pleased to carry your wife home in our conveyance. It’s far more comfortably appointed than your wagon.” The links on his golden watch chain shot sparks of light across Matthew’s face. “At such a time, I’m sure her well-being is foremost in your mind.”
Ellie listened to him, dazed. Why would a stranger intrude on a family matter? She glanced in the direction of Beldon’s carriage. The phaeton’s folding cover had been raised, hiding his wife from view.
Matthew cocked his head toward the man. “Thank you for your kind offer. Mrs. Craig is fine right where she is.” His voice sounded as cold as the gravestones surrounding them.
Mr. Beldon nodded. “As you wish.” He lifted his hat toward Ellie. “Please accept my condolences.” He strode toward his carriage, not pausing to speak to any of the few families still gathered in the cemetery.
“It was nice of him to offer,” Aunt Ruby said.
Shooting her an annoyed look, Matthew untied Samson and guided their wagon toward home.
Ellie sat up in bed and gazed around the room. Afternoon sunshine fought its way through closed curtains, highlighting the rocking chair resting next to the empty crib. Head aching, she stood and walked to the west-facing window, noting the path her gown left in the dust where it brushed the wooden floor. Below her, several pairs of boys’ pants flapped on the clothesline. She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. Laundry on the line meant it was probably Monday. What had happened to Saturday and Sunday?
She opened the bedroom door and stepped into the hallway. The house smelled faintly of soap and warm turpentine. Ellie crept to the top of the stairway and peered down into the kitchen. The copper wash boiler steamed unattended on the rear of the stove. Floorboards creaked on the porch. Curious, she descended the stairs to open the back door.
Aunt Ruby turned from the wooden tub where she’d been scrubbing what looked like one of Matthew’s shirts. “What’re you doing out here in your nightdress? And barefoot?”
Looking down, Ellie saw her aunt was right. “I don’t know.”
Aunt Ruby dropped the sodden garment into the washtub. “Let’s go in.” She wiped her hands on her apron. Sliding an arm around her niece, she guided her to the table. “Sit. I’ll bring you a cup of broth.”
Ellie obeyed, the fog in her head beginning to evaporate. “Where are the children?”
“Molly has them at her house. They’ve been there since . . . since we laid Julia to rest.” Aunt Ruby folded her arms together, squeezing them across her middle. “Matthew’s out with Arthur. They’re doing the plowing.”
Ellie glanced around the familiar kitchen, noticing that Ruby had set the milk to rise under the window instead of on the worktable. The pans were covered with one of Ellie’s best linen towels.
When Aunt Ruby set the cup in front of her, Ellie asked, “How long have you been here?”
“Just today? Or since the burial Saturday?”
“Both,” Ellie said, half afraid of the answer.
Her aunt slid out a chair and sat. “Two days, off and on. Today, since midmorning. Sunday, all day.”
“I don’t remember anything about Saturday afternoon or Sunday.”
“You slept. That’s all. Just slept. Best thing for you, if you ask me.” She squeezed Ellie’s hand.
Ellie lifted the cup and took a sip of broth. The hot liquid burned her lips. She blew on the surface and tried another swallow, then pushed it away. “I shouldn’t be down here like this. Someone might come.” She jumped to her feet. “I’ll get dressed, and be back in a few minutes.”
“I’ll be here.”
Ellie paused on the bottom step as memories flooded back. She swayed and gripped the newel post. Little Julia. Her inability to protect her from illness. Her blonde baby lying in the cemetery next to her three other infants. Ellie thought of the children staying at Molly’s. Guilt swept over her. She wasn’t even being a proper mother to the
Ellie listened to him, dazed. Why would a stranger intrude on a family matter? She glanced in the direction of Beldon’s carriage. The phaeton’s folding cover had been raised, hiding his wife from view.
Matthew cocked his head toward the man. “Thank you for your kind offer. Mrs. Craig is fine right where she is.” His voice sounded as cold as the gravestones surrounding them.
Mr. Beldon nodded. “As you wish.” He lifted his hat toward Ellie. “Please accept my condolences.” He strode toward his carriage, not pausing to speak to any of the few families still gathered in the cemetery.
“It was nice of him to offer,” Aunt Ruby said.
Shooting her an annoyed look, Matthew untied Samson and guided their wagon toward home.
Ellie sat up in bed and gazed around the room. Afternoon sunshine fought its way through closed curtains, highlighting the rocking chair resting next to the empty crib. Head aching, she stood and walked to the west-facing window, noting the path her gown left in the dust where it brushed the wooden floor. Below her, several pairs of boys’ pants flapped on the clothesline. She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. Laundry on the line meant it was probably Monday. What had happened to Saturday and Sunday?
She opened the bedroom door and stepped into the hallway. The house smelled faintly of soap and warm turpentine. Ellie crept to the top of the stairway and peered down into the kitchen. The copper wash boiler steamed unattended on the rear of the stove. Floorboards creaked on the porch. Curious, she descended the stairs to open the back door.
Aunt Ruby turned from the wooden tub where she’d been scrubbing what looked like one of Matthew’s shirts. “What’re you doing out here in your nightdress? And barefoot?”
Looking down, Ellie saw her aunt was right. “I don’t know.”
Aunt Ruby dropped the sodden garment into the washtub. “Let’s go in.” She wiped her hands on her apron. Sliding an arm around her niece, she guided her to the table. “Sit. I’ll bring you a cup of broth.”
Ellie obeyed, the fog in her head beginning to evaporate. “Where are the children?”
“Molly has them at her house. They’ve been there since . . . since we laid Julia to rest.” Aunt Ruby folded her arms together, squeezing them across her middle. “Matthew’s out with Arthur. They’re doing the plowing.”
Ellie glanced around the familiar kitchen, noticing that Ruby had set the milk to rise under the window instead of on the worktable. The pans were covered with one of Ellie’s best linen towels.
When Aunt Ruby set the cup in front of her, Ellie asked, “How long have you been here?”
“Just today? Or since the burial Saturday?”
“Both,” Ellie said, half afraid of the answer.
Her aunt slid out a chair and sat. “Two days, off and on. Today, since midmorning. Sunday, all day.”
“I don’t remember anything about Saturday afternoon or Sunday.”
“You slept. That’s all. Just slept. Best thing for you, if you ask me.” She squeezed Ellie’s hand.
Ellie lifted the cup and took a sip of broth. The hot liquid burned her lips. She blew on the surface and tried another swallow, then pushed it away. “I shouldn’t be down here like this. Someone might come.” She jumped to her feet. “I’ll get dressed, and be back in a few minutes.”
“I’ll be here.”
Ellie paused on the bottom step as memories flooded back. She swayed and gripped the newel post. Little Julia. Her inability to protect her from illness. Her blonde baby lying in the cemetery next to her three other infants. Ellie thought of the children staying at Molly’s. Guilt swept over her. She wasn’t even being a proper mother to the
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