The Promise of Morning (2 page)

“Only God knows the answer.”

“You’ve no idea how it feels to lose three infants, one after the other. I spend every moment watching Julia and praying the Lord will let her live.”

“All your children need you, not just Julia. Maria’s only eight. You shouldn’t leave so much of the cooking and cleaning in her hands.”

“Matthew’s been talking to you, hasn’t he?”

Molly’s silence answered for her.

“Well, he’s wrong. The boys help, too. And of course Aunt Ruby comes whenever I ask her.”

“Who’s at home with them now?”

Ellie stood, her chair screeching against the pine floor boards. “I’m managing fine. It’s easy for you to criticize, you with your comfortable life and new husband.” Her voice choked.

“Ah, Ellie.” Molly opened her arms.

“Forgive me.” Ellie sniffled and wiped at her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. “I know Samuel’s passing was a dreadful blow, but it’s over for you, don’t you see? You have Karl and a wonderful new life.”

“It’s never over. There will always be a part of me that loves and misses Samuel. But we have to go on.” Molly stepped back, leveling her gaze on Ellie. “It’s been nearly three years since your Lizzie died. Things will get easier. I just know they will.”

The door to Karl’s office opened, and he and Matthew walked the length of the hall to join the women, Lily skipping between them. When they reached the kitchen, Karl bent to kiss Molly’s forehead.

“Came to get a couple more cakes before you ladies eat them all.”

Ellie noticed Karl’s glance sweep over her and knew Matthew had been sharing his concerns with him. Wishing he’d keep their family troubles to himself, she dismissed her own tendency to burden her Aunt Ruby. After all, Ruby listened and sympathized. Karl tried to fix things.

“So, Ellie, how’s Maria doing? Over her sniffles?”

“She’s fine.” Ellie pasted on a smile. “She’s a big help to me in the kitchen and with Julia. I don’t know what—”

A thud and a howl sounded from the next room.

“Julia!” Ellie turned and ran from the kitchen in time to see her baby being helped to her feet by Luellen. Molly’s quilt frame stood behind them, each corner resting on a three-rail ladder-back chair. Loose pieces of fabric, cut into hexagon shapes, were piled in one corner of the muslin top.

Grainy sunshine flowed through the south-facing window. Its light reflected off Julia’s blonde hair and the tears on her round cheeks, making her look like she was made of spun glass.

Luellen turned frightened eyes on Ellie. “She just took a tumble and bumped her head on one of the chairs. She’s fine.”

Ellie hugged Julia to her chest, feeling a pulse of fear at the sight of an already-purpling lump on her forehead. “How do you know she’s fine? She could be concussed.” She patted the baby’s back, trying to shush her.

Luellen hurried to Molly. “Mama, I was watching her. She just fell, all by herself.”

Karl joined them and touched Ellie’s shoulder. “You know toddlers fall. Don’t take on so.” He looked at Luellen, who was on the verge of tears. “Come here, Lulie. It wasn’t your fault.” He slipped an arm around her.

Ellie followed Karl out of the room. When they reached the kitchen, Matthew took Julia from her arms. Her sobs had subsided to an occasional hiccup.

“I know what will make her happy again.” Luellen clapped her hands. “Yesterday James found a bee tree in the woods between us and the cemetery. It was full of honey, even after sitting all winter.” She opened a cupboard and brought out a stoneware jar. “He took most of it to Mr. Wolcott’s store to sell, but left us a fair bit.” She placed the jar on the table and looked at Molly. “Can I give them some?”

“Of course.”

Luellen bustled to a shelf on the far wall and selected a square crockery dish. She used the side of a basting spoon to cut a chunk of honeycomb, dropping it into the empty container. Then she picked up a teaspoon and scooped it into the honey jar.

“Here’s a taste for Julia.” She held the spoon out and Julia’s mouth opened like a baby bird’s. “She likes it. See, no more tears.”

Ellie felt a pang of remorse for losing her temper with Luellen. “Thank you. We’ll all enjoy this treat.” She looked at Matthew. “We’d best be getting along. You’ve got a sermon to work on for tomorrow.”

Clouds scudded across the sky as they settled themselves for the trip home. Karl stood next to the step. Ellie braced herself, expecting him to say something more about their older children.

Instead, Karl rested one hand on the side of the wagon, his eyes on Matthew. “Did you see the handbill at Wolcott’s store about a traveling repertory group coming to town? They’re going to do a Shakespeare play.”

Surprised at the change of subject, Ellie shot a glance at Matthew. A play? She waited for the explosion. He’d never bothered to hide his opinion that stage actors were people of loose morals.

His jaw tightened. “When?”

2

Matthew turned the horse onto Monroe Street and headed for Wolcott’s Mercantile. “I have to see that notice for myself. I can’t believe Ben would allow such a thing on his storefront.”

Their wagon rolled past bare trees framing the town square. A group of young boys wearing paper hats and waving wooden swords played soldier in the center of a grassy area. Ellie turned her head, watching their game. “If Georgie had lived, he could be playing with them.”

Matthew glanced at the children, then looked at his wife. “Ellie, please. Let’s talk about something else.” His tone sounded sharper than he’d intended.

She stiffened her shoulders and looked away, resting her chin on top of Julia’s bonnet.

When he rounded the corner onto Jefferson Street, he pulled the wagon to a stop in front of the store. “You can wait here if you want. I won’t be long.”

“No, I’ll come in. I want to look at the dry goods. Julia’s going to need a new dress for summer.”

“Maria will need one too. We have two daughters.” He strove to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

While Ellie walked into the building, Matthew stopped at the front wall to examine the posted notices. The wind lifted a black and white handbill near the door.

THE FORSYTHE TOURING COMPANY PRESENTS
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
“The Bard of Avon”
His Celebrated Play
MACBETH
!! Entirely New Scenery and Costumes !!
Coming to Beldon Grove Friday, May 15th
Watch for Future Information Regarding Time and Location

Matthew stepped back and read it again. How could Ben do this? He strode into the store, noting that Ellie was busy looking at rolls of printed calico displayed on a table near the back of the building.

Ben Wolcott stood in front of a counter near the window, sorting cured animal hides into two piles. His center-parted gray hair shone with Macassar oil. Matthew suppressed a smile at the sight of his longtime friend’s singular vanity. He looked like a dandy.

He glanced up when Matthew entered. “Brother Matt. It’s a pleasant surprise to see you and the missus on a Saturday afternoon. Thought you’d be home stirring up some powerful words for us to chew on tomorrow.”

Matthew walked to the counter. “I came to talk to you.”

“Aye-yuh?” Ben’s New England roots flavored his reply. “What is it you need?”

Matthew took a deep breath and held it a moment before responding. “What I need,” he said in measured tones, “is for you to take that sign off the front of your building.”

“Sign?” Ben dropped the hide he was checking. “There’s at least a dozen bills posted out there. Which one do you mean?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Matthew saw Ellie turn to watch them. “The one advertising that play.”

“
Macbeth
? That’s not simply a play. It’s Shakespeare.” Ben moved behind the counter and faced his friend.

“Doesn’t matter who wrote it. If it’s going to be performed on a stage, it’s a play and folks in it are actors.” Matthew’s jaw tightened. “We’ve been friends long enough for you to know what I think of such people.”

“I believe it’ll be good for the town. Back where I came from, we enjoyed Shakespeare whenever a troupe came through.” He squared his shoulders, drawing himself up to his full height, which still left him several inches shorter than Matthew. “Our young folks learn reading and ciphering, but they don’t know anything of the world beyond our county.”

“‘Love not the world; neither the things that are in the world.’” Ben didn’t blink. “This isn’t any more worldly than teaching youngsters to read. The handbill stays where it is.”

Once they were in the wagon headed home, Matthew let Samson lead the way while his thoughts traveled back to his argument with Ben. He hated confrontation, and now he and Ben were at odds.
He’s bound to see it my way after I tell him what happened
in Kentucky.

After several moments he realized Ellie was talking to him. “Mr. Wolcott had a double pink with a tiny check pattern that would be so pretty with Julia’s fair skin.” She cleared her throat. “And Maria’s too, of course.”

It took him a few seconds to switch his thoughts from actors to his wife’s comments about cloth. “Did you tell him you wanted it?”

Ellie looked sideways at him from under the brim of her bonnet. “I thought I should ask you first.”

“We still have credit with Ben from last year’s crops. There’s more than enough to cover new dresses for my girls.”

“Good. Then next time you take me to the mercantile I’ll get enough to make one for each of us. Thank you.” Ellie settled back on the seat, a pleased smile on her face.

“Maybe Ruby will help you with the sewing.” He flicked the reins over Samson’s back, relieved to see her focus on something besides Julia.

After supper, Matthew rode to Wolcott’s farm. The issue of the play roiled his stomach like tainted beef.

Ben opened the door at his knock, spilling yellow lamplight over the wooden porch. “C’mon in and warm yourself. Feels like it’s fixing to snow out there.”

The lingering aroma of bread cooling on the worktable, mingled with steam issuing from the spout of the coffee boiler, filled the air.

Ben’s wife, Charity, bustled forward. “I just made fresh coffee. Want some?”

“Yes. Thanks.” Matthew followed Ben to the table. Charity placed filled mugs in front of them and then slipped from the room.

A moment of silence passed between the two men.

Ben leaned back, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair. His gaze locked on Matthew. “What brings you out on a Saturday night? Must be serious.”

Matthew leaned forward. “Been thinking about that play all afternoon. You’ve got to cancel the show. I don’t want actors in this town. They’re a low form of humanity.”

“A low form of humanity? How can you say that?”

“Let me tell you about actors.” Matthew shoved his chair away from the table and stood with his back to the open hearth. “Before I left Kentucky, a riverboat brought a group of them from Louisiana to Marysville, where I lived. They set up a tent and commenced plays and dance frolics—some doings every night for two weeks.” He clenched his fists. “One afternoon while they were there, I cut through the woods to visit my sweetheart. On the way I thought I heard crying. I followed the sound . . . and saw her . . . on the ground with one of those . . . actors.” He spat the word. “He was doing things to her that are only proper between man and wife.”

Ben watched him, pity written on his face. “You don’t need to tell me more.”

“Yes, I do.” Matthew walked to the table. Placing his hands flat on the surface, he met Ben’s gaze. “He debauched her. Then when the weeks were up, he was gone with the rest of them.”

“What happened to—?”

“She hung herself.”

Ben placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. But that was a long time ago. You can’t judge all performers by what happened back then. It was a different place, with different people. It won’t happen here.”

“You can’t be certain.”

“No, I can’t. But I’m not dropping my support of this play. This is the first time an acting troupe has traveled this far from the Mississippi. I think it will be a good opportunity for the townspeople to see more of life than a dusty farm village in the middle of a prairie.”