Mary and Dark Henry helped with harvest; every hand was needed. John kept the children while the adults and older children worked in the fields. It had been a good year, despite the loss of so many field hands. Each night Mary and Henry returned to their home tire and hungry. Mary made dinner, which was supplemented by Cookie, who sent down cornbread and soup beans. Mary took care of the garden by their cabin, Ida and Victor were also tasked with the chore of cleaning the cabin and minding the garden. Mary had Henry dig a small root cellar, she wanted to keep her vegetables as fresh as possible and with her growing family, she wanted plenty on hand. With the increase of garden size, Mary had plenty to store. She grew potatoes, sweet potatoes, onions, snap beans, corn, peanuts and squash. With the money that she and Henry earned, she bought canning jars, so she could put up food stuffs for winter.
Mary had Ida helping her with the canning and watching Victor. She was pregnant with her third child and knew that as the pregnancy went along, it would become more difficult to juggle the house, the cabin, the children, cooking and laundry. She was due in late February and Dark Henry was as proud as any peacock, strutting about her.
Liza spent many evenings with Mary’s family, she felt lonely and missed her grandchildren. She held and cuddled Victor when he would let her. Bethy was no company at all, she had become eerily quiet and it bothered Liza to be around her. As the weather grew colder, Liza spent more time at Mary’s cabin with the children. Mary’s duties increased up at the main house. John was feeling mighty poorly and he wanted Mary near him, as had his wife. Liza stayed at the cabin to watch over Mary’s children during those long days.
Dark Henry had chinked up the cabin once again for winter and with the fire in the hearth, the small cabin was warm. Liza cooked the evening meal for the family, knowing Mary would be exhausted when she returned at the end of the day. Henry had a ravenous appetite and went hunting in the evenings. He had shot several deer and had butchered them and set them to cure in the smokehouse. Tonight, Liza was making rabbit stew, Henry had brought in a brace of rabbits earlier.
It was well after dusk when Mary walked into the cozy cabin, she inhaled deeply, appreciating the delicious aroma of rabbit stew. She had a dishtowel filled with warm biscuits and a small jar of honey. She was tired from sitting with John. His health was heading straight to hell in a hand basket. He had gone blind and would cry out for her if she strayed too far. She cleaned house furiously while he napped, trying to keep the house in some semblance of clean. It was a daunting task to say the least.
Victor saw his mother enter the cabin and hopped down from his father’s lap. His toothy smile tugged at Mary’s heart; sometimes he looked a great deal like her mother, then other times, he was the spit of Henry. She squatted down and hugged Victor, but didn’t pick him up, he was getting so big, he was nearly five. Ida came to her mother and hugged her; her small mouth sullen. Mary looked up at Liza questioningly. Liza rolled her eyes,
“Ida wanted to help cook. She dropped one of the roasting rabbits into the fire.”
She had been relieved of her cooking duties and sent to watch Victor. This had not set well with Ida and she had gone to her pallet to sulk. The rabbit in question had been retrieved and set back to roasting on its spit. The rabbit stew continued to bubble and filled the cabin with delicious smells. Henry had been reading the bible to Victor when Mary had come in. Mary had taught Dark Henry to read some time ago. At night after dinner, they would take turns reading from the bible, Henry’s deep voice resonating quietly in the small home.
The children drowsed as they listened to their parents talk, Liza held Victor in her strong arms until he fell asleep. Mary invited Liza to sleep with the children, knowing that the older woman was lonely. Most times, Liza went home, but when she was especially lonely, Liza stayed the night. Mary knew the old woman slept best on those nights, holding the small warm bodies to her, listening to their soft snores. Mary eyes opened, she heard Liza’s soft weeping and knew that Liza missed her grandchildren and Nan.
Liza shifted in the dark of night; the children sound asleep beside her. She heard Henry’s soft snores, a comfort. She had missed the young man and she knew that Mary had grieved for him. Where it not for Mary and her family, Liza thought she might be lost. Now more than ever, she missed her old friends. Many were dead or sold off long ago. Bethy had become so bitter and twisted inside, that there were times when she frightened Liza.
Liza was afraid to let Victor go near Bethy, because the woman had become jealous of Mary, for her son. Bethy had begun to call Victor, Ellis and would attempt to take the boy to her cabin. Victor would howl with fear, clinging to Liza’s skirts. Liza knew Mary also watched Bethy closely. It was a good thing. The week before, Mary had caught Bethy dragging Victor across the yard, the child screaming. Mary had confronted Bethy. The tiny hairs on Liza’s arm rose at the memory.
