Mother Knows Best

Chapter 3

I giggle as I slip into my old cotton dress. I have been trapped in my layers of lace and frills for far too long, and I have been planning this escape for a few days now. Today is Rosemarie's day off, meaning I am left to dress myself however I wish. And without her constantly hovering around me, I have decided to spend the day in the garden - something I never thought I would miss until moving into this giant house. Not being allowed to do even the simplest things has made me long for the independence of my farmgirl days.

Feeling giddy, I twist my hair into a simple braid before grabbing my boots from the back of the closet and slipping out of my room. But I'm not sneaky enough; before I can reach the stairs, I hear a door creak behind me.

"Are you running away?" teases Anastasia's sleepy voice. I cringe, caught, and slowly turn to face her. I try to think of a lie to explain my plain appearance, but I'm no match for her innocent curiosity.

"Can you keep a secret?" I ask softly, walking closer to her in my bare feet.

She giggles at my strange behavior. "You have secrets?" she asks at full volume.

I drop to my knees beside her and smile excitedly. "I do today," I whisper. "I'm going to go find a nice big pumpkin in the garden and make pumpkin stew!"

Now Anastasia is caught up in my excitement. "Can I help?" she asks as her eyes widen.

Delighted that she actually wants to spend time doing chores with me, I spin her around and march her back to her room to change her clothes. When we emerge again, she is properly dressed in some old riding pants and a gingham shirt. At the top of the staircase, we stop and peek over the railing to make sure no one is in the parlor below before creeping down the stairs. 

We tiptoe through the empty kitchen and stop at the back door to put on our shoes. Anastasia struggles to pull on her old boots; it's been so long since she's worn them that she's outgrown them. It saddens me to think that perhaps my daughters will grow up perpetually clean and trapped in this big house instead of wandering through the woods and getting their hands dirty. But my melancholy is fleeting as I relish in my little girl's excitement to work alongside me.

I wriggle into my own boots, still caked with dirt from working in the gardens at my house. Johnathan's house, I correct myself silently. I have been trying harder lately to accept that this is my home now, my life, and that my past life is just that - the past. 

Outside, we stumble to the little shed across the yard. We rummage around for a few minutes until we each find gloves, trowels, and hand rakes to dig with. I also grab a pair of garden shears to cut the pumpkin's thick stem. Then, properly armed, we head for the plot of vegetables behind the kitchen.

We are both a little lightheaded with excitement from our small act of rebellion. I know if Charles sees us, he will immediately send us back inside and tell us the proper way for ladies to behave. But in the meantime, I am determined to enjoy my freedom here in the dirt and fresh air. 

Before Anastasia and I even begin our pumpkin hunt, I notice a few days' worth of weeds tucked into the neat rows of carrot tops and tomato vines. Part of me is frustrated that the gardener hasn't maintained the beds better, but I'm also excited for the excuse to enjoy the sunshine longer.

"Anastasia, did you see that bucket by the door to the shed?" 

"The wooden one?"

"Will you run and get it please? Let's clear out some of these weeds before we find our pumpkin." Anastasia skips back to the shed and returns moments later with the filthy bucket swinging by her side, a few decaying weeds flopping over the brim.