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He smiled then. She looked in vain for the funny, serious little boy she knew. He wasn’t thirteen yet. How could he have discarded that little child so quickly?
He glanced around the crowded room. All the staring faces quickly dived back into their sewing or knitting or conversation. “I took the railroad car,” he said in quiet pride. “The stage into New Hampshire, to Concord, and then all the rest of the way by train.” Then he grinned like a child, but not the child she remembered. Not quite.
She didn’t know what to say. She cared nothing for railroads, those dangerous, dirty things. It was the farm she ached to know about. “Well,” she said at last, “you must be tired, ey?”
She cast about the parlor for two free chairs. At her glance, three girls rose and abandoned theirs in the far corner of the room beyond the dining tables. She thanked them and led him over. It was she who felt the need to sit.
“Well,” she said, arranging her apron on her lap. “Well, then?” It was as much of a question as she could manage.
“I got good news, Lyddie,” he said, a little of the boy she knew creeping into his voice. Her heart rose.
“The Phinneys have taken me on as full apprentice.”
“Ey?”
“More than that, truly. They treat me like their own. They don’t have no child but me.”
“You got a family,” she said faintly.
“You’ll always be my sister, Lyddie. I don’t forget that. It’s just …” He put the carpetbag on the floor and laid his cap carefully on top. His hands were big now, too large for his body. Finally he looked up at her. “It’s just—I don’t have to worry every morning when I get up and every night when I lie abed. I just do my work, and every day, three times, the food is there. When the work is slack, I go to school. It’s a good life they give me, Lyddie—”
She wanted to scream out at him, remind him how hard she had worked for him, how hard she had tried, but she only said softly, “I wanted to do for you, Charlie. I tried—”
“Oh Lyddie, I know,” he said, leaning toward her. “I know. But it waren’t fair to you. You only a girl, trying to be father and mother and sister to us all. It were too much. This’ll be best for you, too, ey. Don’t you see?”
No! she wanted to howl. No! What will be the use of me, then? But she kept her lips pressed together against such a cry. At last she said, “There’s Rachel …”
He smiled again, his grown-up smile that turned him into a stranger. “I have good news there, too. Mrs. Phinney asked me to bring Rachel back. She craves a daughter as well. And she’ll be so good to her, you’ll see. She even sent a dress. She made it herself for Rachel to wear on the train. With a bonnet even.” His eyes went to the carpetbag beside the chair. “She’s never had a proper Ma, Rachel.”
She has me. Oh Charlie, I ain’t perfect, but I do my best. Can’t you see? I done my best for you. She’s all I got left now. How can I let her go? But even as she stormed within herself, she knew she had no choice. Like the rusty blade through her heart she felt it. If she stays here with me, she will die. If I cling to her, I will be her death.
She heard her own voice, calm as morning after a storm, no, quiet as death, say, “When will you be leaving?”
“The train leaves Lowell at five minutes after seven of the morning. I’ll come to fetch her at half past six.”
“I’ll have her ready before I go to work.” She stood. There was nothing more to be said.
He stood, too, cap in hand, wanting, she knew, to say more, but not knowing quite how. She waited.
“About the farm …” he began.
The farm. A few minutes before she had thought it was all she cared about. Now it had ceased to matter.
“Uncle Judah’s bound and determined to sell.”
Lyddie nodded. “Well,” she said, “so be it.”
He grinned wryly. “For a man who says the Lord is set to end the whole Creation at any minute, he’s got a powerful concern for the
vain things of this world.” She realized he was trying to be funny, so she attempted a smile.
“But I near forgot …” He reached into an inside pocket and took out a sealed letter.
Lyddie stared at it. “He ain’t sending me money?”
“Who?”
“Uncle.”
