Hesitantly, Tem stepped forward and took the boat, then went back to stand near his father, the boat behind his back, as though he didn’t dare look at it. Even though Tem didn’t look at the boat, Carrie saw that he was stroking it with his hands.
“Papa,” Dallas said, “I’m hungry.”
With a sigh, Josh looked at the table, then nodded for his children to take their seats.
“If you have a teapot, I could make tea,” Carrie said softly, for she was ready to make amends. This man who looked at his children with such love was the man she’d seen in the photo, the man she’d fallen in love with and had lied her way into a marriage with.
But when Josh looked up at Carrie, the love left his face. “You can make tea in a pot?” he practically sneered. “But then I guess that’s a ladylike occupation, isn’t it?” Angrily, he got up, tended to the fire, put an iron kettle of water on to boil, then rummaged under the stack of dirty dishes until he found a chipped teapot, which he set on the table.
They sat in silence while the water heated, all of them morose, looking down at the handkerchiefs that served as plates and saying nothing.
How ridiculous, Carrie thought, looking at the three of them. How utterly absurd to be alive and healthy and to be so sad. Poverty and living in a house like this didn’t make it necessary for people to be gloomy.
“I have seven older brothers,” she said brightly into the silence. “And every one of them is as handsome as a prince in a fairy tale, and all of them travel all over the world on ships. Some months ago, not long before your father and I were married—” she ignored Josh’s startled look at this statement—“my brother Jamie brought Choo-choo to me. Would you like to hear some of the stories he told me about the places he visited? He went to China.”
“Yes, oh please, yes,” Dallas said, her voice and face showing that she was practically begging for some relief from the never-ending sadness.
Carrie looked at Tem, and although he tried to act as though he couldn’t care less what Carrie did, his eyes were eager. He nodded his consent.
Carrie looked at Josh and waited, forcing him to be part of the family.
“Whatever pleases the children,” he said gloomily.
With enthusiasm, Carrie began to tell what Jamie had told her about China and especially about the palace her brother had visited, describing in l
urid detail the silks and ornaments. Maybe she embellished a bit, but then maybe Jamie hadn’t told her all there was to tell. Leaning forward, in a voice reserved for ghost stories, she told the children about the custom of binding the feet of Chinese women.
During this, the water came to a boil, she got up, brought the kettle to the table, filled the teapot with water and her delicious tea, then began heaping strawberry jam on thick slices of bread, and handed them round to the children and Josh. Since Carrie was by this time telling about foot binding, Josh was as absorbed in her story as the children were, and he didn’t remember to tell her that he could serve himself.
Carrie talked all through the meal, at one point telling a Chinese fairy tale about true love that had ended abruptly and the woman had become a ghost. When all of the bread and jam was gone, she went to her case and withdrew a box of chocolates and served two pieces to each person while she finished telling her ghost story.
When all the food and all the tea were gone, Carrie stopped talking, and for a moment there was silence at the table.
“Golly,” Dallas said into the silence, her eyes wide.
“Is any of that true?” Tem asked, trying to sound like a skeptical grownupx.
“All of it. My brothers have been all over the world, and they’ve told me the most extraordinary tales. You should hear about India. And then there’re the desert countries and Egypt, and two of my brothers have fought pirates.”
“Pirates!” Tem gasped, then caught himself.
“And one of my brothers was in the U.S. Army and fought Indians, but he says he liked the Indians better than he did most of the soldiers. I brought some things my brothers have given me, things they bought or stole or traded for on their trips.”
“Your brothers stole things?” Dallas asked, aghast. “Uncle Hiram says that stealing is a sin.”
“It is and it isn’t,” Carrie assured her. “One of my brothers stole a pretty young woman from a slave trader, but that’s another story that I’ll have to save for another night. Right now I think it’s time you two were in bed.”
Again there was silence, but then Josh spoke. “Yes, of course. It’s time for bed. Past time. Now scoot.”
Carrie watched as the children hugged their father, kissed his cheek, and told him good night, then both of them turned to Carrie and didn’t seem to know what to do.
She smiled. “Go on, go to bed,” she said, still smiling and relieving them of their dilemma.
As she watched, they scurried up a ladder leaning against the wall in the shadow of the fireplace. Overhead, she could hear them in what must be a tiny attic as they settled down for bed.
Still smiling, Carrie looked back at Josh, but he wasn’t smiling. All humor, all happiness had left his handsome face, and his dour expression made the smile disappear from her face.
“I’ll clean this up,” Carrie said.