Chapter 19: Crisis

1873

After several days of iron-willed control, the young woman was exhausted. "But Daddy," Caroline wailed, a sour knot in her throat, "he was only thirty. It's so unfair. We were just getting started." She beat weakly on her father's chest with one fist, her confused baby trapped between them.

Mr. French held his daughter as best he could as she cradled her youngest in her crooked arm and had her other two children hanging to her skirt and legs, impatient to be somewhere else, uncomprehending and frightened by their mother's tears. They stood together on the steep hillside of the Presbyterian cemetery where Robert's body had been buried near that of his infant daughter.

A light rain began and the sky quickly darkened. The breeze freshened from the west, turning the leaves and spattering big drops onto the small head stones. Dark sticks and dead leaves blew across the narrow lane as the few mourners scurried toward their rigs, eyes on the boiling thunderheads.

"I know, I know," Mr. French said, looking over his daughter's head and into the anguished face of Robert's mother, who, like his daughter, was veiled and dressed all in black. Mrs. Williams gave Mr. French a very small smile, took Caroline's free arm and together they urged the young widow toward the carriage while the black workers began to shovel clumps of dirt into the red-clay grave. The sound of the soil striking her husband's coffin in hollow thumps almost collapsed Caroline's knees, but she tightened her lips together and stumbled onward, unseeing and numb. It all felt unreal to her. She had hoped more than once that it was all a nasty dream. Her throat ached.

Mr. French hefted his grandchildren in and then gave his daughter a hand up to her seat beside them. He pulled the side curtains down and snapped them carefully. Seth led his mother and his sister back toward their wagon as the rain pattered down between gusts of wind. When they passed Zedediah Snowden, who stood with his head bowed and tears running down his cheeks, Seth stopped and stuck out his hand.

"Thank you for coming," the young man said, his felt hat in his hand and his hair plastered to his skull as the shower now came in uneven waves, broken by the old pine trees.

Zed nodded, unable to speak.

"Can we give you a ride back up the Pike?"

Zed shook his head. "Gonna stay here a while. See that them boys does it right."

Seth nodded.

A week later the Montgomery Farm Supply store in Rockville reopened with Caroline Williams in the office, her nursing baby in a large bent-wood basket, and Seth Williams behind the counter, his brother's elastic garters on his shirt sleeves. Business was brisk and almost no one asked about the black ribbon on the front door and or the one tied about the young man's upper arm. Five-year-old Johnny and his little sister stayed at home under a neighbor's care. It was, as far as anyone could see, business as usual.

That night Caroline lay in her bed with her baby's crib nearby. She looked up at the pattern of dim lights on the plastered ceiling and put her right hand into the depression where her husband had rested his hip. Please, she prayed silently, please, help me understand. She lay very still, forced herself to breathe slowly and deeply, but she could not sleep. Her heartbeats seemed unnaturally loud and quite irregular.

As quietly as she could she slid from her bed and walked down the stairs, wearing only her long nightgown, her hair loose and untamed. She sat at the table where they ate their meals together, where she fed the children, where she shucked the corn and snapped the beans, where she and Robert had discussed the future. She put her forehead down on the cool surface, feeling the wood's grain, smelling the oil and food. She turned her cheek to the table and closed her eyes. It may be a dream, she thought, just a dream. Her fingernails dug into her palms, her throat ached.

She awoke in the pale rosy light of false dawn and went up to her bed, bone stiff and muscle sore, hearing the crows begin to call to each other. The baby was awake, playing with his toes, hungry but patient. Caroline picked him up, changed his diaper, and put him to her breast. She sat on the side of the bed, feet crossed, nursing her child and the same thoughts tortured her that she had been avoiding for a week. She took a deep breath.

Caroline sniffed and shook her head. Now what? she thought. Now what? I'm twenty-one years old. My God, I might live fifty or sixty more years, maybe more. What am I to do? This can't be the end. It can't be; it isn't right. She sighed deeply as she put the baby down and reclined on her bed, one foot on the side of the cradle, unconsciously rocking, her arm flung over her eyes. Daniel gurgled happily and returned to exploring his pudgy feet.

How can we pay the bills? The rent? How am I to clothe and feed my children? It isn't fair. It isn't fair, Lord. A shudder passed through her like a cold wind. You know it isn't fair. She wished she knew how to pray.

Caroline rose and dressed herself for the day, knowing her other two children would soon be awake and eager to be fed. Her own stomach growled. For nearly a week she had been surviving on coffee and left-over porridge.

Father will have to hire someone to tend the store. Men won't buy from me. Or from Zed either. She swallowed a curse. Seth isn't happy doing this work. He has his family's farm to tend. He has plans, and young ladies to court, lots of young ladies. She smiled despite her mood. Perhaps father will sell the place. Then what? What will become of us?

She bent and hooked her shoes up her ankles, and then she stood before her cloudy mirror and pushed a pair of combs into her hair, not bothering to braid it as she often had when her husband was alive. She also had not donned her light corset and that was very unusual.

How could he do such a foolish thing? He knew about the trains. He knew. She closed her eyes. Oh, Robert, Robert, how could you? She shuddered again involuntarily, put both hands on the dresser top and leaned forward until her forehead touched the cool looking glass. Then she stood up straight, smoothed down her cotton dress and faced another day as her older son padded into her room rubbing his eyes.

In mid-morning Caroline asked her nearest neighbor to send over her older daughter to look after the children. Daniel was taking his nap and Patricia was so docile and friendly that she was no problem as long as she had some blocks to play with or beads to string. She had dressed squirming Johnny in his best suit and another pair of new shoes, another dollar and a quarter thought the young woman. She had also braided her hair, put on her corset and her best dark dress.

The boy and his mother walked into Rockville and. after she dusted off their shoes with her fingers, went along the flagstone walk to Mr. Anderson's office with promises that, if he behaved, afterwards they would go to Bouic's store for some penny candy. Caroline carried the letter the lawyer had sent her and felt her heart beating loudly as she mounted the steps, wishing she were somewhere else.

Mr. Anderson found a stool for Johnny to sit on and then took his place behind his cluttered desk.

"Your late husband," he said quietly, "as I am sure you know, did not leave a will." His large cat came and sniffed at the boy's shoes before jumping up to a window sill.

Caroline nodded. He left me and three children, she thought, and a few bills, a handful of coins in a coffee can and some clothes.

"As far as I can tell there really is not any estate to speak of," Anderson said, avoiding the young woman's sad eyes. "Unfortunately. He was a surely a promising young man." How old is she, Anderson wondered. She looks as if she had not slept for a month.

"He was wearing his father's pocket watch. Somehow it survived." Caroline dug the thick watch from her reticule and put it on the desk.

Mr. Anderson cleared his throat and blew his nose. "Yes," he said. "Just so." His cat folded in its front paws and closed it eyes.

"I mean to save it for John here, his son, if that's all right."

Anderson nodded, pushing the timepiece back toward her. "Good idea."

"We had a bit of money put aside, but, well, the funeral. You understand." Caroline bit her lip. "I don't know how we will pay your fee."

Anderson waved it away with an impatient gesture. "Did he have any debts that I do not know about?"

Caroline shook her head. "We owe a month's rent come July first, but that's for next month."

"What are your plans?" She is little more than a child herself, he thought. She should be out playing in the fields.

Caroline shook her head. "We will probably move back to my father's home, down the Pike." Her throat was sore. She hoped she was not going to cry.

"Yes, sounds like a good idea," the attorney said as the cat hopped up into his lap and arranged itself, making its front paws disappear. "And the store?"

"I'm not sure. It's doing pretty well," Caroline smiled. "I've done some of the bookkeeping."

"Yes," said Mr. Anderson with a tight-lipped nod, absently stroking the large animal sitting on him. "It is a well-run establishment."

An awkward silence followed during which Johnny squirmed and somehow managed to untie both his shoes while stretching up and trying to see his father's watch.

"There are just these papers to sign," the lawyer said, pushing the long forms across his desk. Caroline signed where she was asked, and Mr. Anderson blotted her signatures. "I'll take care of all this. Please don't worry."