Shades of Gray (11 page)

“Well, no harm's done,” Aunt Ella said. “Meg can walk over tomorrow and pick it up.”

“Oh, good!” Meg cried. Then, turning to Will, she said, “But I still don't see how you could just walk off and forget it.”

“Leave me alone, Meg!” Will shouted. “Just you leave me alone!” His breath came in ragged gasps. There was no other sound in the suddenly quiet room.

After what seemed like a long time, Uncle Jed cleared his throat. “Did you run into some kind of trouble down there that made you forget?”

Will nodded. And then, his voice tight with rage, he told them about Hank and the letter. When he had finished, he picked up his fork and stirred it through the stew on his plate, wondering when his stomach would unknot.

Aunt Ella finally broke the silence. “That awful, awful boy!” she said. “His father should know about this.”

Will smiled wanly. “I think he does.” And then he repeated his conversation with Mr. Riley at the store.

“You handled the whole thing very well, lad,” Uncle Jed said when he was finished. “Very well, indeed.”

His words made Will feel a little better. He picked up his fork and began to eat.

“I don't know how you could pretend you didn't care when Hank kept teasing you,” Meg said, pushing away her empty plate.

Will looked across the table at her. “It's something Charlie
taught me when I first started school. He said if a boy snatched my cap, I shouldn't chase him and try to get it back. He'd give up his teasing if I didn't make a fuss. I figured this was the same sort of thing.” Will shook his head. “But it sure did take Hank a long time to give up—and he still wouldn't let me have the letter.”

“I thought only grown-ups got mail. Who was the letter from, anyway?” Meg asked.

“From Doc Martin,” Will said reluctantly. He was relieved to see Aunt Ella catch Meg's eye and give an almost imperceptible shake of her head before his cousin could ask anything more.

In his room a short time later, Will reread Doc's letter. His eyes lingered on the words “You're a fine boy, Will, and I'd be proud to raise you as my son.” Smiling, he folded the letter and slipped it between the pages of his Bible.

The next afternoon Meg hurried through her chores and cheerfully started off toward the Browns' house. From the stump under the oak tree, Will watched her skip down the lane. He was still embarrassed that he'd forgotten the butter, but he was glad his cousin had an excuse to get away for an hour or two.

Sweat trickled down his forehead. He mopped his face with his handkerchief and chose another pine log from the stack beside him. Splitting kindling was the only chore he'd been able to think of that could be done sitting down in the shade. He grinned when he heard the sound of a whetstone grinding against metal inside the barn. His uncle had found a cool place to work and a job he could do sitting down, too.

The monotonous scraping of the whetstone and the chirring of the locusts combined with the sultry heat made Will drowsy. He leaned back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes for a moment. Suddenly he heard Meg calling. He straightened up with a start and saw her hurrying up the lane, oblivious of the heat. How could she be back so soon? Then he noticed the long shadows and realized with chagrin that he must have fallen asleep. Uncle Jed appeared at the barn door, brushing straw from his clothes, and Will knew that he wasn't the only one who had napped away the heat of the day.

“We got another letter from the twins!” Meg called.

Aunt Ella dropped her sewing and hurried from her rocking chair on the porch. “You and Will can take that butter to the springhouse,” she said breathlessly, reaching for the envelope.

Meg scowled. “Since when does it take two people to put a round of butter in the springhouse?” she grumbled as soon as she and Will were out of hearing distance. “And how come everybody around here is so—so
private
about their mail, anyway?”

Will didn't answer. He'd read Doc Martin's letter so many times he almost knew it by heart, but he didn't want to talk about it. How could he tell Meg that he was going to leave?

Will opened the springhouse door and they ducked inside the small building. The sudden coolness came as a welcome relief. But Meg was not easily distracted. “What did Doc Martin say in his letter, Will?”

“He—well, he said he'd hired Lizzy, our old slave, as his housekeeper. And that his sister is living with him now.”

“He must have said more,” said Meg, her eyes searching his face. “He did, didn't he?”

“Of course he said more!” Will burst out. “But the rest of it was personal. Can't you understand? Now hurry up and put the butter away.”

Scowling again, Meg lifted the cloth-wrapped round of butter from her basket. Will leaned over and raised the lid of one of the storage crocks in the cold stream of spring water that flowed through the stone trough.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Meg exclaimed, her face brightening. “I've got something for you.” She pulled a folded napkin from the basket and handed it to him. He opened it to find a huge piece of cake. The miller's wife had sent him a treat! “Mrs. Brown asked me in for cake and milk, and when I said how good it was, she cut me another piece of cake. I told her I'd eat it on the way home, 'cause I wanted to save it for you.”

Will was embarrassed. He'd never even thought of Meg yesterday when he was enjoying Mrs. Brown's apple pie.

“Go on and eat it, Will. It's delicious!”

Meg would be offended if he didn't eat the cake, but Will didn't think he deserved it. He hesitated a moment longer, then carefully broke the piece of cake in two. “Let's share it, Meg,” he said.

They sat on the cool, stone floor and ate in companionable silence, picking every crumb from the napkin when they'd finished. Then they stooped and went through the low doorway into the oppressive heat.

Meg dashed off. “Let's go find out what Sam and Enos wrote,” she called over her shoulder.

Will followed her to the house, wondering why hot weather never seemed to bother her. Inside, Aunt Ella and Uncle Jed were sitting silently at the table. In front of them lay the letter
and several pieces of paper money. Even in the dim light, Will could see traces of tears on his aunt's face. He stopped and stood self-consciously in the doorway.

“What's the matter, Ma?” Meg asked, slipping onto the bench beside her mother.

But it was her father who answered. “The boys aren't coming home after the harvest like we'd planned. They sent us their earnings to help out, but they aren't coming home in the fall.”

“Why not?” Meg asked.

Uncle Jed sighed. “The farmer they've been working for asked them to stay. Enos wrote that they figured the extra cash they'd send back would be more use to us than having them here over the winter.”

“But I miss them so much,” Meg whispered.

Will watched his aunt slip her arm around Meg. “I miss them, too,” she said. “It's a good thing we have Will with us.” Looking up, she said, “Come and sit here beside me, Will.”

Half embarrassed, half pleased, Will walked around the table and sat down on the other side of his aunt. Her hand on his arm felt cool and comforting.

Uncle Jed sighed again and said, “I guess we'll manage without the twins as long as we've got Will. He's a good worker.”

Will's heart was heavy. How could he tell them he was going back to Winchester?

Will climbed the attic stairs slowly. It felt strange to be going to bed in the middle of the morning, but Aunt Ella had told him to lie down while she brewed some peppermint tea to ease his stomachache. He pushed open the door and his eyes widened in surprise when he saw Meg standing in front of his table.

“What are you doing in my room?”

At the sound of his voice, she whirled around and something white fell from between the pages of his Bible.

“How dare you read my letter!” Will's voice shook with rage.

Meg faced him defiantly. “I didn't read your old letter! You know I—”

“Get out. Just get out of here!” Will's voice rose.

Head held high, Meg brushed past him and ran down the stairs. Will crossed the room and picked up the letter. He'd have to think of a better place to keep it. Then, aware of his aunt's approaching footsteps, he stuffed it into his shirt pocket.

“You're supposed to be in bed,” Aunt Ella said as she came into the room with a steaming cup.

Will took the tea and set it on the table. He hoped the herbal remedy would work quickly. He felt worse than ever now.

“Meg was upset that you accused her of reading your letter,” Aunt Ella said quietly. “She didn't, you know.”

“She
said
she didn't, but what was she doing in my room?”

“Cleaning,” Aunt Ella said.

Cleaning? And then Will saw the broom propped against the wall and the rag that had fallen to the floor near the table. Could the letter simply have fallen out of his Bible when she lifted it to dust the table?

“I—I thought she'd come to read my letter from Doc Martin. She kept asking me what he'd said,” he muttered.

“Meg can't read, Will.”

Meg couldn't
read?
Will sank down onto the straight chair. “I—I didn't know that,” he said in a small voice.

“You knew there'd been no school here since the beginning of the war,” Aunt Ella said sharply. “I told you that the day you came!”

“Yes, but I—I thought you must have taught her! Mama taught Betsy and Eleanor to read and write, and to figure, too.”

“Your mama had time to teach her daughters those things. She didn't have to spend every waking minute cooking and washing and mending and cleaning and gardening. And your mama had books.” Aunt Ella's voice was hard.

Will watched his aunt leave the room and thought sadly that his coming here had made her life harder still, with even more cooking and sewing and washing and cleaning. She'd probably be relieved when she found out he was leaving. Will picked up the spoon and stirred his tea again. From the window he saw his aunt go into the toolshed and come out with a hoe. She was going to finish his morning chores! Maybe when he was back in Winchester, she'd realize that he'd done his share of work around here.

He picked up the now lukewarm tea and drank several swallows. The minty aroma seemed to fill his head. He drank
some more, then went to lie down. At home when he was sick, Mama would sit with him and put cool cloths on his forehead. He found himself wondering what kind of woman Doc Martin's sister was.

When Will opened his eyes, his stomachache was gone. He lay quietly, listening to the family talking in the room below.

“Is the boy still sick?” It was his uncle's voice.

“He should be feeling better by now,” answered Aunt Ella. “I've made some broth for Meg to take up to him.”

“I'm never going in his room again. Never.” His cousin's voice sounded more hurt than angry.

“Never's a long time, miss,” said Aunt Ella tartly.

Will held his breath. He didn't want to face Meg yet.

“But now is too soon,” came his uncle's voice. “I'll take it up to him.”

Will heard his uncle's heavy tread on the stairs and felt a moment of confusion. Should he pretend he was still asleep? A sharp knock on his partially closed door was his answer. “Come in,” he called, sitting up.

Uncle Jed's height made the low-ceilinged room seem even smaller. “Ella sent you this,” he said, handing Will a bowl of broth. He gestured toward the envelope in Will's shirt pocket. “Is that the letter that caused all the commotion?”

Will nodded, embarrassed that his uncle knew about his terrible mistake.

“Do you know what it says?”

Will nodded again. He knew every word of it.

“Why not destroy it? Then you'd never have to worry about
anybody reading it. Or about hurting anybody's feelings because you thought they did.”

Will gulped. “I'll burn it in the kitchen fire when I take over my bowl.”

“Good. You can apologize to Meg while you're there.”

Resentfully, Will watched his uncle leave the room. He'd have apologized without being told to!

“Thanks for making me the broth, Aunt Ella,” Will said, setting his bowl and the teacup on the table. Then he turned to his cousin. “And I'm sorry I thought you'd read my letter, Meg. I didn't know you couldn't read.”

Meg's eyes narrowed. “Even if I could read, I never would have read your letter! I don't care what's in it. In fact, I wouldn't bother to listen if you tried to tell me!”

Will backed away, realizing that he had only made things worse. “I'm going to burn it,” he said, walking to the hearth and laying the envelope on the still-glowing coals. He stood for a moment, watching it crumple and blacken into ash. Then he turned and saw Meg and Aunt Ella watching him. He wanted to say something, but he didn't know what.

It was Meg who broke the silence. “Now you won't ever have to worry about anybody reading your precious letter, will you?”

Aunt Ella sighed and added his dishes to her dishpan. Uncomfortable in the strained silence, Will hurried out of the kitchen and went to help his uncle with the pasture fence.

“You sure you feel like working? You don't look so good.”

“I'm fine,” Will said shortly.

Uncle Jed looked toward the kitchen and then back at Will. “By tomorrow it will all be forgotten, lad. 'Cept maybe by you,” he added, reaching for a post.

“How far is it to Enos and Sam's fishing place?” Will asked as he and Meg set off for the river the next afternoon.

“'Bout as far as to the millpond, but it's mostly through the woods. We leave the road here by this dead poplar tree.”