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finally filled the butter churn and set it on the back porch. I told them they would get a wonderful treat just as soon as they turned that milk into butter. That kept them busy for a while.
At long last we sat down to a table filled with food.
Mother Smith blessed the meal. “Dear Lord, we give thanks for your blessings. For bringing us through these days of pestilence, we thank you. For saving our children, we thank you. For restoring us, for watching over us, for giving us this bounty, we thank you. Watch over those who have passed, Lord.”
“Watch my Betty,” Joseph said, his voice cracking. The twins looked on as their father fought to control his grief. Though we were all healed of the fever, some wounds were inside the heart and would mend slowly.
“Keep them close until we are ready to join them,” Mother Smith concluded. “Blessed be Thy name. Amen.”
We were solemn and quiet for a moment, but three hungry children soon distracted us. It was time to feast.
“I had forgotten what it felt like to sit down to a proper meal,” said Joseph as he cut the beef on William’s plate. “This is a mighty spread.”
“You set a good table, for a girl,” said Mother Smith.
“Hardly a girl anymore,” remarked Eliza.
“I couldn’t have done it without your help,” I said. “I’ve been very lucky.”
“You made your luck,” corrected Mother Smith.
“Ummmh,” mumbled Nathaniel. I thought he was agreeing, but his mouth was so full it was hard to
tell. He reached for more potatoes and winked at me.
“Any news from your mother?” asked Joseph. “Seems to me that...”
Eliza shoved a bowl of beans at Joseph to cut him off. I knew what he was about to say. He thought
Mother had died. So did Eliza.
“She’ll be back soon,” said Mother Smith as she spooned more carrots onto her plate. “I can feel it in
my bones and they never lie. Stop fretting and pass me the butter.”
A contented silence settled over the table as everyone ate their fill. It wasn’t until I set out the pies for
dessert that Joseph spoke again.
“Have you decided your price, Matilda?”
“What price?”
“The price for the coffeehouse. You’ve got a good spot here. You sell this place, you’ll get enough
money to set you up nice.”
“Joseph!” Eliza scolded her brother.
“What?” he protested. “She has to be practical. What’s she going to do?”
“She could work with Mrs. Peale,” suggested Nathaniel.
“The Lord will work it out,” Mother Smith said.
“The Lord helps those who help themselves,” Joseph said. “It’s no use pretending. This business
needs to be sold for Mattie’s dowry, and Eliza here has to find a new job.”
“Eliza could work for Mrs. Peale, too,” said Nathaniel. “They are in desperate need of a good cook.
The other one quit after the possum.”
“Mind your own business, boy,” Eliza snapped.
“He’s just trying to help,” Joseph said. “We’re all trying to help.”
Everyone thought they knew what was right for me. It was just like listening to Mother and
Grandfather making the decisions while I stood to the side. I put down my knife. This would not do. It was time to bring out the plan that had hatched days earlier when I saw my face in the window.
“I’m not selling,” I said loudly.
The argument stopped and everyone looked at me.