Page 22 of The Gift of Seeds
“I think Jimmy would have liked that. He has—” Grief made her throat close.
Mrs. Norton waited patiently, her eyes understanding.
Hester took a breath. “Hehadone shirt that is simply too worn in places to donate, but the rest should be fine.”
“Well, if there are any pieces of the shirt that are in good condition, you could use them in a quilt. An extra quilt is always useful when winter comes.”
The suggestion sent a spurt of excitement through her. “Oh, I like that idea.”
“If you need any more scraps of fabric, I certainly have plenty. You can come sort through them at any time.”
Hester clasped her hands to her chest. “It’s done my heart good to talk to you, Mrs. Norton.” She spoke with impulsive candor unlike her. “Thank you for coming up to me, because most likely, I wouldn’t have initiated an introduction. Shall I bring Jimmy’s things with me on Sunday? Reverend Joshua and his family are to drive me to church.”
“So, I’ve heard. That would be wonderful. I can send you home with the apples.” Her eyes twinkled. “And some jars of jam and pickles, and…”
This time, Hester’s pride forced her to speak up. “You’re so kind. But there’s no need.”
“There is every need,” Mrs. Norton said with mock sternness. “If I don’t make room in the pantry for the supplies we arestillbeing given, we’ll have to use Reverend Norton’s office for storage.”
Who knew a minister’s wife could have a sense of humor?
“I’ve caught you out,” Hester teased back. “Jimmy wrote of the kindness of both of you. He thought your husband the most tolerant of men.”
The twinkle was back. “He is, indeed, for all that he can be so absentminded when pacing, thinking about his sermon, that he’ll stumble over boxes and bushels on the floor of his office. You wouldn’t want him injured, would you, Miss Smith?”
Crafty woman!Playfully, Hester waved up a hand to stop her. “Heaven forbid I cause the minister any harm.” She hadn’t ever engaged in a bantering conversation except with Lovie. She quite enjoyed the experience. “I can see I won’t win and therefore must surrender to having my cellar stocked. I will do you the favor of making some space in your pantry.”
“Excellent.” Mrs. Norton gestured toward the mercantile. “Come along. I’ll introduce you to Hortense Cobb. I’ve no doubt you’ve heard…well, tobraceyourself around her. But you should be safe in my presence.”
Just as they reached the door, a very pregnant young woman rushed up to Mrs. Norton, practically throwing herself at the minister’s wife, taking her arm, pulling her aside a few steps, and speaking in an urgent, low tone.
Hester gestured for Mrs. Norton to remain with the young woman. Setting her shoulders back and lifting her chin, she opened the door to brave the Cobbs.
Alerted by a sadhowl from the dog next door, Dale stopped dusting the mantel of the parlor and moved to the window tolook out, just in time to see Miss Smith pass by, heading toward town and carrying the burlap bags. She moved slowly, as if tired. Or perhaps she experienced the same reluctance he did to leave his safe sanctuary and venture into town.
This morning, while carrying an armful of wood into the kitchen to fill the wood box next to the stove, it occurred to him that the stack of James Smith’s wood pile was too small to last the winter. Smith had dragged home several sections of fir and ash logs and left them to dry over the summer. The rounds were overdue to be split into stove-and-fireplace-sized pieces. The fir, especially, would be harder to split when it was wet and maybe frozen later in the year.
Since he hadn’t heard sounds of chopping, he surmised Miss Smith hadn’t startled to tackle the project or, indeed, if she even knew she needed to. He remembered the woman’s petite size and figured she wouldn’t get very far in the attempt. Ever since, worry about her firewood kept popping into his mind, and a sense of wrongness lingered in his stomach, making him queasy.
He’d just dug the dust rag into a curlicue carving on the corner of the mantel when the solution came to him.Half hour for her to walk into town. Maybe twenty minutes to shop, more if she got caught up in a conversation. Half hour back.He probably had an hour and a half, well an hour and twenty minutes to be on the safe side, before she returned home.
He waited until Miss Smith was out of sight, tossed the dust rag onto a marble-topped side table, and hurried from the room to trot up upstairs to his bedroom, where his gold pocket watch lay on the nightstand next to his bed. Scooping up the watch, he popped open the outer case to check the time and shut the lid. Then he dropped the timepiece into the pocket of his worn denim trousers.
Once downstairs in the kitchen, he hurried over to the cast iron stove, where the scrambled eggs and bacon he’d cooked forbreakfast remained in the frying pan. With his uneasy stomach, he’d only forked a few bites straight from the pan and left the rest, thinking he’d try eating after he’d done some household chores.
Carrying the frying pan outside, he stopped at his small garden shed to fetch his steel mallet, wedge, and his deerskin gloves, and then moved across the back yard to the rock wall bordering his property from Miss Smith’s.
The dog was curled up on a blanket near the house, her head resting on her paws. Lucy, her name was. Dale had heard Miss Smith call to her several times.
After setting the breakfast pan, mallet, and wedge on the top of the stone fence, he put his fingers to his lips and let out a shrill whistle. The sound took him back to his childhood when he’d reveled in attempting the loudest piercing noises he could. That is until the day his mother stormed out of the house, carrying a whip and angry with him for making such an ungentlemanly sound and disturbing her nap. She beat his backside until he was too bruised to sit without a pillow for two days.
The dog lifted her head and gazed at him.
Just to spite the memory of his mother, Dale whistled again, and then called to the dog in a high-pitched, friendly tone, “Lucy, come here, girl.”
The dog loped over, still rib-sticking skinny but shiny clean.
Dale picked up a crisp strip of bacon and leaned over. “Look what I have for you.”
