Chapter 4 #2
“Vernetta!” a female voice called. Eula Abernathy was hurrying toward them on the boardwalk—as quickly as a plump, buxom, sexagenarian could—waving cheerfully. “Vernetta, dear, how lovely to see you. And you, too, Caroline.”
“Good morning,” Caroline and her mother replied in unison.
Eula beamed and patted Caroline’s arm. “I’m so glad you accepted my invitation. That’s what’s best, you know,” she said, tilting her head and leaning in. “After one gets thrown, one must get right back up on the horse.”
Her mother cast a sympathetic glance in her direction and addressed her friend. “I heard you’re planning to serve your famous apple pie. Is that true?”
“It is. And I must scold my cook for publicizing the menu,” she added with a laugh.
Caroline held back a smile. The cook had likely leaked the menu at Mrs. Abernathy’s request.
The general store's bell chimed behind them, and a smile burst across Eula’s face. She waddled past them, motioning for them to follow.
Caroline turned to see a tall thin man with mousy brown hair and spectacles, who appeared to be well into his twenties. His clothes were neat and tidy, but his features were so unremarkable she wouldn’t have noticed him, had no one drawn attention.
Eula looped a hand through the man’s elbow and patted his arm. “This is my nephew, Mr. Walsh Duffy. Walsh, I’d like to introduce Mrs. Vernetta Bennet and her daughter, Miss Caroline Bennet.”
Vernetta smiled. “It’s nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. Duffy.”
He tipped his hat politely, the movement of his head causing sunlight to glint off his glasses. “Mrs. Bennet... Miss Bennet, a pleasure.”
“Likewise, Mr. Duffy,” Caroline said softly.
“How long are you visiting your aunt?” her mother asked.
“He isn’t visiting,” Eula cut in. “Walsh took a job as a bookkeeper at the steel mill. He’s staying with me until he can find a place of his own.”
“How nice. Perhaps we’ll see you at the luncheon on Tuesday”
“I’m afraid not,” Walsh replied. “I begin my new position on Monday. But,” he added with a boyish half-grin, “I’m sure Aunt Eula would banish me from the event, regardless.”
“Oh, bosh,” Eula said with a playful swat to his sleeve.
“My daughter and I must be on our way, but before we go, let me welcome you to Greenvale, Mr. Duffy. I hope you like it here.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Bennet,” he replied, looking from her to Caroline, his gaze lingering on the latter. “I already do.”
The first hint of a fall breeze cooled Jackson’s sweat-soaked shirt as he stood, surveying the nascent hay field. His muscles still ached from the labor of plowing the soil and sowing seeds, but the sight of healthy green shoots emerging from the earth made it all worthwhile.
He and Amanda had accomplished much in a mere few weeks.
The house was in good repair, the hay was sown and sprouted, and the cellar was half-full of preserved fruits, meats and vegetables.
Still, he couldn't shake the nagging worry that it might not be enough.
The hay would barely be tall enough to cut before the first killing frost.
He headed up the path to the well pump for a drink of water. “Looks like we might have a decent crop,” he called out to Amanda, who was hanging laundry nearby.
She turned, her belly forming a tiny mound beneath her apron as the breeze blew against it. “Thank goodness. I was beginning to worry we'd be feeding the horses wishes come winter.”
Jackson chuckled. Amanda didn’t comprehend how precarious their situation was, as her sister would’ve, but her youthful grasp of life caused her to frame it with humor, which he sorely needed at times.
“Speaking of winter, I need to head into town.
I used all the nails, and we're running low on some of our pantry goods.”
Amanda’s eyes lost their twinkle. “It’s almost midday. Will you have to stay the night?”
“No. What we need can be carried by horse.”
Her look of relief was unmistakable. “Be careful on the road. And don't let Mr. Callahan talk you into buying any of those ridiculous patent medicines again.”
“Hey now, that tonic worked wonders for my backache,” Jackson protested, half in jest.
“Sure, it did. I'm certain it had nothing to do with me rubbing your back every night for a week.”
Before he could take a step in the direction of the paddock, she gasped and clutched her abdomen.
Jackson sprinted across the yard. “What’s wrong?”
She looked up, her eyes glazed with a teary sheen. “I felt the baby move.”
“That’s good, isn’t it? A sign that everything is as it should be?”
Amanda looked back down. “That’s what the midwife said,” she replied in a quiet voice. “I know I should be happy about this...”
Jackson swallowed his own conflicting feelings for her sake. “New life growing is something to celebrate.” He placed a finger under her chin and tipped her face up until she was looking at him. “I’m glad for it. Be glad with me.”
She gave him a shaky smile and nodded.
Jackson planted a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll be back in time for supper.”
The ride into town was long and dusty, giving Jackson ample time to brood.
He tried to focus on the list of staples they needed, but his mind kept drifting to the longer list of challenges that lay ahead.
The baby wouldn’t arrive until after the first of the year, but there was still so much to prepare.
As he approached the general store, Jackson shook off his worries and straightened his shoulders. The owner, Russel Callahan, was a decent fellow, but he had a knack for sensing weakness and working it to his advantage.
“Well, if it ain't the new farmer himself,” Russel called out as Jackson entered the store, a smile spreading across his round face. “How's that hay coming along, Maguire?”
Jackson nodded cordially. “Growing steady.” He set a bundle of tanned animal pelts and a container of eggs on the counter for Russel to examine. Bringing items to trade lessened the bill.
Russel’s belly bumped against the counter as he leaned in. He wasn’t overweight, just sturdy and thick around the middle. “I took delivery of some new elixirs,” he said, lifting the lid on a box filled with rows of dark glass bottles. “Could I interest you any?”
“Not today.”
He closed the box and pulled out a small colorful package. “How about some playing cards?”
Jackson shook his head. He’d played card games till his eyes crossed during the war. “I’d best get to work on my list. The missus’ll worry if I’m not home before nightfall.”
“Well, if you change your mind...” Russel said as Jackson walked away.
A mix of pride and worry plagued him as he shopped.
Being able to transport the entire purchase without the wagon represented another step towards self-sufficiency, but every item that had to be bought was a drain on their limited funds.
His lieutenant's training served him well in negotiations when it came time to haggle with Russel.
Jackson lashed the bundle to his horse’s saddle, then went to the stockyard before heading home. He may not have chosen this life, but he was determined to make the best of it—for Amanda's sake, and for the child that would soon be born.
The front door burst open, startling Amanda from her sewing.
Jackson strode in, a broad grin spread across his rosy face, and his eyes twinkling with excitement. “We got 'em, Mandy!” he exclaimed, crossing the room in three quick strides. Before she could respond, he swept her into his arms, lifting her off her feet and spinning her around.
Amanda laughed. “Got what? And put me down!”
He set her feet back on the floor, his hands lingering on her waist. “Livestock. A bull, some cows, and some pigs. Got 'em for a steal, too.”
“That's wonderful news,” Amanda said, her smile genuine. She reached up to brush a lock of hair from his forehead then paused and wrinkled her nose. “Have you been drinking?”
Jackson leaned in to kiss her, and she pulled away. The scent of whiskey on his breath sent a chill down her spine and flooded her mind with shameful memories. “Let me go,” she said, pushing against his chest.
“What’s wrong?”
“You smell like Ross.”
The confusion on Jackson’s face turned to shame. “I'm sorry, Amanda. I didn't think.” He released her and took a step back. “I had one drink to celebrate the deal. Just one, I swear. I'd never... I'm not like him. You know that, right?”
Amanda nodded, willing her heart to stop racing. “I know. I’m sorry for implying that.”
“Don't apologize. I should've been more considerate. I promised you the choice was yours, and it is. I'd never force myself on you. Never.”
A small smile crept onto her lips. “Tell me more about these animals of ours. I hope you didn't trade away all our winter stores for them.”
Jackson breathed a sigh of relief that ended in a chuckle. “Not quite.”
Caroline wrapped her wool scarf snugly around her head and exited the milliner's shop, nearly colliding with someone on the boardwalk. Mr. Duffy.
“I beg your pardon, Miss Bennet!” he exclaimed, reaching out to steady her but stopping short, as if he feared the contact might offend. “I do apologize!”
“No need,” Caroline replied, adjusting her scarf. “It was entirely my fault.”
“I would disagree, except a gentleman never argues with a lady.” He dropped his ambivalent hands to his sides. “We seem destined to cross paths lately.”
“Perhaps we should wear bells,” Caroline said, casting him a modest grin.
“Ha! Perhaps.” He moved over to let someone pass, nodding politely to them, then gestured to the door she’d just exited. “Do you know if the shop employs a tailor?”
“It does, and a seamstress, too. I just ordered a Christmas dress, in fact.”
“It will be lovely, I’m sure.” He worried the seams of his overcoat with his fingers and cleared his throat. “Miss Bennet, I hope I'm not being too forward, but... might I call on you sometime? Perhaps this Sunday after church?”
Caroline hesitated, her first instinct to decline as Jackson’s face flashed through her mind. But he was lost to her. “I suppose that would be acceptable.”
A kind, relieved smile spread across Walsh’s face. “Thank you, Miss Bennet. I look forward to it.”