The Hope of Hattie Phelan: Volume I

9

Boredom

The hail had stopped, and the sun shone brightly on the new day. My coughing fits had decreased but remained constant enough to worry my aunt and uncle. Their concern for me made some changes, as the manual labor assigned for me was shifted to ease my cough. Constance seemed to be getting better quicker than I was so she took over my chores for the most part. Jealousy stirred up in the pit of my stomach at the idea of her helping more than I could. But I was stuck inside, folding or mending while Constance could enjoy the outdoor chores that I had grown to love.

Constance entered the room with a basket of unfolded laundry before she sat it on the floor, wiping her hands on her apron. She looked over at me with a smile before raising a brow.

"Goodness, Harriet," Constance said, taking some folded laundry from my finished pile to put away, "ye look like the most miserable girl in the county."

"I want to do what I was doing before, but Aunt Margarette won't let me," I said, looking outside the window longingly. It was sunny for the first time in a few days and I wished I could run outside to feel the soft, cool breeze. I could feel how nice it was outside since the window was open, the wind gently tossing the white curtains.

"Fer good reason, too," Constance nodded firmly as she refolded a piece of clothing that had managed to unfold itself. "Ye gave your aunt and uncle a good scare."

"Yes, but I'm tired of sitting in bed all the time," I said, leaning back to look at the ceiling. "I mean, I was in bed for a month in Chicago, and now I'm here and in bed. Again."

"Healin' takes time," Constance offered, picking up the empty basket before looking at me. "And time takes patience."

"And patiences takes time." I huffed, rolling over to my side. "I already knitted a few rows today and tried to mend my old socks but got tired of that."

"Have ye tried readin'?" she asked. I rolled my eyes before lowering my voice to a whisper.

"I've read all of mine before, and all Nancy has are romance books," I whispered in disgust. "Jane Austen and Little Women and all that—not my style."

"Have ye ever even touched a book like that?"

"No, but—"

"Don't judge a book before readin' it," Constance said with a sigh. "Ye're lucky ye can even read."

"But I like the books that Da reads." I shrugged. "Except I can't remember the names of them."

"Maybe ye can send a letter to ask him," Constance advised before standing up to leave.

"A letter." I nodded thoughtfully. "That's a good idea."

As Constance left the room, I got out of bed. I sat at the vanity across the room, grabbing my notebook that I had brought with me. Nancy always kept some sort of writing utensil at the vanity since she wrote here often. What about? I had no idea, but I hoped she wouldn't mind if I borrowed one of her pencils.

To Da,

It's Hattie. I hope your good. Arrived safe after train at Cedar Falls. They drove us to their house before reaching Tuckerton. Aunt Margrit is real nice. She said I look like Ma. I didn't know that. I got three new dresses and went to church with them. Aunt Margrit has a sewing machine and the dresses got done real quick. Constance is doing good. She has been learning to take care of the house while I'm on bed rest. Again. My aunt and uncle saw my first coughing fit and they got scared. But the Doctor said I will be fine soon. I just haven't been let out much. I miss going outside. It's so pretty here.

How is your health doing? Before I forget, Nancy is really nice. She is funny, pretty, and caring. She says she can't wait to take me to the "Old Tucker Barn" where all the kids hang out. Aparently it's historicle to the town.

I can't think of anything else to say. But I love you and miss you. Will you save enough money to move? I hope you can.

Your dawter,

Hatts

P. S. What are the names of your favorit books? I want to get them.

I looked at the paper in accomplishment. It was my first letter. I didn't know exactly how to write one, but I had seen enough of Da's to guess. I folded the paper before setting it on the vanity. I would need to ask Nancy or Aunt Margarette for an envelope and a stamp before I could send it, but I was just glad I got it out of the way.

I shivered as the cool breeze nudged my arms. The breeze felt a lot colder when I wasn't in my blankets. I stood up to close the window before spotting a flash of ginger below. It was Wally.

Wally was running after a chicken who seemed to have escaped the coop. I let out a quiet laugh as I watched the boy run through the muddy yard, chasing a now-brown chicken. It looked like Wally had cornered the chicken between some bushes, and as he lunged, the chicken squawked, flapping his wings to fly and escape him. And that left Wally face forward in a puddle of mud. I started cracking up, before covering my mouth. Wally jumped to his feet, looking up at the window as I slammed the window shut, diving onto the bed to hide.

He must have thought me extremely rude since I was always laughing at him. But why did I care what he thought? It didn't matter. But the look of frustration on his muddied face was too good to not laugh at. I started reeling at the recollection until my stomach hurt. Nancy came into the room, eyebrows furrowed as she watched me lying on my bed while I laughed my head off.

"What on earth is so funny?" Nancy asked, a twinkle of interest in her eyes.

"Just witnessed—" I started laughing again before breathing more regularly. "Just saw the Wally boy chasing a chicken and he fell face front in the mud."

Nancy tried to hold in a laugh before letting out a loud guffaw. She peeked through the curtains before laughing even louder. We giggled about it for a little longer until it hurt to even breathe. I didn't think I'd ever laughed that much before in my life, though it made my stomach hurt, it was the best cure for my melancholy. Or as Da always said, "a laugh to cure the morbs."