Page 49 of The Heart of Bennet Hollow

Leaning over the simmering iron pot, Lizbeth dipped a wooden spoon and stirred.

Maryanne watched from beside her. The dark green liquid swirled around the long strands of embroidery thread she was steeping.

Steam wafted into her face, dampening her cheeks and lashes.

She lifted the spoon. Liquid trickled with the same fervency as the rain pattering outside the kitchen window.

The wool strands—once a soft white—were now a delicate green from the carrot tops simmering alongside them.

Lizbeth lowered the spoon. “Another hour yet, I think.”

“Such pretty colors.” Maryanne touched a skein of earthy pink now cooling on a nearby tray, colored from the beets they’d grown in the garden over the winter. She touched another shade. “And the blue might be my favorite.”

“Nettle. Though I had to take care.”

“It’s terribly pretty. Do you know what flowers you’re gonna stitch this time?”

“Not yet, but I thought I’d decide once I know all the threads.”

Maryanne smiled and peeked inside the pot once more.

At a clatter of coins, Lizbeth glanced over her shoulder to where Pa and Ma sat at the table.

“To think of what we’ve gathered in another month’s time.” Ma shook her head. “Is it enough yet?”

Pa finished his arithmetic with a stubby pencil. “Not quite.”

“Did you get the sixteen cents I made at the farmstand this week?” Maryanne asked.

Pa nodded. “It’s in the total. Thank you, dear girl.”

“I reckon we’ll make just as much next week.” Maryanne moved to her piano bench and sat. “By and by, we might win out yet.”

Pa’s smile was sad. Lizbeth watched the exchange and fresh to her mind was the conversation they’d shared about Eugene the day before. She blew out a slow breath and when Ma rose to check a bowl of resting dough, she swiped at her hands. It was time.

The clock on the mantle neared three. The only sound to be heard in all the house apart from the rain still dripping off eaves. Maryanne sat ever so still at her piano bench, studying a piece of music. The lined paper was etched with ink blots and curls that spoke of new creation.

Kit lay curled up on the window seat, a new kitten in her apron folds as she solemnly watched the road where Lacey had walked to town earlier that day.

“If only she’d return.” Kit nibbled the tip of her thumb.

“She’s been gone for hours now. Why bother bringin’ muffins to her school friends on a day like this?

” Kit put her chin on her raised knees and the kitten yawned.

“Too dreary a day. And can’t her friends do their own bakin’? ”

“Oh, leave the girl be.” Ma pressed a tin cutter into a round of dough. Her plump hands stilled as she studied an old recipe from the box. “How’s your letter comin’ along, Jayne?”

From the corner of the room, Jayne looked up and blushed. She said nothing but instead, the gentle scratching of her pen continued across the page, the only sound to be heard. It seemed the entire house held its breath for what might come.

Pa rose and retreated to his reading chair beside the fire. There, he lit his pipe. Finally braving the moment, Lizbeth crossed the room and pushed the cushioned footstool nearer and sat.

He lowered the burnt match to the hearth, looking weary and worn. “What’s on your mind, Lizzy?”

“It’s about Eugene.”

“I figured as much.”

“And something William might be able to help us with.”

“How so?”

Smoothing her skirt, Lizbeth sat on the footstool. “When I was in Pennsylvania, I overhead William and Mr. Jorgensen speaking of the mine—and our land. Of a possible connection between the two.”

Pa nodded pensively.

“And I’d nearly forgotten about it until last night after you mentioned Mr. Jorgensen wanting to purchase Eugene.

It reminded me that maybe there could be another way entirely.

A way of building up this farm instead of slowly taking it apart.

That’s if I understood William correctly.

But I’ll need to find out.” It hadn’t sounded like William was sure what direction to take, so that’s where she could come in.

“I see.”

“If you’ll let me, I’d like to try one last thing.” She gulped. It meant swallowing her pride once and for all, but she was learning to do that and by William’s kindness, he was making it easier. A way they could both lay regrets of the past aside together.

“If you’re sure.” The words held unspoken questions, as did his widened eyes.

“I am.” She’d turned down the chance to join William in this life, and while she regretted it, perhaps she could still pursue the chance to work with him and his quest to better New River.

.. and most of all, help this farm once and for all.

It began with the mules in the mine and if what William had said were true, that he meant to find homes for the mine mules one day, could they not begin that process now?

Maybe William would be willing to pay up front for them to start building more stalls and troughs.

It was a risk—a long shot since William might not even be the future owner.

But worth it for Eugene. And for her. When Lizbeth explained all that, Pa nodded somberly.

Pa’s eyes shone as he smiled again. “Alright, Lizzy. But we best be quick about it.”

“Of course.” Lizbeth squeezed Pa’s hand. She still had one of the coins Pa had given her from her travels. “I think I’ll try to reach him by telegram. That would be the fastest—” She startled when the front door clattered open.

A soaking wet Lacey rushed in. “Mercy, if I’ve ever seen rain like this. I’m soaked down to my socks.” A crisp wind tumbled in with her. Chilly and forceful.

Ma hurried to push the door closed. “Come and hang your things by the fire. Jayne, fetch your sister a dry towel?”

Jayne stood and Lacey pulled a piece of paper from her apron pocket.

“Mail came for you, Pa. I promised the postmaster I’d see it delivered.

” She held over several envelopes that were splattered in raindrops.

“And one for you, Lizzy. From Hattie.” The look that Lacey flashed in turning away was one of worry.

Even guilt. All set within eyes that were rosy and puffy as though she’d been crying.

Jayne pressed a dry towel into Lacey’s glistening hands, and the girl bounded into a speech about how hungry she was.

“By and by,” Ma declared. “It’ll be quicker if you make yourself useful. Fetch me the cornmeal and tell me about your afternoon.”

Lizbeth started for the stairs to fetch her satchel when a ruckus rose from the corner.

Kit’s voice countered Lacey’s. “You gotta tell Ma!”

“Hush up!” Lacey shot back.

“Now, now, girls!” Ma cried over them both as she struggled to light the lantern. “What is this about?”

Kit crossed her arms. “Tell them what you just admitted,” she demanded.

Lacey glared at her. A piece of paper crinkled in her curling fingers. When Kit reached for the paper, Lacey dodged away.

“Lizbeth, is Eugene in the pasture?” Kit’s voice was teary now.

Lizbeth rose and moved to the window, where the rain had stopped.

“Of course he is.” Though evening was setting in, she could just see well enough to spot Sassafras in the distant meadow.

Lizbeth searched for him, seeing nothing but the bend of grass in the breeze. She spun. “Lacey, where is Eugene?”

Lacey’s cheeks burned even redder. “He’s gone, all right?” Her next words bit at Kit. “And you weren’t supposed to say a thing!”

“What have you done?” Ma demanded.

Lizbeth stepped around the table to where her sisters huddled together over what she now saw was a sales slip. But it didn’t help. Not with understanding the words that came from Lacey’s mouth. The confession.

“Last I saw, West had him.” Lacey’s eyes flashed. “He’s been sold to a mine.”