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

Chapter XXXIV - Swimming

The Franklin Hotel felt like a pressure cooker all the next week. Emma rose each morning in the orange haze of sunrise with a resolve as firm as cast iron. It remained with her until she flopped onto the straw mattress just after sundown each evening, her stomach churning as dread for the following day rose up in her.

The evening meeting in the sitting room had become a routine. Mr. Franklin had come to expect this moment of forced intimacy. On Friday night, after asking with little interest of his children, he leaned back, hands clasped at the back of his neck, and announced, "You shall have swimming lessons tomorrow, Miss Field. I know that it is not something that a woman does, but I cannot have you tending the children by the creek without some ability to rescue them. This heat is too oppressive for man and beast. It is time that you took the children out of doors. The boys do need to splash about as I did as a lad but you will need to mind the sun on Dorcas in particular. I want her to stay as pure of skin as you are."

He pressed his fingertips together and peered at Emma over his spectacles. "Tomorrow I will show you where to take them and I will offer you basic instructions on how to stay afloat. Meet me in the carriage shed at one o'clock, after you have the children settled for their afternoon naps."

"As you say, sir." Emma rose and curtsied without looking at her employer. "Good evening."

She took one heavy step after another to the attic. She laid her clothes in a neat pile upon her trunk and pulled the thin fabric of her nightdress over her head. It smelled of perspiration. Her heart felt twisted like a knot of hair – one started by the wind and made worse by a comb tugging it to its tightest.

Emma didn't want to be what she was expected to be in this house. She hated every room. She hated every demand. She hated Mr. Franklin. She hated hating this much. She cried angry tears until her heart, and the knot in it, loosened. She pulled the cotton sheets under her chin, turned on her side, and handed her worries over to her dreams.

"Leave," they said. "Leave while you are still able to see the sickness that is here. Go back to where you are safe. Things will take care of themselves from there."

•

"You can remove your clothing to your chemise and petticoat over there," said Mr. Franklin, pointing to the highbush cranberries lining the creek bank.

"I don't think..."

"Don't worry, I can't see you from here," he retorted, his hand loosening the tie about his neck.

Emma looked at the screen of bushes.

"Leave," the voice advised again, before a louder voice hissed, "He is your employer. You must do as he says – for the benefit of the children. Do you want them to drown because of your incompetence? Do you want to be independent or don't you?"

Emma scanned the undergrowth for the familiar, glossy leaves of poison ivy before hoisting her skirts and creeping behind the bushes. Her teeth clenched and her temples burned with an unbearable tension. Her undergarments felt strangely moist. She removed her dress and wrapped the towelling around her like a shawl, as if it were the coldest day of winter. Retracing her steps to the bank, she found that Mr. Franklin now had only his trousers and hat on. He was standing with his back to her, his hands on the rolls encircling his waist. He looked as if he owned the pool of water that swirled in front of him.

"I can't swim at all," she stated, clutching her bundle of clothes to her chest. "The water moves very quickly through here, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does," he grinned, showing all of his teeth. "Don't worry, I am a good swimmer and I'll take good care of you. Come, Emma," he said in a voice normally reserved for speaking to babies. He took her hand in his pudgy fingers.