Chapter 35
March 1872
"Hello, Mrs. McCloud," sonsy Anna Ingalls called as Lou came into the boarding house and looked around. "What can I do for you?"
"I'm here to see one of your boarders," Lou said. "Mrs. Mortimer."
Kid had sidled into the boarding house behind Lou, looking sheepish. "Lou, why don't we just leave those envelopes for her and get out of here? We haven't even been home yet and I'm beat."
"I want to make sure Mrs. Mortimer gets what's coming to her," Lou said, her spine straight and her eyes determined. "You go and wait in the wagon, dear."
Looking warily at her, Kid shrugged uncomfortably and headed out as directed. Lou squared her shoulders and marched up the stairway.
Lou tapped on the door to Natalie's boarding house room and waited patiently for the woman to open it.
"Mrs. McCloud," Natalie said coldly when she opened it. "What a surprise to see you again." Her eyes flickered to two envelopes in Lou's hand. "What's that?"
"This one is your severance pay," Lou said, handing it to her. "I've consulted with my husband and he's in agreement with the decision to let you go. You recall you were uncertain about that a little while ago, remember?"
Natalie took the envelope and glanced inside. Lou said stiffly, "I'm sure you'll agree it's more than fair. And this one ... I saw an advertisement for a housekeeper for a family in town, on the way into town. The Simpsons; their housekeeper died a couple of weeks ago."
"Of overwork, I suppose. Mr. Simpson has five boys and no wife to help him," Natalie observed. "And I suppose you expect me to take that job."
"I have a reference letter here from Kid, telling Mr. Simpson about your service here."
"He probably left out a few details about what I did for him," Natalie said spitefully. "And the reason I'm being fired, I expect."
"He said the reason in the letter," Lou said evenly. "That you are no longer needed around the house."
"No, that's not the reason. It's because you feel threatened by having me around knowing your precious husband and I were lovers."
"Take the letter, Natalie, and let's end this."
Natalie snatched the letter from Lou's hand. "You needn't worry so. I couldn't care less; your high-and-mighty husband is nothing special. He's the worst lover I've ever had, in fact. Enjoy him while he lasts ... which I'm sure you know, isn't long."
"That's probably because you didn't mean anything to him," Lou said coolly. "If you want sympathy for that, why don't you go talk about it with the whores at the brothel? I'm sure they have a similar problem."
Lou turned, trying to hang on to her dignity, and headed toward the stairs, feeling a slight satisfaction at hearing the door bang viciously behind her and knowing her shot had told.
Her satisfaction was short-lived, however; the news that Natalie was not coming back sent Jed into a small, crazed fury. Like his adored Natalie, the boy gave vent to his spleen by slamming doors and worse for a long, difficult evening, finally dropping off to an exhausted sleep. Isa's thrilled screams and tight hugs when Lou had stepped off the wagon, meant the world to her, but couldn't completely erase the sting of Jed's sullen face when he saw her, and when they had to tell the boy that no, Natalie was still fired, and yes, Mama was back to stay.
Lou was dreading the sight of him the next morning as she made breakfast with Isa. "You can use a biscuit cutter to make a nice hole in the bread," Lou instructed the little girl, who nodded and started pressing out the circles of bread as Lou warmed the skillet. Jed came into the kitchen and slumped at the table, watching disdainfully.
"Okay, now what?" Isa said.
"You lay them in the skillet and we break an egg into each hole. It's called egg-in-a-basket, and it's your daddy's favorite way to have eggs," Lou said proudly.
"No it ain't," Jed muttered.
Lou looked at Jed as she dropped the last egg into the skillet to cook. "What was that, Jed?"
Jed fiddled with a fork, looking intently at it rather than up at his mother. "His favou
rite is French omelettes. So's mine," he said.
"Well, I can probably make that," Lou said slowly. "Do you know the recipe?" she asked, trying to engage him in conversation.
"Forget it. Natalie always said it was tricky ... probably too hard for you. You'd best stick to those fried egg things," the boy said condescendingly.
Lou stifled a retort, and Isa tugged on her sleeve. "Mama, I think they're burning?"
Whirling around, Lou saw with dismay that indeed, the pan was too hot and the eggs were burning. She grabbed the cast-iron handle barehanded without thinking, and then let go with a sudden yelp of pain. Little Isa, armed with a dishtowel, took the smoking pan from the stove and dumped it in the sink, as Lou pumped water over it and Jed laughed mockingly behind them.
When the small fire was out, Lou turned and Jed smothered his laughter. "I take it back," he said, his eyes dancing with a cross of mockery and malice. "You'd better stick to boiling 'em."
Lou held her temper, and went to the sideboard to cut bread for butter and jam sandwiches for the children's breakfasts. Isa took hers and kissed her mother goodbye, heading out the door to school with her lunch pail and books. When Lou tried to hand Jed his sandwich, he snatched it rudely, and when she tried to give him a kiss on the cheek, he snarled and shoved her back, snapping, "Don't touch me."
Fed up, Lou grasped him firmly by the arm. "Now listen, young man. It's time we had this out, you and me."
"What?" Jed said defiantly, as Kid entered the kitchen and looked at the pair curiously.
"I've had enough, that's what," Lou said through gritted teeth.
"I have a right not to be kissed and mauled if I don't want it. I'm not a baby anymore, even if you slept through me growin' up."
"Jed!" Kid admonished, but Lou waved Kid to silence.
"He's right, Kid."
Open-mouthed, the father and son looked at Lou.
"It's nobody's fault, but it's true. Jed grew up when I was sick, and the baby I ... the baby I knew isn't there anymore," Lou said, shakily. "And he has no reason to care about me, since he barely knows me." She gathered her resolve and continued. "So I won't treat you like a baby or expect you to treat me like I'm your ma."
"Fine." His face sulky, Jed started to brush by her, but she tightened her hold on his arm.
"But I have a condition," Lou added. "I expect to be treated with common decency, even if you can't show me any affection. No more sarcasm, no more defiance, no more rudeness. Even just as a human being who is part of this family, like it or not, I deserve that much. Understood? I won't ask you to care about me, but I will demand that you respect me."
His lip stuck out stubbornly, Jed nodded and grabbed his books, stalking out the door. Lou waited for the slam, but she noted that this time, he simply let the door swing shut without a bang.
Kid shook his head dubiously. "Why did you tell him that, Lou? Have you written him off?"
"Of course not. But I'm trying to remember that he needs time to grow to love me. I know I'm his mother, but I'm a stranger to him. It's ridiculous to keep trying to pretend otherwise. Trying to force love from someone usually only has the opposite effect."
"Especially with stubborn folks, like Jed," Kid said, poking the mess in the sink cautiously with a fork. "And you," he grinned at her. "I had to let you go, let you come back to me when you were ready, back in the old days, remember?"
"Yes, and he may look like you, but he acts like me. Stubborn, prideful. Contrary," Lou conceded with a sigh. "I just hope, someday, he'll let me in, let me love him and let himself love me back."
Kid was about to answer when a knock came at the kitchen door. "Come in," he called over his shoulder. The door opened, and Rachel stepped in.
"I'll let you gals talk," Kid said, getting up with his coffee cup, but Rachel stopped him. "No, Kid, I came to talk to both of you. There's something I need to tell both of you."
Looking puzzled at Rachel, Kid sank back down in his seat beside Lou, who looked solemnly down at her plate as Kid put an arm around her waist.
The older woman took a seat opposite the pair, and looked at them steadily. "I understand that everything's out in the open now ... about Natalie."
"Rachel, that's in the past now ... it really doesn't concern you," Kid started, but Rachel stopped him gently.
"You're right in one sense, Kid. It doesn't concern me, and I wish I had realized that before. I'm afraid I was a part of ... of what happened. I never meant to hurt anyone, truly. I ... I encouraged Natalie to let you know how she felt about you," Rachel said, stumblingly. "I thought it was ... okay, at the time. Since ... since nobody had reason to believe Lou would come back to us," she said, tearfully. "But ... it maybe wouldn't have happened if I hadn't said anything to her. She never spoke to you of it in all the years she cared ... not until I opened my big mouth. I'm so sorry I caused all this."
Kid shifted uncomfortably, and sighed. "Rachel ... it's not your fault," he said. "Only one person is to blame, and that's me. I'm a big boy and ... well, I made a big mistake. But it's my mistake, my responsibility. I have no hard feelings toward you."
Rachel shifted her eyes to Lou, who had remained silent. "Lou? I know how hurt you probably are about this. Please believe I ... I only meant to help Kid and the children, and Natalie, but never to hurt you, never. I would cut off my own arm before I would do anything to hurt you, and ... and that's what I did."
Lou looked up at Rachel's face, still beautiful and ageless after all this time, the eyes kind and caring as ever, and brimming with tears.
"If you ever find it in your heart to be friends again ... I'll be there," Rachel said, getting up hurriedly. "That's all ... unless ... unless there's something else you want to say." She paused, standing with her head averted, waiting for Lou to upbraid her once again. After a long pause, Lou sighed and spoke.
"Well, there is one thing."
Lou got up and clasped Rachel's smooth, graceful hand in her tiny childlike one. "I forgive you." Rachel smiled through her tears and the two women embraced. "Just promise, no more matchmaking, okay," Lou said, her voice shaking a little with tears as she tried to make a joke, and Rachel clutched her friend tighter and nodded, crying against Lou's hair.
Natalie brushed off her skirt, looking distastefully around the parlor where Mr. Simpson had shown her and left her waiting while he made a cup of tea in the kitchen. She was not sure she was going to stay for this interview, she thought doubtfully. She liked a challenge as much as the next person, but this house ... she looked around the room. This, this was the room where Mr. Simpson received company, and it was covered with thick layer of dust all over the room ... the vases stood empty on the organ and the parlor table. She doubted the rugs had been beaten in the five years since Clarabelle Simpson went to her grave behind the house. She had known the woman ... a merry, bustling little hausfrau who kept the place running like a top until she had died of childbed fever after the littlest boy's birth. Clarabelle was probably turning in her grave if she knew the muslin curtains she had made were now yellow from the sun, hanging limply in the window, and that her boys and man were going to church in poorly mended clothes.
Mr. Simpson returned from the kitchen. Natalie had never gotten to know him very well, though she had known and liked his wife. He was a handsome, strapping man standing nearly six and a half feet tall ... with a full black beard covering his face and long black hair tumbling down his back. He handed her a cup of tea and Natalie glanced down at it. She wasn't too sure either the cup or the tea was particularly sanitary, but she pretended to sip it politely.
"Ma'am, I'd be obliged to you if you took the post," he said plainly. "My boys ... they're runnin' a bit wild ... the place needs a woman's touch, as you can see. I can't afford what you were makin' as a nurse for the McClouds," he admitted, "But I can see my way to ten dollars a week, and you can take your meals with us ..."
Natalie sighed. She had been making three times that working for Kid, but it was fair enough pay ... the boys were all past the diaper stage and in school most of the day. Once she got the house in order, it wouldn't be that hard of a job.
She decided, after a brief pause. It wasn't as if she had a lot of choices, and certainly there was harder work ... "Thank you, Mr. Simpson, I'll take the job."
His teeth flashed suddenly, white against his dark beard, and his blue eyes twinkled happily. "It's Abe," he said, holding out his hand, and Natalie felt a slight stirring when she took it.