Emma Field Book I - coming of age in the changing times of the mid-19th century

Chapter XXX - Filling and Spilling Over

The next day the neighbours descended upon the cabin with baskets of food. Mrs. Hubbs sent a pan of scalloped turnips and apples; Mrs. Williams brought a maple syrup pie and a forty-pound bag of flour; Obadiah Cooper, three freshly skinned rabbits; and John, two enormous pike. Mehetabel Cooper had just handed another basket to Emma when Vera came running from the southeast, dove into a clump of sumac to retrieve a basket, and raced toward the cabin.

"Cook Elizabeff sent dis, but Ise bemembered deese!" she announced triumphantly. "Deys maybe froze, but jus' a little – I finks deys still good for somepin'." She twisted sideways to reveal a stash of whizened potatoes and apples enfolded in her black cape.

"They're yours, are they?" asked Emma.

"My momma's, but you can 'ave 'em now, Miss Field. An' Cook Elizabeff, she sent dis." She held up the basket. "Dere's warm 'tato water mixed wif sugar in dere for makin' bread. An' dat grass on da outside, it's jus' from when I weft it dere in dem bushes. I'm learnin' now, Miss Field. Teacher Mary's started learnin' me how ta read taday."

"That's good, Vera, said Emma, smiling at the scruffy girl. "That's very good. My aunt and cousins – they are here. They are from Ireland too. Would you like to come in?"

"Oh no, Miss Field. I won' be wastin' yur time. I hope dem 'tatas are all right. Frow dem out if dey ain't."

"Thank you, Vera."

"'Bye, Miss Field."

"You forget that you should call me Emma, Vera."

"Goodbye, Emma-Vera. Oh..." she giggled and turned toward the north.

•

"My word!" said Ashling Field as she looked at the basket Emma placed on the kitchen table. She finished braiding Orla's fiery-red hair then said softly, "I don't think I have ever seen so much food in one place. The folks here are so kindly."

"Yes, they are," said Emma sitting heavily at the table. "They are good people."

"They are good in Ireland too," said her aunt. "It's just that it got so they had nothing left to share, except for a bit of kindness. There is so much more to share here."

Emma nodded. She saw the bounty in front of her, so much compared with the emptiness inside. She felt ashamed of herself.

"How much bread do all of you require?" she asked propping her head on her bent wrist.

"Require? We require very little. But those boys seem to have forgotten how much they require. They prefer to eat as much as they'd like. Make as much as you are able. They will eat them all."

Emma reached into Elizabeth's basket and extracted the potato water. "The potato water has gone cold," she said. "Vera didn't know that you need to keep it warm once you add the sugar. I'll need to fetch more from Mrs.Cooper. It's a lot of work caring for this many people, isn't it?"

"That it is. That it is."

Emma trudged across the track to the Coopers' house. There was no response to her knock. The house was silent. She glanced across the barnyard to the heavy barn doors and choked back fresh tears. She wanted time to fly backward and return her to the days when the cabin was filled with what was hers and her father's. She wanted to remain there for the rest of her life. Wrapping her arms around herself, she leaned into the wind and set off again. The wind buffeted her until she came to the calm created by the woods to the west. She knocked on the Williams' kitchen door and soon heard Anna's voice.

"It's Emma. Mary Victoria, it's Emma at the door."

"It's your mother I would like to speak with, please," stated Emma in a serious voice.

"We heard that you have your family with you now," said Mary Victoria, bounding from the front room. Mrs. Williams appeared from the pantry, her apron caught up in her wet hands.

"Yes, I do. Good afternoon, Mrs. Williams. Thank you very much for the flour – and the pie," Emma curtsied. "That is more than generous. Would you also have some potato water and sugar you might spare? I need to make some bread."

"Oh yes, Emma, certainly," Mrs. Williams said gently, studying the girl's sad face. "Do come in and have a seat. Would you like something to drink? Anna, please get Emma a drink. Mary Victoria, would you please take the baby to the front room while I get this ready for Emma? One moment while I get a blanket to wrap the jar in." She disappeared behind Mary Victoria carrying little George.

Returning a few minutes later, Mrs. Williams looked up from the cream-coloured blanket she was folding. "There, this should keep it warm enough, Emma. Thank you for getting that cordial, Anna dear. Now, I need to speak to Emma alone for a moment." As Anna left the room Mrs. Williams pulled a chair from under the table and softly said, "Emma, please do sit down."

Emma sat on the chair beside the front door. She swallowed hard to hold back her tears.

"All is not well with you, is it Emma?"

"No, ma'am." Emma dug her nails into her hands in her lap.

"You do understand that this is a traumatic time. One day you will see it as the worst time in your life."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I would expect that you are torn over having your aunt and uncle and cousins with you."

"Yes, ma'am." She could hardly choke the words out.

Emma could hear Mary Victoria and Anna whispering in the front room. She looked toward the sound and angrily wiped the tears from her eyes. "I know I should be grateful to have family. I've wanted this all my life...but it's so...there are so many of them...and it's all so sudden. They take up every inch of the cabin and every scrap of food. I feel as if I am inside the belly of a very full fish...and I don't want to be. It's awful." Tears fell from her eyes.

"It is," said Gloranah Williams softly, yet firmly. Emma blinked and glanced at her to verify what she had heard. "It is," she repeated, "and you will need to make some changes, which will make it less awful."

"Really? You don't think I need to stay with them?"

"Not if it makes you miserable."

"But they are my family. Besides, where could I go?"

"There are many places. You are an intelligent girl, Emma Field. You will find your way."

"I don't know."

"What do you know? Where do you feel safest?"

"At the boarding school," Emma replied. "I know that Father wouldn't really approve, but I feel safe with Elizabeth Bowerman."

"Then there is your first answer," said Mrs. Williams standing up.

"I don't know, ma'am. I really don't know. But thank you just the same."

Emma returned to the cabin with the wrapped jar under her arm and the seeds sown by Mrs. Williams safe in her heart.