The Spring
Dawn seeped into the dark room, softening it like a black and white photograph washed with color, like the tinted high school portrait of her mother on the mantel. It was the only picture, her father disapproving of cameras, images. She studied it sometimes, wondering the true colors of her mother’s mouth, skin and eyes. Her own hair was the copper red of a scrub pad.
“Annie, you up?” Her father was at her door.
“Yes, I’m up.” She made it true, pushing off the quilt.
“I’m going out to the goats. Call me when you’ve got coffee ready.”
“I will.”
The stairs creaked, complaining under his weight. Annie sat up, swung her long legs over the edge of the bed, and tiptoed across the painfully cold wood floor to the bathroom. Staring in the mirror she studied herself – light blue eyes, white skin, everything too pale except hair and freckles. She practiced flashing smiles for Jeff then hurried back to her room to dress. Shirtwaist dress, sweater. Once at Cora’s she would change into jeans but her father preferred what he called “modest garb.” She refused to wear a hair net, though.
Downstairs she flicked on the light in the kitchen, wishing for a radio to keep her company, tell her of weather and world outside the county. But he didn’t countenance radios, even the Christian music station. Water boiled and she filled the drip pot. At least he still drank coffee. She watched little volcanoes erupt in the oatmeal cooking on the stove. Annie stepped onto the porch.
“Breakfast is ready,” she yelled.
Annie went back into the kitchen, spooned oatmeal into cracked blue willow bowls, and poured two cups of coffee. Impatient to be on her way to her job at Cora’s farm, she began to eat as her father came in.
“Wait a minute. We haven’t asked the blessing,” he reprimanded.
She put her spoon down. He washed his hands then stood by his chair, head bowed.
They began to eat in silence, his reproach twanging in the air above the table. He sugared his oatmeal heavily and added a big pat of butter.
“Cora called last night. Her basement flooded and she needs you to
help clean up, she wants you to stay over night,” he said.
Annie looked up, trying not to appear too eager.
“Should I?”
“Yes, but be back right after you do her chores tomorrow morning.”
She finished breakfast quickly and shot up the stairs for her nightgown, then back downstairs to the kitchen. He was still at the table, staring into his empty bowl, shoulders slumped.
“Sure you’ll be alright here for dinner without me? There’s meatloaf.”
“Take her a pie. She wanted apple. Make sure she pays for it, and for the extra time,” he said, not looking up.
Annie knew he didn’t like her working, even for an old friend like Cora, but they needed the money. She selected a pie from the pantry. There were half a dozen left for him to take to the bake shop.
“Well, I’ll be going now.”
She hesitated on the door sill. He glanced up, fixing her with his gray gaze as though taking aim.
“Drive careful. God bless you.” He looked away, releasing her....
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