The Scarlet Thread (27 page)

moved away slightly as she pushed herself up and raked her

hands back through her hair. She felt unkempt. Her church

dress was rumpled and creased. “I need to freshen up before I

come down.” She was so tired. She wished she could lie down

again and sleep here in the attic, where she was surrounded by

happy memories. Maybe she’d dream of her mother again. Meeting with Roy Lubbeck would merely drive home the fact that she

was gone.

Staring out the window, Alex shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m sorry about what I said earlier.”

Sierra didn’t want to talk about it. “I can’t make any decisions

yet, Alex.”

“I can understand that.”

“I grew up here.”

“I know.”

His response was clipped, neutral. The wall was still firmly in

place between them. The first brick had been laid when he took

the job in Los Angeles. More had been added since, day by day,

month by month, over the past two years. She didn’t even know

anymore who was inside the wall and who was outside.

“I miss you,” she said softly, brokenly. “I miss the way things

used to be.”

He looked at her then, his eyes bleak. She knew he was deeply

troubled, that he wanted to say something of import. Maybe he

was as worried about their marriage as she was.

“I’m going to leave tomorrow. I think it’d be better that way.

It’ll give you the chance to think things over.”

What things? She wondered. The house? Or was there something he wasn’t saying?

He left the window. “I’ll go down and tell the others you’ll be

with us shortly.”

“Alex?”

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When he turned, she stood. Gathering her nerve, she took the

risk and let her feelings show. “Would you hold me? Just for a

minute.” He came to her and did as she asked, but she felt no

comfort. His arms were around her, but it was as though he

withheld himself, his heart.

How could he be standing there, holding her, and yet seem so

very far away?

When she joined the others in the parlor, she sat in the wing

chair near the cold fireplace. Alex took his proper place beside

her. He didn’t so much as put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Mike and Melissa sat on the couch, holding hands.

She tried to listen as Roy Lubbeck talked. He was explaining

that after her father’s death, her mother had put all the family

assets into a living trust so that, in the event of her death, their

inheritance wouldn’t be tied up in probate.

Her mother had put the house in Mike’s and her name two

years before. The taxes, which amounted to a considerable sum,

were paid through the year. She had also set up an account

intended to take care of any minor problems that might arise,

such as plumbing, appliance repair, and the like.

Sierra remembered that shortly after her father had passed

away, her mother had hired a contractor to reshingle the entire

roof. She’d spent a great deal to have the southern eaves and

back porch torn out and rebuilt after termites were discovered.

Roy went on to explain that the rest of her mother’s assets were

in certificates of deposit and treasury bills, including fifteen

thousand earmarked for each grandchild, the money to be held

in trust until their eighteenth birthdays.

Closing his briefcase, Roy cleared his throat. He looked at

Mike and then her. “Your mother was a remarkable woman. It

was my good fortune to call her and your father friends.” He

started to say more and couldn’t. As he rose, he took an envelope

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I give this to you.”

Disturbed, Alex took the letter, folded it in half, and pushed it

into the front pocket of his slacks. “I’ll walk you out,” he said.

Sierra heard the murmur of their voices. After a few moments the front door closed, but Alex didn’t return. Glancing at

Mike and Melissa, she rose and went into the foyer. She could

see through the leaded window on each side of the door. Alex

stood outside on the front steps, his hands shoved into his pockets. As Roy Lubbeck’s Thunderbird pulled away from the curb,

Alex went down the steps. Her heart began to beat heavily in

dread, but he didn’t head for his car, which was parked in the

drive alongside the house. He went out to the sidewalk and

headed for the Plaza where they used to sit and listen to the

summer concerts in the bandstand. Relieved, she rested her

forehead against the door for a moment and then went back

into the parlor.

“We’ve already eaten,” Melissa told her. “Do you want something?” Sierra closed her eyes, shaking her head. The thought of

food was enough to make her stomach lurch.

“Try to get some sleep,” Melissa said when the mantel clock

chimed eleven.

Sierra went upstairs to bed. Lying in her canopy bed, she tried

to think of happier times. Her mind was consumed with “what if”

scenarios. When she awakened in the morning, Alex wasn’t

beside her.

Donning her robe, she came downstairs to the kitchen and

found Melissa making waffles for the children. “Have you seen

Alex?” she said.

“Daddy left for the airport,” Carolyn said, pouring syrup on

her waffle.

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“When?” Sierra said, heart sinking. Had he really left without

even saying good-bye to her?

“About an hour ago, I guess. He came in and talked to Clanton

and me while we were watching television.”

Turning away, she blinked back tears.

Melissa poured batter into the waffle iron. “He said he didn’t

want to awaken you,” she said quietly. “He felt you needed

sleep.”

When Melissa looked at her, Sierra knew Alex hadn’t fooled

anyone with his excuses. Sierra gave her sister-in-law a cynical

smile, poured herself a cup of coffee, and sat down with the

children.

If this baby is not born soon, I will burst like an

overripe melon.

James is worried sick. He makes me nervous.

There is no midwife and I am too far gone to go

back to Galena by wagon or any other way. So

we will have to manage by ourselves. I cannot

even bend over to pick up the babies I have and

there is no lap left for them to sit on. Some days

this baby kicks so much I wonder if there are

not two inside me. Maybe they are contending

with one another just like Esau and Jacob.

Matthew Lucas Farr was born mid-morning May

5 or thereabouts. He is as strong and loud as his

older brother ever was. Deborah Anne followed

her brother into the world straight away. They do

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same.

James is back at work in the fields. He is much

relieved to have me up and around again. He has

not the patience for tending toddling and crawling babies, though he had charge of his offspring

for three whole days. I could not help but laugh at

his Frustration. Joshua had to show him how to

change a diaper, but washing soiled ones is a

chore James would sooner die than do. Does he

think I like it?

I am beginning to feel like our poor milk cow.

It has been two years since I wrote a word in this

journal. Where has all the time gone? Back on the

homestead, by the time the day is done, I am too

tired to put two thoughts together in my head let

alone put anything sensible on paper. Now, I am

visiting Aunt Martha and my Burdens are lifted.

She is enthralled with the twins and Delighted to

have Joshua, Hank, and Beth back under her

roof. Betsy and Clovis are pleased, too. Joshua is

Clovis’s shadow. Hank and Beth spend most of

their time in the kitchen with Betsy. They have

discovered her fine cooking. The only time Aunt

Martha gives up the twins is when they need

nursing.

Galena is so much bigger than it was three

years ago. Aunt Martha said there are more than

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ten thousand souls living here now. I think it

more likely that four thousand of them have no

souls at all from what I’ve seen. The river is busy

with ships from the Mississippi. Irishmen and

Germans swarm the docks and negras as well.

Betsy said there is a new African Methodist Episcopal Church. She and Clovis go there to worship

Jesus. There’s so much noise now you can’t hear

yourself think.

Aunt Martha has a new cistern. She said too

many people use the town well and it is too long

a wait for water.

James and I saw a man haul a box out onto the

sidewalk near the marketplace today. He stood

on it and talked about Oregon. He talked about

the Preemption Act of 1841 saying every person head of a family can have 160 acres of

prime free land in Oregon. James insisted we

stay and hear what the man had to say. The

man claimed Oregon is a land flowing with

milk and honey on the shores of the Pacific. He

said there are great crops of wheat there that

grow as high as a man’s head. He said pigs run

about under great acorn trees, round and fat,

and already cooked with knives and forks sticking in them so you can saw off a slice anytime

you have a mind to do so. Some believed his

hogwash and were ready to sign up and go

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glad James had more sense.

James sold our corn crop today. Prices are down.

He has worked hard the past few years paying off

Papas debts and making improvements on the

homestead. If Papa could see the land now, he

would be proud of James.

We will go home soon. I will miss Aunt Martha

and Betsy and Clovis. I will miss the good cooking, the feather bed, the piano, and the ladies

from the quilting club.

For all that, I can hardly wait to be home again.

James has westering fever. He talks of nothing

but Oregon.

What is it about men that they always think the

grass is greener on the other side of a mountain?

The grass is green enough right here. I told

James we have land all paid for, a sturdy house,

a barn, two horses, a milk cow, some goats, and

a flock of chickens. We have our health and our

babies and we are happy.

He said—You are happy, Mary Kathryn. The

way I see it we will be living hand to mouth all

our lives as long as we stay in Illinois. In Oregon

there is a chance. A chance for what I wanted to

know. To build something that will last he said.

And the winters are milder.

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