The day Angel made the climb to the attic was the first time she could actually move without pain. She was still sore, but a lot better.
The attic was dirty with years of accumulated grime. As she raised the platform to enter, rays of sunlight slanted through the window, highlighting dust motes dancing in the air like magical fairy glitter.
Boxes and barrels and dusty old furniture filled the space. A spinning wheel sat in one corner, along with a dresser, a full-length mirror, and an open chest with colorful feathery items spilling out. She gasped when she spotted a beautiful dollhouse in another corner.
Walking toward it, Angel exclaimed with delight over the details on the small house.
Someone had spent a great deal of time constructing it. A few of the little rooms had wallpaper, while others were painted bright colors. A pile of tiny, beautifully hand-carved wooden furniture sat alongside the dollhouse. This would be a wonderful toy for Julia-Rose when she got older.
Memories, of decorating her own dollhouse with her mother years ago, brought tears to her eyes. They had spent hours picking out colors and setting up each room just so. Losing her mother at a young age was painful, but those recollections warmed her and made her feel her mother’s presence.
She carefully picked her way through the maze to one of several trunks. The first two were filled with men’s clothes, obviously from a long time ago. She laughed when she saw the curled, powdered wig near the bottom. Julia-Rose could use these as dress-up clothes, and they would have a tea party. Suddenly she realized being a mommy to a little girl might be fun.
Eventually, she located the trunk containing Amy’s clothes against the far wall, under the small window. She blew off the thin layer of dust, and opened the trunk. Near the top were several dresses that most likely had been her work clothes. Further down someone had neatly stacked stockings and shoes. All the stockings were carefully patched. She also pulled out a wool coat and bonnet. Underneath was a pair of Sunday gloves, mended on two fingers, and a small velvet reticule.
A dark cloud seemed to pass over Angel as she handled the clothing, thinking about a young woman dying and leaving her five children.
She sat back on her heels, holding the gloves. Amidst all the confusion of her arrival and attempts at learning housekeeping, she’d pushed the idea of a previous Mrs. Hale from her mind. She rubbed her fingers over the gloves. A woman wore these. A woman who birthed five children with the man she was now married to. Then, death claimed her, and she left them all behind. What was she like?
After a few minutes, Angel rubbed her arms where goose bumps had appeared, and stood. She tossed the clothes she wanted down the platform opening, and gathered them when she climbed back down. After examining each article in the light of the kitchen, she hung them outside on the clothesline to air.
Mrs. Darby had her try one on. The dress fit pretty well, but was a little tight in the bosom, and about two inches too long. Together, they tore out the hem and Mrs. Darby showed her how to raise the edging and sew it with tiny stitches. Frustrated, Angel ended up ripping out the hem twice on the first dress until she got it right.
Now, sitting in the kitchen as she finished the last dress, she still panicked at the thought of doing all of this herself tomorrow. Mrs. Darby had to travel to San Francisco to help her daughter who was about to have a baby. Angel would be left completely on her own.
Julia-Rose’s cry interrupted her musings. She smiled and headed toward the small cot kept in the kitchen for naps where the baby stood, her arms out. “Mama.”
Lifting the baby had gotten easier, as long as she didn’t move too fast. Her hand patted the little girl’s wet bottom, so she went to the washroom and picked up a clean diaper and a cloth. She laid Julia-Rose on the settee and proceeded to clean her up. At least she had gotten better at this chore.
“How’s my little sugar?” Angel efficiently wiped the little dimpled bottom with the warm cloth. “Did you have a good nap?”
She’d grown fond of the boys over the past week, but Julia-Rose held a special place in her heart. Probably because she couldn’t talk. Angel grinned at the thought. And she was a delightful baby. Always smiling, and rarely in a foul temper.
It seemed all the children had inherited her husband’s easygoing nature. Mark could be a little difficult at times, but otherwise they were a happy clan.
As she carried the diapered baby to the kitchen, she remembered the first time she’d worn one of Amy’s dresses. The twins didn’t seem to even recognize it, but Matt and Mark both stopped abruptly when they came down for breakfast and saw Angel in their mama’s dress and apron.
“Why are you wearing our mama’s clothes?” Mark said somewhat belligerently. “Don’t you have any of your own?”
“Actually, some of my clothes were lost on the trip out here,” she said. “Your papa said it would be all right if I used your mama’s dresses. Is that okay?”
She held her breath as Mark continued to glower at her. Finally he said, “Don’t matter to me.” He pulled his chair out, and sat down to eat breakfast.
Angel awoke with her bottom pushed into Nate’s manhood, his arm wrapped around her middle, their bodies fitting together like a couple of spoons. She had awakened this way for the past few days. Even though they had yet to consummate their marriage, she knew it wouldn’t be long, now that she felt better. She would see Dr. Penrose today, and she expected him to take off the bindings and pronounce her healed.
The days went by so quickly with all the work that had to be done. She barely got the kitchen cleaned up from breakfast, before she and Mrs. Darby either washed clothes, or mopped floors, or made bread, or dusted the rooms. Later in the afternoon, they pulled in clean clothes from the lines, folded them, and coerced the boys into putting them away.
Most days, she’d heat up the irons on the stove and press Julia-Rose’s dresses and Nate’s shirts, while supper cooked on the stove. Mrs. Darby put on her hat, and left with a fond farewell just as Nate arrived each evening. After supper, Angel cleaned Julia-Rose and wrestled her into her nightgown while Nate supervised the boys’ bedtime routine. She attempted to do her mending by the fireplace, but much to her chagrin, Nate had to wake her most nights. He’d take the mending out of her hands, and she’d stumble up the stairs, pull on her nightgown, and collapse into bed.
Today was the first day she was on her own. She gently removed Nate’s arm from around her, and slipped out of bed. Quickly washing her face and braiding her hair, she put on one of the work dresses, quietly left the room, and padded downstairs.
As usual, Nate had stocked the stove with wood before he went to sleep. Using the technique Mrs. Darby taught her, she lit the wood, and soon had a fire going. Feeling pleased with herself, she got out the list of ingredients Mrs. Darby had written down for biscuits.
While she was mixing the biscuits, Luke came downstairs, smiling his brand-new-day little boy smile.
“Good morning, Luke,” she said. She still surprised herself that she could tell them apart. At first it was impossible to tell one twin from the other, but now it didn’t seem confusing at all.
“Mornin’,” Luke said as he slid onto a chair.