“I’m going to clean up this high chair for the baby,” Mary Rose said, picking up the old wooden high chair and moving it toward the door.
Silence stretched between them. Tiny bits of dust sparkled in the feeble rays of sunlight shining through the window. Rachel waited. Usually, people who were nervous would say something, anything, to fill the quiet. When Mary Rose didn’t, she asked, “Why didn’t you say anything about that when I asked you about him and your marriage?”
It took a long time for her to answer, but when she did, her voice was surprisingly strong. “He was my husband and the head of our household. I didn’t always obey him as quickly or as willingly as I should. If Daniel had to reprimand me, it was my fault.”
Rachel took her arm and looked into her face. “How can you say that? What kind of a man abuses his wife or those around him? He had no right to strike your brothers or to injure your arm so badly that you needed medical attention for it.”
Mary Rose pulled away, her features defiant. She strode across the attic and began shifting some wooden crates of assorted household wares. “Daniel didn’t hurt my arm that time. Did Salome tell you it was Daniel’s fault? I told her that I fell down the cellar steps. She asked me outright and I told her I tripped and fell. That’s what happened. I’m clumsy. Sometimes I don’t pay attention to what I’m doing and I have accidents.”
“That’s how women explain injuries caused by their abusers. That’s how they cover for them.”
“I’m not covering for Daniel.” She dropped a crate purposefully and it made a loud bang. “I told you. He did hit me a couple of times. Not that it’s any of your business,” she added.
A strong gust of wind rattled the windows and caused a shrill chord along the edge of the roofline and the end of the house. Rachel shivered, but she couldn’t shake off the unpleasant feeling this attic gave her. It smelled of dust and something more, maybe sadness. She certainly felt sad for this young woman standing in front of her defending a bully and a tyrant.
Rachel sighed. “Mary Rose—” Something squeaked behind her and she spun around. She marched back to the attic door and closed it firmly. If Alma or Lemuel or anyone were on the stairs, they’d not hear so well through the thick door panels. “Doesn’t this give you the creeps up here?” she asked, turning back to the younger woman.
Mary Rose shrugged. “Ne. Moses and I used to play up here when we were children. Once he was stung by a wasp, but other than that, nothing ever hurt us.” She scowled. “Why are you asking all these questions about Daniel? He’s dead. It doesn’t matter now what he did to me.”
Rachel thought for a moment. This wasn’t how she was expecting Mary Rose to respond. She didn’t sound like a woman frightened enough or angry enough to commit murder. “You’re positive that it wasn’t Daniel who hurt your arm the time you went to Salome?”
“I know whether or not I fell down the cellar steps. I broke three quart jars of peaches on the way down. I’d say that was a fall. Popped the lids on two more. We had to eat those peaches for supper. What a waste when we needed them for this winter and we’d already had peaches twice that week.”
“So you aren’t denying that Daniel was abusive? You’re just saying he wasn’t responsible that one time.”
“That’s what I’m saying. Mostly it was just a slap here or there, or maybe he would grab my wrist a little too hard, getting my attention. But he always said he was sorry afterwards. And he was so sweet. He did have a temper, but he was trying to get past that. He was getting so much better. And he never lost it without good reason.”
“You mean with you?”
She shrugged. “Any of us, I suppose. We were a lot to take on.” She paused, and seemed to be thinking.
Rachel waited.
“Moses and Daniel never got along because Moses never gave Daniel the respect he deserved,” Mary Rose said. “And he was used to being the man of the house.”
“Moses was.”
“Ya,” Mary Rose agreed. “It was hard for him to accept that Daniel had the right to give the orders here after we were married. What Moses didn’t understand was that without Daniel’s sweat and his savings, we never would have been able to hold on to the farm. We needed livestock, roof repairs, and a new well dug. Daniel saved us,” she finished softly.
Rachel pressed her hand to her forehead and drew it slowly over her head. “Did you love your husband?”
Mary Rose found her cleaning rag in one of the wooden crates and crossed the attic again to attack the dust on the high chair. “I respected him. I didn’t know him that long before we came to an understanding. Concerning marriage. But I could see that it was best for me and for our family to accept his proposal.”
“Then you didn’t love him.”
Mary Rose shook her head. “It’s not so simple. Maybe for you, but I had my mother and my brothers to think of. Daniel was young and hardworking. He had money to buy seed and new equipment and he brought two teams of horses to work our land. Before he came, we struggled. Sometimes we barely had enough to eat. Things had to be done when he arrived. Hard work. Moses and Lemuel didn’t like that. Moses especially.”
“You’re saying Daniel was a hard taskmaster?” Rachel suggested.
“You’re putting words in
