Gabrielle Meyer - A Family Arrangement

She went to her room, changed into a work dress and apron, tied a red handkerchief around her hair and then set to work pumping water into a large kettle. At least she didn’t have to sit around all day and fret about Susanne’s boys. She enjoyed staying busy. It was a way to feel in control.

She scoured every surface in the kitchen, including the ceiling, with hot water and lye soap. When that was done, it was time to prepare dinner. She did a quick inventory of the pantry and was surprised at the abundance it contained. Flour, sugar, coffee, dried apples and dried beans. The root cellar was just as impressive with fresh eggs, milk, venison and a barrel full of salt pork. There were several bins of recently harvested vegetables, as well, so she picked out some potatoes, carrots, rutabagas and radishes.

She could make a nice stew with biscuits and dried apple pie for supper. But for dinner she didn’t have time to produce much, so she decided to fry up some bacon. If it was good enough for supper and breakfast, then it should be good enough for dinner, too.

Charlotte removed the last piece of bacon from the grease when the back door opened and Abram walked in with his crew.

All five men stopped and looked around the immaculate kitchen. The root vegetables were sitting on the worktable, washed and waiting to be diced up for the stew, while the dried apples were soaking in a bowl of water on the cupboard.

Charlotte’s hands were chapped from being in soapy water all morning, but she met Abram’s gaze with a bit of triumph. Of course she could manage a house!

He glanced at the handkerchief on her head and then his gaze traveled around the room once again. Disbelief showed on his face. “It hasn’t looked this clean in here since before Susanne became sick.”

The reminder of her sister brought a stab of grief to Charlotte’s heart and her moment of triumph evaporated.

She placed the heaping platter of bacon on the table.

All five men looked at the platter, their faces sagging in disappointment.

“Ah, Miss Lee! Bacon again?” Caleb asked.

“I thought we’d have us a real meal now that you’re here,” Josiah said, pushing his curls out of his eyes as he slumped against the door frame.

Abram’s appreciation dimmed and his eyes filled with irritation. He glanced at the vegetables, but before he could say anything, she grabbed the coffeepot and nodded toward the table. “There will be stew, biscuits and hot apple pie for supper. This was all I had time to prepare for now. Sit up to the table and eat the bacon while it’s still hot.”

They started to come into the kitchen but she held up her free hand. “Clean your boots off in the lean-to. I won’t have you tracking up this floor with mud. And wash your hands in the basin I set up out there.” She offered them a challenging look. “If I’m to serve food in this house, I’ll be serving it to clean hands.”

“You going to let her talk to you like that?” asked the one with freckles named Harry.

All the men looked at Abram to see what he would do. He stared at Charlotte for a moment and then nodded for them to do as she said. “It’s Charlotte’s kitchen for the time being, so we’ll abide by her rules.”

She suppressed an urge to smile as she filled his mug with coffee.

The men came back into the kitchen, each taking their seat, no one saying a word.

They ate their bacon in silence, though Caleb grimaced a time or two and looked at the waiting vegetables fondly.

Milt, Harry, Caleb and Josiah all stood when they were finished and waited for Abram, who took a final swig from his coffee mug. He tilted his head toward the door. “Go on without me. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Caleb glanced at Charlotte. “Thanks for the meal.” He dipped his head. “I mean no disrespect, but I hope it’s the last bacon we see for a long time.”

Charlotte appreciated his candor. “I’ll bring you a special treat this afternoon at the mill. Do you like doughnuts?”

His face lit with a grin. “Boy, do I!” With a holler and a jig, he made his way out of the house, followed by the others.

Abram set his coffee mug on the table and stood.

Charlotte began to clear the dirty dishes and tried to ignore him. Why hadn’t he left with the others?

“There’s something you need to know.”

She stopped stacking the plates and looked at him.

He swallowed and glanced down at the table, adjusting the fork near his plate. “I don’t exactly know how to tell you this.”

Apprehension wound its way around her heart. “What?”

When he finally looked at her, deep sadness etched the corners of his eyes. “Right after Susanne died, a sickness went through the area and Robert became ill. The military doctor was sent for, but Robert’s fever became so high, he—” Abram swallowed and looked down at the table again. “When he got better we realized the fever had taken his hearing.”

Charlotte clutched a tin plate. “He’s deaf?”

Abram nodded. “I’m afraid so. It’s been over three months now, and the doctor said if he was going to regain his hearing, it would have happened by now.”

Her legs became weak and she took a seat. “What does this mean?”

“It means we’ll need to learn how to communicate with him.”

“You mean sign language?”

Abram nodded.

“Who’s teaching him? Are you learning—”

“Just leave it be for now.” He put up his hand to silence her questions. “You’ll learn more tomorrow when we see him.”

Charlotte sat in silence, though the questions continued to whirl in her mind.

Deaf. Five-year-old Robert.

“I need to get to the mill. I just thought I should tell you so you’re prepared.”

Charlotte looked up at him but had nothing to say.

Abram walked out of the kitchen and left her to mourn yet another loss.

Chapter Three

On Sunday morning Abram rolled out of the bottom bunk while it was still dark. He shivered in the cold and glanced out the window at the end of the long room.

Snow fell gracefully from the black sky, brushing against the windowpane and gathering in the corners.

Winter always frustrated Abram. Once the river stopped flowing, his saw would stop, too, and so would his income. Of course the snow and cold would come eventually, but he had hoped and prayed it would hold off a bit longer. At least until he had come back from St. Anthony. The trail would be difficult to travel now and the drop in temperature would make it more uncomfortable. But it wouldn’t stop him from going. He’d leave before the sun was up the following morning.

He pulled his cold denim pants over his long johns. They felt grimy against his skin, but he had nothing else to wear. They would have to do for now.

The other men continued to snore, so he tried to be quiet as he pulled on his shirt and buttoned up the front. He didn’t want to disturb them on their one morning off. All four of them had gone to Crow Wing village, about twenty-five miles north on the river, the night before, and they had crawled into bed in the wee hours of the morning. He wished they would come to church with him at the Belle Prairie Mission, but none of them had any interest—especially after a night of carousing.

Abram grabbed his boots from the end of his bed and tiptoed toward the door. He would see to the Sunday morning chores, like he did every week, and leave the rest of the afternoon and evening chores to his men so he could spend the day with his sons.

The hallway was dark and no light seeped from beneath Charlotte’s door. She had worked hard yesterday and had gone to bed as soon as the dishes had been wiped after supper.

He slid past her room and down the stairs, hoping not to wake her, either.