clawing of the birds themselves.
“Them wounds, they hurt you still?”
“My Lord, no, not at all.”
“Don’t say it like that.”
“Say what?”
“
My
Lord.
My
heavens.
My
word. Mine and mine, like it all belongs to you, and not the
vice versa
, like them Latins say.”
Leah sniffs at this. “Anywise, here I am. You said you have something for me?”
The box is perhaps a foot and a half wide and nearly as deep. It is made of plum mahogany and black walnut and smells of new varnish. The lid is carved with entwined lilies. “See them, Leah-Lou. Them are the lilies of the field, from the scriptures: Consider the lilies of the field they neither spin nor toil—”
“I know how it goes.” Leah looks under the box. Opens the lid. Peers inside. “What does it do?”
“Do? It’s a bible box. It holds your bible. I made it up large. For a family-sized bible, see. You got a bible, don’t you?”
“Certainly. Perhaps I was thinking of the toys you contrived for me once. Remember that tiger? With the snapping jaws?”
“A dog, that was, not a tiger.”
“A dog? My … word, perhaps it was. Anywise, you hurled it into the fire. Recall? When I chased Davey and Maria with it? It was deserved. They called me a liar, I believe, and said I was fit only for tending Hell’s kitchen.”
“You’re the one who chucked that dog in the fire, not me. And it was because you broke it on David’s head. You begged me to make it whole again. I couldn’t. You sure did wail on about that.”
“I did? Well, I do not wish to argue about it.”
“Were we arguing?” John asks, and with no particular intonation.
Honestly, Leah thinks, did the Good Lord need take all his character away, along with the liquor and sin? Says, “I should haste. Will you come to Newark to see us off on the canal?”
He grimaces at the mention of the canal. Leah is not surprised. Her father avoids canal travel completely. Odd, she has ever thought, seeing as he had been a cannaller himself.
“No, no, I got work here. You go on. Just … like I said, don’t you get anything in your head about them raps.”
“Whyever would I?”
“Why? Confound you, girl,” John says, and lists the grand schemes Leah had when she was young: the neighbour’s privy she tore down to make a castle. The boy whose ear she near hacked off when playing Indians. The games of mumblety-peg that involved skinning knives and rules that only she could master. “Thing is, I was always fixing up behind you, placating the neighbours and the like. It got to be a real …
modus operandi
of mine. King Solomon didn’t have a harder task, I tell you that.”
Leah feels that faint throb in her temple, the one that heralds an ungovernable anger. “I suppose you wished I were more like Davey or Maria. I suppose you wished me placid and dull-witted as a cow.”
“I wished nothing of the kind, Leah-Lou.” He takes off his spectacles, then pinches the bridge of his nose, as he does when he is perplexed.
Her anger settles. “I often wished it,” she murmurs. “I often wished to be someone else entirely.”
In the foreyard her young sisters wait impatiently in David’s wagon. John lashes down Leah’s valise. At the last instance Leah kisses him on his cheek. “But the fault is not yours, Pa. Honestly, why ever would you think that?”
At this John falls back in astonishment, as if she’d slapped him, and not merely guessed his coursing thoughts.
CHAPTER 4.
“T hus it was Leah’s?” I asked, and indicated my patient’s bible box. “Then how did it come to be in your possession? And its contents, to boot? Your Leah, did she bequeath it to you? She
is
dead, is she not?”
“Last time I noticed, yes,” she said, then glanced at the yarn skeins on my lap (I had brought my fancy work as I had said I would). “Do you plan to stay a while today?” She seemed desirous of my presence for the first time. Thus I did not press my questions.
“I need to keep
“Them wounds, they hurt you still?”
“My Lord, no, not at all.”
“Don’t say it like that.”
“Say what?”
“
My
Lord.
My
heavens.
My
word. Mine and mine, like it all belongs to you, and not the
vice versa
, like them Latins say.”
Leah sniffs at this. “Anywise, here I am. You said you have something for me?”
The box is perhaps a foot and a half wide and nearly as deep. It is made of plum mahogany and black walnut and smells of new varnish. The lid is carved with entwined lilies. “See them, Leah-Lou. Them are the lilies of the field, from the scriptures: Consider the lilies of the field they neither spin nor toil—”
“I know how it goes.” Leah looks under the box. Opens the lid. Peers inside. “What does it do?”
“Do? It’s a bible box. It holds your bible. I made it up large. For a family-sized bible, see. You got a bible, don’t you?”
“Certainly. Perhaps I was thinking of the toys you contrived for me once. Remember that tiger? With the snapping jaws?”
“A dog, that was, not a tiger.”
“A dog? My … word, perhaps it was. Anywise, you hurled it into the fire. Recall? When I chased Davey and Maria with it? It was deserved. They called me a liar, I believe, and said I was fit only for tending Hell’s kitchen.”
“You’re the one who chucked that dog in the fire, not me. And it was because you broke it on David’s head. You begged me to make it whole again. I couldn’t. You sure did wail on about that.”
“I did? Well, I do not wish to argue about it.”
“Were we arguing?” John asks, and with no particular intonation.
Honestly, Leah thinks, did the Good Lord need take all his character away, along with the liquor and sin? Says, “I should haste. Will you come to Newark to see us off on the canal?”
He grimaces at the mention of the canal. Leah is not surprised. Her father avoids canal travel completely. Odd, she has ever thought, seeing as he had been a cannaller himself.
“No, no, I got work here. You go on. Just … like I said, don’t you get anything in your head about them raps.”
“Whyever would I?”
“Why? Confound you, girl,” John says, and lists the grand schemes Leah had when she was young: the neighbour’s privy she tore down to make a castle. The boy whose ear she near hacked off when playing Indians. The games of mumblety-peg that involved skinning knives and rules that only she could master. “Thing is, I was always fixing up behind you, placating the neighbours and the like. It got to be a real …
modus operandi
of mine. King Solomon didn’t have a harder task, I tell you that.”
Leah feels that faint throb in her temple, the one that heralds an ungovernable anger. “I suppose you wished I were more like Davey or Maria. I suppose you wished me placid and dull-witted as a cow.”
“I wished nothing of the kind, Leah-Lou.” He takes off his spectacles, then pinches the bridge of his nose, as he does when he is perplexed.
Her anger settles. “I often wished it,” she murmurs. “I often wished to be someone else entirely.”
In the foreyard her young sisters wait impatiently in David’s wagon. John lashes down Leah’s valise. At the last instance Leah kisses him on his cheek. “But the fault is not yours, Pa. Honestly, why ever would you think that?”
At this John falls back in astonishment, as if she’d slapped him, and not merely guessed his coursing thoughts.
CHAPTER 4.
“T hus it was Leah’s?” I asked, and indicated my patient’s bible box. “Then how did it come to be in your possession? And its contents, to boot? Your Leah, did she bequeath it to you? She
is
dead, is she not?”
“Last time I noticed, yes,” she said, then glanced at the yarn skeins on my lap (I had brought my fancy work as I had said I would). “Do you plan to stay a while today?” She seemed desirous of my presence for the first time. Thus I did not press my questions.
“I need to keep
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