be likely to ever forget such a
thing.
After breakfast on Friday morning, Nicholas went to the
woodshed. Faith had her heart set on joining him, but Liza
made it clear she had different plans.
"Faith," she called out from the parlor. "I'll be needing
your help this morning."
Drats. "Yes, Mother Shepherd," Faith replied, shocked
that Liza would admit to needing anyone's help. She
glanced up from dusting the parlor to see Liza slip a small
brown vial from her apron pocket and take a sip.
Faith flattened her body against the wall. Had she seen
what she thought she'd seen? Nicholas's mother chewed
and imbibed spirits?
Peeking around the corner, she covered a gasp when she
saw Liza tipping the bottle back and taking another healthy
swig.
She drew back. Oh goodness. Did Nicholas know about
this? Should she tell him? Her mind whirled.
Liza came into the parlor and pushed a basket of socks,
thread, and a darning needle at her.
"Best get started. We haven't got all day." She frowned.
"You do know how to dam?"
"Yes, ma'am," Faith replied, omitting the fact that she
detested the chore. As Liza brushed past her, Faith bent
close, trying to get a whiff of the liquor.
Liza pulled away, giving her a dour look. "What are you
doing?"
"Nothing." Faith grinned.
The weather was beautiful outside. Faith couldn't stand
the thought of being cooped up inside. She could hear the
sound of the axe biting into the wood. She would much
rather chop wood than darn any old day. She'd pricked her finger three times, and it was getting sore. No doubt about
it. Darning was more dangerous than wood chopping.
It wouldn't be quite so tiresome if Liza would only talk to
her. But the two women sat in the dark room, methodically
darning as they listened to the ticking clock.
Faith's eyes roamed the parlor. Every piece of furniture
was covered with sheets, even the two straight-backed
chairs in which they sat.
The more Faith studied the coverings, the more she
wondered why. "Mother Shepherd, why do you keep the
furniture covered?"
Liza drew a tolerant breath, concentrating on her stitches.
"I'll not have the sunlight fading the furniture. It's wasteful."
"Oh." As if sunlight could possibly get through those drapes,
Faith thought.
An hour passed without the two women exchanging a
word. Faith's toes curled in the pointy shoes she was wearing.
She longed for her boots. She should have worn them-and
her overalls. At least she would be comfortable.
Her thoughts switched from the furnishings and her foot
discomfort to Mother Shepherd, trying to look beyond
Liza's coarse exterior. Her eyes were probably once as deep
blue as her son's. Faith's heart ached. Did Nicholas have the
least suspicion that his mother had taken to strong drink?
Perhaps it was only for medicinal purposes.... That was
possible. There was a woman in Papa's church who contended that a tiny drink every now and then helped her rheumatism. Yes, that was it. Liza was using liquor as a
medicinal remedy for whatever plagued her.
Remarkably, Liza's fair skin was barely touched by the
Texas sun. Her hair, once blonde but now streaked with
silver, could still be attractive if only she would loosen
those unbecoming braids.
Faith was amazed to realize that Liza Shepherd wasn't that
old-why, she might even be pretty with a little fixing. She
stuck her finger and winced.
Drats. She'd rather spit nails than darn socks. Her boredom growing, Faith fidgeted in the chair.
"Must you squirm?"
The woman had barely spoken all this time, and now all
she could contribute was, "Must you squirm?"
Faith tried to hide her frustration. "I'm sorry.... I need
to use the necessary."
She wasn't lying; while she didn't need to go, she needed
to V. The necessary was the only refuge she'd found to
escape monotony.
"Well, don't sit there and squirm. Go do what you have
to do."
"Yes, ma'am." Faith laid her basket aside, then stood and
stretched like a lazy cat
thing.
After breakfast on Friday morning, Nicholas went to the
woodshed. Faith had her heart set on joining him, but Liza
made it clear she had different plans.
"Faith," she called out from the parlor. "I'll be needing
your help this morning."
Drats. "Yes, Mother Shepherd," Faith replied, shocked
that Liza would admit to needing anyone's help. She
glanced up from dusting the parlor to see Liza slip a small
brown vial from her apron pocket and take a sip.
Faith flattened her body against the wall. Had she seen
what she thought she'd seen? Nicholas's mother chewed
and imbibed spirits?
Peeking around the corner, she covered a gasp when she
saw Liza tipping the bottle back and taking another healthy
swig.
She drew back. Oh goodness. Did Nicholas know about
this? Should she tell him? Her mind whirled.
Liza came into the parlor and pushed a basket of socks,
thread, and a darning needle at her.
"Best get started. We haven't got all day." She frowned.
"You do know how to dam?"
"Yes, ma'am," Faith replied, omitting the fact that she
detested the chore. As Liza brushed past her, Faith bent
close, trying to get a whiff of the liquor.
Liza pulled away, giving her a dour look. "What are you
doing?"
"Nothing." Faith grinned.
The weather was beautiful outside. Faith couldn't stand
the thought of being cooped up inside. She could hear the
sound of the axe biting into the wood. She would much
rather chop wood than darn any old day. She'd pricked her finger three times, and it was getting sore. No doubt about
it. Darning was more dangerous than wood chopping.
It wouldn't be quite so tiresome if Liza would only talk to
her. But the two women sat in the dark room, methodically
darning as they listened to the ticking clock.
Faith's eyes roamed the parlor. Every piece of furniture
was covered with sheets, even the two straight-backed
chairs in which they sat.
The more Faith studied the coverings, the more she
wondered why. "Mother Shepherd, why do you keep the
furniture covered?"
Liza drew a tolerant breath, concentrating on her stitches.
"I'll not have the sunlight fading the furniture. It's wasteful."
"Oh." As if sunlight could possibly get through those drapes,
Faith thought.
An hour passed without the two women exchanging a
word. Faith's toes curled in the pointy shoes she was wearing.
She longed for her boots. She should have worn them-and
her overalls. At least she would be comfortable.
Her thoughts switched from the furnishings and her foot
discomfort to Mother Shepherd, trying to look beyond
Liza's coarse exterior. Her eyes were probably once as deep
blue as her son's. Faith's heart ached. Did Nicholas have the
least suspicion that his mother had taken to strong drink?
Perhaps it was only for medicinal purposes.... That was
possible. There was a woman in Papa's church who contended that a tiny drink every now and then helped her rheumatism. Yes, that was it. Liza was using liquor as a
medicinal remedy for whatever plagued her.
Remarkably, Liza's fair skin was barely touched by the
Texas sun. Her hair, once blonde but now streaked with
silver, could still be attractive if only she would loosen
those unbecoming braids.
Faith was amazed to realize that Liza Shepherd wasn't that
old-why, she might even be pretty with a little fixing. She
stuck her finger and winced.
Drats. She'd rather spit nails than darn socks. Her boredom growing, Faith fidgeted in the chair.
"Must you squirm?"
The woman had barely spoken all this time, and now all
she could contribute was, "Must you squirm?"
Faith tried to hide her frustration. "I'm sorry.... I need
to use the necessary."
She wasn't lying; while she didn't need to go, she needed
to V. The necessary was the only refuge she'd found to
escape monotony.
"Well, don't sit there and squirm. Go do what you have
to do."
"Yes, ma'am." Faith laid her basket aside, then stood and
stretched like a lazy cat
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