecca closer to her chest as the wagon pulled into the dusty town of Malborrow Creek. Already, eyes turned their way. Frances ducked her head and was suddenly aware of her uncovered hair. All the other women wore hats.
Julian pulled the wagon up to the front of the General store.
“You’ll be able to find most of the things you need in there,” he said. “The post office is right beside.”
Frances stepped down from the wagon, Rebecca still in her arms.
“I’ll be around,” Julian said. “I have to go to the livery quickly and then make a few deliveries.” With a snap of the reins, he pulled away before waiting for Frances’ reply.
Frances watched them disappear into the livery and then turned to face the door. Immediately, the patrons inside turned back to their purchases. Frances took a deep breath and pulled the door open. A bell rung softly.
The store was quaint and well-stocked. They had everything from newly ordered garden rakes to rolls of cloth and and sacks of flour.
Everyone inside ignored her. Obviously deliberately. They had been watching her since the wagon pulled up. Rebecca cooed in her arms and Frances looked down at the little. Brushing a finger against the girl’s soft cheek, Frances began wandering around the store. As soon as her back was turned, she felt the gazes return to her.
She picked out a beautiful length of light blue cloth imprinted with dark blue and white flowers. For Winnie. She also picked out a straw hat for herself, a sack of fruit candies and a small book of stories to read to the children at night. A small white rabbit was sketched into the cover and gold lettering adorned the binding. It was very nice--and expensive--but Frances hoped that it would make bedtimes easier, especially in the beginning when they still wanted their father to do the task.
She put her purchases on the counter and quickly paid, aware that the staring only increased with every movement she made. Even Rebecca had gone silent under the gaze of the townspeople.
She asked the girl at the counter if it would be all right to pick up her packages when the wagon came around and after a few stuttering starts, the girl agreed. Frances rolled her eyes. She wasn’t some sort of animal to be gawked at. Pocketing a handful of sweets from her bag, she pushed her way out of the store and went on to the post office.
It was empty other than the man behind the counter. She quickly posted her letter and asked if anything had come for her. With a curious expression, he handed her a thin letter, her name written in the middle in long smooth strokes. She thanked him and hefted Rebecca higher onto her hip. The man stared at her for a few moments before saying, “My pleasure”. He looked as if he wanted to say more but Frances had already scurried away, anxious to tear into the letter.
She sat on the steps and placed Rebecca beside her. The little girl just stared up at her, no intention of crawling away or making a fuss. Frances broke a candy in two and handed the smaller piece to Rebecca. The girl immediately began sucking on it, her large blue-brown eyes watching Frances as she ripped open the envelope and unfolded the letter.
Dear Frances,
I hope that you are well. We received your first letter and are happy to hear that you arrived safely and are settled. Not much has changed since you left home, but Amelia has received some wonderful news.
Just as we suspected, she is with child. The baby is due in late fall or early winter. We are all in uproar. As she and Lloyd only just moved into their new home, there is no room prepared for the newest addition to the family. Harriet, Amelia, and I have already started planning the nursery and making a list of the things she will need. Of course Patricia will be giving her most of the baby clothes she no longer needs for Carolina but it still isn’t enough. Lloyd has given Amelia an allowance for the baby’s needs and I’m afraid we’ve already spent more than half.
Oh, how we miss you! You’ve always been the best help when it comes to these sort of things. Patricia is always telling us that you were the greatest when it came to her own children. At least you would have been careful to stay within the allowance given. Even though you gave Carolina her middle name, Amelia is still considering doing the same for her child should it be a girl.
Other that the baby, nothing much has changed. Your brothers are as always and your sisters miss you very much. Please tell us when you will visit or if you know when your position with the family is over. We hope to see you before the end of summer and if not, at least in time for the baby’s birth.
With all our love,
Mother
P.S. Please tell us of all your current endeavors and all the stories you must now have to share. We look forwards to hearing from you again.
Frances looked down at Rebecca and smiled sadly. Home sounded so far away from Malborrow Creek and the Fellowes family. As if it belonged in a different world, a different life. She painfully admitted that unless writing to them, it was difficult to think of her family during the day. There was simply too much to do. Too much around. One barely thought of the beauty of grass when drowning.
She picked up Rebecca and wiped her sticky mouth. She looked across the wide road and spotted the wagon down the road, in front of a house. Two small figures climbed over it. A taller one was near the back, reaching in for something.
Frances quickly joined them, the letter clutched in her hands and Rebecca bouncing on her hip. She was about to smile and ask how it went when she noticed the expressions on all their faces. Julian was angry, his lips pressed together and his eyes unnaturally focused on his task of unloading the shelves. When he spotted her, his gaze softened but there was worry behind the chestnut of his eyes. It was clear. Worried that she might have heard something? Worried that she would think differently of him? Of the family?
She shook her head. She was reading into his gaze. He was probably a little miffed about an insufficient payment or a difficult order or an accident to one of the pieces of furniture.
Frances turned to the children and the walls of anxiety built themselves back up. This was no insufficient payment or difficult order. Jem stared down at his lap, his large eyes sad and his mouth turned down as if about to cry. Winnie fidgeted in her seat and glanced between her father, Jem, and Frances, as if unsure what to do.
Frances stepped into the wagon. She put on her brightest smile and turned around to face the children. “How was your time?”
Jem did not answer, his lip quivering.
Winnie folded her hands and with the biggest, most eager eyes said, “A man called Papa something mean, and said that Jem would be the same. I don’t know what he said, because he was using big people words and--”
“Winnie.” Julian’s voice was cool and soft despite his heated expression, and Winnie immediately shut her mouth. “That’s enough.”
Winnie shrugged at Frances and turned back to Jem, placing an arm around his shoulders.
The trip back to the homestead was strained and silent, and it was eating Frances from the inside out. It was too much.
“The town is quite nice,” she finally said. “I love the size of it. Usually when towns reach that size, it is intended to turn into a decent city. But the buildings don’t seem new, so it must have been like this for some time.”
Julian sighed. “Yes, it is just small enough that everyone knows each other, but just large enough that nobody cares.”
Frances had no reply. She bit her lip and Rebecca snuggled up against her, ready for her afternoon nap.
They continued on in silence.