Together Apart Page 8

  "You have an idea, then?"

  "I do."

  Dru's eyes danced. "Will there be a role for me, a very dramatic one? A tragic figure, like Shakespeare's Juliet, where I choose death if I cannot be with my truest love? Or a dastardly villain? Oh, yes, I've always wanted to play a villain!"

  "There will be tragic and villainous figures enough to go around," I answered, then headed for my room.

  Issac

  THE MORNING AFTER THE TULLEY SCARE, NEITHER HANNAH nor Eliza had shown their faces at breakfast. I'd waited in the kitchen as long as I'd dared, then locked myself up in the print shop only minutes before Dru arrived. Dru had rapped on the door and asked through the wood why neither Hannah nor Eliza were about. Before I could tell her I didn't know, a visitor arrived and I was left to wonder by my lonesome. I thought maybe they'd eaten some rancid food. But I'd eaten the same boiled tongue they'd eaten the night before. Then I thought maybe someone had broken into the main house and hurt them. I kicked myself for not having had the guts to go up to their rooms, whether they were still in their nightclothes or not.

  I tried to keep my mind on my work, but that was like trying to keep my mind on fresh-baked bread while tromping through a barnyard of manure. The walls of the print shop squeezed closer, the ceiling lower, than ever before. Then I'd heard the sound of the mower moving back and forth. Rusty Farley! And the print shop shrank until it wasn't any bigger than the burrowed space at the center of a haystack.

  I raced up to my room, where I spied on Rusty out the window. The morning sun threw a tall, manly shadow and shone on his tanned, muscle-thick arms. I felt about as small as Joey, who, with his sisters, happened just then to pass below the window.

  I kicked at one of the legs of my cot, forgetting that I wasn't wearing shoes. I grabbed that foot to rub it, all the while hopping up and down on the other foot. All this rubbing and hopping caused me to get off kilter. I whacked my head on the corner of the cot on the way down and wrenched my shoulder when I hit the floor. I lay there, staring at the ceiling rafters, thinking how much they looked like the bars of a critter cage, then picked myself up and limped down to the stable.

  Persephone snuffled. "Don't bother me," I growled, then headed for the rear cross-bucked doors. I listened for Rusty and his mower, reckoning his coming toward and going away. Then, when I guessed Rusty rounding the corner from back lawn to front, I shot through the doors and ran. Twenty paces, forty, like chasing a train, then a dive into the prairie grass. I lay there, my chest heaving, and stared up into the bluest sky. Blue and wide and deep like an ocean.

  Hannah's make-believe was easy there in the grass. The earth against my back felt like the ribs of my boat. I fixed the clouds in place so it seemed like I was the one drifting, not them. I got so lost in the idea of it that I caught myself reaching for the oars.

  Then I heard voices, and the clouds broke loose and started sailing across the sky again. I sat up and parted the grass just enough so I could see who it was but not enough so whoever it was could see me. Turned out to be Hannah and Hester, and Hannah looked fine, not sick or hurt. If my relief had been a tree, it would have pulled up its roots and danced a jig. But the jigging didn't last for long, because about then Rusty mowed himself back around the corner of the house. Seeing Hannah and Hester, he tipped his hat. Hannah nodded. After that, Rusty strutted like a rooster and the swath he cut in the grass was as crooked as a snake's.

  I couldn't stomach looking at Rusty any more than I already had, so I turned my attention back to Hannah, and my earlier relief lost all its leaves. I couldn't make out what Hannah was saying, but the wild way she was flinging her hands told me she wasn't swapping recipes. Something was wrong. No doubt about it. And I was as trapped outside as I'd been in.

  Not long after that, Hannah and Hester went back inside and I was left watching Rusty. Back and forth, stopping every now and again to wipe his forehead on the sleeve of his shirt. I thought he'd never finish, and when he did the sun was noon-high and blistering. I'd left the stable without my cap, and the sun was singeing the tops of my ears, frying my nose, turning me the color of Russell Farley's hair.

  Thinking the coast clear, I was about to race back to the stable when three women, trailed by a passel of young ones, marched out of the resting room. They settled in the shade of the walnut tree and commenced to eat their lunch.

  The next person to show herself was Dru. She peeked behind the woodpile, knuckled the door of the outside necessary house, and shot upward glances into the trees. I uprooted a hank of prairie grass, shook some clods of dirt loose from the roots, and then lofted a clod in Dru's direction. The clod fell short. I lofted another and another until Dru jerked her head in the direction of my hiding place. She started toward me, but then one of the women under the tree said something, and Dru skedaddled it back to the resting room. And then I figured I was really sunk. Until Eliza showed up.

  She strode from the stable door, pushing the wheelbarrow I always used, late at night, to dispose of Persephone's dung. The wheelbarrow was heaped high and covered by burlap feed sacks. After trading nods with the women under the tree, Eliza wheeled the barrow in a path the pitchfork handle, like an accusing finger, pointed out.

  "Isaac?" she whispered.

  I rustled a clump of grass.

  "I won't ask why, that's your business, but I do think it best for all our sakes if you return to the house."

  "You won't get an argument from me"

  Eliza threw off the burlap sacks and forked, which stirred up the stink. Her nostrils curled, but she kept at it until the barrow was empty.

  "Climb in," she said, holding one of the burlap sacks as a curtain between the women and me.

  I didn't have to be told twice.

  "Make yourself as flat as you can," Eliza said, covering me with the burlap. Eliza gave a not-so-girlish grunt when she heaved the handles up and set the barrow to rolling. "Lovely day," Eliza called out to the women on the lawn.

  Under the burlap, I was gagging.

  In the stable, I didn't waste any time getting out of the barrow. Eliza didn't waste any time, either. She picked up an oak bucket, dipped it in Persephone's water trough, and then dumped it over my head. "Don't move," she said, dipping again.

  Eliza was about to douse me a third time when Dru showed up. "May I?" Dru asked.

  Eliza handed Dru the bucket. "Be my guest."

  "This is for the fright you gave me," Dru said, letting go.

  Then Eliza said, "If you two will excuse me, I think I'll go for a stroll, air myself out a bit before returning to the resting room."

  When she was gone, I turned to Dru. "I saw Hannah before, talking with Hester. Her hands were buzzing around like bumble bees, like she was mad or scared or something."

  "She's gone up to her room."

  "In the middle of the day! Now I know there's something wrong. If only I could get to her, see if there's something I can do to help."

  "Go to her as a friend, right?"

  "A friend, sure. One friend helping out another."

  Dru grinned. "Then I have an idea that might work. Go change out of those putrid, sopping clothes."

  Back in my room, I stripped down to my skin and then washed myself all over with the same basin water I'd used for a spit bath earlier that morning. I could've used a soak in Eliza's fancy bathing tub, but I couldn't get to that either.

  I'd just finished toweling off when Dru banged on the door. "Are you decent?"

  "No," I answered, wrapping the towel around my waist just in case Dru took a notion to barge in anyway. With Dru you never knew.

  "Hide yourself behind the door then, and I'll slip this bundle inside. And I know what you're going to think when you see what I've brought, but it's the only way. I'll wait here on the landing, in case you need any help."

  The door creaked open, a pile of clothing plopped to the floor, and then the door creaked shut. A gingham bonnet topped the pile. Under the bonnet was a worn-over pair of women's hig
h-button shoes, and under the shoes was a raggedy brown dress. Dru had raided the Betterment Society castoff box her ma's friends had left in the resting room. Until that day, not one thing had ever left the box.

  "You don't expect me to wear these ... these..."

  "How badly do you want to see Hannah?" Dru asked from the other side of the closed door.

  I didn't answer.

  "They're just a fabric covering, not skin," Dru said. "You'll not change into a woman. I promise you that. For centuries men have taken the roles of women in the theater. Simply think of it as play-acting."

  I held up the dress and tried to twist my mind around so I could see it the way Dru saw it. A covering, nothing more, nothing less. I put on a clean pair of trousers, then showed the mirror my backside and pulled the dress over my head. "Not skin," I said to myself as I reached around to do up the buttons. I did manage to fit one button into a hole but missed the mark and the button was two holes too high.

  "I could use that help now," I said to the door.

  Dru breezed in. "Having a little trouble with the buttons, are we?"

  "Why do they sew them to the back?"

  "Use your imagination. What if the buttons run down the front and one pulls open or pops, what might then be seen?"

  "Oh."

  "It's a good thing you're so skinny, else I'd have to cinch you into a corset."

  "Oh."

  Dru dragged the bonnet over my sunburned ears and tied a girlish bow under my chin. "Now for the shoes."

  I sat on the cot and tried to shove my feet into the shoes, but my feet were too thick.

  "I was afraid of that," Dru said. "We girls are made to wear narrow shoes from little on, so our feet are forced to take on this shape. The hem of your dress touches the floor, so I don't think anyone will notice if you wear your own shoes underneath."

  There was that to be grateful for. In my pa's shoes, at least my feet would feel like they belonged to a man.

  When Dru had finished her fluffing and declared me "lovely," we headed down the stairs to the stable. We had a plan. Dru would go out first, make sure there were no women close enough to get a good gawk at me, then I would, as Dru had said, stroll, taking birdlike steps and swaying my hips, past the resting room and enter the house through the kitchen. It was a mighty fine plan, but it never saw daylight.

  No sooner had we reached the bottom of the steps than the stable doors flew open, letting in the Tinka wagon. I yanked the bonnet off my head, and stood there, dumbfounded. Eliza, who'd been the one to open the doors, rushed over to where Dru and I stood. "The Tinka boy has been shot. Dru, go at once and fetch the doctor." Then, as if not noticing that I was wearing a dress, she said, "And Isaac, you tend to the Tinkas' horses."

  Dru, her skirts hiked to her knees, left at a run. I didn't bother with the buttons, just ripped the dress away and let it fall in a heap to the cobblestone floor, and then straightaway I began to unhitch the team. Leaning back and looking sideways, I saw Mr. Tinka come down from the wagon, his boy, Carlos, in his arms. Carlos was limp, his shirt soaked with blood.

  "Up there," Eliza said, pointing to my room. Mrs. Tinka, the lap of her dress stained red, hurried after. Eliza, holding the hand of the younger girl, followed Mrs. Tinka up the stairs.

  Rosa still hadn't shown herself by the time I finished with the horses, so I circled around to the back of the wagon and looked in. Rosa sat on a mattress on the floor, her face in her hands, her body rocking back and forth.

  Hannah was at my side then. "What happened?" she asked.

  "Carlos has been shot. They've carried him up to my room, and Dru's gone for the doctor."

  Hannah, without saying another word, climbed the ladder into the wagon. She sat herself down on the mattress and slid an arm across Rosas shoulders like it was something she did every day.

  Hannah

  I'D BEEN IN MY ROOM, STARING AT A BLANK PIECE OF PAPER, when the commotion of a team and wagon racing up the drive drew me to the window in the room across the hall. It was the Tinka wagon. Sensing trouble in their speed, I hurried down the stairs. In the resting room, a knot of women had gathered at the open doorway, another at each of the windows. One woman turned to me as I passed. "Why have those people come here?" she asked, a dash of bitters in her tone.

  All the lessons about not talking back to my elders flew out the window, and I answered, "They, too, are Eliza's friends."

  In the stable, Isaac, bare-chested and grim-faced, stood at the rear of the Tinka wagon. He told me the little he knew before I climbed inside. The mattress Rosa sat on was badly stained, but I took no mind of that. Rosa choked out foreign words I couldn't understand, though I knew what they meant. However the accident had happened, Rosa blamed herself.

  "Your brother will be fine," I said again and again and in rhythm with her rocking.

  When I thought Rosa was ready, I said, "Go to him. He needs you." And she did. Isaac, who hadn't left his vigil at the rear of the wagon, helped Rosa down and then, taking her elbow, escorted her up the steps.

  In the time it took for Isaac to return, I had, by turns, shoved and tugged the mattress out of the wagon and onto the stable floor. "I must wash the stain from this," I said in answer to the question in Isaacs eyes.

  "Nobody expects you to."

  "Nobody but me. I must do something, and this is the only thing I know to do. The Tinkas shouldn't have to look at this again, especially if Carlos does not..."

  "I'll fetch water," Isaac said.

  I looked around, thinking I'd use a burlap sack for a scrub rag, and there on the floor was a heap of brown cloth. I held the fabric between my teeth and ripped away one strip and then another. When Isaac returned with the bucketful of water, I asked him to pour it on the center of the stain. The stain spread like ink spilled on a blotter. I dropped to my knees and began scrubbing. I scrubbed and scrubbed, using all the strength in my shoulders and arms. Scrubbed and scrubbed, calling for Isaac to bring more water. Scrubbed and scrubbed until the cornhusk stuffing was little more than mush. Scrubbed until I'd worn holes in the ticking. And still I scrubbed, the cobblestones cutting into my knees. Scrubbed and scrubbed until Isaac took hold of my arms and pulled me to my feet.

  "It's no good," he said, turning me around. "Let go of it, Hannah."

  "I can't let go, not ever," I shrieked. "My brothers are dead. I should have fought harder to get back to the school."

  Isaac threw his arms around me then, pulling me tight against his bare chest. I felt safe there, like coming home to a warm house.

  Isaac pressed his cheek against mine. "Stop blaming yourself. You did fight hard, Hannah. You fought hard for me, pulling me along even when I'd all but given up. You saved my life, Hannah, though I wasn't worth the saving."

  I was about to scold him for saying such an awful thing when we again heard hoof beats on the drive. Isaac unwrapped his arms from about me, backed toward the door leading to the print shop, grinned, and then ducked inside.

  "Where's the boy?" a man's voice asked. I spun around. Doctor Forbes was familiar to me. He'd been called to our soddie to treat my and Papa's frostbite in the days after the blizzard. But the man standing next to Dru was young and kindly faced, not elderly and gruff.

  "Up there," I said, pointing, and the doctor took the steps two at a time.

  Dru stepped around the ruined mattress and asked, "What happened? You look like you've been wrung through the wringer of Elizas washing machine. And your hands. They're bleeding."

  "It's a long story."

  "And it's a story you're going to tell me, once you've gotten out of those soiled clothes and we've taken care of your hands."

  ***

  Later, after I'd changed behind the three-paneled dressing screen in my room, Dru insisted that she dab salve on my scrapes and cuts. Our feet dangling over the edge of the bed, Dru said, "Now you must tell me the story of what happened in the stable. I can't wait a minute longer."

  "There's a girl. Her name is Rosa, th
e sister of the boy who was shot. She's blaming herself, and my heart just broke for her."

  "As you are blaming yourself for the loss of your own brothers?"

  If it had been an ordinary day, I might have tried to change the subject or made up a reason for excusing myself, but it hadn't been an ordinary day. Like the Tinka mattress, my will had worn to mush. "How much has Isaac told you?"

  "Most all, but please don't be angry with him. You know how I am. I hounded him mercilessly."

  "Then you know that I wasn't with my brothers as I should have been, know that I shamed myself by spending the night in a haystack with Isaac."

  "Nonsense," Dru said, setting the jar of salve aside. "If there is any shame to be handed out, it belongs to those of us who whined that the streets might not be cleared in time for the next evening's entertainment at the opera house. And your father, might not the blame fall squarely on his shoulders? I've heard tell that many a father fetched their children safely home with horse and sleigh."

  "He thought we were safe at the school, had no way of knowing the roof had collapsed. And he did go out when he saw that the storm wasn't letting up, but he had to turn back. His feet were nearly as frostbitten as mine."

  "But you didn't give up, did you, Hannah? You went on, pulling Isaac along behind you. You're the one who found shelter in the haystack. You're the one who saved another's life."

  "Isaac exaggerates. I didn't find the haystack; the wind blew me to it. Isaac's the hero, not me. He kept me warm, and I owe him my life."

  "Are you sure you know your own heart, Hannah? Are you sure you feel only friendship for Isaac, like you always say?"

  I looked down at my hands as if they could tell me how to answer, tell me how to trust, then raised my eyes to Dru's. "You're right, Dru. I do care for Isaac in a way that's more than friendship, but he deserves a girl who is free to care for him in return, and that's never going to happen. My papa will never approve."

  "Your papa and my mother! If she even suspected that I was interested in a country boy, not Isaac, of course, but another country boy, she'd have me packed and on a train headed east to one of those finishing schools she is forever threatening me with, quicker than you can say purple periwinkle."