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Cymbeline
If anyone thought I was staying at the church to cluck about with the other hens, they had another think coming. While Mama and Fiona were helping Lizzie put together tins of cookies and muffins to take with them to the church, I slipped upstairs to put on my boy clothes. Daisy had washed them for me and hung them in my closet. Bless her for not asking questions, I thought.
Lizzie had promised to stay at home with Addie and Delphia while Mama and I went to the church. Once I had Mama safely inside with the others, I would slip away to the schoolhouse and wait with the men.
I dressed in my knickers and men's sweater, then disguised them with my long coat. The hat Mrs. Olofsson had knitted for the competition, a combination of a neck scarf and cap, had a hole for my mouth and eyes. Essentially, my entire face was covered. For now, I pinned my hair up and put on one of my girl hats. The one I’d use for tonight, I stuck in my pocket. Once I was in town, I'd ditch Mama and head over to where the action would take place. I’d fight right along with the men. After all, it was my family and my community too. Not to mention I was in better condition than most of those men. A better shot, too. All those years target practicing out in the woods with the twins gave me confidence.
I took my men’s coat from the hook and opened my underwear drawer. I reached to the back until I felt the cold metal of my pistol. I grabbed it and headed for the door.
Mama fidgetedthe entire ride into town. Every so often she would bring up one of her concerns, to which I would mumble something I hoped was comforting.
We drove through town and parked in Papa’s lot. The schoolhouse was all lit up as if there would be a dance that evening. Mama, Fiona, and I linked arms as we passed by, turning right to head to the church.
The lights were on there too, but again, this wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for a dance night. Older ladies would rather knit or embroider than attend a dance. Rossi wouldn’t think twice if he happened to see a bunch of women gossiping and eating cookies.
Many of the women were already there, including Aunt Annabelle, Jo, Louisa, Poppy, Emma, Mrs. Johnson, and her daughters. Only Shannon was missing from our usual group. She and the baby were resting at home with Sally to look after them.
Fiona and I placed the boxes of cookies and muffins on one of the tables. When my sister took off her coat, I realized a flaw in my plan.
I fake-shivered. “I'm going to keep mine on for a while. Just until it warms up in here.”
Poppy and Jo came over to greet us. They'd both missed the meeting earlier but had been filled in on the details.
“Are we really going to stay here?” Poppy asked. “While they defend our town?”
“What would you suggest?” Jo asked before her face contorted in horror. “No, not that. Neither of you have any business going with the men. You're to stay put here. This is not a joke.”
Poppy caught my eye. “Are you implying that our work is a joke, Jo?”
“Don't be ridiculous. This isn't the same thing at all,” Jo said. “These men are dangerous. They almost killed our brother.”
Poppy sobered. “I can't think of that, or I'll either be sick or start to cry.”
“Don't even think about it. No crying. Not tonight,” I said.
Jo scrutinized me. “Why is your hair up like that?”
“Don't you like it?” I asked, hoping to deflect her away from thinking about it too carefully.
“It looks nice with the hat,” Jo said. “But different.”
“Don't look like that,” I said. “Don’t you trust me?”
“As a matter of fact, I don’t,” Jo said. “What do you have on under that coat?”
“It’s none of your concern,” I said.
“You better not be planning on joining the men. She stepped closer and peeked under the collar of my coat. “Cymbeline Barnes, you're wearing your boy sweater.” She said all of this quietly so only Poppy and I could hear her. Thank goodness. If Mama and Fiona discovered my ruse, they'd tie me up in the back room until the whole thing was over.
“Boy sweater? Why do you have on a boy sweater?” Poppy looked from me to Jo. “Is there something happening that I don't know about?”
“Not tonight,” I said. “Jo's reading too much into my choice of a very warm sweater.”
“Do you two think you can keep a secret from me?” Poppy asked. “I'm hurt.”
“It's nothing really,” I said. “But we'll tell you about it later.”
Poppy's hands flew to her face. “I know what it is. You're planning on dressing like a boy to jump in that competition, aren't you?” She turned to Jo. “Did you know about this?”
“We had to keep it quiet or the whole town would know,” Jo said.
“From me? I'm hurt.” Poppy's usually mischievous eyes had darkened. She truly was hurt.
“I would've told you, but we've been distracted with all this.” I gestured about the room. “With Flynn's terrible decision.”
Mama came over with Fiona and saved me from further discussion. “Can you girls help pass out the cookies?”
“Don't think this is over,” Poppy whispered in my ear. “You'll tell me everything or I'll fire you.”
I smirked. “You can't fire me. Who else will mess about in the mud and put her arm up a cow's bottom?”
“I could find a replacement for you. I could.”
“Well, you can fire me later. We've got cookie duty now.”
For the next few minutes, we passed around cookies. Mrs. Johnson had brought a punch bowl and was serving refreshments to anyone who wanted a glass. In all the chaos, I slipped out unnoticed.
Or so I thought. I was about to round the corner of the church when someone hissed at me from a bush.
“Hold up there, Cym.” It was Nora, dressed in her overalls and her father's old jacket.
“What're you doing?” I asked.
“Same as you, apparently.”
