Dec 30, 1863- breakfast
Sweetfern Farm
Kirkwood, MS
Mac awoke in her own bed, but she was unsure how she had gotten there. The last thing she remembered was Mr. Gibson reading aloud in the kitchen. 'I must have fallen asleep,' she though, 'And they carried me up three flights to my bed.'
She folded back her blankets, and wrapped a warm grey wool shawl around her shoulders before she ventured out onto the landing. The door to the East room, or rather the Roberts' room was still closed, and Mac took that to mean that they were still asleep. So, she padded silently across the landing to the West room, where Lt. Rabb was, hopefully, sleeping. She pushed open the door and was relieved to see Bobbi sitting and knitting by his bedside.
"Good morning to ya, Miss Sarah," Bobbi said brightly, "You were dog tired last night, so Harriet and I dressed you for bed. I hope you don't mind."
"I don't mind at all," Mac replied, as she came into the room. "How is he?"
"He's slept peacefully all night," Bobbi told her, "Hasn't moved at all, except to breath and say the name 'Diane', though I have no idea why."
"Yes, he said her name yesterday," Mac said, "I believe that 'Diane' is a some old love of his."
Bobbi raised her eyebrows, and then she said, "Well, you should bathe. Because, frankly, dear, you smell like a doctor."
Mac looked at Bobbi sternly, "You mean I smell like blood."
"No, you smell like everything a doctor smells like," Bobbi corrected, "Soap, sweat, medicine, herbs, and, yes, blood."
Mac smiled. She remembered the smell; her father had always come home from his office with the same smell, which was probably why Mac hadn't noticed it on herself. She kissed Bobbi softly on the cheek and then she left the room, and crossed the landing to the powder and wash room.
She sat for a long time in the scented water of the bathtub, soaking up the warmth. But when she finished, she dried herself quickly and returned to her room to dress for the day. Out of her dressed she pulled out a plain white chemise and her corset. She slipped the chemise on and pulled on her corset, she never laced it tighter than her figure would allow her to do so comfortably, for there was no good reason why she should have to force herself to faint in the name of fashion. In fact, the only reason she even wore her corset was so she would be decently supported. She followed the chemise and corset with a plain white wool petticoat, over which she pulled on her hoops. As her last under garment, she put on a fine muslin petticoat.
Next, she set about selecting a skirt and shirt for the day. She picked a plain brown wool skirt, a white shirt, and a thick leather belt, with a large buckle. By the time she was completely dressed her hair, which reached almost to her waist, was almost dry. She braided it down her back, and secured it with a bit of leather. She paused only briefly to look at her reflection in the mirror, and she looked that same as she did every day. She smiled at herself, and then she opened her door, and stepped out ready for the day.
She bumped right into Harriet, who was wearing a dressing gown, on her way back to her room from the powder room. Little AJ was toddling behind her.
"Good morning, Harriet," Mac said cheerfully, "Hello, AJ. How are you this morning?"
"An' Mac," AJ babbled as Mac scooped him up in her arms.
"I take it you slept well, then," Harriet replied, matching Mac's cheerful tone.
Mac smiled at her friend, and asked, "Do you need clothes?"
"Actually, I was just going to ask you if I could borrow another chemise and shirt from you," Harriet admitted.
"You can borrow anything you like from my wardrobe," Mac assured her as she looped Harriet's arm in hers. "Come on, we can pick something out together."
Mac helped Harriet to find a chemise, petticoats, and simple, forest green skirt and a mint green button down shirt. While she helped his mother dress, little AJ played with the clothes in the Mac's bottom drawer. In the few minutes it took to get Harriet dressed in the simple attire, AJ had managed to empty the drawer and throw its contents all around the room.
"Oh, AJ, no," Harriet tried to scold him, "You shouldn't play with those."
"It's alright, Harriet," Mac said, "Let's fix your hair."
"Now, really, Mac you needn't fuss over me," Harriet warned.
"I'm not fussing," Mac defended, "And even if I was, I rarely get the chance, so you should let me fuss over you. Besides, I'm just going to braid it."
"I can do that," Harriet said.
"No, you just sit down," Mac said cheerfully, knowing she had won the debate and Harriet sat down at the vanity. Mac did more than just braid her hair the way she had done her own. She braided Harriet's into a oval that wound around that back of her head. Mac was also sure to leave a few strands of Harriet's hair loose from the braid, giving her a soft, young look.
"Oh, Mac, it's lovely," Harriet said when she saw the final result in the mirror. Just then, little AJ scuttled out of the room. "Albert Jethro, come back here this minute."
Harriet and Mac both made for the door, and when they reached it that dashed out onto the landing. They stopped abruptly when they saw Bud, fully dressed and clean-shaven, already holding the escapee.
"AJ you listen to mother next time," Bud was scolding him playfully.
"Oh, Bud, stop," Harriet reprimanded him, "You're encouraging him."
Bud gave her an apologetic look and she smiled back at him. "Come here, AJ," she said as she collected her rambunctious son, "Let's get you dressed. We'll see you down stairs."
Mac watched longingly as Bud patted his son on the arm, and kissed his wife. Outwardly, Mac was completely happy being strong and independent, even if that wasn't normal for her contemporaries. Inwardly, though, she envied Harriet's happy marriage and her beautiful son.
"Some day, Mac. Some day," Bud said understanding the look on her face. Mac made a little smile, and then Bud said, "Come on, I'm sure Hannah has a delicious breakfast waiting for us."
Mac smiled more broadly, and she led Bud down the stairs. As they were descending the second staircase, Mac saw through the front window that a man she really didn't want to see, was walking briskly up the garden walk to the front door.
"Bud," she whispered urgently, "Go to the kitchen and tell Hannah to protect the family."
Bud looked questioningly at her, but Mac shook her head. "She'll know," Mac whispered, "Go."
Bud nodded and hurried back toward the kitchen, just as the knock came at the front door. Mac rolled her eyes heavenward, straightened her shirt and belt, and then opened the door. It swung open and standing before her was Mic Brumby.
Mac awoke in her own bed, but she was unsure how she had gotten there. The last thing she remembered was Mr. Gibson reading aloud in the kitchen. 'I must have fallen asleep,' she though, 'And they carried me up three flights to my bed.'
She folded back her blankets, and wrapped a warm grey wool shawl around her shoulders before she ventured out onto the landing. The door to the East room, or rather the Roberts' room was still closed, and Mac took that to mean that they were still asleep. So, she padded silently across the landing to the West room, where Lt. Rabb was, hopefully, sleeping. She pushed open the door and was relieved to see Bobbi sitting and knitting by his bedside.
"Good morning to ya, Miss Sarah," Bobbi said brightly, "You were dog tired last night, so Harriet and I dressed you for bed. I hope you don't mind."
"I don't mind at all," Mac replied, as she came into the room. "How is he?"
"He's slept peacefully all night," Bobbi told her, "Hasn't moved at all, except to breath and say the name 'Diane', though I have no idea why."
"Yes, he said her name yesterday," Mac said, "I believe that 'Diane' is a some old love of his."
Bobbi raised her eyebrows, and then she said, "Well, you should bathe. Because, frankly, dear, you smell like a doctor."
Mac looked at Bobbi sternly, "You mean I smell like blood."
"No, you smell like everything a doctor smells like," Bobbi corrected, "Soap, sweat, medicine, herbs, and, yes, blood."
Mac smiled. She remembered the smell; her father had always come home from his office with the same smell, which was probably why Mac hadn't noticed it on herself. She kissed Bobbi softly on the cheek and then she left the room, and crossed the landing to the powder and wash room.
She sat for a long time in the scented water of the bathtub, soaking up the warmth. But when she finished, she dried herself quickly and returned to her room to dress for the day. Out of her dressed she pulled out a plain white chemise and her corset. She slipped the chemise on and pulled on her corset, she never laced it tighter than her figure would allow her to do so comfortably, for there was no good reason why she should have to force herself to faint in the name of fashion. In fact, the only reason she even wore her corset was so she would be decently supported. She followed the chemise and corset with a plain white wool petticoat, over which she pulled on her hoops. As her last under garment, she put on a fine muslin petticoat.
Next, she set about selecting a skirt and shirt for the day. She picked a plain brown wool skirt, a white shirt, and a thick leather belt, with a large buckle. By the time she was completely dressed her hair, which reached almost to her waist, was almost dry. She braided it down her back, and secured it with a bit of leather. She paused only briefly to look at her reflection in the mirror, and she looked that same as she did every day. She smiled at herself, and then she opened her door, and stepped out ready for the day.
She bumped right into Harriet, who was wearing a dressing gown, on her way back to her room from the powder room. Little AJ was toddling behind her.
"Good morning, Harriet," Mac said cheerfully, "Hello, AJ. How are you this morning?"
"An' Mac," AJ babbled as Mac scooped him up in her arms.
"I take it you slept well, then," Harriet replied, matching Mac's cheerful tone.
Mac smiled at her friend, and asked, "Do you need clothes?"
"Actually, I was just going to ask you if I could borrow another chemise and shirt from you," Harriet admitted.
"You can borrow anything you like from my wardrobe," Mac assured her as she looped Harriet's arm in hers. "Come on, we can pick something out together."
Mac helped Harriet to find a chemise, petticoats, and simple, forest green skirt and a mint green button down shirt. While she helped his mother dress, little AJ played with the clothes in the Mac's bottom drawer. In the few minutes it took to get Harriet dressed in the simple attire, AJ had managed to empty the drawer and throw its contents all around the room.
"Oh, AJ, no," Harriet tried to scold him, "You shouldn't play with those."
"It's alright, Harriet," Mac said, "Let's fix your hair."
"Now, really, Mac you needn't fuss over me," Harriet warned.
"I'm not fussing," Mac defended, "And even if I was, I rarely get the chance, so you should let me fuss over you. Besides, I'm just going to braid it."
"I can do that," Harriet said.
"No, you just sit down," Mac said cheerfully, knowing she had won the debate and Harriet sat down at the vanity. Mac did more than just braid her hair the way she had done her own. She braided Harriet's into a oval that wound around that back of her head. Mac was also sure to leave a few strands of Harriet's hair loose from the braid, giving her a soft, young look.
"Oh, Mac, it's lovely," Harriet said when she saw the final result in the mirror. Just then, little AJ scuttled out of the room. "Albert Jethro, come back here this minute."
Harriet and Mac both made for the door, and when they reached it that dashed out onto the landing. They stopped abruptly when they saw Bud, fully dressed and clean-shaven, already holding the escapee.
"AJ you listen to mother next time," Bud was scolding him playfully.
"Oh, Bud, stop," Harriet reprimanded him, "You're encouraging him."
Bud gave her an apologetic look and she smiled back at him. "Come here, AJ," she said as she collected her rambunctious son, "Let's get you dressed. We'll see you down stairs."
Mac watched longingly as Bud patted his son on the arm, and kissed his wife. Outwardly, Mac was completely happy being strong and independent, even if that wasn't normal for her contemporaries. Inwardly, though, she envied Harriet's happy marriage and her beautiful son.
"Some day, Mac. Some day," Bud said understanding the look on her face. Mac made a little smile, and then Bud said, "Come on, I'm sure Hannah has a delicious breakfast waiting for us."
Mac smiled more broadly, and she led Bud down the stairs. As they were descending the second staircase, Mac saw through the front window that a man she really didn't want to see, was walking briskly up the garden walk to the front door.
"Bud," she whispered urgently, "Go to the kitchen and tell Hannah to protect the family."
Bud looked questioningly at her, but Mac shook her head. "She'll know," Mac whispered, "Go."
Bud nodded and hurried back toward the kitchen, just as the knock came at the front door. Mac rolled her eyes heavenward, straightened her shirt and belt, and then opened the door. It swung open and standing before her was Mic Brumby.
