Fire Along the Sky
Page 101
Curiosity said all this and more, while Jed studied the bottom of his teacup.
“Aye,” said Jennet. “So the story goes. But the good men of Paradise decided to take action.” She explained how they had started a collection on the spot to get the fifty dollars together. It was all in chits, which were handed over to Charlie for credit on the next summer's milling.
“The idea,” Jennet said, looking almost embarrassed to admit such a thing, “was that Jemima would be so glad of the fifty dollars that she would go away to Johnstown to live.”
Curiosity snorted. “What a fool plan,” she said, and Jed flushed a deep red that mottled his neck and cheeks and made him look, just for that moment, like a boy who has helped himself to more maple sugar than was his due.
“Aye,” said Jennet. “The ladies said as much. And loudly, forbye. But Jemima took what was offered her, and Ethan drew up the agreement and she signed it.”
“Go on,” said Curiosity. “I can guess what happened next, but you might as well say it. She ain't going nowhere. She'll set right there at the orchard house and wait till she's collected on those chits.”
“You can imagine how put out Missy Parker is,” Jennet said, barely containing a smile. “For she was right and the men were wrong, but were she to say that, she should also have to admit Jemima had won out, yet again.”
Through all of the telling, Jed had pressed his mouth into a thin line with increasing embarrassment, but now he looked up finally and shrugged.
“It was a good plan,” he said. “We thought she'd go, if she only had the means.”
Curiosity set her rocker moving with a push of her foot. “When Nicholas comes back from Johnstown he'll find her settled in.”
“Not if the court gives him his divorce,” Jed said. “Though I suppose that's unlikely, with Jemima in a family way.”
“Ain't this a fine pickle,” Curiosity said. “Jemima has got herself a husband who's bound by law to provide for her, hate her though he might. It's a hard punishment he's earned for his foolishness.”
“I must write to Lily,” Jennet said with a deep sigh. “I promised her I would, when there was news to tell. But of course I didn't know of the connection then . . .” Her voice trailed off. “Did it really come as a surprise to you, Curiosity?”
The older woman was looking into the fire with an expression that was hard to read: regret and sadness and maybe irritation, whether with herself or Lily it was impossible to know. She said, “I suppose I knew she admired the man. She always did, since she was a little girl—do you remember, Hannah?”
“She tried to convince me that I should marry him, once,” Hannah said. “That seems very long ago.”
“Well, it hurts my pride to admit it, but I didn't have no idea at all.” Curiosity's fingers drummed on the arms of the rocker. “Didn't know it had gone over to something so serious that she would run off to avoid getting herself in trouble. And maybe it ain't so. Don't know as we can believe Jemima's version of things.”
“I'd say we cain't,” Jed said gruffly. “I for one don't believe that Lily and Claes Wilde—” He cleared his throat. “I just don't believe it.”
“I hope for Lily's sake that you're right,” Jennet said, her expression very sober now, almost sorrowful. “For if she did think he loves her, it will be hard news indeed to find out that he's bound to Jemima Southern.”
Curiosity rocked herself harder. “That's just what we're all worrying about, child. One thing you cain't deny about Miss Lily, she got a temper, and it do run off with her at the worst times.”
The talk ebbed away, and they sat together in silence, each of them thinking of Lily, and the things she might do.
Chapter 21
Lily wondered, sometimes, that two people who liked each other—for she did like Simon Ballentyne, when she could think of him from a distance—could find so much to fight about. It seemed that all they could do when they were face to face was to argue. The first and biggest battle was this: Lily wanted to leave for home immediately, and Simon simply refused.
“I won't run off like a thief in the night.” He said those words so often that Lily began to understand something: he truly believed he was taking something away from Luke, some possession that he valued and would not hand over easily or gladly. When she pointed this out to Iona, the old lady looked at her with something close to surprise.
“But of course men think of their women like that,” she said. “And no bemoaning the fact will change it. One day you might even find there's advantages in it, child.”
It was not what she wanted to hear, but even Lily understood that to lecture Wee Iona on the rights of women and the writings of Mrs. Wollstonecraft would be a waste of time. Instead she waited for Simon's next visit and pointed out to him, straightaway, she was not a prisoner in her brother's home, that she might leave when she pleased. To that she added—before he could do it for her—that Luke had made a home for her here and deserved the courtesy of an explanation.
One more battle lost; she must face her brother, and defend her choices.
“Your brother is no dragon,” Iona said. “Anything he has to say to you will be just, though probably not pleasant.”
That was just what Lily feared. That Luke would tell her that she was being foolish to run home like this in the dead of winter, in time of war, with a man who might not be welcome at Lake in the Clouds, once the whole truth was revealed. She could not tell Luke all of it, for that would only make her look the bigger fool: using one man to go to another who did not want her.
“Aye,” said Jennet. “So the story goes. But the good men of Paradise decided to take action.” She explained how they had started a collection on the spot to get the fifty dollars together. It was all in chits, which were handed over to Charlie for credit on the next summer's milling.
“The idea,” Jennet said, looking almost embarrassed to admit such a thing, “was that Jemima would be so glad of the fifty dollars that she would go away to Johnstown to live.”
Curiosity snorted. “What a fool plan,” she said, and Jed flushed a deep red that mottled his neck and cheeks and made him look, just for that moment, like a boy who has helped himself to more maple sugar than was his due.
“Aye,” said Jennet. “The ladies said as much. And loudly, forbye. But Jemima took what was offered her, and Ethan drew up the agreement and she signed it.”
“Go on,” said Curiosity. “I can guess what happened next, but you might as well say it. She ain't going nowhere. She'll set right there at the orchard house and wait till she's collected on those chits.”
“You can imagine how put out Missy Parker is,” Jennet said, barely containing a smile. “For she was right and the men were wrong, but were she to say that, she should also have to admit Jemima had won out, yet again.”
Through all of the telling, Jed had pressed his mouth into a thin line with increasing embarrassment, but now he looked up finally and shrugged.
“It was a good plan,” he said. “We thought she'd go, if she only had the means.”
Curiosity set her rocker moving with a push of her foot. “When Nicholas comes back from Johnstown he'll find her settled in.”
“Not if the court gives him his divorce,” Jed said. “Though I suppose that's unlikely, with Jemima in a family way.”
“Ain't this a fine pickle,” Curiosity said. “Jemima has got herself a husband who's bound by law to provide for her, hate her though he might. It's a hard punishment he's earned for his foolishness.”
“I must write to Lily,” Jennet said with a deep sigh. “I promised her I would, when there was news to tell. But of course I didn't know of the connection then . . .” Her voice trailed off. “Did it really come as a surprise to you, Curiosity?”
The older woman was looking into the fire with an expression that was hard to read: regret and sadness and maybe irritation, whether with herself or Lily it was impossible to know. She said, “I suppose I knew she admired the man. She always did, since she was a little girl—do you remember, Hannah?”
“She tried to convince me that I should marry him, once,” Hannah said. “That seems very long ago.”
“Well, it hurts my pride to admit it, but I didn't have no idea at all.” Curiosity's fingers drummed on the arms of the rocker. “Didn't know it had gone over to something so serious that she would run off to avoid getting herself in trouble. And maybe it ain't so. Don't know as we can believe Jemima's version of things.”
“I'd say we cain't,” Jed said gruffly. “I for one don't believe that Lily and Claes Wilde—” He cleared his throat. “I just don't believe it.”
“I hope for Lily's sake that you're right,” Jennet said, her expression very sober now, almost sorrowful. “For if she did think he loves her, it will be hard news indeed to find out that he's bound to Jemima Southern.”
Curiosity rocked herself harder. “That's just what we're all worrying about, child. One thing you cain't deny about Miss Lily, she got a temper, and it do run off with her at the worst times.”
The talk ebbed away, and they sat together in silence, each of them thinking of Lily, and the things she might do.
Chapter 21
Lily wondered, sometimes, that two people who liked each other—for she did like Simon Ballentyne, when she could think of him from a distance—could find so much to fight about. It seemed that all they could do when they were face to face was to argue. The first and biggest battle was this: Lily wanted to leave for home immediately, and Simon simply refused.
“I won't run off like a thief in the night.” He said those words so often that Lily began to understand something: he truly believed he was taking something away from Luke, some possession that he valued and would not hand over easily or gladly. When she pointed this out to Iona, the old lady looked at her with something close to surprise.
“But of course men think of their women like that,” she said. “And no bemoaning the fact will change it. One day you might even find there's advantages in it, child.”
It was not what she wanted to hear, but even Lily understood that to lecture Wee Iona on the rights of women and the writings of Mrs. Wollstonecraft would be a waste of time. Instead she waited for Simon's next visit and pointed out to him, straightaway, she was not a prisoner in her brother's home, that she might leave when she pleased. To that she added—before he could do it for her—that Luke had made a home for her here and deserved the courtesy of an explanation.
One more battle lost; she must face her brother, and defend her choices.
“Your brother is no dragon,” Iona said. “Anything he has to say to you will be just, though probably not pleasant.”
That was just what Lily feared. That Luke would tell her that she was being foolish to run home like this in the dead of winter, in time of war, with a man who might not be welcome at Lake in the Clouds, once the whole truth was revealed. She could not tell Luke all of it, for that would only make her look the bigger fool: using one man to go to another who did not want her.
