Page 18 of The Heart of Bennet Hollow

Surrounded by their humble orchard, Lizbeth dropped another wilted apple into the bucket.

All around, wind stirred apple leaves and dried stems rattled in the breeze.

As the last of the harvest, the fruit was sound enough for cider but today held a different purpose.

While her younger sisters sold produce to the mining families each week, helping those who needed it most as Pa and Ma always instructed, Lizbeth’s own calling felt closer to home somehow. This earth.

On winter nights, she would help her sisters knit socks and fingerless mittens for the boys who worked the mine, but right now, something more was calling to her.

She closed her eyes, imagining the dozens of mules who dwelled deep in the mine.

Some that had been born on their farm, that she had helped raise.

Animals who would never again know the clearness of day or taste the sweetness of a harvest. Her skin prickled with sorrow as there was so little to be done for them. So little in the way of hope.

Once again fresh to mind was the day she’d walked side by side with Pa, helping him lead a young pair of mules to the mine, not knowing that the money Pa needed for their family came at the cost of the mules’ livelihood.

That in exchange for dollars, the animals would be sent hundreds of feet down into a working grave.

Lizbeth swallowed hard. Blinking back into the daylight, she searched for another apple.

She never would have known differently as a child, but now, could there be another way for them to get through the leanness of the years?

She understood only a fraction of what weight rested on Pa’s shoulders then and now.

She had only a small understanding of the burden he had to raise five daughters in these hills and not a single son who could bring home a day’s wage by picking coal.

Pa had to wrestle with the constant urge—the desperation—to make ends meet.

He had done what he’d needed to do, then and now.

While Pa assured her that the underground stables stayed lit and the mules never wanted for company, Lizbeth could only imagine the dismal conditions since the livestock never got to leave the mine at the end of the day like the workers did.

She wished there was more she could do, so for now, whenever they had apples or carrots to spare, she grated them into a bowl of oats, mixed up a batter with golden molasses, and baked sweet squares which Pa delivered to the mine stables on her behalf.

He always returned home to tell how the mules nibbled away the treats and how it put a new light in their eyes, so Lizbeth made a tray as often as possible without sending Ma into a state.

Fall brought with it a chance to use a few unwanted apples so Lizbeth dropped another worm-holed fruit into the pail.

When it came to the yearning to look after this farm and all who called it home, she couldn’t shake the memory of the mules that had once lived here alongside Eugene and Sassafras.

They were pit ponies now. No longer Pa’s and most certainly not hers.

But thanks to the willingness of Mr. Jorgensen, she was still allowed to send them a little comfort now and again. A quest she only wished could be more.

Even as she bent for another apple, an idea struck. Lizbeth straightened and pushed the back of her hand against her cheek. Could she possibly?

Might Pa allow her to take the treats down to the mules herself?

That could be a way she might see their needs met more often without burdening Pa or the other miners.

It could be a special task she managed. Each week even.

And once down there, she could spend time with the mules.

Brush their coats, bring them comfort, and the mine wouldn’t see it as idle time since she wouldn’t be on the payroll.

The apple clattered softly into the pail.

Doubt trickled coolly down her flushed cheeks.

Entering the mine was unheard of for a girl.

Only men were allowed into the shafts. Even the breaker boys stayed on the surface sorting ore until they were old enough to don a headlamp and a chestful of courage.

Courage she had. Permission... she needed to get.

The apples that grew on the edge of the woods here were theirs to keep so she and her sisters would soon be hard at work picking, pressing, and baking to preserve the year’s harvest. Kit, Lacey, and Maryanne would sell the rest of the apples on the roadside for next to nothing.

Just yesterday, the girls were there at the Bennet farmstand with the last of the summer squash, bush beans, and collards.

Whatever hadn’t been sold by suppertime was brought home for the root cellar.

Since Lizbeth only took the fruit that would go to waste, Ma might allow her. ..

After freeing a stray leaf from her hair, which was capped with a kerchief, Lizbeth slid the tin pail with a scrape nearer to the tree.

Kneeling, she added several more apples to the bucket, reaching the brim.

The faint chill that stirred her unbound hair reminded her that winter approached at a brisk walk, if not a frosty trot.

“Lizzy!” A voice stretched across the glen.

Lizbeth braced a hand on her bucket for balance and turned.

Shielding her eyes from the brightness of day, she finally spotted Lacey dashing across the upper meadow toward the grove. “Lizzy, you gotta come!”

Lizbeth rose. “Whatever’s the matter?”

Lacey slowed, panting. “Pa’s cousin—the Reverend Coburn he’s been tellin’ us about—just came in on the four o’clock. He’s here!”

“At the house?”

“We met him on the stoop just a moment ago. All of us were tryin’ to bring the laundry in from the line and Ma was heatin’ the irons. Why do you look so surprised? It’s the day we expected him!”

She’d completely forgotten. “I thought he was set to stay with the Jorgensens. They have a spare room for him.”

“Well, don’t you suppose he meant to come over and say hello first? How is it that you’re the only one who doesn’t seem to care?”

“I care.” Lizbeth picked up her pail.

“Then get a hustle on.” Lacey shook out her plain brown skirt as though it would help a delicate pattern blossom where there were only garden-stained stripes.

“Ma realized you were up here and she’s frettin’ somethin’ awful.

She sent me to come ’n’ fetch you. She’s all a fuss, Lizzy.

Seems Reverend Coburn has asked after you twice already. ”

Lizbeth wrinkled her nose, not liking the feeling that she and her sisters were glass jars on the shelf and he a man searching for a drink of water.

Still, she couldn’t very well linger on this hillside with a bucket of wormy apples. “I’m finished.” Lizbeth led the way back, glad for the bucket’s weight and how it slowed her pace.

Lacey dragged her feet dramatically. “Can’t you walk any faster?”

“Only if you help me.”

Lacey shrugged and skipped along, humming a silly tune.

Lizbeth rolled her eyes and followed the girl.

Just beyond spread the farmyard where Sassafras and Eugene grazed in the pasture.

Smoke trickled from the farmhouse chimney.

The house appeared just as it always did, but as they came nearer, Lizbeth caught the chatter of conversation within and a haughty, formal voice that could belong only to the stranger.

Lacey pushed past the front door and Lizbeth lugged the bucket indoors. There in the front room sat her sisters, Ma and Pa, and a man in a dark hat. No one rose, save the man. His narrow leather shoes creaked on the floorboards as he shifted them.

Lizbeth straightened the kerchief on her hair.

“Miss Lizbeth Bennet, I presume.” His mouth curved in a strained smile. His bony nose shadowed a thin mouth that was speckled with an uneven mustache.

Lizbeth nudged her bucket aside with the scrape of tin on wood. “Yes, sir. Pleased to meet you.”

Pa rose. “Reverend Coburn, this is our second eldest, Lizbeth.”

“Whatever are you up to, Lizzy?” Ma’s eyes narrowed disapprovingly as she glimpsed the contents of the bucket from her chair.

“Oh, just a little somethin’ for the mine stock.” Lizbeth searched for support, relieved to catch Jayne’s blue gaze and its quiet warmth.

Reverend Coburn swiped a long finger beneath his nose.

“I’ll just wash up.” She toted the bucket to the other side of the table and tucked it well out of the way lest Ma find another use for the badly bruised harvest. Lizbeth wet her hands at the basin and scrubbed them with soap.

“Lizzy, Reverend Coburn is a minister from Stroudsburg in Pennsylvania. He was just tellin’ us of his train trip. Two days, was it?” Ma inquired.

After rinsing and drying her hands, Lizbeth found an empty chair beside Jayne. Inwardly, she sized up this newcomer. His clothes were clean and his posture straight.

He stared stiffly ahead, addressing no one in particular. “Oh yes. It was quite comfortable. The accommodations aboard were simple, but it isn’t anything I’m not accustomed to. I’ve a modest living and consider myself a man of humble origins and desires.”

Lacey peeked at Kit, who stifled a giggle. Jayne’s hands fidgeted in her lap. Maryanne focused on Reverend Coburn’s face with interest, no doubt grateful for fresh conversation that stretched the mind and imagination.

The man went on. “The weather stayed clear, allowing for easy travel. My berth aboard the train was of amiable size and the passengers didn’t cause any disruption to my sleeping habits.”

Pa arched an eyebrow.

Ma stared blankly at the man as though searching for what to say next.

Lizbeth tried to help. “And what’ll your parish do without your presence, Reverend Coburn?”

His gaze found her own but nothing in his eyes sparked to life as he spoke. “Oh, they’ll fare just fine with my replacement.” The corner of his mouth twitched into a type of smile. She chalked it up to nerves. She herself would feel flustered meeting so many strangers at once.

The kettle whistled from the stove.

“Jayne, would you be so kind?” Ma asked.

Jayne rose. She moved the kettle to the table where empty tin cups waited beside the jar of black tea.

The reverend’s focus sidestepped to Jayne and then to the stove itself. “I imagine you heat your house with coal, Mrs. Bennet.”

“At times,” Ma answered slowly, still sounding befuddled. “With coal so costly, we burn wood as well. We’re grateful for a full coal bin come winter when it’s needed most. And do you—do you light your fire with coal?”

Kit released a giggle. Lacey elbowed her.

“I too gather wood from the surrounding forest near my parsonage. It’s less costly for my parishioners to provide, as I do live off of their generosity.”

“Ah,” Ma said softly, then widened her eyes at Lizbeth as though hoping she might know what to say next.

To her relief, Pa spoke instead. “And how long do you plan to stay in the area?”

“Yes,” Ma added. “I trust you’ll find your room at the Jorgensens’ very comfortable. And I hope you’ll stay for supper with us as often as you can. My husband can hitch up the wagon whenever needed.”

“How very attentive. I’ve made arrangements to board in New River for two weeks.”

“Wonderful,” Ma answered as though hearing wedding bells for someone in this room already.

The lines around Pa’s eyes tightened.

Jayne carried over a tin cup of tea and served their guest first.

“I look forward to feasting and fellowshipping with all of you during that time.” Reverend Coburn took the cup Jayne offered him, his focus on her face.

“And I plan to attend the local church each Sunday to understand what day-to-day life is like for the Bennet family. I also believe that life must hold light diversions. I imagine New River has a number of sights to see. I’m an aficionado of architecture.

” His focus stayed on Jayne as she passed out two more cups.

“Have you any favorite locations, Miss Bennet?”

Jayne froze with a cup partway held out.

Ma took the offering politely. “Oh, Reverend Coburn,” Ma began.

“There isn’t a whole lot to see around here as far as such things go.

But I hope you’ll enjoy the hymns on Sunday mornin’s as well as the views New River has to offer.

” She gulped, seeming frazzled on Jayne’s behalf.

If Reverend Coburn singled out Jayne, would that send the wrong message to Mr. Brydolf?

No. If the reverend intended to approach Jayne’s heart, he would have to wait for Mr. Brydolf, who had bowed to her first.

Ma worked for words, finally answering with, “You’ll find Jayne awful busy with her chores this comin’ week.

But Lizzy is amiable as well and so close in age.

I’m sure she’d be glad to show you some of the sights.

Perhaps a walk through town would be in order for tomorrow, Lizzy?

” Anxiousness stood poised in Ma’s gaze, all but insisting Lizbeth agree.

Gulping, Lizzy nodded faintly. “I—I don’t see why not.”

“Very good. Very good. That does sound agreeable.” Reverend Coburn’s attention shifted to Lizbeth, where it lingered.

If he was a man seeking that drink of water... she feared she knew which glass he’d just chosen.