Acrid smoke reached her. She wrinkled hernose and withdrew from the window. She stared at the empty street,as if willing someone to appear and bring normalcy to her life. Thestreet remained empty.
Tillie slammed the window closed. She movedher fingers down her bodice, feeling the buttons once again. Shequickly fixed her braids and left her bedroom.
In the kitchen, Maggie turned out butter fromthe churn while Mother cooked.
“Good morning.” The words left Tillie’s lipswithout her usual enthusiasm. She squeezed around Mother as shereached to take the dishes down from their shelves. She waited forthe usual morning banter, but Maggie glanced at her with puffy eyeswhile she rinsed the butter under cool water. Had she been weepingagain?
Mother didn’t answer either. She lookedpreoccupied as she stirred the potatoes around in the fryingpan.
“Mother, is everything all right?” Tillie’sbrows came together, and she tilted her head. She started to reachout for her mother’s arm, thought better of it, and withdrew herhand. Instead, she gripped the dishes tight to herself.
Still no answer. Maggie put the butter on thetable and turned away, as though ignoring Tillie’s concern.
Tillie’s heart lurched. Did Father get hurtfighting the fire? Did a telegram arrive? In a flash, she saw herbrothers’ mutilated bodies lying on some battlefield. Worse yet,Father, lay flat on his back out by the railroad bridge, eyesstaring sightless at the sky, arms splayed as though hung on theCross. Tears filled her eyes, and her throat closed. Her heartpounded in her chest, and the sound resonated in her ears.
Mother’s vacant stare stayed on the pan, andwith mechanical motions, she moved the potatoes around as theyblackened in the pan.
“Mother, are you all right?” This time,Tillie touched her mother’s arm.
Mother came out of her reverie with a start.“What? Oh, yes, I’m fine. Everything is fine. Ahhhh!” She pushedthe pan to the back of the stove. “I burned them.” Her voicepitched with surprise. She stared at the offending potatoes, andthen picked up the pan. “I was thinking… I don’t want you to go toschool today.”
Tillie’s mouth dropped open, and her eyeswidened. “Why? I’ll miss my lessons, and I’ll have to work to catchup. The Rebs’re gone now.”
“Because, I say so, Tillie. That’s why! Iwant you here today, so don’t argue. I want you here in casesomething occurs. I want you to stay home and help Maggie and mearound the house today. Can you do that? Is that so much toask?”
Tillie opened her mouth, shocked by Mother’soutburst, and wanting to protest. But Mother’s dark frown stoppedher. She bent her head in assent. “Yes, ma’am.”
Mother turned back to the pan of blackened,smoking potatoes. She grabbed a spoon off the counter, scooped thepotatoes out of the pan, and threw them away, all the whiletalking, though to Tillie or herself Tillie couldn’t guess. “It’sbad enough two of my children are gone and Lord knows if they’realive. I’m going to keep my other two safe if it’s the last thing Ido.” She slammed the pan down on the stove. It rang withfinality.
Tillie didn’t know how she dared, but she hadto ask. “Have you news of James or William?”
Mother picked up the saltshaker and saltedthe eggs. At Tillie’s timid question, she banged the saltshakerdown on the counter. “No! We’ve not heard from either of them inquite some time.” Mother turned her back and resumed cooking.
Tillie stepped back as though struck acrossthe face. Did Father show her the letter she wrote? Was Motherannoyed over its contents? She looked to Maggie, for guidance, butMaggie just shook her head—in warning or sympathy? Unsure, Tillielowered her eyes. She still clutched the plates. Walking the platesto the table, Tillie resisted the urge to slam down the plates. Shegot silverware. Her hands shook as she tried to place the forks,and she kept dropping them. They clanged on the plates. Finally,she placed the silverware around the table and stepped back. Sheclosed her eyes. Please, boys, write to us and let us know you’realive. Please be alive.
* * * *
Father returned home just after breakfast.Soot and sweat streaked his face, reminding Tillie of a minstrelperformer. There was nothing funny in his appearance, though. Hewaved away questions and plodded straight upstairs to bed. He stillslept, though noontime had come and gone.
Tillie chafed. She wanted to be at schoolwith her friends, not home dusting furniture and sweeping floors.What was she missing? How far behind would this day put her? Shegot down on her hands and knees and took vicious swipes at thetable legs. After a few minutes, she stopped her work and listenedfor sounds outside. The odor of smoke lingered in the air, but notas strong as this morning. Perhaps the wind shifted or the fire wascool enough to stop smoking. She opened the parlor windows airingthe furnace-like house.
Mother came downstairs and found Tilliestaring out the window, listening to the hum of cicadas in thetrees.
Mother donned her hoops and tied a creamcolored bonnet under her chin. “Tillie, I have to go shopping.Would you care to join me? A little sunshine and fresh air might dous some good.”
“I don’t know. The street is so silent. Eventhe birds don’t want to sing. It feels like everyone has gone toground, like rabbits sensing a hawk overhead.”
“It’ll be fine. I just have to go toFahenstock’s for some flour and other supplies. We’ll be back intwo shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
Tillie was still piqued, but she heard theconciliatory tone in Mother’s voice and met her halfway. “You’reright. Fresh air would do me some good. Thank you.” After puttingaway her cleaning supplies and removing her apron, she ran upstairsto don her hoops. A few moments later, she joined Mother at thefront door. She reached for her bonnet and snugged it on.
Mother stopped with one hand on the doorknob,a rueful smile on her face. “I wish to apologize for snapping atyou at breakfast. I confess I don’t know what came over me. There’ssomething in the
