Page 2 of The Gift of Seeds
Skirting around the freshly dug rows, Hester hurried toward him.
Jimmy paused, leaning an arm on the shovel. Physically and mentally, they matched. Her brother at twelve possessed the same mouse brown hair, blue eyes, and unassuming features as Hester, and his skinny frame belied his wiry strength. He had a sharp intelligence and an eagerness for learning that made him do well in school.
She had hopes he’d grow up to work in a store or office rather than labor in the fields like most boys from the orphanage when they grew old enough to become employed. With her future earnings, she could help him.
“Jimmy!” Hester called, her voice high with news. She strode over to stand in front of him.
“What’s got you so stirred up, Sis?”
“I have a placement, Jimmy, working as a maid for a Mrs. Ransome.” Hester tried to make the news sound good, because really, except for leaving her brother and Lovie, she was happy to escape the orphanage. “Room and board. Five dollars a monthand a uniform. Just think. I’ll get paid for what I do here for free.”
He shifted his gaze to the ground, placed a foot on the step of the shovel, and dug deep, with more force than necessary.
Guilt arose. The orphanage wasn’t a bad place to live, not in comparison to what Jane Eyre endured in Charlotte Bronte’s novel. Matron was stern but kind, although too busy to give her charges much individual attention. But at least the orphans didn’t go cold or hungry and were allowed to attend school in town with the other neighborhood pupils.
Still, loneliness abounded, and she and Jimmy were each other’s rock. With Lovie married, who would he go to for comfort?
“I’m to have a day off every other week. I promise I’ll come visit.” She tugged on his sleeve. “With the first of my wages, I’ll make you a new shirt.”
He shrugged off her hand and still didn’t say anything. But his hunched shoulders spoke volumes. His silence wasn’t really unexpected. Both were reserved and extremely shy. Except with each other.And Lovie.Her sweet-natured friend wouldn’t allow anyone to be quiet around her.
Hester slid her hand up to his shoulder. “I’ll save my money, so someday we can be together in our own little home.” She hesitated.Best be truthful.“I don’t know how long it will take to save enough for us to be together.”Hopefully not years.
“Years,” Jimmy echoed her thought in a dull tone. “I’ll be grown by then.”
“Oh, surely not, brother.”
He glanced around the garden, his tight expression easing. In five years, maybe sooner, I can leave this place, too. I’ll get a job and be able to take care ofyou.”
She chuckled and hugged him. “All right. We have a goal that we’ll both strive for—save enough money so we can live together in our very own home and take care ofeach other.”
With Jimmy on board, Hester dared allow herself to become excited for their future.
CHAPTER 1
AUTUMN
St. Louis, 1896
The lull between meals when Mrs. Ransome napped was Hester’s time to herself. She worked in the garden—the gardener didn’t mind her intruding on his domain—or retreated to her small room under the eaves to rest or read. Sometimes, she opened her trunk and sorted through the contents, imagining each piece soon finding the perfect place in the log cabin Jimmy built for them in Sweetwater Springs, Montana.
Today, she’d finished her library book, so Hester knelt and touched the keyhole of her trunk. Finally,finally, she was close to giving Mrs. Ransome notice.Just six more months.
On that long-ago day when she and Jimmy pledged to make a home together, she hadn’t anticipated twenty-three years would pass before they could make their dreams come true. She hadn’t accounted for Jimmy’s stubborn insistence on arealhome—one built by him and owned by them, not the bank. Nor that a brokenleg—his—and two bouts of influenza—hers—would render them unable to work for several months and add doctors’ bills to their expenses.
That naive, young girl couldn’t have known how little five dollars a month covered, especially when she was still growing and needed to replace her Sunday clothes and buy a warm, well-fitting coat. She also made sure Jimmy had more than just the hand-me-down clothing the orphanage provided.
Who knew that her brother would grow so tall, necessitating frequent new clothes? Before he’d left for Montana, Jimmy towered over her. After several years as a logger, his frame had filled out. His latest measurements, requested by her so she could make him a new shirt for Christmas, proved how broad his shoulders had become.
Luckily, through the years, as she progressed from maid-of-all-work to housekeeper, Mrs. Ransome had increased her salary to reflect her new position and then raised her wages several more times. Not out of generosity, but because some of her friends hinted about what a good cook and manager Hester was, and how they wished she worked for them. Her employer had no desire to lose a stellar servant to a rival.
Now, as the housekeeper, Hester earned the grand sum of twenty-five dollars a month, for which she was grateful. But the future beckoned—her eventual move to the wilds of Montana and the list of household possessions and supplies she first needed to acquire. So, she still stretched every penny as if she were pulling taffy.
Through the canted open window, the afternoon sun shone on the lid of her trunk—the firstindulgenceshe saved for at this job, and the repository for her dreams. Unlike most women who desired a husband and family, she hadn’t stitched a trousseau. No lacey nightgowns were folded inside. She would only outfitherself in some new outer clothing before she departed. Indeed, she had a winter dress pinned to a pattern and already cut out.
Except for one embroidered apron with real lace trim, the contents were only for her future home. Sheets, both linen and flannel, pillowcases, towels, a quilt and an afghan, lace curtains, one red-and-white-checked tablecloth for everyday and one embroidered tablecloth with crocheted lace trim and matching napkins for fancy meals.
The tablecloths wrapped around a peach-colored glass lamp, to provide a cushion. The twin sat on the little table next to Hester’s bed, and, when lit at night, bathed that side of the room in a soft glow. At the very bottom of the trunk, she’d packed a cast iron frying pan, a wooden bread trough, cutlery, and her favorite items—three and a half place settings of china. She just needed a cup and saucer to round out the service to four.
