Chapter Four

     “Wasn’t last night so much fun, Jamie?” Jane sat down at the breakfast table with her daughter, her eyes tired but her smile bright.

     “It was, mother. And you looked beautiful on the dance floor. Dad would be jealous if he saw how many men turned your way!”

     Jane giggled and sipped her coffee, watching as her daughter finished her breakfast and got ready to go to the mine. She couldn’t help but notice how comfortable Jamie looked in the men’s clothes, and that, somehow, they suited her more than the lovely dress she had worn the evening before.

     “Is dad already gone?”

     “No. He went over to the Robinson’s farm last night while we were at the dance, and played poker and drank a bit too much. He’s sleeping it off, so he’ll…”

     “Be there in an hour,” her father finished, shuffling  into the room in his nightgown and slippers, his hair a mess and his face a rosy pink.

     Laughing out loud, Jamie kissed his cheek and said, “See you then. I’ll get the men started on the south tunnel today, so that when you get there you can see how deep we need to go.”

     Nodding, he watched her bound at the door, and listened as she saddled up her horse. Sitting down, he grinned sheepishly at his wife, who grinned back and took his hand in hers.

     They sat quietly drinking coffee for a few moments, and then Jane suddenly said, “I’m worried about Jamie, Robert. At her age she should be thinking about marriage, or at the very least working as a governess. Instead she’s wearing men’s clothes, working in a mine, her hair cut short.”

     “I thought you were okay with what she was doing, Jane? You know it’s just temporary, until the mine is so established I can hire someone to run it for me. Then, we’ll decide if we want to stay here or move on. Jamie can do whatever she wants then.”

     “Robert, what if…well, what if Jamie is like those women we read about in the papers from America last week? What do they call it? Boston Marriage? She’s just so comfortable as the person she’s been since working at the mine. And she really seems to have no interest at all in the young men around here. Lord knows, before she, well, changed, there were plenty sniffing around.”

     “As if we would want her with any of them, anyhow. Reading in this village is limited to the bible, with anything else tantamount to sinning. Jamie needs someone who stimulates her intellectually, someone who challenges her. She’ll find him, don’t worry. For now, just let her be who she wants to be.”

     “You’re right, of course. I just want her to be happy, and to have whatever she wants out of life. And of course, I love her no matter what.”

     Kissing his wife’s hand, he said, “We both do. She’s a good girl. She’ll work it out, don’t worry.”

     Outside, Jamie rested her forehead on the cool wood of the house. She had forgotten her gloves, and meant to run back in to get them when she heard her name overheard them talking about her. Turning away, she leapt onto her horse, trying to understand what her mother had said. Was that why she felt the way she did about Sarah last night?

***

     “Have you managed the opening to the new tunnel, Jamie?” Robert said, pulling on the heavy work gloves.

     Nodding, she said, “They blew it about an hour ago, and started removing rock right away. It looks like a good vein.”

     Placing a hand on her shoulder he said, “Good job.” Then he walked away and began to speak with his foreman about the new vein and how best to go at it from this angle. Jamie watched, biting her lip, feeling out of sorts and unsure of herself. She hung back for most of the day, watching and giving orders when necessary, helping with rock removal and bandaging minor injuries.

     Late in the day, her father suggested they head home, and they mounted their horses and rode in silence for a while. Suddenly, Jamie said, “Dad, what’s a Boston Marriage?”

     His head snapped around and he squinted at her. “Where did you hear that?”

     “This morning, I forgot my gloves, and I overheard you and mom talking.”

     With a sigh, Robert said, “I see. Well, Jamie, according to the papers, in America they are calling women who, uh, prefer the company of other women and who live with them instead of men, women in a Boston Marriage.”

     Reining in her horse, Jamie stared at her father, stunned. “And mother thinks I’m one of those? A woman who prefers women?”

     “No, Jamie. She just mentioned it because you don’t seem to have an interest in men, love. And, if it is the case, living in a village like this one wouldn’t be good for you, since these people tend to be rather small minded about change, as you can see with many of their reactions to the rail road.”

     Jamie was speechless. She had no idea what to say, or how to respond. She urged her horse forward in silence, and her father left her to her thoughts, noting how her jaw clenched and unclenched as it did only when she was distressed in some way.

     Just as they arrived at the house, he stopped and said gruffly, “Jamie, I want you to know something, and I mean it. Your mother and I love you, unconditionally. We lost Edmund, and we will not lose you. Understand?”

     She nodded mutely, dismounted and went in the house, leaving her father to stable the horses. She went immediately to her room and stripped off the filthy clothes. She stood in front of the mirror, naked, and studied herself. Was it on her skin? If she looked close enough, would she find some tell-tale sign of her difference? She ran her hands over her flat stomach, her small breasts, her trim hips and then through her short hair. Her thoughts turned abruptly to Sarah and her gut reaction to the woman’s simple beauty. She thought of Sarah’s hands on her, and touched herself as she would  want Sarah to. Aroused, and frightened, she stopped and yanked on clean trousers and a clean shirt. Fleeing the house, she ran down to the river to think: to try and figure out what was happening to her world.

***

     Sarah sat on the little wooden stool, quietly working on the piece of lace to be fitted to Mrs. Thompson’s new gown. Her sisters each sat working on their own needlework, and the sound of their mother’s loom shuttling back and forth was both soothing and irritating.

     “I had so much fun last night, Sarah. How I wish we could have danced!” Alice whispered to her sister, leaning forward slightly so that her mother would not hear her

     “Me, too, Alice. But at least we were allowed to go at all. And, once you’re married, you’ll be able to dance the night away with your husband.”

     “I can’t wait to be married, Sarah. But how can anyone come to court us when mother wont let us out of the house?”

     “Someone will, Alice, don’t worry. Perhaps young John Walker will pursue you.”

     Ducking her head, the young woman blushed and smiled into her needlework. “Oh, I do hope so. He’s  so handsome, and his father is a good man, a hard worker. Do you think mother would agree?”

     “If he goes about it the right way, I think so. He would have to be pious, of course.”

     Alice rolled her eyes and sighed.

     “You should want a pious husband, Alice. Mother is right,” said Annie in her typically self righteous manner. “You know that a pious husband will lead his wife to Heaven, while a sinner will only cause his wife to be dammed.”

     “Oh Annie, give it a rest. You sound just like mother.”

     “She’s a good Christian woman, Alice, and you should try to be more  like her.”

     “Stop it, both of you. It’s a moot point right now, as no one is asking for any of us right now,” Sarah hissed, glancing up to see if their mother was paying attention. Seeing they were safe, she took a deep breath and said, “Get back to work before mother gets  cross.”

     They worked in silence for another hour, and then, stretching, Sarah said loudly, “I’m going to go down to the stream and do some washing so it can dry before dark. I’ll be back shortly.”

     “Don’t dawdle. Gods hates idleness, Sarah.” Her mother’s hands did not stop as she instructed her oldest on her duties.

     “I know, mother. I’ll work quickly and come right back.”

     “Don’t talk to any men, either, Sarah. They can only lead you down the path of sin.”

     “No men ever go down to the stream, mother. In fact, no one does. Most people here have wash basins in the garden now, so they don’t have to traipse all the way to the stream and wash their delicates in front of other people.”

     “Do not complain about the way we do things, Sarah. Envy is a sin in God’s eyes. Simplicity is His way, and there is no reason to change it. Now go.”

     Without a word Sarah picked up the basket of laundry and stomped out of the  house, frustrated with her mother’s constant desire to keep her daughters away from the outside world, while her brother got to do as he wished.

     When she arrived at the stream, still fuming, she dropped her bundle on the rivers edge and moved to her special tree. Reaching up, she felt around for the books she had hidden in the large knothole in the tree. The only book allowed in their home was a Bible, but Sarah had an unquenchable thirst for more, and had found some discarded books behind the town grocers. She hid them at the stream, and made time to devour them when she was supposed to be doing laundry.

     Jamie watched from her vantage point on the rock above the stream as Sarah Bell took her books from the knot of the tree. She raised an eyebrow in surprise, realizing there was more to this woman than she had originally thought.

     Sarah plopped down on top of the laundry and opened the book, only to slam it  shut again and stand with a gasp when someone cleared their throat nearby.

     “It’s okay, it’s just me, Sarah.”

     “Oh. You gave me a scare, Ms. Suthurst. I thought I was alone.”

     “I’m sorry. I was sitting up on that rock when you arrived, so I guess you couldn’t see me. I just came here to do some thinking.” Jamie swallowed, feeling awkward and unsure of herself.

     “I come here to think, as well. I’m sorry to have disturbed you, though. I can leave you to your thoughts.” Sarah picked up her basket, attempting to hide the book in her hand, but panicked at the thought of Jamie seeing her special hiding place, if she hadn’t already. .

     “No, please, Sarah, stay. And call me Jamie. Ms. Suthurst is so formal. What are you reading?”

     “Nothing. I mean, I should go. It’s just a book I found.” Sarah stumbled over her words, mortified that she’d been caught reading, and by the village rebel, no less.

     “Here, let me see. Wow, Ovid. I’m impressed that you found a copy of that book in this area. I would have thought it a bit…” Jamie trailed off, not sure how to explain it.

     “Intellectual, Ms. Suthurst?” Sarah’s chin rose in defiance, and she grabbed the book back.

     “No, Sarah, I didn’t mean that. I mean, people around here seem to read the Bible to the exclusion of anything else, that’s all. And Ovid certainly isn’t the Bible.”

     Biting her lip, Sarah said, “You’ve read it, then? This book?”

     Jamie shrugged. “Sure. It’s required reading in London schools, although we usually read it in the original Greek for practice.”

     Sarah’s eyes widened and she said, “Really? In Greek? I’ve learned a bit of Latin in the schools here, and I help my sisters with theirs, but I would love to read stories like these in another language.” She gazed at the ground, embarrassed by her admission, and then, panicked, she said, “You won’t tell Willie, will you? If my mother found out, she’s beat me to within a breath of life. She’d be furious.”

     Holding up her hands, Jamie said, “No, Sarah, don’t worry, I wont tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me. And, if you ever want to discuss the stories, I’d be happy to. I love the morals that come with the stories.”

     “Thank you, Jamie. I admit, it’s nice to have someone know my secret.” Sarah smiled shyly and turned the book over and over in her hands, attempting to ignore the screaming butterflies in her stomach when she looked into the young woman’s crystalline blue eyes. They stood uncomfortably for a moment, and then Jamie said, “Hey, are you doing laundry? I could read to you while you wash. That way you could hear the stories and still get your work done.”

     Sarah broke into a large smile. “That would be wonderful. But are you sure? You don’t have work to do of your own? I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

     Jamie shook her head, and taking the book from Sarah with slightly trembling hands, she sat down next to Sarah’s basket, intentionally ignoring the lacy delicates of women’s underclothing next to her. She began to read the story of Arachne, the woman who had boasted about her weaving being better than even that of the goddess. The goddess challenged her, and Arachne won. The goddess turned her into a spider anyway, angry that she had been bested, forcing the unfortunate woman to weave all her life without the voice to boast about it.

     Finishing the story, the two young women sat in silence pondering the moral. Jamie watched as Sarah’s back muscles moved under her coarse gown as she pushed and pulled the laundry in the stream. She watched as her hips rolled forward and back, and the pale skin of her forearms glistened under the water. She felt sweat bead on her forehead as she felt the sudden rush of longing to touch Sarah’s hair, her cheek, her lips. She knew with a sudden, intense and gut wrenching clarity that her mother was right. She was one of “those” women, and she knew with equal clarity what it was going to take for her to be happy. Terror made her suddenly ill.

     Standing abruptly, she said, “Well, I better get back to the house. My parents will be wondering where I am. But thank you for letting me read. Perhaps we can do it again at some point.” Blanching at the offer, since she had not intended to say it, she held her breath.

     “I’d like that, Jamie. You have a lovely smooth voice. And it does make the washing go so much faster. Thank you.” Sarah smiled openly at the woman in men’s clothing, glad to have a friend, even if it was one she could never acknowledge publicly.

     With a sad smile, Jamie nodded a goodbye and walked briskly up the bank toward her home.

     Sarah watched her go, fascinated by the way the woman’s body moved so fluidly under the masculine clothing, and the way Jamie’s long arms swung freely by her sides as her long stride took her away from the stream. She wondered what brought on the marked sadness in her eyes when she turned to go. Shaking her head, she turned back to the laundry, frustrated by not being able to spend more time with the kind, awkward, blue eyed Ms. Suthurst, and yet relieved that she was no longer there to make Sarah feel so strangely warm. 

Go to Chapter 5

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