The Problem Child (Emerson Pass Historicals 4) - Page 14

Cymbeline

For hours that night, I tossed and turned as I tried to find a comfortable position before falling into a fitful sleep. I dreamt of Viktor holding me and then dancing me across the floor of the club. When I woke the next morning, my eyes felt as if they had sand in them. For a few minutes I lay curled up on my side, thinking of Viktor. Our time in the light of the moon seemed almost as a dream.

After a few more minutes of luxuriating in the memory of his kisses, I pulled back the covers and padded across the cold wood floor to the windows and pulled back the curtains to reveal blue sky, a backdrop to the bright leaves. I went to the fireplace and poked the few remaining embers back to life before tossing in a few pieces of dry kindling. Once they caught fire, I put a few logs on top and closed the grate.

After the room had warmed a bit, I dressed in trousers and a sweater. This morning Poppy needed me to accompany her out to the Fredericks’ sheep farm. There were no dresses for Poppy and me on a day when a farmer suspected worms had infested their flock. A dull headache accompanied me to breakfast.

Papa and Mama as well as the little girls were at the table when I entered the dining room. I said good morning as I poured myself a cup of coffee from the silver pot on the buffet.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Papa had the newspaper spread out in front of him and only briefly looked up at me. Steam from his coffee cup swirled in the cool air of the autumn morning.

Mama gave me a wave. She had a book open next to her but at the moment she was listening to Delphia’s tale of the eagle she’d spotted that morning.

“He swept low, Mama, looking for his breakfast, and then up he came with a mouse. I know it was a mouse because I saw his tail.”

“Disgusting,” Addie said, not looking up from the book she was reading. Her plate of scrambled eggs and a slice of Lizzie’s thick sourdough bread appeared untouched.

“Addie, eat your breakfast,” I said to her before planting a kiss on the top of her blond head. She was too thin and as pale as the whitewashed wainscoting.

“Your sister’s right,” Mama said. “Here, give me your book. You can read it after you have your eggs and toast.”

Addie did as asked, sliding her book over to Mama obediently before lifting her fork. She stared down at the plate and sighed before setting aside her utensil and picking up the toast.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Mama asked her.

“Not really.” Addie took a small bite from the corner of her bread.

Delphia had finished her meal and was now staring out the window lost in thought. “Hello, pet,” I said to her.

“Hi, Cym.” She flashed me one of her smiles that seemed to warm the room. With their blond locks and fair skin, my little sisters looked like Mama.

“Do you want me to take the girls into school this morning?” I asked. “I’m headed over to Poppy’s so I could drop them on my way.”

Delphia was only nine and still at the primary school. Since I’d been at school, the town had grown big enough that we now had a high school and a primary school. They’d expanded the original schoolhouse, adding a second story for the younger grades. The high school was now in a new brick building next to the library.

“That would be lovely, darling. Thank you.” Mama gestured toward the buffet. “Have breakfast first. You have fifteen minutes before you’d have to go.”

I filled a plate with eggs, chunks of potato, and two slices of toast. I’d have to eat quickly if we were to get out of the house on time. Papa allowed me to drive one of the cars whenever I wished. He only went into his office in town a few days of the week, preferring to be at home with Mama.

“Did you sleep well?” Mama asked me.

“Not particularly. Do I look horrid?”

“You could never look horrid,” Addie said before taking another small bite of her toast. “It’s impossible.”

“Even though you’re wearing trousers.” Delphia’s tone rose an octave in obvious glee. Unfortunately, my youngest sister had the same affinity for rebellion as yours truly.

“Mr. Frederick suspects the flock has worms,” I said in way of an explanation. “I can’t help Poppy in a dress. But you, little missy, are going to school and must look decent.”

“Yes, I look decent.” Delphia didn’t care for decent, given her scathing tone. “I can’t wait to wear pants.”

“Whatever for?” Mama’s brow furrowed.

“To be like Cym,” Delphia said. “A woman of the world.”

I laughed. “Where do you get these ideas? What do you know of the world?”

Papa set his paper down to look at his youngest daughter. “Cymbeline is not a woman of the world. She’s a woman of Emerson Pass.”

“What’s the difference?” Delphia’s light blue eyes danced with excitement. “Do you know, Papa?”

“The difference is obscure.” Papa lifted his brows in a gesture of mysteriousness. “What do you think it could be?”

“The world’s big and Emerson Pass is small,” Addie said, as if to herself, before taking another nibble of her toast.

“That’s obvious,” Delphia said.

“I think she means it symbolically.” We all turned to see Fiona entering the room. She looked like a newly budded pink rose in a light blue dress. She stopped near the buffet. “As in, the world is hard to understand in its vastness—its lack of familiarity and mysteriousness. Whereas our town is a community. No one is anonymous.”

Addie’s mouth lifted in a rare smile. “I suppose that’s what I meant.”

Fiona plopped a spoonful of eggs onto a plate and sat next to Addie. “Good morning, family. How’s everyone today?”

“Cym has to pull some worms out of a sheep’s bottom,” Delphia said.

“Delphia, goodness.” Mama placed both hands over her cheeks pretending to be appalled, but I knew from the twitch at the corners of her mouth that she was trying not to laugh. “Not at the table.”

“Or anywhere.” Papa coughed into his fist. “Love, we don’t talk about bums at the table or anywhere else for that matter. We’ll have to send you to live in the barn with the rest of animals.”

“Really?” Delphia sat up straighter, clearly excited by the idea. “Will I spend the night out there? I already thought about how I could make a bed with hay and sleep next to Lucy.” Lucy was her favorite of our horses. She was a gentle mare, although getting older. These days, she lived a life of mostly eating and getting pets on her nose.

“I’m not sure the barn is the punishment we’re looking for,” I said.

Tags: Tess Thompson Emerson Pass Historicals Historical
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