so that if Reddie fixes by to visit, he and his ladybird will see the yarn and make a nest with it. Won’t it be fun to watch them lay eggs and hatch them? I can’t wait
.
Until then, be a good girl and help Mama
.
I love you
Lucy
8
February
Dear Mama and Papa
,
I feel so much better now. Even the storm didn’t make me feel gray, for it came and went quickly, leaving lovely white fields in place of that dreary mud. Will should be home from his traveling soon, and this heartens me, as it must hearten you. So I write these brief notes for him to carry
.
Pray for us all that this winter will pass quickly into spring
.
Your loving daughter
Lucinda
8
February
Dear Rebecca
,
I will stay with Miss Aurelia a while longer, for illness can be unpredictable. I do miss you, but I keep myself as busy as I can and the time flows by. Not a rushing stream, you understand, but a gently meandering creek. When spring comes we shall have to steal at least a week together, for between your news and mine, a day or two would never be enough
.
You have read by now of my romantic quandaries. Myheart leans toward Jeremiah Strong. He is a good man and we share many interests. Doesn’t that sound noble? Truth is, he kisses so sweetly it makes me greedy for more. Wicked!
Poor Jonathan Clark. I like him—but as a friend. Now that I have come to care for Jeremiah, I know that mere friendship is not enough. I still struggle for a way to tell Jonathan that is honest and considerate. Is this possible? I hope so
.
How is Nathaniel? Has he spoken to your father? Write me everything, for with the winter and the isolation of the widow’s illness, my only news comes in letters
.
And what prank have you invented? I have told you my secrets. You must now share your mischief with me. Write soon
.
Best of luck with Nathaniel
Lucinda
S UNDAY , F EBRUARY 9, 1851
Am I a dolt? When will I ever learn to look beyond the obvious?
Thick clouds filled the sky today. While Cass napped, I studied them, trying to gauge whether they carried a light storm or a blizzard. I don’t like the notion of Will and Jeremiah in bad weather.
“Lucinda, you’re a million miles away,” Miss Aurelia said.
“I am,” I admitted. “Do you have work for me? I’ve caught up with my letters and journal writing, and Cass will sleep awhile.”
“Well, a child will arrive one of these days,” she said.“You might stitch up some clothing. I’ve scraps in a trunk upstairs.”
“All right. How long do you suppose until she has the baby? Emma said a couple of months, but that was weeks ago.”
Not that I wish it to come right away. If anything, I worry about the baby’s coming. Mama’s last birthing has left me fearful.
“Have you warned the midwife, Mrs. Smith? We might need her soon.” I tried to keep the worry out of my voice.
Miss Aurelia smiled and spoke calmly. “I’ve sent a message. Her husband, Jonas, helps me at times, and I’ve spoken with him. We’ll talk to Cass after your brother returns with good news of her family.”
I nodded and looked out into the snowy afternoon. Where were they? Were they near Atwater, or had they been delayed in Cleveland? Bah! My wondering wasn’t about to hurry the wagons, so I went to fetch the cloth—flannel, muslin, calico, and trimmings.
Miss Aurelia provided me with scissors, a needle, and thread, and I cleared off the kitchen table and set to work. I had done this before with Mama, when Miranda was expected, and again for the child Mama lost last spring.
I started with the largest lengths of flannel and cut them into swaddling blankets.
Miss Aurelia sat across the room by the fire, and I heard the scratch of pencil on paper as I threaded my needle.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “Sketching? Can you draw?”
“Well enough,” she said.
“Can I see?”
“Not yet. I’ll finish this, then you tell me what you think. I make my living with my pictures, you know.”
“By drawing? Did you paint
.
Until then, be a good girl and help Mama
.
I love you
Lucy
8
February
Dear Mama and Papa
,
I feel so much better now. Even the storm didn’t make me feel gray, for it came and went quickly, leaving lovely white fields in place of that dreary mud. Will should be home from his traveling soon, and this heartens me, as it must hearten you. So I write these brief notes for him to carry
.
Pray for us all that this winter will pass quickly into spring
.
Your loving daughter
Lucinda
8
February
Dear Rebecca
,
I will stay with Miss Aurelia a while longer, for illness can be unpredictable. I do miss you, but I keep myself as busy as I can and the time flows by. Not a rushing stream, you understand, but a gently meandering creek. When spring comes we shall have to steal at least a week together, for between your news and mine, a day or two would never be enough
.
You have read by now of my romantic quandaries. Myheart leans toward Jeremiah Strong. He is a good man and we share many interests. Doesn’t that sound noble? Truth is, he kisses so sweetly it makes me greedy for more. Wicked!
Poor Jonathan Clark. I like him—but as a friend. Now that I have come to care for Jeremiah, I know that mere friendship is not enough. I still struggle for a way to tell Jonathan that is honest and considerate. Is this possible? I hope so
.
How is Nathaniel? Has he spoken to your father? Write me everything, for with the winter and the isolation of the widow’s illness, my only news comes in letters
.
And what prank have you invented? I have told you my secrets. You must now share your mischief with me. Write soon
.
Best of luck with Nathaniel
Lucinda
S UNDAY , F EBRUARY 9, 1851
Am I a dolt? When will I ever learn to look beyond the obvious?
Thick clouds filled the sky today. While Cass napped, I studied them, trying to gauge whether they carried a light storm or a blizzard. I don’t like the notion of Will and Jeremiah in bad weather.
“Lucinda, you’re a million miles away,” Miss Aurelia said.
“I am,” I admitted. “Do you have work for me? I’ve caught up with my letters and journal writing, and Cass will sleep awhile.”
“Well, a child will arrive one of these days,” she said.“You might stitch up some clothing. I’ve scraps in a trunk upstairs.”
“All right. How long do you suppose until she has the baby? Emma said a couple of months, but that was weeks ago.”
Not that I wish it to come right away. If anything, I worry about the baby’s coming. Mama’s last birthing has left me fearful.
“Have you warned the midwife, Mrs. Smith? We might need her soon.” I tried to keep the worry out of my voice.
Miss Aurelia smiled and spoke calmly. “I’ve sent a message. Her husband, Jonas, helps me at times, and I’ve spoken with him. We’ll talk to Cass after your brother returns with good news of her family.”
I nodded and looked out into the snowy afternoon. Where were they? Were they near Atwater, or had they been delayed in Cleveland? Bah! My wondering wasn’t about to hurry the wagons, so I went to fetch the cloth—flannel, muslin, calico, and trimmings.
Miss Aurelia provided me with scissors, a needle, and thread, and I cleared off the kitchen table and set to work. I had done this before with Mama, when Miranda was expected, and again for the child Mama lost last spring.
I started with the largest lengths of flannel and cut them into swaddling blankets.
Miss Aurelia sat across the room by the fire, and I heard the scratch of pencil on paper as I threaded my needle.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “Sketching? Can you draw?”
“Well enough,” she said.
“Can I see?”
“Not yet. I’ll finish this, then you tell me what you think. I make my living with my pictures, you know.”
“By drawing? Did you paint
Similar Books
