A Season of the Heart. Dorothy Clark
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change of subject. She glanced up through her lashes, caught the easy smile Daniel gave Willa as she moved toward the table. The sigh turned to a painful pressure. All he ever gave her now was that mocking grin.
“No, it’s because of the storm. The jobber has stopped logging operations until this blizzard passes and the temperature warms a bit. So I’ll leave the pung here at the parsonage until it’s time to go back to camp—if that’s all right.”
He would be in town! She frowned and placed the cut-off skirt on the growing pile of ready-to-work material.
“Yes, of course it is, Daniel. It will save you having to unload all those boughs into the back room of the church.”
“Is that where w—”
“Oh!” Willa lurched, bumped against Daniel.
“Careful, Pest....” Daniel gripped Willa’s arm and steadied her.
“I’m sorry. That was clumsy of me.” Willa brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen onto her forehead. “What were we— Oh, yes.... What of the horses? We haven’t stalls for them.”
Her frown deepened. What was wrong with Willa? She sounded flustered.
“I know. I’ll stable them at Dibble’s, then get settled in at home. Do you want me to com—”
Willa broke into a coughing fit.
Alarm tingled along her nerves. Willa had said Matthew was busy visiting those sick with the grippe. Had he brought the illness home? Was that why Willa looked a bit flushed? She took a step back. Willa glanced her way, and understanding flashed in her eyes.
“There’s no cause for alarm, Ellen. I’m not ill. It’s only a tickle in my throat. I’ll be fine when I get a drink.” Willa spun toward the door. “Come with me, Daniel. We’ll finish our discussion in the kitchen.”
She stared agape as Willa all but shoved Daniel out the door ahead of her. She’d never known Willa to act so...strange. So...undone. She really did need her help. That odd sense of satisfaction she’d felt the other day returned. She smiled, picked up the scissors and began cutting the sleeves from the old green overdress they’d chosen to make Mary’s garment.
Daniel would be in town. Her stomach flopped. She would have to be watchful to not run into him. If he called her Musquash one more time— Oh, no! She froze, then took a breath and slanted a glance up at the ceiling. “Please, Lord, make the storm stop so Daniel will be back at camp working soon. Please don’t let him be in town when Mr. Lodge or Mr. Cuthbert arrive. Please.” She clenched her teeth and cut off the other sleeve. It would be bad enough if her beaux came and found her helping Willa with the sewing or decorations, but if Daniel were to—
“Steady, Big Boy. Back, Big Girl...back.”
Daniel’s muted voice came from outside. Chains rattled. He was leaving. Good. She glanced at the window, pressed her lips together and cut along a side seam to turn the green dress into a flat piece of material. Where was Willa? They had to get this work done!
She rose and started for the doorway, paused as the chains rattled again, then gave in to her urge and crossed to the window. The pung now sat behind the church. She wrapped her arms about herself and watched Daniel unhitch the team, his movements confident and sure. She couldn’t even imagine Mr. Lodge or Mr. Cuthbert attempting such a feat. What a disaster that would be. And how disloyal was she to even think such thoughts?
She whirled from the window and hurried back to the table, picked up the green dress she’d finished cutting and folded it. What did it matter if Mr. Lodge and Mr. Cuthbert knew nothing of hitching and unhitching horses? They had money enough to hire others to do it for them.
“I’m sorry for my delay in returning, Ellen. The baby was fussing.”
Ellen pulled her thoughts back to the task at hand, looked up and smiled as Willa entered. “No matter—you’re here now.” Her fingertip poked through a threadbare spot as she shook out a piece of what was once a blanket. “I have the fabric ready for Mary’s cloak. That leaves only Joseph’s garment. Do you think there will be enough of this blanket left when I’ve cut around the holes?”
* * *
“More gingerbread?”
Daniel shook his head and grinned. “There’s no place for any more, Ma. I ate too much pork pie. Smiley’s food is good, but he can’t cook like you.”
“Well, if you’re certain, I’ll clear this mess away.” His mother beamed a smile at him, rose and began stacking the dirty dishes. Her long skirts swayed from her plump hips as she carried the dishes to the sink cupboard, scraped the scraps into a bucket and slipped the plates into the water in the wash pan. “I hope we don’t have a storm like this over Christmas. It’ll delay my trip to Syracuse to care for your aunt Ruth. I’m plannin’ on leavin’ when you go back to camp. Ruth’s rheumatiz is bad with the cold, and I was figurin’ to go and stay with her till the weather warms. She’s no one to do for her since Asel passed.”
“You’re a good woman to make that long trip during the cold weather, Ma.”
“Bein’ good or not ain’t got nothin’ to do with it.” She lifted the steaming kettle off its trivet over the coals in the fireplace and tossed him a look over her shoulder. “She’s a need, and you do for family.”
He rose and put his arm about her soft shoulders. “And you do for any others that need help, as well, Ma. Even if it costs you time or discomfort.”
“Well, it’s the Christian thing to do, helpin’ others.” Steam rose in a cloud as she poured the water into the pan. “I’m strong and able, and you share the blessings God gives you with them less fortunate. Don’t you forget that, son.”
“I won’t, Ma. How could I, with you for my example?” He leaned down and kissed her pink cheek. Her green eyes shone up at him, warm with pleasure.
“You’re a good man, Daniel. You put me more in mind of your pa every day. It’s good to have you home.” She set the kettle aside, tossed a bar of soap into the water and picked up a cloth. “What will you be doin’ to help Willa with the Christmas decorations?”
“She hasn’t told me. But I know it will take longer than I figured.” He crossed to the door, took his jacket off the peg and shrugged into it. “She’s decorating the gazebo, too. Says it will make it more festive for the carol sing.”
“The gazebo...” A smile touched his mother’s mouth, then disappeared. She ducked her head and soaped the cloth. “Seems like you’ll be spendin’ a lot of time at the parsonage.”
“Seems like you’re probably right.” He pulled his hat from his pocket. “Maybe that’s why we’re having this storm. Maybe Willa took her need for help to her Abba, Father. He seems to pay close mind to her prayers.”
“And mine.”
“What? I didn’t hear, Ma. I was putting on my hat.”
“Nothin’ important.” She swished a plate through the rinse pan and set it on the towel on the wood drainboard. “It gonna bother you, havin’ Ellen so close by while you’re there workin’?” She flashed a look in his direction. “Her bein’ across the street, I mean.”
There was no sense pretending he didn’t understand her. “That’s an old dream that died long ago, Ma.” He pulled up a grin and shot her a teasing look. “Surely you know Ellen’s come home to decide which of her rich beaux she’ll marry.”
“I heard. But she ain’t betrothed yet.”
There was a determined note in his mother’s voice that said clearly she wasn’t letting up on her prayers. Twelve years she’d been at it. He tugged his hat down over his ears, exposed by his newly trimmed hair, frowned and ran his hand over his clean-shaven face. Did she think... “Look, Ma, Ellen will be at home sitting