Page 14 of The Gift of Seeds
Her trunk was tucked against the foot of the bed, with her satchel resting on top. She needed to unpack and make up the bed with the linens and blankets she’d brought. But she wanted to finish exploring first.
Hester left the cellar for last. Opening what looked like a closet door, she saw wooden steps descending into the dim darkness. She was too tired to search for a candle or to go takedown the lantern hanging on a peg near the front door and light it. So, she propped the door wide for light and slid a convenient wooden wedge underneath.
There wasn’t a railing, so as Hester climbed down, she kept one palm on the wooden wall. At the bottom, her foot touched the hardpacked dirt of the floor.
Hester took a breath, realizing she’d been holding herself tightly, and looked around. The room was small compared to Mrs. Ransome’s cellar—and lacked the smooth cement floor and stone walls. Laying a wooden floor had been on Jimmy’s list of things he planned to take care of before she arrived.
The crates and basket from the Nortons rested in the middle of the room. An open shelf with a couple of empty canning jars on top ran along one side of the wooden wall. A basket and three wooden crates were underneath, holding potatoes, beets, carrots, and turnips from Jimmy’s garden—on the small side—for he’d harvested them early, before leaving for the logging camp. A braid of onions hung from a hook in the ceiling.
On the adjacent wall, a closed cupboard probably held or would hold flour, cornmeal, sugar…but Hester was too tired to walk over to open the door and check. She should unpack the Nortons’ supplies and arrange them with the few she’d brought and whatever Jimmy had in the cupboard.
Suddenly, Hester couldn’t muster the energy. Her legs weakened, and she sank to the bottom step.
How often had she imagined the contents of this cellar, shelves laden with the fruits of her summer garden and her own industry? The glass jars would sparkle in their jewel colors—quarts of green beans, tomatoes, potatoes, peas. Of cherries and pears. Pumpkin and squash and corn. Beets, plain and pickled. Cucumber pickles, both sweet and tart. Jams and jellies. Applesauce and apple butter.
In her vision, overflowing bushel baskets of apples, potatoes, carrots, turnips, and onions lined the walls. More food than the two of them would need to last out the winter and the spring. Enough to give away to her neighbors—if she ever found the courage to talk to them.
James had promised to take her berry picking and foraging for mushrooms. She’d imagined exploring the nearby forest together, having adventures, or as much adventure as two quiet homebodies could manage.
Now those dreams would never happen.How could he be gone, my dear, dear brother?
The cellar was as empty as her future. Hester clenched her fists. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry,” she said aloud.I can’t keep sitting here. I’ll dissolve into a puddle.
“Fresh air is what I need.” She rose, wearily gathering her skirts, and climbed back up the stairs.
Hester wasn’t sure she was ready to face the barren garden but knew she should confront reality. So, she went out the side door, past the hand pump in the barrel, and stepped across scattered paving stones, leading to a sturdy outhouse.
Beyond the privy, in the gathering dusk, she could see the large, weed-choked yard. She sent a cursory glance at the woodpile stashed under a rough wooden shelter. After a lifetime with coal for fuel, using wood for heating and cooking would take time to become accustomed to.
Hester walked farther into the yard. The hem of her skirt caught on dried weeds, until, hoping the light was dim enough that Mr. Marsden wouldn’t look out the window and see anything amiss, she raised her skirts to her knees, exposing her stockings and sturdy boots to the world.
Edged by stones, the rectangular garden plot lay to her right. Tomorrow, she’d give the area further scrutiny.
To her left near the border of her yard and the neighbor’s, Hester caught a glimpse of something yellow. Curious, she ventured over and spied a few marigolds valiantly blooming among the weeds. She crouched to snap off the stem of one and stood, bringing the flower to her nose. Just as Hester sniffed the spicy scent, she heard a softwhooand the swish of wings and looked up.
An owl, she knew not what kind, soared over, heading toward the woods across the street.
Wishful thinking, perhaps.But Hester chose to think of the flowers and owl as a loving sign from her brother, bringing a lift to her heavy heart.
Several days later,Hester found herself at loose ends. After the bittersweet pleasure of unpacking her trunk, putting everything away, cleaning, and arranging the cabin to make the space feel like her home, time hung heavy on her hands. She was used to doing, doing, doing, with only short breaks for herself.
On her few days off, she usually visited Lovie—the fare to hire drivers to take her there one of the few extravagances she permitted herself. Sunday morning, she’d return to town with the family to attend church, and, afterward, they all had a meal at a restaurant. Hiram, cheerfully and stubbornly, always insisted on paying for Hester’s meal, and she’d long since given up trying to change his mind.
Now she had empty hours where she could just sit and stare out the window. Although, as pretty as her view of the woodland across the way was, she soon tired of doing nothing.
A couple of times, Hester ventured outside, crossing the street and entering the woods. But she’d been too scared toexplore far, fearing getting lost or encountering hostile wildlife. However, she did gather some autumn leaves and pressed them between book covers.
I hadn’t thought living here would be so lonely.
Hester had known when Jimmy was away at the logging camp, she’d be on her own. But she’d envisioned herself happily puttering around the house, ensuring a cozy and cheerful space that Jimmy would enjoy coming home to.
Then again, Hester had thought to arrive in the spring, when she could plant her garden, By this time of the year, she would have been busy doing tasks such as canning the last of the vegetables. She’d also envisioned making jam from berries, apple butter, and cider and drying sliced apples for storage. Of course, she’d need an apple tree that actually produced fruit. Jimmy’s apple tree was just a sapling given to him by the neighbor a few years ago, which he’d proudly planted in the back corner of the yard. But one could always purchase apples.
I could make friends.
The very idea made her stomach curdle. She’d never made friends, even at the orphanage. If it hadn’t been for Lovie’s determination to befriend her and grasp tightly to that friendship with both hands, Hester would have been lost in the sea of orphaned children, Jimmy being too young at the time to be a true companion.
But where will I start?She could call upon the Nortons. But even if she knew where they lived, the idea of paying a visit to the elegant younger couple felt as though she’d be imposing herself, interrupting their busy lives.
