The Promise of Morning (25 page)

She stood on tiptoe to look into the back. “Where are your things, Harrison? I don’t see your box.”

“It’s under the seat.” He climbed up next to Uncle Arthur.

Ellie glanced between Matthew and their son, trying to think of another question that would keep him near her for a few more moments.

Matthew met her eyes. “He’ll only be a mile away, and Arthur has promised to come by every few days.”

She squeezed her hands together, feeling the cut on her palm that scrubbing and wringing wet clothing had irritated. She forced a smile. “See you soon, then.”

The buggy rumbled over the planks bridging the creek, and rolled off down the road toward the Newberrys’ farm. Dust rose and settled in its wake. Ellie walked to the porch and sank onto the top step, where the overhang from the roof provided shade.

“Ellie?”

She raised her head and looked at her husband.

Matthew waited at the foot of the steps, chin raised in the stubborn gesture she knew so well. “It’ll be good for the boy. He’s often left out of the twin’s activities. You baby him too much.”

Ellie turned her head away and stood. “I need to finish hanging the laundry.”

The bottom step gave slightly when she trod on it, throwing her off balance. Matthew reached out and caught her arm. She held her breath, hoping he’d pull her close and end their estrangement. Instead, they gazed at each other for a silent moment, then he dropped her arm and walked toward the hayfield.

“I need you to look at this,” Matthew said from his seat at the kitchen table, a large book open before him. The twins had dragged themselves to bed soon after they ate supper, and once Maria finished helping her mother with the dishes, she too climbed the stairs to her bedroom.

Ellie wiped perspiration from her forehead with a soap-reddened hand, then slid into a chair next to Matthew. She frowned at the colored map on the open page. “Where’d you get this?” She traced a finger over the gilt-edged pages. “It must’ve cost dearly.”

“Ben made me the loan of it. It’s a universal atlas. There’s a map here for every one of the states.” Matthew turned the book around so that Illinois was right side up in Ellie’s vision. “I want to show you where I’ll be while I’m gone.” He indicated a point near the western center of the state. “Here’s Beldon Grove.” His finger moved toward the bottom of the page. “This is Adams Station. Southeast a ways you see Tylerville.” Matthew’s hand traveled, tracing an invisible line. “From Tylerville, I swing north to Arcadia Mills, then back home.”

“That’s half the state.” She lifted her head and studied his face. “How can you cover that much ground when you can barely saddle your horse without help?”

He ignored her question, jabbing a finger at Adams Station. “I’m reckoning a week for each stop, including travel, should have me back here in a month or so.”

But then he’d just turn around and leave again. The strain of Matthew’s imminent departure, coupled with the end of a fatiguing day, brought quick tears to Ellie’s eyes. She looked down at her palm, absently fingering the cut across the base of her thumb. “You’re leaving me to take care of this farm with two half-grown boys and a little girl.”

“Arthur will be here every few days. He’ll take you to town whenever you need anything.” Matthew stood, slapping the atlas shut with one hand. “My saddlebags are packed and ready. I’ll be off at first light.” He moved down the hall toward the parlor.

Ellie sat at the table after he left, watching light patterns cast by the oil lamp jump over the tabletop. Moths crashed against the glass chimney. They fluttered away, then flew back to the lamp and crashed again. She could see herself in their frantic actions, pounding away at Matthew to stay in Beldon Grove, but never getting past the glass wall that surrounded his decision.

Ellie stood and extinguished the light. “Get on with your lives,” she said to her fuzzy-winged companions. “You’ll never get through the glass, and you’ll only hurt yourselves trying.”

Ellie passed the first two days after Matthew’s departure following her accustomed routine. She spent most of her time on housework, with Maria’s help, while Jimmy and Johnny trudged out to cut hay. The skies remained clear, but the ever-present fear of rain while the hay was down added a sense of urgency to their task.

Thursday noon when the boys dragged in for dinner, they were sweating, sunburned, and exhausted. Ellie watched as they devoured the fried ham and boiled beans she’d prepared. By the time they started on the dried-apple pie, she’d made a decision.

She removed her apron and threw it over a chair. “I’m coming out with you. Maria and I can turn the hay over while you cut.”

Her sons stared at her as if she’d announced she was going to shoe their team of draft horses. “You don’t know how to rake hay.” Jimmy’s adolescent voice squeaked in protest.

“Then you’ll show me. Get your sunbonnet, Maria. No one’s going to see the inside of this house but us, so who cares if we clean it or not.”

Her children gaped at her while she tied her skirt in a knot above her ankles and looped her bonnet strings under her chin. When Ellie strode to the barn to get a rake, the twins hurried past her to open the heavy door. Once she and Maria were equipped, the boys walked with them to the edge of the field. Stubble crunched beneath their boots as they approached the first sweet-smelling swaths of cut grass.

Jimmy took one of the rakes and let it drop as far out as the handle would reach so that the curved tines fell into the drying hay. “Let the weight of the rake do the work,” he said, clearly proud to have something he could teach his mother. “Drop it over the hay like this, then drag it toward you. It should turn up for drying while you pull.” He demonstrated. “Then do it again. Make nice rows.” Grinning, he offered Ellie the wooden rake. “Now you try it.”

After a bumbling start, she felt the rhythm of the work. “Thank you, Son. I’ll help Maria while you get back to cutting.”

By the end of the day, blisters had formed across her palms and the cut at the base of her thumb threatened to break open. Ellie’d never felt so tired. At the same time, she’d never felt such a sense of accomplishment.

She looked down at Maria, who struggled beside her. “Time to stop for supper.”

Her daughter dropped her rake and leaned against Ellie’s side. “Look at all we did, Mama.”

The pride in her young voice echoed Ellie’s emotions. Rows of hay stretched behind them, fluffed and golden.

“I’m proud of you. You did grown-up work today.”

In truth, Ellie had manipulated her own rake so Maria only had to turn small amounts at a time. Nevertheless, she had done a heroic job merely to stay at the task in the sun all afternoon.

Ellie turned to where Jimmy and Johnny worked, and whistled to get their attention. “Suppertime,” she called when they looked her way.

Maria’s blue eyes grew round. “I didn’t know you could whistle.”

“I’d forgotten I even knew how. Uncle Arthur taught me, but he wouldn’t let me do it around Aunt Ruby.” Ellie chuckled at the memory. “It’s unladylike, you know.”

“Would you teach me?”

She picked up her daughter’s grubby hand and kissed the blistered palm. “Of course. We’ll practice tomorrow while we rake.”

Early Saturday evening, Ellie glanced out the open kitchen window and noticed dumpling-shaped clouds bobbing on the western horizon. A breeze fluttered the red gingham curtains, ushering the promise of rain into the room.
Not now! The hay’s still down.
Her mind worked frantically. Tomorrow was Sunday. Matthew never allowed anything to interfere with church attendance, but Matthew wasn’t here. She and her children had accomplished the backbreaking task of cutting the hay, and now she couldn’t let it get soaked before they stored it in the haymow. Moisture would cause it to mildew, which sickened the animals. Or the worst might happen—stacked wet hay could heat and spontaneously burst into flame.

Her children sat at the cleared supper table. Maria’s head drooped with fatigue. The twins both slumped in their chairs, eyes half closed.

Ellie surveyed the clouds again. “Rain’s coming. If we’re going to save our hay, we’ll have to get it into the barn as quick as possible.”

Jimmy and Johnny looked at each other. “Not tonight!” their expressions said.

Ellie’s back ached, and in spite of the cloth strips padding her hands, she had raw and oozing blisters. She pushed Matthew’s vacant chair away from the table and sank into it. “I know how tired you are, but this has to be done. If we work fast, we can get at least one load picked up and in the barn before dark.”

She rested her gaze on Maria, noticing the dust that streaked her fair skin. “You wait in the barn and push the hay back in the mow. It will be easier than raking it up in the field.” Ellie patted Maria’s hand.

She turned toward the twins. “If God is willing, the rain will hold off so we can get an early start and finish tomorrow.”

Their faces mirrored their shock. “Tomorrow’s Sunday. What would Papa say?”

“I imagine he wouldn’t like it. But if he’d stayed home, we wouldn’t be facing this problem, would we?” She raised her eyebrows and studied both boys. “We need every stem of that grass to feed the stock through the winter. I’m not going to take the chance of losing it after all the work we’ve done this week.”

Ellie awakened at first light the next morning, slid her aching body out of bed, and hurried to the window to check the weather. Clouds had continued to pile up during the night, their bellies dark with unshed moisture. “Thank you, Father, for holding off the rain.” She smiled to herself at the irony of thanking God for making it possible for her to spend Sunday hard at work instead of in church.

She dropped her sweat-stiff work dress on over her shift, and rolled clean stockings onto her feet. When they were finished, they’d each have a long bath. She didn’t care how much water she had to heat.

Crossing the hallway, she opened bedroom doors and roused her children. “Daylight. Let’s get to work.”

As their team of Belgian horses hauled the second wagonload of hay toward the barn, Ellie noticed a covered buggy coming toward the farm. Uncle Arthur, with Harrison. She clapped a hand over her mouth. She’d completely forgotten they were coming to take her and the other children to church. Feeling like a guilty child, she climbed off the hay wagon when it came to a stop and waited for her uncle.