Skirting Tradition Read online

  Should I go around back? She stared up at the wide porch with its assortment of wicker furniture. The front door was open, with just a screen door keeping out the flies, and that bit of casualness gave her courage. She climbed the steps and knocked.

  “What you want here?” a Negro woman demanded when she came to the door.

  “May I please speak to Mrs. Bellows?”

  The woman scornfully looked Sarah up and down. “What business you got with Miz Edith? What you got in that knapsack?”

  “It’s honey for Mrs. Bellows.”

  “Well, I’ll just take that.” The woman pushed open the screen door. “Ain’t no need for the likes of you to be bothering Miz Edith.”

  Sarah stepped back and held the honey behind her. “I need to collect the money for it, and I’m supposed to begin working for Mrs. Bellows today.”

  “Miz Edith pay you when she get ’round to it.” The large woman held out her hand for the pot of honey. “And she don’t need no more help.”

  “But I’m supposed to—”

  “What in the name of heaven is going on, Ada?” a woman demanded from inside the house. “You know very well that you are supposed to be cleaning the library before Mr. Bellows comes home from Fort Worth. He simply cannot abide having his things in disorder. I’ve already told you I want every one of those books dusted.”

  “Well, this girl done come to the door with some honey, Miz Edith, and stop me in my tracks.”

  Mrs. Bellows came into sight as she declared, “Seems to me you’re mighty easy to stop in your tracks, Ada, when there’s fall cleaning to be done. Now get back to work!”

  “Yes’m,” Ada muttered as she turned and disappeared down the main hall.

  Sighing dramatically, Mrs. Bellows dragged herself out onto the porch. “Is it any wonder I have the migraine with help like that?”

  Uncertain what to say, Sarah stood silently, her own head aching, while Mrs. Bellows flung her ample body down on a settee. “Lord knows, I’m not the kind to complain, but Ada’s just short of a curse. A body tries to be a Christian, of course, and help her kind out, but surely a body has a right to expect a little work in exchange. Now, what is it you want?”

  “I’m here to work for you, Mrs. Bellows, like you and Pa arranged. And I brought the honey you wanted to buy.”

  “Oh, you’re Kazimir’s girl! Such an odd name ... Kazimir.”

  “It’s Czech, ma’am.”

  “Well, I know that, but it just seems to me that if he wants to be an American—”

  “He is an American, ma’am, but he was born—”

  Mrs. Bellows waved her hand. “Best forget all that foreign stuff. Why, I always say—oh, never you mind. I’ve seen you at church. Sally, isn’t it?”

  “I prefer to be called by my Christian name, Sarah, if you don’t mind, ma’am. Sally is just my nickname.”

  “Sally is plenty good enough for a farm girl. I expect you’ll be marrying soon, heaven help you! How’s your mama doing?”

  Sarah opened her mouth to respond, but before she could utter a word, Edith Bellows babbled on, “Bless her heart! Another baby, I hear. And after losing all those others. How many was it? You’d think a body would quit tempting fate after a while, but I reckon you country folk just breed like rabbits.”

  Sarah clamped her teeth together.

  “Well, just leave the honey right there on that table, and I’ll have that worthless Ada put it in the kitchen. She ought to be able to accomplish that!”

  “If I could collect the money for it, ma’am, before I leave this afternoon, I’d sure appreciate it. You see, my mother’s birthday is coming up, and my pa wants to buy her a present.”

  “What in heaven’s name does he want to buy that he needs so much money?”

  “Some material, ma’am.” Sarah struggled to hold back her anger. “And some trim.”

  “Trim?” Mrs. Bellows snorted. “Well, I suppose your poor mama deserves something for all she’s been through.”

  “Yes, ma’am, so if I could just have the money before I leave ...”

  “Well, of course you can, Sally! Far be it from me to owe anyone a single penny and certainly not someone as needy as your family. Why, everyone in this town knows I’m the first one, the very first one, to help the needy. But oh! This migraine is killing me!”

  Sarah flushed hot with anger.

  “Well, never mind. No one knows how much I suffer, and I’m certainly not going to tell anyone.” Mrs. Bellows rose slowly from the settee and tugged at the bodice that strained to cover her ample bosom. “I declare! You’d think a dressmaker who gets paid what I pay Mrs. Bettis could fit a bodice properly! It’s not as if she didn’t have plenty of fabric. I never skimp on dress goods, and I’ll certainly never adopt the flimsy styles of you know who.”

  Confused, Sarah stared at Mrs. Bellows until the loquacious woman jerked her head to the left and whispered, “Her, of course!”

  When Sarah turned to look, Mrs. Bellows hissed, “Don’t look, Sally! Lord a mercy! Don’t you know anything? She’ll know we’re watching her, and I for one don’t intend to give her the slightest notice. I don’t care if she did marry Hayden Hodges!”

  “Oh.” Sarah began to put the pieces together. “I heard he married a woman named Victoria from Galveston.”

  “From Galveston?” Mrs. Bellows snorted. “I only wish that’s where he found her. She has spent the last twenty-five years in Europe!”

  “Really? How exciting!”

  “Exciting? Hardly! And to think he replaced sweet Melinda—God rest her soul—with an artist from Europe! The point is, the ladies of Riverford have got to stand united against the intrusion of the vulgarities of foreign places. Though how we’re going to do it when it moves in right next door, I don’t know! Well, don’t just stand there, Sally! Come with me. You’ve got work to do.”

  Sarah watched as Mrs. Bellows tossed her bustle behind her and stormed through the screen door. When she followed, Sarah found herself in a large, high-ceilinged room with an ornately carved oak staircase ascending the left side. “Stay here,” Mrs. Bellows ordered. “I must take something for my splitting head, and I won’t have you wandering through the house.”

  “I wouldn’t—”

  As Mrs. Bellows hurried down the hall talking to herself, a desperate groan from Sarah’s left caught her attention, and she walked over and peered into the room. Ada was reaching up as high as she could, swiping a dust cloth at a shelf above her head. “This gonna be the death of me,” she grumbled as she slapped the cloth across the spine of the books.

  “Stop that!” Sarah’s passionate love of books forced the words to her tongue. “That’s no way to treat books, and you’ll certainly never get them clean that way.”

  “Hmmp!” Ada snorted. “What you know about books anyway? Bet you can’t even read.”

  “I certainly can!” Sarah retorted as she raced into the room. “Here. You can use this ladder to get to the high shelves.” She pulled the rolling ladder toward Ada.

  “I knows that, but I ain’t climbing no ladder.” Ada turned back to the shelves and began whipping the books again.

  “Then I’ll do it!” Sarah scampered up the ladder and turned to Ada. “Hand me up a rag.”

  “Miz Edith ain’t gonna like you comin’ in here, girl.”

  “Mrs. Edith likes it very much!” Mrs. Bellows’ voice boomed so loudly from the door that Sarah almost fell off the ladder. “Ada, I declare! You’re the most worthless help I’ve ever had the misfortune to hire. You’re good for nothing except kitchen work. Why, this poor little country girl knows more than you do about cleaning!”

  “Yes’m.” Ada hung her head but cut her eyes angrily toward Sarah.

  “Well, get on back to the kitchen where you belong then!”

  “Yes’m.”

  “And as for you, Sally, I want you to begin work by dusting every one of those books and cleaning the shelves under them. This room has to be perfect before Mr
. Bellows comes home from Fort Worth. I am not able to endure another one of his hissy fits!”

  Her headache completely forgotten, Sarah scampered down the ladder and grabbed the dust rags. “You’ll see; it’ll be all spanking clean, Mrs. Bellows. I love books, and I—”

  “No chatter, Sally! Just work.” Mrs. Bellows pressed her finger to her forehead. “This migraine is going to be the death of me.”

  “You better go lie down, Mrs. Bellows,” Sarah soothed as she briskly pulled books from the shelves and dusted them. “Maybe out on the porch where it’s cooler, and maybe Ada should bring you some lemonade.”

  “What a thoughtful girl you are, Sally!”

  “You want me to call Ada for you?”

  “No, I’ll call her myself, the lazy girl.” Mrs. Bellows tossed her bustle to the back as she turned away. “Ada! Where are you? I declare you are never in the right place at the right time! A-a-da-a?”

  Sarah hugged herself for joy. “All these books!” she breathed. “Just look at them!”

  She worked diligently for over an hour before movement in the garden next door caught her eye. Scurrying down the ladder, she glanced over her shoulder to be certain Mrs. Bellows wasn’t in the hall and then hurried to the window. A little gasp of wonder escaped her lips at the sight of a tall, red-haired lady dressed in a strange costume. “Why, her skirt’s all curled under,” Sarah whispered, “and—oh goodness—it’s divided into two parts!” With wide, graceful movements of her arms, the lady directed several men around the yard as if she were directing a choir. “That’s gotta be the new Mrs. Hodges. Victoria from Galveston. She’s so beautiful, so confident!” A smile germinated deep inside Sarah and blossomed on her face. “I like her!”

  “Sally! Come away from that window at once!” Mrs. Bellows ordered from the hall. “It’s perfectly natural at your age that you would be fascinated by such lurid behavior,” she continued as she waddled into the room, “but you must resist the temptation.”

  As Sarah raced back to the bookshelves, Mrs. Bellows hastened to the window to watch her neighbor.

  “Can you believe it? Not the slightest bow to modesty in that woman’s dress. No drape whatsoever, not even a flounce to cover her ... her ... backside. Scandalous!” She leaned so close to the window that her nose banged into the glass, forcing Sarah to choke down a giggle but not stopping Mrs. Bellows’ tongue. “Out there ordering men around like a ... like a general or something! Who does she think she is? What an example to set for impressionable young minds like yours! I must defend you from this onslaught against femininity!” Mrs. Bellows jerked the shade down.

  Sarah grinned at the leather-covered spines in front of her. “Yes, ma’am,” she choked out.

  “It’s essential that even a farm girl like you have proper models.” Mrs. Bellows snatched the side of the shade back and continued her spying. “Your mama, poor thing, can hardly be expected to guide you, but I can. Yes indeed, I can!” Clucking her tongue, she shook her head in disgust. “What is the world coming to? Riverford is doomed. Doomed, I tell you! Drastic measures must be taken to defend the younger generation.

  “Sally!” Mrs. Bellows whirled around from the window so quickly she made Sarah jump. “You have my permission, as of this moment, to consider me your role model, though it will, of course, be a great burden to me.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Sarah tried to smile gratefully.

  “It’s no more—and no less—than my duty.” Mrs. Bellows stood taller and jerked her bodice down. “Anyone in town will tell you that I never shirk my duty.” She pulled a handkerchief from her bosom and began running the white linen over the surfaces Sarah had dusted. “A good job,” she finally concluded. “Under my tutelage, you could become an acceptable maid.” She paused and screwed up her face in thought. “Yes! My duty is apparent to me. I must teach you how to be the best maid Riverford has ever seen. It will be your life’s work, your destiny, and I will have made it possible.”

  Sarah’s mouth fell open.

  “Close your mouth, girl!” Mrs. Bellows ordered. “Or you’ll catch flies.”

  “Ma’am, my pa plans for me—”

  “I’ve no doubt that your pa will see the good sense of your committing your life to such noble service, and it’s no secret that he could use the money, although it certainly won’t be full wages while you’re in training. You do understand that, don’t you? Well, of course you do,” she rattled on. “Why, I’ll go right this minute and write a note to your father explaining my plan. I know my duty, and anyone in town will tell you ...” Her voice trailed off as she jerked her bustle around and waddled out of the library.

  Sarah stood perfectly still for a moment, stunned by the radical change in her life that Mrs. Bellows was suggesting, indeed ordering. “But I don’t want to be a maid,” she whispered, cringing at the very thought. She turned to the window and remembered Mrs. Hodges’ graceful but commanding presence, and her perspective began to change. “It would mean being in town, though ... and money ... and all these books. Maybe I could even ...” She shook her head violently to clear her mind of her personal dreams and returned to the bookshelves with a vengeance.

  ***

  When Sarah finally finished her long day of housework, she pocketed the money Mrs. Bellows had paid her for the honey and exited out the back door as ordered. She retraced her early morning steps through the town and began the steady climb up the hill away from the river. The setting sun cast fascinating shadows across the dirt road and mellowed the dry fields as she hurried home.

  Sarah’s physical tiredness was overwhelmed by her excitement as she finally allowed herself to imagine spending her days in town. Mrs. Bellows will be a trial, but to be surrounded by the fine things in her house ... all that china and crystal and grand old furniture—but most of all the books. Oh, the books! Images of leather-bound volumes floated through her mind, but quite unexpectedly the memory of warm brown eyes and strong hands sent thoughts of books flying. Lee Logan ... hmmm ...

  CHAPTER 2

  The next day, Sarah felt like she was meeting herself coming and going as she tried to follow Mrs. Bellows’ erratic instructions. The lady never allowed Sarah to finish one task before ordering her on to the next. Sarah had nearly run her feet off by noon; nevertheless, as ordered, she raced toward the front porch to set the wicker table for Mrs. Bellows’ dinner.

  “Use the second-best china, Sally,” Mrs. Bellows called after her, “the one with the blue cornflowers. You know who”—she jerked her head in the direction of Hodges House—“may have the gall to come calling, and I won’t have her thinking we’re poor white trash.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Sarah said for the hundredth time that morning. Mrs. Bellows’ dislike of the new lady next door had been alluded to so many times Sarah had become fascinated with the newcomer. Earlier, Sarah had watched Mrs. Hodges’ movements in her front garden from Mrs. Bellows’ bedroom window. Everything about the woman interested Sarah: her thick, red hair piled high on her head; the swinging, multigored, brown walking skirt she wore, and especially the man’s-cut brown-and-white striped blouse with its white collar and cuffs. Sarah had never seen such clothes; they were a far cry indeed from the flowered muslin dresses favored in Riverford. Even Mrs. Hodges’ movements piqued Sarah’s curiosity as the lady stepped off distances and marked them with wooden stakes.

  Finally, Mrs. Bellows sat down to her dinner on the porch, and Sarah turned to leave. “Where are you going?” her new employer demanded.

  “Back to the kitchen, ma’am.”

  “Indeed you are not! Take that pitcher of tea and pour me a glass,” Mrs. Bellows commanded as she sat rigidly upright in the chair and daintily took her linen napkin, unfolded it with a flourish in the air, and gracefully laid it across her ample lap. “Now you must offer me each dish and allow me to serve myself.”

  Sarah silently did as she was told while Mrs. Bellows maintained her rigid posture, a vacuous smile on her face. “I guess we showed her
!” she whispered when she had finished. “Mrs. Marsh told me that the lady in question”—Mrs. Bellows jerked her head to the left—“never serves herself. She’s too high-and-mighty for that.”

  “But how could Mrs. Marsh know that? Mrs. Hodges has only been in town three days.”

  “Never you mind. A farm girl can’t possibly understand,” Mrs. Bellows hissed, then stood. Gracefully dropping her napkin onto the table, she raised her voice. “You may clear, Sally.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Sarah waited until Mrs. Bellows had entered the house before hurrying over to stack the dishes on a tray. When she returned to the kitchen, she was startled to find Mrs. Bellows stuffing a second helping of pie into her mouth between angry outbursts.

  “I won’t do it!” she insisted as she waved a note in her left hand. “Mrs. Boyd is calling on me at two o’clock and expects me to accompany her over to that woman’s house to welcome her to the neighborhood. Can you believe it?” she demanded as she jabbed at the pie. “The good Lord knows that when duty calls, I am the first person to show up.” She turned to Sarah. “You can certainly attest to that, Sally. Just look how I’ve taken you under my wing. But this is beyond the pale. That woman is a foreigner!”

  “Oh no, ma’am,” Ada said. “She be from Galveston. I done heard—”

  “I don’t care what you’ve heard, Ada. Nothing could interest me less; I’m not one to listen to gossip! Mrs. Marsh gave me all the facts. That woman’s family is in Galveston, but she has spent years in Europe. Years! If that doesn’t make one a foreigner, well, I don’t know what does.”

  “But if she be from Galveston, that be in Texas—”