Entry 3
I was late, and I knew Mama would be mad. I rushed back from the island, thoughts of the fort on my mind as I ran down the path to our farm, trying to come up with an excuse. When our farm came into view, I noticed Mama was rocking on the porch swing with a woman I didn’t recognize.
“Evelyn!” Mama waved when she saw me. “Join us!”
I did as I was told, continuing up the path, my boots, tied by the laces, bouncing in my hands.
Mama hated when I walked barefoot, but I hated slipping wet, sandy feet into leather boots.
Not that Mama knew I had been at the beach today.
For once, she looked so happy, I didn’t think she would even remember to ask me where I’d been.
She and the woman she was with were laughing. They looked like old friends.
The woman was younger than Mama; her skin didn’t betray her with wrinkles or laugh lines.
Wisps of her beautiful red hair fell out of a white cap that was tied loosely around her neck.
As I got closer, I could see the green dress she was wearing was made of a fine satin.
It looked worn from the sun, the stitching fraying at the hem.
Neither looked up as I reached the top step. Mama’s sewing sat in a basket on the table next to her; it looked as if she hadn’t done any mending at all.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” Mama said.
I noticed she’d put out the nice white sugar for tea, which meant Mama was clearly entertaining, something she rarely did, and never during the day, when chores and the farm were the priority.
Papa had forbidden any of us from leaving the farm because of the Cough, but that didn’t keep us from talking to visitors.
Mama motioned to her friend. “I want you to meet our new neighbor. Mrs. Carthright. They bought the farm down the road.”
“It’s Calpert,” the woman corrected Mama, still laughing from whatever joke the two had just shared.
“Calpert,” Mama repeated. “Forgive me, Calista.”
“Calia,” the woman said. “Though Calista is a lovely name too.” The woman looked at me. “I will answer by Cuthpert, Calpert, Capturn, Calbert. You can call me whatever you want as long you don’t call me pigeon-livered.”
“Pigeon-livered!” Mama repeated, her voice boisterous like one of the boys. “You are no coward, Calia!”
I looked at this woman in awe, wondering what spell she’d cast over my mother.
“Louise, you have to give me this corn bread recipe,” Calia added, rising and smoothing the wrinkles in her dress demurely before offering me a delicate hand.
On her first finger, I noticed an unusually large green gemstone.
It was beautiful. I’d never seen jewelry so fancy before.
“Evelyn, it’s so nice to finally meet you.
Your mother has told me nothing but wonderful things about her only daughter, who loves to run around barefoot. ”
My face colored. Here came the scolding.
Mama frowned. “Evelyn, truly, when will you start acting like a young lady?”
“Oh, Louise, don’t be so hard on her,” Calia said. “There is no greater gift than to be young and have your whole life ahead of you. Am I right, Evelyn?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, warming to this newcomer who defended me against my staunch mother.
“Calia came by to bring us lavender from her farm and to introduce herself,” Mama said, motioning to a bouquet of fresh lavender tied with a beautiful pink ribbon.
What a waste of ribbon, I thought. “Lovely,” I said as Calia watched me curiously.
“Calia has a young one, under two, right, Calia?” Mama prodded. “I feel like we spoke so much, I forgot her name! Violet?”
“That’s it,” Calia said. “See, you still have a young mind, Louise!” She winked at me.
“But yes, with so many chores on our farm, I could use some help from time to time, and your mother said you’d make an excellent mother’s helper.
Perhaps you’d like to come by this week and meet Val—Violet!
” She slapped her forehead. “Now I’ve forgotten my own child’s name! ”
“Since they’re new here, they haven’t been exposed to the Cough,” Mama explained. “You’ll be perfectly safe at their house.”
Calia nodded. “You don’t have to worry about catching sickness from me, that’s for certain. I’m as healthy as an ox. So are my daughter and husband.”
Watching a little one did not sound like the way I wanted to spend the last weeks of school. Not when the island called to me, even now when I was here (Welcome, Evelyn Terry! Welcome home!), but with Mama looking on, I did the only thing I could. “Yes, ma’am, I’d be happy to help you.”
“Good.” Calia smiled. “We will see each other soon then.”
Seeing Papa out in the horse corral near the barn, I had the perfect opportunity to make my exit. “If you excuse me, I have chores to finish.”
“Nice meeting you, Evelyn,” Calia said, using my name again.
“You as well, ma’am.” I ran off, still barefoot, my mama yelling at me to put my boots on and me ignoring her. I rushed through the yard to the fence and swung it open to reach Papa, who was feeding the chickens. I thrust myself into his arms.
“Well, this is a nice surprise.” He hugged me tight. “I have one for you too. A little game and present. You’ve been doing your chores so well, I wanted to give you a nickel to put away for safekeeping.” His face clouded over. “To use at the Mercantile once this Cough is gone.”
I gasped. “A whole nickel?”
“Don’t tell your mama,” he said with a chuckle. “Now watch me.” He reached into the pocket of his button-down shirt. “This trick could come in handy someday. I’m going to make the nickel appear like magic. A friend taught me this.”
He showed me the palm of his left hand. It was empty. I watched then as his fingers closed over his palm. With his right hand, he tapped the closed left fist, chanting some gibberish I didn’t understand. When he opened his palm again, there was a shiny nickel.
I clapped my hands in amazement. “How did you do that?” I asked.
“It’s a trick of the eye,” Papa said, showing me the trick several more times before he handed me the coin. “Practice, and you’ll be so good at it, you’ll fool your brothers.”
The sleight-of-hand trick gave me a little thrill. Papa and I both loved games and riddles. Gil would love this too. My heart fluttered at the thought of teaching him the trick.
“Who is your mother talking to?” Papa’s sleeves were rolled up, and his arms were tanned despite the lack of sun. “It has to be someone good for lunch to be running late.”
“Our new neighbor, Calia Calpert,” I explained. “Mama said they bought the farm down the road, and Mama wants me to watch the woman’s child.”
Papa looked up from spreading chicken feed and frowned. “Are you certain?”
“I think so,” I said, now unsure.
Papa put down the bucket of seed, and the chickens swarmed it. He squinted at the figures on the porch. The light was bright despite the gloomy cloud cover. “She must mean the Williamses’ place. They only bought it last year. He would have told me if he was selling.”
“Maybe I’m wrong then,” I said, not understanding why Papa cared so much. Calia seemed nice. I don’t remember the Williamses ever coming over and bringing us lavender or the wife sitting with Mama on the porch.
Papa continued to stare at Mama and Calia, who were now standing several feet apart on the porch steps.
“Yes, but…John told me not more than three weeks ago they were taking a trip to see family in Pennsylvania.” He blotted his forehead and looked at the stormy sky again.
“Strange. Evelyn, do me a favor,” Papa said, touching my arm.
“Tell Mama I’m going to skip lunch today. There’s someone I need to go see.”
“Okay, Papa,” I said, watching him walk away with a speed in his step, leaving me with the chickens and more questions than answers.