hers.
Her pregnancy had been a good time in her life. Work had slowed down and Mrs. Pickersgill took pity on her. For once she let her have some restful times instead of finding busy work for her to do. This fall and winter had been the easiest of her life. When she ’d first discovered she was pregnant, she’d felt sure everyone would shun her. Except for a couple of the proper, meaner ladies of the church, everyone had been gracious and helpful. Gifts of used blankets, rags, and clothes had been given to her when she started to show. True, most were already worn and torn, but being a seamstress she could mend and make things look pretty and even hide the stains with clever patching disguised as decoration. Grace was grateful. It seemed most women loved a baby, no matter how it came into the world.
Grace had enough sewing work to keep her busy down by the fire in the kitchen. She could look out the window and watch everyone bustling to and fro, out shopping or working or whatever folks had to do. The ships were getting ready to sail and spring orders for colors picked up. After a rough winter, everyone including the captains of the ships liked their colors new.
She made her way out with her bedpan, took it to the back of the yard, and rinsed it after priming the pump. Then she went in to help with the breakfast. Mrs. Mary and Caroline were packed for a trip. The carriage was packed with trunks tied to the back, and both Mrs. Mary’s and Caroline’s valises were by the door. Mrs. Rebecca was not going. She was staying upstairs in her bed and Bethany was going to look after her. She would empty her bedpans, bring Mrs. Rebecca her meals, and light her fires. Bethany was busy frying eggs, hash, and heating some leftover pie from last night.
“ Mrs. Bethany you feed everyone like a queen,” Grace said. Grace finished carrying in the bucket full of water and hung it on the hook in the fireplace to heat it for washing the dishes, a chore Grace handled for Bethany.
“ Well you know I love to cook, especially when I get to help eat it,” Bethany said.
Grace and Bethany both laughed. Bethany was big from eating and she was a good cook. Widowed early in life with a son serving on a merchant ship, Bethany was hired to cook and clean. It was a good deal. Her eyes weren ’t good enough to work with a needle and thread. All in all, they made a nice little family. It was good to have others who pitched in out of love. It had grown out of each of their situations and of circumstance.
“ How are you feeling Grace? Put your feet up, and here’s a nice cup a tea.”
Mrs. Tommie Lynn sold Mrs. Pickersgill some tea that helped soothe Grace and kept her healthy during her time. The blend was made of flowers and herbs. It smelled good and didn ’t make Grace sick. She had been glad to have something warm to drink during the cold winter and spring months. Mrs. Pickersgill was of the opinion that civilized houses served a hot beverage, otherwise, what were fine china cups for? Grace’s cup was an old chipped one with delicate white flowers and green painted stems and leaves. It was from a set that Mrs. Pickersgill never used. Grace liked to imagine she was a lady while drinking from the thin china which appeared as fragile as a hen’s egg shell. It was still the nicest cup Grace had ever used, even if it was a castoff.
“ Thank you Bethany, you’s a true friend.”
“ Don’t get mushy on me, you with the baby blue’s and me always crying at the drop of a hat.”
Bethany missed her dead husband. Grace had seen her holding one of his shirts and breathing deeply to inhale his scent. She kept it hidden under her pillow. When Bethany ’s door was closed in the early evening. Grace could hear her as she prayed loudly, and thumped her heavy knees on the floor as she shifted her weight, while she asked for mercy for her son who was at sea. It seemed to Grace that sadness was never far from overtaking Mrs. Bethany’s
Her pregnancy had been a good time in her life. Work had slowed down and Mrs. Pickersgill took pity on her. For once she let her have some restful times instead of finding busy work for her to do. This fall and winter had been the easiest of her life. When she ’d first discovered she was pregnant, she’d felt sure everyone would shun her. Except for a couple of the proper, meaner ladies of the church, everyone had been gracious and helpful. Gifts of used blankets, rags, and clothes had been given to her when she started to show. True, most were already worn and torn, but being a seamstress she could mend and make things look pretty and even hide the stains with clever patching disguised as decoration. Grace was grateful. It seemed most women loved a baby, no matter how it came into the world.
Grace had enough sewing work to keep her busy down by the fire in the kitchen. She could look out the window and watch everyone bustling to and fro, out shopping or working or whatever folks had to do. The ships were getting ready to sail and spring orders for colors picked up. After a rough winter, everyone including the captains of the ships liked their colors new.
She made her way out with her bedpan, took it to the back of the yard, and rinsed it after priming the pump. Then she went in to help with the breakfast. Mrs. Mary and Caroline were packed for a trip. The carriage was packed with trunks tied to the back, and both Mrs. Mary’s and Caroline’s valises were by the door. Mrs. Rebecca was not going. She was staying upstairs in her bed and Bethany was going to look after her. She would empty her bedpans, bring Mrs. Rebecca her meals, and light her fires. Bethany was busy frying eggs, hash, and heating some leftover pie from last night.
“ Mrs. Bethany you feed everyone like a queen,” Grace said. Grace finished carrying in the bucket full of water and hung it on the hook in the fireplace to heat it for washing the dishes, a chore Grace handled for Bethany.
“ Well you know I love to cook, especially when I get to help eat it,” Bethany said.
Grace and Bethany both laughed. Bethany was big from eating and she was a good cook. Widowed early in life with a son serving on a merchant ship, Bethany was hired to cook and clean. It was a good deal. Her eyes weren ’t good enough to work with a needle and thread. All in all, they made a nice little family. It was good to have others who pitched in out of love. It had grown out of each of their situations and of circumstance.
“ How are you feeling Grace? Put your feet up, and here’s a nice cup a tea.”
Mrs. Tommie Lynn sold Mrs. Pickersgill some tea that helped soothe Grace and kept her healthy during her time. The blend was made of flowers and herbs. It smelled good and didn ’t make Grace sick. She had been glad to have something warm to drink during the cold winter and spring months. Mrs. Pickersgill was of the opinion that civilized houses served a hot beverage, otherwise, what were fine china cups for? Grace’s cup was an old chipped one with delicate white flowers and green painted stems and leaves. It was from a set that Mrs. Pickersgill never used. Grace liked to imagine she was a lady while drinking from the thin china which appeared as fragile as a hen’s egg shell. It was still the nicest cup Grace had ever used, even if it was a castoff.
“ Thank you Bethany, you’s a true friend.”
“ Don’t get mushy on me, you with the baby blue’s and me always crying at the drop of a hat.”
Bethany missed her dead husband. Grace had seen her holding one of his shirts and breathing deeply to inhale his scent. She kept it hidden under her pillow. When Bethany ’s door was closed in the early evening. Grace could hear her as she prayed loudly, and thumped her heavy knees on the floor as she shifted her weight, while she asked for mercy for her son who was at sea. It seemed to Grace that sadness was never far from overtaking Mrs. Bethany’s
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