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“Get into bed, and I’ll be back in an hour or two.” Heather covered her mother with her quilt and left the house. She knew her mother wouldn’t be happy, but at that moment, she just couldn’t make herself care.
When she’d been a little girl, she and her father had planted cherry trees along the road beside the house. It was a perfect time for picking cherries, and she loved the idea of making a cherry pie that evening. Maybe her mother would stop complaining if she did.
While she was picking cherries, Mr. Tandy came back with a paper for her. She took it and read it.
HeatherstopWiring money for a train ticket and matchmaker’s feestopPlease come as soon as you canstopSend a telegram when train will arrive Clover Creekstop
Heather grinned at Mr. Tandy. “I do believe I will leave in the morning. Thank you!”
Mr. Tandy frowned for a moment. “Has Elizabeth talked to you about the trip?”
“No, sir.” Heather wasn’t sure what he meant.
“When you arrive, if something seems amiss, return to Beckham. If your husband ever strikes you, come back to us. We will find you a place to be, and it doesn’t have to be with your mother.” He glanced at the house as if he was trying hard not to be heard.
Heather nodded. “Thank you.” Tucking the telegram into the pocket of her apron, she finished picking cherries and went inside to make the pie.
While the pie was baking, and her mother was sleeping, Heather took out the pattern she used for her dresses and carefully cut out a dress from the fabric she’d purchased that morning. She could sew it on the train if it was at least cut out. It would be a long train ride, and there was no reason for her to not have something to do to occupy her hands and her mind.
After cutting it out, she took the pieces into her room. She’d pin them together later to make sewing on the train easier.
Then she worked on packing for the trip. She had a big trunk that she thought about leaving, but just for a moment. Tommy, their farmhand was still there. She hurried out, finding him weeding in the field.
“Can you come early tomorrow?” she asked.
Tommy shrugged. “Don’t see why not.”
“I need a ride to the train station, and I’ll have my trunk with me. Can you help me with that as well?” Heather knew he’d do anything she told him to do. She paid him good wages to do so.
“Sure can.”
“I’d like you to be here by seven.” Heather’s mother never woke until after nine, so there would be no problem with getting out before she realized what was happening.
Heather went back to her room and carefully put most of her belongings into a large trunk, but she put a few things into a carpet bag. One change of clothes, a nightgown, the dress she was sewing, her hairbrush. Simple things she would need along the way and when she first arrived in Idaho.
After packing, she pushed the trunk up against the wall in her room, where it would be hidden behind her open door, and then she went into the kitchen to heat the soup she’d made the previous evening.
Once it was cooked, she went to her mother’s room. “Mother, it’s time for supper.”
Her mother rubbed her eyes. “Is it invalid food?” her mother asked.
“It’s the rest of the soup I made for supper last night. But I did pick some cherries and made a cherry pie to go with it.”
That was enough for her mother to sit up in bed. “I think I’m well enough for pie.”
“Not until after you’ve eaten some of the soup,” Heather told her mother. It was hard having to be the responsible one between her mother and herself.
While they ate, her mother asked who would sit with her while Heather went to church on Sunday. “I don’t want just anyone,” she said. “Not one of those demon horde Miller kids.”
“I promise, none of the demon horde will come. You don’t need anyone to sit with you. You’ll be fine.” Besides, Heather had no time to make that kind of arrangement. She’d leave a note on the table for her mother, and that was all. She wasn’t going to keep being manipulated by her mother, who wasn’t even ill.
Her mother pouted, and Heather ignored it.
When Heather put the cherry pie on the table, her mother perked right up. “Oh, that smells delicious. Who taught you to make such wonderful pies?”
“Grandmother,” Heather said, meaning her father’s mother. Her other grandmother had nothing to do with Heather or her family.
“She taught you well,” her mother said, eating her first bite and smiling happily. “I could eat this for every meal.”
