from her neck, held the small heart, and waved it at her. Julia-Rose blew bubbles and laughed.
“I mean it, now. Come out here.” She used her sternest voice. The baby lay her face down on the dusty floor and sneezed.
“See, you’re going to get sick. You must come out from under the bed. Right now.”
Julia-Rose let out a huge yawn and, putting her fingers in her mouth, settled in for a nap. Angel stretched her arm as far as she could, but it was not far enough to grab the baby. Damn! Now what do I do?
She lowered her head so her chin was touching the floor, and worked herself under the bed. Her sore ribs kept her from moving too fast. Finally, she reached Julia-Rose and slowly pulled the sleeping child out. Holding her ribs as she stood, she sneezed repeatedly. “Ow!” She grabbed her side.
Julia-Rose opened her eyes. “Mama,” she gurgled, holding her chubby arms up.
Angel eased herself down on the floor alongside the baby, and sighed. The thought of trying to get everything done that needed to be finished in a single day by herself seemed impossible when she couldn’t even diaper one little girl’s bottom.
Angel’s week of reprieve was nearly at an end. She sat at the table, finishing up a hem on one of Amy’s dresses. Earlier in the week she made up a story about losing one of her trunks that contained her work dresses, and Nate told her to help herself to Amy’s dresses that were packed away in the attic.
The day Angel made the climb to the attic was the first time she could actually move without pain. She was still sore, but a lot better.
The attic was dirty with years of accumulated grime. As she raised the platform to enter, rays of sunlight slanted through the window, highlighting dust motes dancing in the air like magical fairy glitter.
Boxes and barrels and dusty old furniture filled the space. A spinning wheel sat in one corner, along with a dresser, a full-length mirror, and an open chest with colorful feathery items spilling out. She gasped when she spotted a beautiful dollhouse in another corner.
Walking toward it, Angel exclaimed with delight over the details on the small house. Someone had spent a great deal of time constructing it. A few of the little rooms had wallpaper, while others were painted bright colors. A pile of tiny, beautifully hand-carved wooden furniture sat alongside the dollhouse. This would be a wonderful toy for Julia-Rose when she got older.
Memories, of decorating her own dollhouse with her mother years ago, brought tears to her eyes. They had spent hours picking out colors and setting up each room just so. Losing her mother at a young age was painful, but those recollections warmed her and made her feel her mother’s presence.
She carefully picked her way through the maze to one of several trunks. The first two were filled with men’s clothes, obviously from a long time ago. She laughed when she saw the curled, powdered wig near the bottom. Julia-Rose could use these as dress-up clothes, and they would have a tea party. Suddenly she realized being a mommy to a little girl might be fun.
Eventually, she located the trunk containing Amy’s clothes against the far wall, under the small window. She blew off the thin layer of dust, and opened the trunk. Near the top were several dresses that most likely had been her work clothes. Further down someone had neatly stacked stockings and shoes. All the stockings were carefully patched. She also pulled out a wool coat and bonnet. Underneath was a pair of Sunday gloves, mended on two fingers, and a small velvet reticule.
A dark cloud seemed to pass over Angel as she handled the clothing, thinking about a young woman dying and leaving her five children.
She sat back on her heels, holding the gloves. Amidst all the confusion of her arrival and attempts at learning housekeeping, she’d pushed the idea of a previous Mrs. Hale from her mind. She rubbed her fingers over the gloves. A woman wore these. A woman who birthed
“I mean it, now. Come out here.” She used her sternest voice. The baby lay her face down on the dusty floor and sneezed.
“See, you’re going to get sick. You must come out from under the bed. Right now.”
Julia-Rose let out a huge yawn and, putting her fingers in her mouth, settled in for a nap. Angel stretched her arm as far as she could, but it was not far enough to grab the baby. Damn! Now what do I do?
She lowered her head so her chin was touching the floor, and worked herself under the bed. Her sore ribs kept her from moving too fast. Finally, she reached Julia-Rose and slowly pulled the sleeping child out. Holding her ribs as she stood, she sneezed repeatedly. “Ow!” She grabbed her side.
Julia-Rose opened her eyes. “Mama,” she gurgled, holding her chubby arms up.
Angel eased herself down on the floor alongside the baby, and sighed. The thought of trying to get everything done that needed to be finished in a single day by herself seemed impossible when she couldn’t even diaper one little girl’s bottom.
Angel’s week of reprieve was nearly at an end. She sat at the table, finishing up a hem on one of Amy’s dresses. Earlier in the week she made up a story about losing one of her trunks that contained her work dresses, and Nate told her to help herself to Amy’s dresses that were packed away in the attic.
The day Angel made the climb to the attic was the first time she could actually move without pain. She was still sore, but a lot better.
The attic was dirty with years of accumulated grime. As she raised the platform to enter, rays of sunlight slanted through the window, highlighting dust motes dancing in the air like magical fairy glitter.
Boxes and barrels and dusty old furniture filled the space. A spinning wheel sat in one corner, along with a dresser, a full-length mirror, and an open chest with colorful feathery items spilling out. She gasped when she spotted a beautiful dollhouse in another corner.
Walking toward it, Angel exclaimed with delight over the details on the small house. Someone had spent a great deal of time constructing it. A few of the little rooms had wallpaper, while others were painted bright colors. A pile of tiny, beautifully hand-carved wooden furniture sat alongside the dollhouse. This would be a wonderful toy for Julia-Rose when she got older.
Memories, of decorating her own dollhouse with her mother years ago, brought tears to her eyes. They had spent hours picking out colors and setting up each room just so. Losing her mother at a young age was painful, but those recollections warmed her and made her feel her mother’s presence.
She carefully picked her way through the maze to one of several trunks. The first two were filled with men’s clothes, obviously from a long time ago. She laughed when she saw the curled, powdered wig near the bottom. Julia-Rose could use these as dress-up clothes, and they would have a tea party. Suddenly she realized being a mommy to a little girl might be fun.
Eventually, she located the trunk containing Amy’s clothes against the far wall, under the small window. She blew off the thin layer of dust, and opened the trunk. Near the top were several dresses that most likely had been her work clothes. Further down someone had neatly stacked stockings and shoes. All the stockings were carefully patched. She also pulled out a wool coat and bonnet. Underneath was a pair of Sunday gloves, mended on two fingers, and a small velvet reticule.
A dark cloud seemed to pass over Angel as she handled the clothing, thinking about a young woman dying and leaving her five children.
She sat back on her heels, holding the gloves. Amidst all the confusion of her arrival and attempts at learning housekeeping, she’d pushed the idea of a previous Mrs. Hale from her mind. She rubbed her fingers over the gloves. A woman wore these. A woman who birthed
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