luxury having someone else manage the thick, tangled tresses. She parted the hair down the center and braided both sides, bringing them together artfully at the back. Pins held everything securely in place. Hiring Mrs. Hermosa had been a small blessing.
“I have to write letters.”
“I fix you breakfast, Mrs. Clark. You should eating something first.”
“I’m not hungry.”
In the mirror, by all outward appearances, I looked every bit the lady of the manor, although I stood in a farmhouse. I smoothed the skirts with trembling hands, wanting to put this chore behind me. I hated the thought of having to tell Frank’s parents that their son had perished.
“I have to get this over with.”
In the kitchen, I sat at the table, dipping the quill into the inkpot, scribbling the necessary messages. My fingers shook so badly that I could hardly read the writing. After an hour of starting and stopping, I jumped to my feet in frustration, an unreasonable anger boiling inside of me. Maria had gone outside to do laundry, while I seethed. The sound of a wagon brought my attention to the doorway, and I raced to see who had arrived, a strange, irrational wish materializing. I prayed that Doctor Caldwell had come to call, bringing my husband back.
“It’s been a mistake, Mrs. Clark,” he said. “Frank didn’t die. He was pounding on the coffin in the middle of the night, and the undertaker dug him out. He’s good as new now…and he’s walking unassisted. It’s a miracle.”
But, that was a fantasy, as Sally Higgins stepped down from her perch. “Oh, Hannah.”
“You don’t have to come out here to watch over me.”
“Nonsense. Of course I do. I’m here to be of service to you. I brought some chicken salad and bread. We can have sandwiches.” I eyed her warily, not feeling up to company in the least. “Oh, dear, you look sore. You’re about to bite my head off.”
“You should just go away.”
She shook her head. “You need me to help you with something. I know you do. I don’t care if you scream at me, like you look like you’re about to. I can handle it. I had to bury my little brother when I was thirteen. We were as thick as thieves. I loved that boy more than I loved my own parents. I cried for weeks. I’ll try to spare you half of that, if I can.” Her skirts whooshed by me. “Now, what can I do for you? The house looks spick and span. No need for cleanin’.”
“You’re not going away, are you?”
“Certainly not.”
I sighed. “Oh, drat.”
“Come now, what can I help you with?”
“I have to write letters.”
“Excellent. I’ll put the food in the larder for now, and we can get some letter writing done.” She headed down the hallway. “I’ve been told my penmanship is pretty good.”
Having no choice in the matter, I followed. Two hours later, the most important letters had been written, as I had dictated to Sally, who scribbled with the quill. The letter to Frank’s sister would have to wait, as would my sisters, although I wrote a brief note to Louisa. When this chore had ended, Maria made chicken salad sandwiches, and I ate one, realizing I was absolutely famished. It wasn’t long before Sally left, and I thanked her for helping me. The calm of evening found me wandering from room to room; the curtains separating the dining room had been taken down. The space was empty now, as the bed had been put away.
I declined to eat with Nathan, Jerry, and Maria, hearing them talking in the kitchen. Instead, I loitered in the living room, traversing the carpet, while the clock kept me company. It was a strange restlessness I couldn't explain, not wanting to go up to bed just yet, but knowing that I would eventually have to. Once the men had left the house, I wrung my hands; hating having to be alone in the room I had shared with my husband.
“Do you need anything, Mrs. Clark?” asked Maria.
“No. Thank you.”
She took to the stairs. “You let me know, if you need
“I have to write letters.”
“I fix you breakfast, Mrs. Clark. You should eating something first.”
“I’m not hungry.”
In the mirror, by all outward appearances, I looked every bit the lady of the manor, although I stood in a farmhouse. I smoothed the skirts with trembling hands, wanting to put this chore behind me. I hated the thought of having to tell Frank’s parents that their son had perished.
“I have to get this over with.”
In the kitchen, I sat at the table, dipping the quill into the inkpot, scribbling the necessary messages. My fingers shook so badly that I could hardly read the writing. After an hour of starting and stopping, I jumped to my feet in frustration, an unreasonable anger boiling inside of me. Maria had gone outside to do laundry, while I seethed. The sound of a wagon brought my attention to the doorway, and I raced to see who had arrived, a strange, irrational wish materializing. I prayed that Doctor Caldwell had come to call, bringing my husband back.
“It’s been a mistake, Mrs. Clark,” he said. “Frank didn’t die. He was pounding on the coffin in the middle of the night, and the undertaker dug him out. He’s good as new now…and he’s walking unassisted. It’s a miracle.”
But, that was a fantasy, as Sally Higgins stepped down from her perch. “Oh, Hannah.”
“You don’t have to come out here to watch over me.”
“Nonsense. Of course I do. I’m here to be of service to you. I brought some chicken salad and bread. We can have sandwiches.” I eyed her warily, not feeling up to company in the least. “Oh, dear, you look sore. You’re about to bite my head off.”
“You should just go away.”
She shook her head. “You need me to help you with something. I know you do. I don’t care if you scream at me, like you look like you’re about to. I can handle it. I had to bury my little brother when I was thirteen. We were as thick as thieves. I loved that boy more than I loved my own parents. I cried for weeks. I’ll try to spare you half of that, if I can.” Her skirts whooshed by me. “Now, what can I do for you? The house looks spick and span. No need for cleanin’.”
“You’re not going away, are you?”
“Certainly not.”
I sighed. “Oh, drat.”
“Come now, what can I help you with?”
“I have to write letters.”
“Excellent. I’ll put the food in the larder for now, and we can get some letter writing done.” She headed down the hallway. “I’ve been told my penmanship is pretty good.”
Having no choice in the matter, I followed. Two hours later, the most important letters had been written, as I had dictated to Sally, who scribbled with the quill. The letter to Frank’s sister would have to wait, as would my sisters, although I wrote a brief note to Louisa. When this chore had ended, Maria made chicken salad sandwiches, and I ate one, realizing I was absolutely famished. It wasn’t long before Sally left, and I thanked her for helping me. The calm of evening found me wandering from room to room; the curtains separating the dining room had been taken down. The space was empty now, as the bed had been put away.
I declined to eat with Nathan, Jerry, and Maria, hearing them talking in the kitchen. Instead, I loitered in the living room, traversing the carpet, while the clock kept me company. It was a strange restlessness I couldn't explain, not wanting to go up to bed just yet, but knowing that I would eventually have to. Once the men had left the house, I wrung my hands; hating having to be alone in the room I had shared with my husband.
“Do you need anything, Mrs. Clark?” asked Maria.
“No. Thank you.”
She took to the stairs. “You let me know, if you need
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