Surely he did. How could a relative staying here with Marigold not know? So what did he want to see? More tears?
I turned off the burner beneath the eggs and excused myself to find the washroom. I wouldn’t give him a reaction. None at all. Let him call me a poor cook or anything else he liked. I’d not give him occasion to think me any more of an emotional weakling than he might already.
5
Leah
Josiah was finished eating when I rejoined them in the kitchen, and Marigold was taking the last of the biscuits out of the oven. I didn’t realize until that moment how hungry I was, but I said nothing and did not venture to the table. The eggs were still on the stove where I’d left them. Marigold separated a plate of biscuits and piled the rest in a heap in the middle of a large double cloth.
“This’ll keep ’em fairly warm. They’ll be nice and soft too,” she explained.
Josiah was lacing his work boots as she pulled two corners of the cloth over her biscuits to the center and tied them. Then she did the same with the remaining corners and, using the knot as a handle, lifted the bundle and swung it around a bit.
“Nothing’s gonna fall outta there.”
Eliza was fascinated. “Is that Mr. Josiah’s lunch? It’s the biggest lunch I ever seen. Must be four whole plates heaped full, maybe five.”
Marigold laughed. “He can snitch him a biscuit or two for his lunch, same as the brakeman always does. But the rest of ’em’s going to the Kurchers.”
“Where is that?” I asked, genuinely curious about this “biscuit day” idea.
“The Kurchers live close to Maple Falls, east by the train track. Lovely family. He passed on a couple of years ago, but she keeps things together the best she can. Most amazing thing you ever saw, with twenty-one children – ”
“Twenty-one?”
She smiled. “I suppose they’re down a few by now, with her oldest girls grown and married. They had fourteen of their own, then took in five when her younger brother and his wife both died in the influenza epidemic.” Her voice grew quieter. “Someone they didn’t even know left the other two. Just abandoned them on the front porch. A baby and a little thing smaller than your girl. Can you imagine? Hilda didn’t have to, but she kept them. A lot of love, that woman. I send her biscuits every Tuesday and Friday, just to help a little. Eggs too, when we can. What do you think, Josiah? Can you carry eggs today without any getting broken?”
He nodded. “Pad the layers with a towel.”
I stood and stared at them. My parents had never been givers. John and I had seldom had the means. Was it just routine for them here? Had I been mistaken earlier? Was Aunt Marigold well-to-do? Or saintly despite her own need? Either way, I surely did not belong here, and I felt terrible that I had broken an egg earlier that might have fed one of the Kurcher children. For a moment I forgot that we had not yet eaten, but Marigold quickly reminded me.
“We’ll sit down and breakfast leisurely as soon as Josiah’s gone,” she said. “Can you help me pack the eggs?”
Marigold only kept back two besides the ones I’d cooked. We layered the others carefully in a basket between folds of dishtowel, and Josiah was ready to leave as soon as we were done.
“Don’t forget you promised me a pie,” he told Aunt Marigold right before he left, his rugged features softened slightly by a youthful smile.
I didn’t know what to think of either of them, but Marigold gave me little time to wonder. As soon as he was gone, she set my pan of cooked eggs on the table beside the biscuits and jam that were already there and motioned to me to sit down.
“Sorry we didn’t have a chance to finish our psalm today. That happens sometimes, but we can finish up tomorrow. I’d have you read me the rest, but I think it’s good for Josiah to be a-listenin’.”
I wasn’t sure why she thought it might be important to me. I would have been more comfortable for her
I turned off the burner beneath the eggs and excused myself to find the washroom. I wouldn’t give him a reaction. None at all. Let him call me a poor cook or anything else he liked. I’d not give him occasion to think me any more of an emotional weakling than he might already.
5
Leah
Josiah was finished eating when I rejoined them in the kitchen, and Marigold was taking the last of the biscuits out of the oven. I didn’t realize until that moment how hungry I was, but I said nothing and did not venture to the table. The eggs were still on the stove where I’d left them. Marigold separated a plate of biscuits and piled the rest in a heap in the middle of a large double cloth.
“This’ll keep ’em fairly warm. They’ll be nice and soft too,” she explained.
Josiah was lacing his work boots as she pulled two corners of the cloth over her biscuits to the center and tied them. Then she did the same with the remaining corners and, using the knot as a handle, lifted the bundle and swung it around a bit.
“Nothing’s gonna fall outta there.”
Eliza was fascinated. “Is that Mr. Josiah’s lunch? It’s the biggest lunch I ever seen. Must be four whole plates heaped full, maybe five.”
Marigold laughed. “He can snitch him a biscuit or two for his lunch, same as the brakeman always does. But the rest of ’em’s going to the Kurchers.”
“Where is that?” I asked, genuinely curious about this “biscuit day” idea.
“The Kurchers live close to Maple Falls, east by the train track. Lovely family. He passed on a couple of years ago, but she keeps things together the best she can. Most amazing thing you ever saw, with twenty-one children – ”
“Twenty-one?”
She smiled. “I suppose they’re down a few by now, with her oldest girls grown and married. They had fourteen of their own, then took in five when her younger brother and his wife both died in the influenza epidemic.” Her voice grew quieter. “Someone they didn’t even know left the other two. Just abandoned them on the front porch. A baby and a little thing smaller than your girl. Can you imagine? Hilda didn’t have to, but she kept them. A lot of love, that woman. I send her biscuits every Tuesday and Friday, just to help a little. Eggs too, when we can. What do you think, Josiah? Can you carry eggs today without any getting broken?”
He nodded. “Pad the layers with a towel.”
I stood and stared at them. My parents had never been givers. John and I had seldom had the means. Was it just routine for them here? Had I been mistaken earlier? Was Aunt Marigold well-to-do? Or saintly despite her own need? Either way, I surely did not belong here, and I felt terrible that I had broken an egg earlier that might have fed one of the Kurcher children. For a moment I forgot that we had not yet eaten, but Marigold quickly reminded me.
“We’ll sit down and breakfast leisurely as soon as Josiah’s gone,” she said. “Can you help me pack the eggs?”
Marigold only kept back two besides the ones I’d cooked. We layered the others carefully in a basket between folds of dishtowel, and Josiah was ready to leave as soon as we were done.
“Don’t forget you promised me a pie,” he told Aunt Marigold right before he left, his rugged features softened slightly by a youthful smile.
I didn’t know what to think of either of them, but Marigold gave me little time to wonder. As soon as he was gone, she set my pan of cooked eggs on the table beside the biscuits and jam that were already there and motioned to me to sit down.
“Sorry we didn’t have a chance to finish our psalm today. That happens sometimes, but we can finish up tomorrow. I’d have you read me the rest, but I think it’s good for Josiah to be a-listenin’.”
I wasn’t sure why she thought it might be important to me. I would have been more comfortable for her
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