The Unplowed Sky (2 page)

Now she stared at Daddy's widow, scarcely believing her ears. “The MacReynoldses are moving, and I'll have to find another job. I don't have a home, Felicity, no place to keep a child.”

“Neither do I, unless I marry.” Felicity's brittle tone took on an edge of desperation. “The bank foreclosed on the house. I have to be out by the end of this month. By the time I paid your father's hospital bills and gave him a decent funeral, I was destitute. Harry's waited all these years”—she touched her eyes with a lacy handkerchief—“he owns several drugstores and has done very well, but he says his life's been empty. I'm the only woman he ever wanted.”

“But he doesn't want Jackie?”

Felicity snuffled. “He said he might have been able to adopt a little girl, but a boy who would remind him constantly that there had been another man—”

“Felicity, if you'll try to manage, I'll send all I can from my wages.”

Felicity shook her stylishly bobbed head. Her new dress almost reached her knees. “There's no use looking at me like that! It might be noble to take in washing or slave in a restaurant to keep Jackie, but I'm not able to live without a man to love me and take care of me. I found that out while your father was in the hospital this last awful year. And Harry's waited so long! He wants children of his own.”

“Then he'd better hope he doesn't die and you give them away.”

“What a nasty thing to say!”

“What a nasty thing to
do
!”

The two women gazed at each other. Felicity's eyes dropped, but she squared her shoulders. “If you don't want Jackie, I'll take him to my cousin.”

Remembering her own bewildered hurt when she felt that her father didn't want her, Hallie surrendered. “What in the world will you tell him?”

“That I'm sick, and in order to get better, I have to go live in a place he wouldn't like, a place where children aren't allowed.”

“Just don't let him hope you'll come back,” Hallie said. “That would be the cruelest thing of all.”

At least she had a job. Mr. MacReynolds had found her a place with Quentin and Estelle Raford, a couple from the East. A few years ago, they had bought the largest farm in the county and had been adding small farms to it as mortgages were foreclosed. The price of wheat had fallen steeply since the hungry demands of the Kaiser's War. Most wheat farmers had bought more land and machinery on credit. Now many of them had been ruined along with the banks that held their mortgages.

Daddy had been an officer and shareholder in a bank that failed two years ago. Hallie wondered if the disaster, coupled with Felicity's bitterness, had brought on the cancer. At any rate, Mrs. MacReynolds had telephoned the Rafords about Jackie, and they had consented to let him stay with Hallie so long as she kept him under control. Mr. MacReynolds had driven them out the night before and slipped an extra ten-dollar bill in with her pay.

“You'll need it with the little fellow,” he said.

“But Mrs. MacReynolds already gave me five dollars.”

He grinned. “Did she? Good for her! The Rafords are out this evening. They said for you to go up to your room on the second story and have breakfast ready at seven-thirty.”

Seven-thirty! Hallie had never heard of anyone sleeping so late. But she could use some extra time to get used to a strange kitchen—and she would fix them a breakfast that would make them glad they'd let her bring Jackie.

Poor little guy! How bewildered and scared he must feel with his father dead and his mother disappearing. He and Hallie scarcely knew each other, but he had clung to her last night when she tucked him in.

“You—you won't go away, Hallie?”

“No, sweetie!” She gave him a fierce hug. “We'll be together till you grow up. I promise.”

“You won't get sick like Mama or die like Daddy?”

“Gracious, I hope not! Now, you cuddle up to Lambie and I'll be right beside you in a minute.”

Looking very small in the big four poster bed, he hugged the faded raggedy terry-cloth lamb. He was asleep, tears dried on his cheeks, when Hallie finished getting ready for bed. How lucky to be at a farmhouse with a bathroom and electric lights! Plenty of houses in town didn't have indoor plumbing, though the MacReynoldses did.

Now, in the first golden morning light, Hallie propped her pillow against Jackie's back, hoping he would sleep till breakfast was over and she could devote some time to him. Hallie's thick black hair was depressingly, defiantly straight, and she braided and coiled it on top of her head. She had bangs, and when there was time, she liked to curl them with her curling iron so they fluffed over a forehead that she considered too high and softened a rather long face. She had no way to heat the iron in this room, but the Rafords would scarcely mind what she looked like if she cooked to their taste and kept the house pretty.

Hallie tied on her apron and hurried downstairs. Not that there was any hurry, except in herself. It was only six o'clock. She could start the laundry, though, churn butter, and set the bread to rising.

When the washing machine was chugging away on the long screened back porch, she set the table, laying her place near the door so she could speed to the kitchen for coffee or food. Then she set out enough cream for breakfast and biscuits before pouring the rest into the glass churn. As she cranked the handle, the paddles went around, swishing the cream at first, then turning more slowly till her shoulder began to ache and she changed to her other hand. Specks of pale gold began to form and clot together. When a mass of butter formed, Hallie poured the buttermilk into jars. Her mouth watered as she thought how good it would taste with a dash of salt and pepper.

Putting the butter in a stoneware crock, she worked it with a wooden paddle, carefully pressing out all the liquid till the butter was a firm, fresh-smelling mound. She scooped some into a cut-glass bowl for breakfast, glanced at the clock, and put the coffee to perk on the kerosene stove. What a blessing that would be! Fire on and off as needed without burning on the way a wood or coal stove did to make a kitchen a place of summer torment. She mixed biscuits rich with fresh cream, popped them in the oven, and sliced ham thin in a big skillet.

If she hurried, there would be time to cut some tiger lilies for the table. The morning air was as bright and fresh as the meadowlark's song. She felt sorry for anyone who was missing this finest part of the day—one could even say the only pleasant part in late June. The sun's heat increased as it rose. Farmers had already been in the fields for hours.

She was arranging the flowers in a blue-and-white pitcher when a deep male voice made her jump. “You must be Miss Hallie Meredith.”

“Yes, sir.” The man with tawny eyes and crisp grey hair gave the impression of filling the doorway. She had a ridiculous sense of being trapped, though when he stepped into the kitchen, she saw that he had a pleasant smile and was only average in height. “And you'd be Mr. Raford.”

He nodded, still with that easy smile. “I'd like coffee, black, anytime it's ready. My wife will be down soon, but I have business in town, so I'll have breakfast as soon as you can fix it. Eggs over lightly. Should you break a yolk, fix another. Ham crisp. Toast”—he wrinkled his nose—“Do I smell biscuits?”

“Cream biscuits.”

His gaze flickered to the crock of fresh butter. The practiced smile broadened to a grin. “It would seem I don't need to instruct you, Miss Meredith.” He lazed away.

Pernickety. And if his wife had breakfast late, Hallie would spend half the morning in the kitchen. But they were paying her, and if that's what they wanted, they could have it—though sometime soon she'd have to see if Jackie was awake and give him his breakfast. It wouldn't do for him to feel abandoned again. Mr. Raford was studying some papers and only nodded thanks as she brought his coffee, but by the time breakfast was ready, Hallie heard a woman's high voice in the dining room.

Good! Hallie hadn't fancied sitting down with just Mr. Raford, though Mrs. Raford's tone had just a bit of a whine. How could that be, with such a nice home and a husband who apparently let her do just as she pleased? Hallie filled a tray with ham, butter,
his
eggs done just so, and the fluffy golden biscuits in a napkin-covered basket.

“Good morning, Mrs. Raford.” Hallie smiled at the woman with stylishly bobbed blond hair and a flowing flowered dress that couldn't disguise raillike thinness. “How would you like your eggs? And do you want cream and sugar with your coffee?”

Mrs. Raford winced. “No eggs, thank you. Be a dear and make me some tea.”

Could she have a headache? Or be expecting? Hallie brewed tea in a gold-rimmed pot and placed it, with a matching cup and saucer, on a small tray.

She set it in front of Mrs. Raford and was rewarded with a faint smile. “Wonderful biscuits, Hallie,” Mr. Raford complimented. “I've always believed it took years to acquire such a knack, but you must have a natural talent.”

“I've made biscuits since I was nine. With the lovely cream you get from those Jersey cows, it'd be hard to make a bad batch. Is there anything I can get for anybody?” She was ready to pull out her chair and begin to get acquainted with these people, though she already suspected that Mrs. Raford was going to be hard to please.

Mrs. Raford's violet eyes widened as they stared at Hallie's plate. “Oh, dear!” The woman's face went pink. She glanced at her husband.

He lavished butter on a biscuit and speared another slice of ham. He had inherited railroad money and was interested in scientific farming, though the actual work was done by tenant farmers. He said nothing. Turning even pinker, Mrs. Raford raised her hand in a delaying gesture as Hallie started to sit down.

“Hallie, dear—out here it may be different. I'm sure you mean no impertinence, but we don't sit down to table with ser—those we employ.”

Hallie flushed till her body burned with surge after surge of pounding blood that also throbbed dizzyingly in her temples. “I—I—” The words clogged her throat.

She swallowed, and her eyes blurred as she stared at the Rafords' surprised faces. Could that be a hint of amusement—a sudden special interest—in the man's eyes? Hallie longed to take off her apron and let them know she wouldn't work for anyone who thought they were too good to eat with her. But she couldn't. She had Jackie.

Mrs. Raford said soothingly, “You're getting good wages, Hallie, and a nice room. And we let you keep your—your little brother. It seems to me that this should be a perfect situation for you.”

Hallie's cheeks burned. She had never in her life been so hurt and angry. She wouldn't sit with them now if—if they begged her! “I do appreciate your letting me keep Jackie,” she said and returned to the kitchen where tears came, despite of all she could do to choke them back.

Somehow Hallie finished serving breakfast, put the dishes to soak, and went upstairs. Jackie was just rousing. He swallowed hard when he recognized her and a few tears edged down his cheeks, but he didn't cry or make a fuss.

Hallie bragged about him because he could
almost
tie his shoes. He was an appealing little boy with their father's dark eyes and curly hair, which Hallie had so often wished she had inherited. Surely Felicity would change her mind, decide she couldn't live without him, and come back.

No, she wouldn't. Felicity looked out for Felicity first; and the less Hallie thought about her, the better. In the kitchen, Jackie and Hallie had a good breakfast from the plentiful leftovers. Jackie wouldn't put Lambie down, and he wouldn't go outside alone. He stayed in the kitchen while Hallie did the dishes and dogged her steps while she hung out the laundry, ran the Hoover over the downstairs carpets, dusted, and made preparations for lunch.

She had done these same things at the MacReynoldses'; happy to be useful, to cook food her employers enjoyed. Now, in her mind, was a hateful thrum:
I'm a servant. A servant. I'm their servant
.

The Rafords were polite. They complimented her on lunch, extolled the roast she fixed for dinner. And so it went for two days. Hallie was thoroughly miserable, though she tried to be cheerful with Jackie and entertain him as she worked.

He tagged her like a silent little ghost. She cursed Felicity and kept telling herself that he'd get over being so fearful once he could believe she wouldn't leave him. Still, though she could manage the work with ease, this was not a happy house. Most of the time, it was very quiet. She could see why Jackie didn't want to play alone in their room. The Rafords ignored him completely. He was a nuisance they put up with to have a highly recommended cook-housekeeper.

Jackie deserved better than that. He needed more than that—and so did she! When she had saved up some money—maybe by the end of summer—she would take Jackie to town and hunt another job.

Hallie didn't last the summer. She didn't last a week. On the fourth morning, hands closed on her shoulders while she was fixing breakfast. Before she could move, Mr. Raford swung her around. He kissed her full on the startled lips, smothering her cry.

Then he moved away and gave her that lazy, big-cat smile. “My wife has a headache. She won't be down for breakfast. I'd be pleased, Hallie, to have your company at the table.”

She was already untying her apron. “I'm leaving. Right now.”

“My dear young woman”—he reached into his pocket and handed her a gold piece—“will this sweeten your temper?”

“I'll take it for wages,” Hallie said and marched upstairs.

She quickly packed the large suitcase with all she possessed. Patent leather dress-up slippers and her winter clothes were at the bottom, with the small cedar box with brass hinges and lock that held some favorite recipes and all she had of her mother's: a plain gold wedding band, two embroidered handkerchiefs, an ivory-handled manicure set in a green velvet roll-up case, and
The Book of Common Prayer
, handed down from the Episcopalian grandmother, Harriet Wilton, for whom Hallie was named. It comforted Hallie to read the prayers and offices though she'd never seen an Episcopal church, and its practices seemed as mysterious as those of the Roman Catholics.