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

Chapter XXXII - Proposal

The mud of early spring gave way to freshness, then to the humidity of summer. The cool of the boarding school cellar was as inviting as the heat of the attic was stifling. Emma scooped all but two of the fiery red coals from the fireplace and took them out to dump them into a hole she had dug in the grey ash pile near the root cellar. She stood for a long time staring at the sun, which looked not unlike the coals. Her jobs done, she left the ash kettle and her apron at the back door and wandered off until she found herself studying the rows of apple trees John had planted months before.

"Hello there, Emma!" John called from further down the track. He bore two buckets on a yoke balanced on his slender shoulders. "Are you looking for me?"

"Not really. I just couldn't bear staying in the kitchen any longer. I just started to wander, that's all. You have to water the trees now, do you?"

"Yes, they are at the point where some will die if I don't," John replied as he caught up with Emma. "I've been watering as many as I can every evening before it gets dark."

"You look hot."

"I am. Want to sit down? I would welcome the break."

"Would the trees?"

"Probably not, but I can always water them by the light of the fireflies tonight – although they, too, are disappearing in numbers. Oh my, this is hot work." Pulling his handkerchief from his pocket, John wiped his beaded brow, and sat down heavily to lean against the trunk of the maple tree. He looked up and patted the ground beside him. "Sit down here, Emma. It isn't near fancy enough, but the view is good." He smiled.

Emma sat down and began tearing the green seeds off the nearest stems of grass and throwing them into the air.

"The grass has gone to seed early," said John.

"Oh. I hadn't noticed but I suppose you're right," she answered, her voice dispirited. "John, I don't know what to do. I can't stay at the boarding school much longer. I am a burden there, although Elizabeth says that I am not, but I don't want to be dependent upon Quaker charity all of my life."

"It may not be charity, Emma. I expect they are happy to employ you. You've always said that Elizabeth speaks the truth."

"She does, but it still feels like charity to me."

"What else might you do?"

"There is a need for a teaching assistant at Nine Partners in New York."

"That sounds perfect."

"No, it's not. I can't teach – and besides, I'm not Quaker and they really need a Quaker assistant."

"You won't know until you try, Emma."

"All right, I just don't want to teach, that's all. I think I will take a job as a governess for Mr. Franklin in..."

"Edmund Franklin? The lecherous..."

"It's the children I'd be looking after. I wouldn't have to go far away." She sighed, scuffing the heels of her boots in the dust. "Do you have any better ideas?"

John stretched out his legs and clasped his hands behind his neck.

"You could always marry me."

Startled, Emma looked up and saw him smiling contentedly at her.

"Me? Marry you? You would want me to marry you? Why?"

"Because I like you and I suspect that you like me too. And I'm not the worst of catches. I'm good-hearted, ambitious, and energetic. Shall I go on?"