Still House Pond (15 page)

Lilly finally got the hang of it. Taking turns, they milked the bucket full. “How do you know when you're finished? When the bucket's full?”

“When all four teats have been stripped and there's no more milk to be had. It's important to empty the udder; otherwise Bertha could get sick.”

“You know what? Bertha didn't slap me once.”

“That means you did a good job. Bertha likes a gentle touch.” She patted Bertha's hip, then led her to a side door and out to pasture. The cow's bell clanked dully as she walked away, stopping every few feet to mouth a bunch of new green grass.

“Now for the surprise,” Copper said. “Take one of those little berry buckets down from the peg.”

Lilly brought a blue one to her mother.

Copper tipped the milk bucket and filled the berry bucket half-full.

“What's this for?” Lilly asked.

Copper unfastened the door of the stall next to Bertha's. “Come and see.”

A mother cat and four tiny kittens nested in a bed of sweet timothy.

“I found them this morning when I first came out,” Copper said.

Lilly knelt in the hay beside the cat. The cat eyed her warily. Lilly clicked her tongue. “It's all right, kitty. I would never hurt you.” Taking the battered tin pie pan her mother handed her, she slowly poured a stream of rich yellow milk into the pan. She set the tin beside the nest and backed out of the stall, slipping a loop of heavy twine over a board to keep the door closed. The door did not meet the ground, so the mother cat could easily come and go.

Copper and Lilly peered through the cracks in the door. The mama didn't move for the longest time, but she was hungry. You could tell by the way her nose twitched as she smelled the milk. After several minutes, she stood and stretched. One kitten hung from the cat's teat for a second before it plopped back onto the hay.

Lilly clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. “Where did she come from?” she asked in a stage whisper.

“I don't know, but she sure picked a good place to have her babies, didn't she?”

Lilly shot her mother a sideways look. “So are we keeping her?”

“If nobody claims her and she wants to stay. It's good to have a cat in the barn.” Copper brushed a strand of hair from Lilly's eyes. They hadn't taken time to tie it back before they left the house. “I was thinking you might pick one kitten for a house pet. We'd have to give the other kittens away, though. We can't have five cats.”

“Really? I can have one for my own?” Lilly wrapped her arms around her mother's waist. “We haven't had a cat since Old Tom died.”

“I know. That's probably why I found a mouse in the grain box yesterday. He'd gnawed a hole right through. Your dad will have to plug it.” Copper picked up the milk bucket, loving the heft of it—not bad pay for a half hour's work. Lilly had slowed her down, but it was a valuable lesson for her daughter to learn. Every woman should own a cow and know how to take care of it. It bespoke a type of independence. With a cow, a few chickens, and a vegetable garden, a woman could raise a family alone if need be. She would need to teach Lilly that it was okay to get dirty. That might take a while.

“Why are you smiling?” Lilly asked as they walked to the springhouse.

“I was just wondering how many starched aprons you would need in a day's time if you started milking and mucking out Bertha's stall.”

Lilly stopped midstep and seated her fists on her hips. “Mama! I am not a baby. I could do a lot if you would let me.”

Copper was taken aback. There was truth to what Lilly said. Copper slipped out of her work shoes, then stepped into the springhouse. Lilly followed, leaving her boots perfectly lined up outside the door.

Copper poured the milk through the cream separator, explaining every move to Lilly. “We have more milk than we can use or give away right now. Manda will take this cream to town for me. It will fetch a pretty penny.”

“And the eggs,” Lilly said.

“Yes, eggs too. And sometimes truck from the garden, but usually we can anything extra. Milk and eggs won't keep.”

“I love being in here,” Lilly said, leaning back against a wall and spreading her arms wide against it. “It's so cool and peaceful.”

Copper knew what she meant. The walls of the springhouse were constructed from thick slabs of rock chinked with clay. It straddled a free-flowing spring, a tributary of Troublesome Creek. John and Dimmert had chiseled holes in the solid stone floor through which containers of milk or butter or cheese could be lowered into the cold water for safekeeping. If the heavy wooden door was kept closed, the temperature inside was nearly constant, somewhat like a cave. When you were within its walls, the burble of water flowing over ancient rocks made the outside world fade away.

Crouching by one of the holes in the floor, Copper lowered the milk bucket into the spring and let water flow in. When she was satisfied with the amount, she hauled the bucket out and scrubbed it and the cream separator with lye soap. She washed and rinsed, then set the bucket and the separator upside down to drain. “This is all part of milking. You're not finished just because the cow is.”

Lilly still leaned against the wall of the springhouse. She was staring at the floor. A curtain of hair hid her face.

Copper could tell her child was troubled. She chose her words carefully. “Do you have questions about what you saw yesterday afternoon? questions about Adie?”

Lilly pulled a ribbon from her apron pocket and with a twist of her wrists pulled her hair away from her face and secured it with the ribbon. Her movements were practiced and graceful. Copper could see traces of the young woman she would grow to be. “I'm sorry I disobeyed. I'm sorry I was looking out the window when they put Adie in that box.”

Copper cupped Lilly's chin and looked into her eyes. “And I am sorry I didn't prepare you for what happened. You're old enough to be included.”

“What I really want to know is why didn't we keep the baby?”

“He wasn't ours to keep. His father wanted him.”

“Was that old lady his granny? Will she take care of him?”

“The lady is Mr. Still's mother. She helped with all of Adie's other children. I don't think you need to worry about little Lorne Lee.”

“Still?” Lilly twisted a lock of hair around her finger. “I didn't know that was Adie's last name.”

“The Stills are neighbors, but they like to keep to themselves. You wouldn't have met any of them.”

Lilly nestled into Copper. “Lorne Lee—that's a different sort of name.”

Copper wrapped her arms around her daughter as tightly as she could.

Lilly pulled slightly away. “You're squeezing my lights out.”

Copper squeezed her again. “Let's go to the house. Manda's sure to have breakfast ready.”

Lilly swung Copper's hand as they walked across the yard. “So if we keep the cat and a kitten, does that mean we can't have a dog?”

“We need to talk to your daddy about that. I'm not sure he wants a menagerie.”

“
Menagerie
? What's that mean?”

“Look it up. That's what the dictionary is for.”

Lilly skipped ahead. She looked like a little girl again. “I'll wait until I get back from Lexington to talk to Daddy about getting a dog. He might forget if I ask him now.”

Copper sighed. She wished Lilly would forget about Lexington. As much as Copper hated to, she had made arrangements as Alice asked. Lilly would travel to the depot by coach with Kate and her mother. Mrs. Jasper would see Lilly on the train and talk to the porter, and Alice would meet her at the stop. What could go wrong?

Copper determined to see the trip through her daughter's eyes. She didn't want to spoil the adventure for Lilly.

15

Manda was headed to town in Miz Copper's buggy with a load of cream and eggs and a bushel basket of new potatoes on the floorboard. She had dressed this morning in her second-best frock. If not for Miss Remy's eagle eye, she would have worn her yellow dress—the one that matched her hair. But the last thing she wanted to do was raise suspicion.

The brown gingham was okay, she supposed, but it made her feel like the maid she was, whereas the yellow made her feel special. She had worn it Sunday last, first to church, then to the picnic. She flushed to think of the excitement of that day. Oh, she fairly loved a gathering. . . .

When church let out, there was dinner on the grounds. Makeshift sawhorse tables groaned under the weight of sugar-cured ham, chicken and dumplings, fried chicken, and all the trimmings. Women spread quilts under shade trees, where babies napped and old folks waited to be brought a plate. Men played horseshoes as children ran amok, calling, “Tag! You're it!”

Manda's Sunday school class naturally congregated at one end of the tables, shunning the spread blankets of family gatherings. They were all young and unattached, and there were no children for them to chase and no plates to fill except their own. There were seven of them, four girls and three guys. It was Fred Estep who suggested going to the spring, but Manda herself who egged them on. And surprise, surprise, it was Gurney Jasper who suggested hiking to the top of Devil's Eyebrow with a stop at the spring on the way down.

Manda took a second look at Gurney. And for sure she knew he looked more than twice at her. At one point in the climb, as the girls squealed and giggled on the slippery slope, Gurney took Manda's hand and helped her over a moss-slicked rock. The gesture made her feel special, and she gave Gurney's hand an extra squeeze.

There was a hot zephyr across the ledge. It whipped the girls' skirts and loosened hair from pins. They all laughed hysterically when Fred's hat sailed out over the eyebrow and on to parts unknown. Manda could scarcely remember when she had had so much fun.

She and Gurney led the pack as they hiked toward the spring. Behind them the other girls sang teasingly: “‘Where, oh where, is sweet little Manda? Where, oh where, is sweet little Manda? Where, oh where, is sweet little Manda? Way down yonder in the pawpaw patch.'”

The guys joined in for the second verse. “‘Where, oh where, is charming Gurney? Where, oh where, is charming Gurney? Way down yonder in the pawpaw patch.'”

Gurney's ears flamed at the second verse, but she noticed a smile on his face. And when he took her hand, she didn't jerk away. Holding hands wasn't anything serious, she didn't think. Besides, she liked everybody taking notice of her. This finding true love stuff was sure confusing.

Manda hadn't forgotten the middling man, however, and when they got to the spring, she examined the fallen log. There was nothing unusual there. While the others took turns drinking from the spring, she walked over to the ancient black walnut tree. The grass was not matted around its base. There was no trace of tobacco there. If not for the daisy-shaped button tacked with blue thread to the ribbon on her chemise she would have thought the other day was a dream. Just a dream and nothing more.

She stood for the longest time looking off across the meadow where wild violets and white field daisies swayed gently in a warm breeze. From somewhere a fiddle tune drifted her way. It played in perfect harmony with the rhythm of the dancing grasses and flowers. She imagined that she was part and parcel of that tune. Though she strained to hear more, the music faded away, light as dandelion fluff on the wind.

Gurney touched her shoulder. “Why are you over here all by your lonesome?”

“I'm watching the flowers,” she said. “Look how prettily they dance.”

“They don't hold a candle to you.”

“We're going,” Fred called out. “You two lovebirds can catch up.”

Manda looked at Gurney. He was a handsome man once you stopped to study his square-jawed, honest face. She felt a thrill of delight just like Rose Feathergay in the magazine story. Was this rush and tingle what falling in love felt like?

Gurney reached out. She closed her eyes and tilted her chin—waiting—nearly faint with anticipation.

Gurney touched her cheek and ran his fingers through her hair. “You've caught a twig,” he said, plucking it out.

The dreaded heat of a blush rose from her chest and blossomed across her cheeks. She felt naked as a jaybird standing there with her need displayed for him to see.

“Are you okay? You look a little peaked.”

She wanted to slap his face but couldn't rightly figure why. “We'd better go. The others will wonder what we're up to.”

“I'll go first,” Gurney said when they reached the narrow, one-cow path. “Put your hand on my shoulder. I'll keep you from falling.”

Another time she would have stomped around him and hurried away with no regard to his feelings. Instead, she let him guide her down the mountain.

His hair was cut short, neatly cupping the back of his head. Where his farmer's tan met the collar of his shirt, a thin strip of pale flesh was revealed. The muscles in his shoulder were as solid as a ledge rock underneath her hand, but that little flash of white made him seem strangely vulnerable to her.

Her emotions swirled like tea leaves in a cup. There was something about Gurney that made her feel safe and protected. But what if she had misread the taking of her hand, the touch on her shoulder? The middling man made her feel desired, if overwhelmed and not a little frightened by his boldness. Shouldn't she at least try to see the exciting music man again? What if he was her one true love?

Manda had answered yes to her own question on Sunday, and now she was on her way to finding out the answer. If the music man was anywhere to be found, that is. Taking the cream to the Cream Station and the eggs to the grocery store gave her the perfect opportunity to look for him. Plus, she'd make some money. She and Miz Copper worked on the halves. That was only fair, since it was Manda who candled all the eggs and wiped the shells clean. She didn't see the need to candle the eggs since she had gathered them herself and knew they were fresh, but Miz Copper was particular. And Miss Remy—good grief, that woman put a damper on everything.