An Instrument in His Hands

Part 1 Chapter 9

Part 1

Chapter 9

When I finally came down from the tree, Mother was up and bustling all about. She informed me, ‘Aaron came and took Andrew out visiting with him. Such a nice young man to take an interest in Andrew! He can’t help but improve in his company.’

Why hadn’t the other young men seemed as nice to her? Why, all of a sudden, was Mother up and about? What had Aaron said to charm her out of her bedchamber?

‘The cook finished and left supper for you. I must say that you made quite a mess in the kitchen. I really do not see why you have to get in the way of the servants. They are quite capable, you know.’

What? Who was going to cook when they were gone if I didn’t learn how?

She shooed me out of the room. ‘Now, go change your clothes. You look like something a dog dragged off. I’ll be in to do your hair shortly.’

I did look unsightly with dried cornmeal sprinkling my skirts. I changed into another work dress and started to wash the dirty one in a basin behind the house.

‘Abigail!’ Mother called.

‘I’m out here,’ I called back.

Mother rarely came out to the work area of our home so she stepped gingerly onto the back stoop. ‘What are you doing dressed in that old rag? Why are you doing laundry?’

‘My skirts were dirty.’

‘We have a cleaning woman to do that.’

‘Not really…’ I said as I continued to slosh the dirty water.

‘Put that down and come inside. We don’t have much time to do your hair.’

Not only was my mother up and about, but she was crazy! What did it matter what my hair looked like? I followed her inside to where the looking glass used to be.

She picked up a brush and began working through my tangles. ‘To think that Aaron and that Muloki saw you in the kitchen covered in corn meal making corn cakes! What were you thinking?’

‘That they would think I am industrious and keep the counsel of the king that we each should earn our own bread unless we are sick?’ Actually, I wasn’t worrying about what anyone thought. I just wanted to learn how to survive on my own. Who cared what Aaron thought of me?

Apparently Mother cared. She undid my braid and yanked on my long golden tresses. ‘Well, if I hurry, perhaps we can erase that impression when he comes back to return Andrew.’

A thought hit me. ‘Do you think Aaron will spend the night here, like the others do?’

Mother stopped combing my tangles. ‘Oh, dear! How clean is Andrew’s room? Ought we to move a softer bed into it? Or should we move Andrew?’

‘I think Aaron can survive as well as the others, Mother.’

But Mother continued to fuss. ‘The cleaning woman has gone home, and your father is working late again, as usual. How we can get along…’

I interrupted. ‘I’ll move another mat into the room. Or, get Aaron to. Perhaps he is the helpful type,’ I snickered.

‘Dear me, no!’ Mother chided. ‘Oh, I’ll just have to hurry. Perhaps you can help me untangle your hair.’

I took the comb from her. ‘Go back to bed, Mother. You’re going to overdo again. I promise that I will make myself beautiful, if possible, and tidy up Andrew’s room before he comes back. Now, go rest!’