It was such a generous offer, his urging her to school. But it was best to devote her time now to Douglas, to making his world a safe and predictable place. And to Josiah. She wanted this marriage to go right.
She silenced a small voice suggesting she have Josiah make a new distillery. Instead, she planted a kitchen herb garden; she didn’t even order in new aromatics. It was a penance, this turning away from something she so loved in order to give Josiah and Douglas full devotion.
Douglas proved a challenge. His ability to pay attention to anything Jennie said was shorter than an eyelash, and in the blink of one he could be out of sight. She tried to make up for years of absence and even for her happiness with Josiah. If Douglas wanted a new toy seen at the mercantile, Jennie paid for it out of the generous allowance Josiah gave her for household and personal needs. Douglas had been known to race through the mercantile, grabbing things from the shelves and dropping them if she told him no. Eventually, she decided not to take him with her but then felt guilty about leaving him behind. Once when she said it was time for bed, he shouted, “I go when I want. You just want me to go away!” If Douglas wanted to visit his Paw-Paw, Jennie drove him in the buggy for the day, sometimes leaving him for the entire weekend. And yes, she felt guilty with relief as she drove away, anticipating a few days with Josiah alone.
Both Josiah and Chen had better luck with managing Douglas. So did her parents. He’d run to them and hug her father and her mother, sometimes looking back at Jennie with a grin as he took her mother’s hand and leaned into her aproned body. Did she not love him as much as they did? She loved him more.
Her futility as a parent was a veil over her happiness. But she couldn’t make Douglas do anything, just as she hadn’t been able to make his father change his ways. She could only change herself.
When Josiah’s latest grandchild, Nina, arrived for a first visit late in the summer and Jennie held the baby girl in her arms, the infant’s presence made Jennie’s heart ache for her own. And then she felt guilty for wanting a baby and perhaps a chance to redeem herself as a mother. Her prayers were to be the kind of mother men wrote about when they got older, mothers who never left their hearts. She wasn’t sure she was even in Douglas’s heart.
That first fall after their marriage, Douglas started at the East Salem school, at the corner of Center Street and Winter, a building a few blocks from their home. Jennie walked with him every day, Van on a leash trotting along. She liked the chance to talk with him and encourage him to have a good day, and most days, he allowed it, though he would not take her hand.
When he wasn’t working with his sheep or goats, wasn’t talking with his land manager, Josiah was busy “supervising,” as he called it, his “investment” in completing the orphanage and his latest effort, the building of a new Methodist church. The steeple promised to be a beacon for miles around. Sometimes, on the way home from school, Jennie and Douglas detoured to watch the men work on the brick building at Church and State Streets. Jennie was always a bit nervous if Josiah wasn’t there, fearing Douglas would dart away and cause havoc among the men.
Ariyah remained her stalwart friend. Alexandro was now a chubby six months old, unaware that his mother still cried herself to sleep at night. “But not for as long,” she told Jennie when the women took tea together.
“I know Peleg would not want me to be unhappy,” Ariyah said. “He would tell me to remember our perfect life together. At least I’m past the ‘why’ stage.” She wiped at the baby’s mouth. “There is no why. Death comes to us all, and while I miss him like I’ve lost a limb, I also cherish memories that hold no sorrow in them.” She blinked back tears, cheered her voice as she said, “I’ve even hired a new piano teacher. I know Peleg would want me to continue lessons. And Alex needs to hear music, though what I do to that piano can hardly be called music.” She laughed and changed the subject. “Why haven’t you gotten Josiah to have a distillery made for you?”
“If he did, I’d devote too much time to it. Anyway, the house is big and needs care. Josiah might be able to see a house window out of plumb from thirty feet, but he can’t seem to see his underdrawers need to be tossed down the laundry chute. He steps right over them.” They both laughed and Jennie said, “Besides, being the wife of a prominent man keeps me occupied, more than it should with Douglas having needs.” She sighed. “I’ve had to limit calling days or I’d do nothing but chat, drink tea, and eat Chen’s scones, and then turn around and return those calls to other ladies in Josiah’s circle. More scones.” She patted her stomach. “I don’t want to spend a dime on new clothes—unless they’re maternity ones.”
Ariyah burped her baby, then put him in the cradle. He slept quietly, lying on his back, his dark eyelashes like tiny feathers on his cheeks. Jennie’s lost baby visited in her mind.
“Doing something you love would give you more confidence though, don’t you think?”
“I have confidence.”
“Not in managing your Dougie though. Am I right?”
Jennie nodded.
“I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have the joy of playing the piano to keep me taking deep breaths of happiness at least sometime during the day. Alex needs that from me. I have to fill up in order to give to him. Maybe Dougie needs that from you as well. He might feel a lot of pressure competing with Josiah for your attention.”
She hadn’t thought that Douglas might be jealous nor that she might need to replenish her own sustenance to have enough love to shower on both Douglas and Josiah. “I’d give Douglas a lot more attention if he seemed to enjoy my company.” Could she be right? “He’s so good with Josiah. I am grateful for that.”
“While he’s in school, you could be working in a drying shed, nurturing those plants. Do you still have that tincture you told me about? My lips are dry and so are my—” She motioned to her breasts.
Jennie never understood a woman’s reluctance to use words for parts of their created bodies. “You aren’t washing your breasts with soap, are you? That can dry your nipples.”
“I need to be especially clean for Alex. It has lavender in it.”
“I know, but it also has ash in it and that can be harsh no matter how well it smells. Try olive oil, just like the Greeks did. Or butter.”
“Perfect.”
Jennie paused. “I have some calendula I distilled.”
“From those little yellow flowers, marigolds?”
“Yes. I have a cream too. I can’t believe I didn’t bring some over before. I’m a terrible friend.”
“Don’t chastise yourself.” She leaned into Jennie. “Just go get it. I’m desperate.”
Jennie did return and brought the calendula cream and the tincture. “If the skin is open, don’t put this on.”
“You see, you really need to return to your passion.” She held the tincture bottle in both hands like it was precious gold.
The holidays consumed Jennie’s days, preparing for this first Christmas as Mrs. Parrish. They exchanged gifts. Jennie gave Josiah a new spring measuring tape in a circular leather case. “It’s the latest thing.” He grinned as though she’d handed him the moon. Josiah gave her a tome called Gray’s Anatomy, Descriptive and Surgical. It had been published first in 1858, but Jennie now held the latest edition. She gushed with gratitude.
“You must keep it from Douglas’s prying eyes, though” he warned, a twinkle in his eye. “There are drawings of humans without clothing in that book.”
“As when we were born. Thank you. I will cherish this forever—if I can carry it.”
For Douglas, Josiah made a Lallement’s velocipede from a patent he had his lawyer get so he could make it himself, his old blacksmithing skills put to good use. Douglas was genuinely pleased and insisted on taking it outside in the December mist to give it a try. “He’ll get hurt,” Jennie protested, but the two of them, Josiah and Douglas, gave her no mind. Douglas didn’t even whine the numerous times he fell trying to manage the two-wheeled thing. Jennie
watched through the window. He was a persistent child. He had whittled out of pine a little dog, a gift he gave to Josiah. But when Josiah asked what he’d done with the gift he had for Jennie, he said, “I broke it, Joe.” Josiah turned to Jennie. “He bought you a lovely vase. I’m so sorry.”
“Me too.” She didn’t try to relieve Douglas of his guilt—not sure he felt any.
New Year’s Eve took them to a party at a colleague’s home; fireworks exploded through the spray of stars, the night sky clear, a rarity in that season. On Epiphany, Jennie and Josiah took down the tree. With each ornament, Jennie tucked away into a box filled with down, she prayed for blessings on Douglas, on the entire family, on all the world in this new and extraordinary year.
26
Collaboration
Oh!” The young woman stood at the door and said her name was Lizzie Hampton. “Mr. Parrish didn’t say there was a maid already.” She looked Jennie in the eye without embarrassment or challenge, bending to do it. “We’ll work it out, I’m sure.” She straightened. “I’m here to see Mrs. Parrish. Mr. Parrish hired me.” She held out her hand for Jennie to shake it as a man might. “Could you please call the mistress of the house?”
Jennie invited her in out of the February cold as she kept talking.
“I’m to clean and change bed linens and look after their son, if he’ll have me. That’s what Mr. Parrish said—‘If he’ll have you.’ I’ve five brothers all younger than me.” The latter was perhaps her highest recommendation for a potential Kindermädchen. “I can stay or go, as you please, as my family doesn’t live too far away, but I didn’t know there was another here. Is the house large enough for two maids? Maybe there’s a nanny quarters. I’m eighteen, if you’re wondering.”
A year older than Jennie when she’d married Charles.
“Could you please let Mrs. Parrish know I’m here?”
“Are any of your brothers nine years old? That’s how old Douglas is.” Jennie could hardly believe that they’d held their second Christmas at the Winter and Center Street home, sponsored the New Year’s Eve party in the parlor with the fireworks over their fields. Jennie had prayed that same prayer of blessings with each ornament she put away at Epiphany.
Lizzie nodded. “A little scamp he is too, but I can handle my brother. We have fun together.”
“Douglas is a fine boy. I’m sure you’ll get along.” It was Jennie whom Douglas took issue with.
“Thank you, miss. Ma’am. Now if you’ll please let Mrs. Parrish know I’m here, I’ll hope to please her.” She curtsied. “You can show me later what best needs for me to do, aside from the child, of course. That would be the most important.”
“I’m Mrs. Parrish.” Jennie held back a grin. It wasn’t the first time the mistaken identity had been made and wouldn’t be the last.
Lizzie put her hand to her mouth as though to stifle a scream. “Oh, la.” She sank to the settee. “I am so sorry I mistook you for the—I’ve ruined it now.” She almost wailed.
“You haven’t ruined a thing. You were kind and respectful to whom you thought was the help, and that’s exactly how we want everyone here to be treated—with kindness and respect.”
Lizzie shook her head. “I should have kept words to myself until I knew who I was talking with. My ma always said my mouth is like a river, it just keeps flowing.”
“I think I’d like your mother.”
“You would, ma’am.”
“What did Mr. Parrish tell you would be your duties here?”
“The usual. Cleaning, serving, helping the cook, and most of all looking after his son when he’s not in school or with either of you.”
Jennie had a few more queries about where Josiah knew her from (her parents attended the church where he used to preach; they’d known him a very long time); what she liked best about being an older sister (her brothers made her laugh, and she had a sister older than she was too, so she knew about the pecking order); what special interests she had (music—she liked to sing and had been known to dance around the parlor while she cleaned; she hoped that wouldn’t be a problem—tending children was her calling). She had earth-brown hair with natural waves that framed her round face, brown eyes, and pink cheeks. She wore a brown full-bell skirt and cream-colored blouse with a single purple ribbon at her throat. A brown hat sat at an angle on her head where a brown feather bobbed with her enthusiastic chatter. Her personality brought needed color to the room.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were interviewing young women for household help and to be a Kindermädchen?”
“Nanny, you mean?”
Jennie nodded. Her parents used that word, but “nanny” was the English equivalent. “Yes, nanny. The household is really my purview, I think.”
“Why?”
“Why is the house my responsibility?”
He nodded.
“Because—” It was a good question.
“I thought you could use the help, that’s all, Jennie. Elizabeth always had assistance when we could afford it and we can now. I like to think we do this together. Collaborate.”
“I like having some say in who is in my home each day. We might have interviewed together rather than have you spring it on me.”
He cleared his throat, a nervous tic. “I hoped . . . that is, that, well, that you might consider going to medical school if you had help.”
She gasped. “That’s . . . not likely. I mean, not while Douglas is young.” Is he trying to divert my upset over his not including me in this decision? For a fleeting moment she wondered—was he like Charles, cutting off her thread shorter than she liked in order to control what she chose to knit? No, this man had her interests at heart. Still, being told something would happen unless she objected wasn’t quite the same as a collaboration.
“It’s totally your choice, of course. That’s why I had her come by to meet you.”
“You might have warned me. I had my apron on and had been polishing the silver.”
“I might have. But I was afraid you’d overrule me.”
Jennie laughed at that. “I only have veto power. But you—”
“You could veto me. Will you?”
“I’ll see how she gets on with Douglas. You’ve known her family for a long time?”
He sipped his tea that he’d cooled by pouring it onto a saucer. She’d seen the Irish do that. “I have. They’ve barely a farthing to their name, but they brought flowers to the church each meeting time. Her father works in the woods. Her older sister nearly died a few years back in childbirth. Needed a good doctor.” He looked pointedly at his wife.
Lizzie’s meeting with Douglas took place that afternoon. Jennie and Lizzie walked to Douglas’s school, where Jennie introduced him to his new nanny. She didn’t say it that way, because Jennie suspected he might want to be consulted, collaborated with at least. He didn’t have a vote.
“This is Lizzie Hampton, Douglas.”
She reached out to shake his hand and he shook it as she said, “It’s nice to meet you, Douglas. Or do you want to be called Mr. Parrish?”
Jennie winced. No one told her.
“Douglas is all right.” He didn’t even flinch. “Why are you walking with us?”
“Your parents are considering hiring me to help in the household, and when I’m not cleaning and polishing—so you won’t have to, Mr. Douglas”—she grinned—“then I get to do important things like teach you how to play the ukulele—if you don’t already know. Do you?” Douglas shook his head no. “La! You’ll have a good time learning that. And singing. Do you sing?” Again Douglas shook his head no. “I do. We can sing together if you’d like. I’ll teach you. What do you like to do?”
“Ride my velocipede Papa made for me.”
A stab of hope shot through Jennie. He called Josiah Papa.
“Can you ride one?” Douglas asked her.
“Ride one . . . La! I don’t even know what that is. Will you show me?”
Douglas nodded and then went o
n to chatter like a chipmunk about all he knew of bicycles, which was quite a lot for a nine-year-old. Lizzie seemed genuinely interested. Douglas and she were absorbed in conversation. Lizzie had a companion on her river trip, their words flowing like two streams blending together. Jennie wished she was on that river with them, but there seemed only room for two.
“You will consider going to Willamette now, won’t you?” Josiah stood with his arm around her on the wide porch, watching Douglas run beside Lizzie on his velocipede, an iron streak across the green grass. Her whoops and hollers of “La!” rang through the unseasonably warm February afternoon. The usually short sun break had already lasted an hour.
“I promise, I will. I have been reading the anatomy book. It’s going to take a long time to get through that.”
“The cadaver work would make it more real. Does the thought of that make you ill at all? The professors have said some people get sick.”
“I have an iron stomach. Once my brother made me eat a frog leg. Raw. He wouldn’t take me to the fair unless I did. I succumbed. I nearly emitted, but I held it, chewed, and swallowed.”
“Which brother? I’ll have him flogged.”
“Fergus.”
“Have I even met him?”
She thought back. “Not yet. He worked the mines in Idaho. My father said he’d moved to Portland. He has a butcher shop with a partner.” Jennie laughed then. “Maybe his interest started by dissecting frogs. My father says he’s applying for police work. At least the frog he made me eat was dead.” Then the strangest thing happened: saliva formed in her mouth, she felt a lurching from her iron stomach.
“Excuse me.” She peeled away from Josiah’s arms and lifted her skirts, running up the stairs to the washroom. There she deposited her noonday meal into a bucket. Her face felt hot, her forehead moist. Goodness, I’ve quite an imagination to bring this on. The frog? No, it wasn’t memory reaching into this new time: it was the growing of a new memory. At that moment, she knew she was with child.