Maggie’s nostrils when she entered the kitchen with an armload of dirty clothes. Wesley sat at the square kitchen table, his Bible opened and a cup of well-sweetened coffee in his hand. Since his mouth was filled with the last bites of a jam-covered biscuit, he was able only to nod at Maggie as she breezed through the kitchen and onto the back porch.
Daisy sat in a straight-backed, pine chair at the edge of the porch, her slender fingers gripping the pole of a churn as she moved it rapidly up and down.
In the yard, Auntie Gem, an ebony-skinned old woman, stood over two huge cast-iron pots filled with hot water and heated from the fires beneath them. The smell of smoke, lye soap, and buttermilk made for a strange combination.
“Bring your things on here, Miss Maggie,” Auntie Gem said. “I done finished with the Gowers’ washing.”
Maggie and Daisy exchanged smiles, knowing they had both taken an instant liking to the small, energetic woman. Maggie walked across the backyard and handed Auntie Gem the clothing.
“Is Mr. Wesley still in my kitchen?” the old woman asked, sorting the clothes and, one by one, dropping them into a pot of boiling water. Taking the long, wooden batting stick propped against the shed, she poked and punched until the clothes submerged into the soapy wash-water.
Maggie laughed. “He just finished off another biscuit. That’s the fourth one since breakfast an hour ago.”
“Land sakes, that man’s always underfoot eat’n and munch’n,” Auntie Gem said. “I don’t reckon Miz Gower come down yet.”
“Why no,” Maggie said. “Is she ill this morning?”
Auntie Gem chuckled, deepening the heavy lines in her dark, aged face. “Miz Gower’s always sickly. She can’t make it downstairs till the sun’s high in the sky. I just reckoned she might be down to give you your orders for the day.”
“She did that last night,” Maggie said, smiling. “I’m to see our clothes get washed, make all the beds, help Jude wash dishes, and dust everything in the house, the—”
“She done put Mr. Micah to work too, ain’t she?”
“Yes, he’s to go to the store every day and help Uncle Chester until we can save up enough money for his schooling.”
Maggie joined Daisy on the porch, taking a seat beside her. They both observed Auntie Gem as she hummed, her work-hardened old hands busy at their task. Her black dress had faded to charcoal from repeated laundering, and her long gingham apron was already stained from morning chores. Around her heart, she wore a dark scarf under a ragged calico bonnet.
“Is there enough room for you both in that shed?” Maggie nodded toward the small, one-room building close to where Auntie Gem was working. Although the structure was sturdy and well kept, it badly needed a fresh coat of paint.
“Auntie Gem’s a good soul,” Daisy said. “Ain’t much room, but it’s clean. She tried to get me to take the bed, but I told her I was fine on that pallet on the floor. Don’t worry about me none, Miss Maggie. You take care of yourself.”
“I’ll speak to Uncle Chester about getting you some kind of bed. You can’t sleep on that dirt floor come winter.”
“What about you and Mr. Micah and Little Jude? That Miz Gower seems like a mighty hard lady.”
“Aunt Tilly’s a mite high strung, and I’m afraid she has different plans for us than I do, but I aim to speak to her today.”
“What you planning on saying?”
“I want to find a way to earn some money. I know Aunt Tilly won’t pay a cent on educating Micah and Jude, so it’s up to me.”
“How’s a young gal like you going to earn any money around here?”
“As a seamstress,” Maggie informed the other woman. “I made over all Ma’s things for you and me and Jude. Look how good that dress fits you.”
“I know you got talent in your fingers, and you was a real wonder with your ma’s old sewing machine, but—”
“No buts,” Maggie said.
Daisy continued churning as
Daisy sat in a straight-backed, pine chair at the edge of the porch, her slender fingers gripping the pole of a churn as she moved it rapidly up and down.
In the yard, Auntie Gem, an ebony-skinned old woman, stood over two huge cast-iron pots filled with hot water and heated from the fires beneath them. The smell of smoke, lye soap, and buttermilk made for a strange combination.
“Bring your things on here, Miss Maggie,” Auntie Gem said. “I done finished with the Gowers’ washing.”
Maggie and Daisy exchanged smiles, knowing they had both taken an instant liking to the small, energetic woman. Maggie walked across the backyard and handed Auntie Gem the clothing.
“Is Mr. Wesley still in my kitchen?” the old woman asked, sorting the clothes and, one by one, dropping them into a pot of boiling water. Taking the long, wooden batting stick propped against the shed, she poked and punched until the clothes submerged into the soapy wash-water.
Maggie laughed. “He just finished off another biscuit. That’s the fourth one since breakfast an hour ago.”
“Land sakes, that man’s always underfoot eat’n and munch’n,” Auntie Gem said. “I don’t reckon Miz Gower come down yet.”
“Why no,” Maggie said. “Is she ill this morning?”
Auntie Gem chuckled, deepening the heavy lines in her dark, aged face. “Miz Gower’s always sickly. She can’t make it downstairs till the sun’s high in the sky. I just reckoned she might be down to give you your orders for the day.”
“She did that last night,” Maggie said, smiling. “I’m to see our clothes get washed, make all the beds, help Jude wash dishes, and dust everything in the house, the—”
“She done put Mr. Micah to work too, ain’t she?”
“Yes, he’s to go to the store every day and help Uncle Chester until we can save up enough money for his schooling.”
Maggie joined Daisy on the porch, taking a seat beside her. They both observed Auntie Gem as she hummed, her work-hardened old hands busy at their task. Her black dress had faded to charcoal from repeated laundering, and her long gingham apron was already stained from morning chores. Around her heart, she wore a dark scarf under a ragged calico bonnet.
“Is there enough room for you both in that shed?” Maggie nodded toward the small, one-room building close to where Auntie Gem was working. Although the structure was sturdy and well kept, it badly needed a fresh coat of paint.
“Auntie Gem’s a good soul,” Daisy said. “Ain’t much room, but it’s clean. She tried to get me to take the bed, but I told her I was fine on that pallet on the floor. Don’t worry about me none, Miss Maggie. You take care of yourself.”
“I’ll speak to Uncle Chester about getting you some kind of bed. You can’t sleep on that dirt floor come winter.”
“What about you and Mr. Micah and Little Jude? That Miz Gower seems like a mighty hard lady.”
“Aunt Tilly’s a mite high strung, and I’m afraid she has different plans for us than I do, but I aim to speak to her today.”
“What you planning on saying?”
“I want to find a way to earn some money. I know Aunt Tilly won’t pay a cent on educating Micah and Jude, so it’s up to me.”
“How’s a young gal like you going to earn any money around here?”
“As a seamstress,” Maggie informed the other woman. “I made over all Ma’s things for you and me and Jude. Look how good that dress fits you.”
“I know you got talent in your fingers, and you was a real wonder with your ma’s old sewing machine, but—”
“No buts,” Maggie said.
Daisy continued churning as
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