The Lost Quilter by Jennifer Chiaverini

Author:Jennifer Chiaverini [Chiaverini, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2009-03-31T07:00:00+00:00

Joanna had a day of rest in Tavia’s cabin, nursing Ruthie, dozing, walking stiffly around the cramped space when Auntie Bess chided her out of bed to take a few easy paces around the cabin. The next morning, not long after Tavia and Pearl hurried off to the cotton fields, Lizzie brought word from the big house that Joanna had to come tend to the laundry.

It was washday; Joanna had lost track. “I’m coming,” she said, hauling herself out of bed, wincing at a twinge of pain in her abdomen. Shaking her head in resigned disapproval, Auntie Bess helped her fashion a sling out of Ruthie’s flannel blanket so she could keep her sleeping daughter close while she worked.

Hurrying to the washhouse, Lizzie’s brow furrowed when Joanna fell behind. “Come on,” she urged anxiously, racing ahead. “Mistress sent Augustus by twice already asking where you at. I start the fire and fill the washtub all by myself, but that ain’t good enough for him. He keep asking for you.”

Joanna found herself surprisingly moved that Lizzie had started the laundry on her own, but she could not hurry any faster, not even to ease the girl’s worries. As they passed the kitchen building, Sophie leaned out the doorway and called, “Mistress wants to see you. She’s waiting in her study.”

Lizzie groaned aloud, and Joanna’s breath caught in her throat. “But the laundry—”

“Big girl like Lizzie can’t do that on her own?”

“Course I can,” Lizzie retorted. “That’s what I tell Augustus.”

“Joanna, you best hurry,” said Sophie, ignoring the girl. “The mistress in a fury when she find the washhouse empty and no one watching the fire.”

“The mistress came here?” Dismayed, Joanna whirled on Lizzie. “I thought you said she sent Augustus.”

“She did! She must have come by after I went to fetch you.”

Joanna felt a trickling between her legs and knew she had begun to bleed again, and she hoped that the rags Auntie Bess had given her would be enough to staunch the flow. Dizzy, she wished she could crawl back to Tavia’s cabin and lie down.

“You go see the mistress,” Sophie urged, “then come back here for something to eat while I hold that baby.”

Joanna took a deep breath and nodded, steeling herself as she made her way to the back door. The housekeeper let her in and urged her to hurry. “Marse Chester’s waiting,” Dove whispered, giving Joanna a gentle push and gesturing down the hall.

“Marse Chester?” she whispered back. “I thought the mistress—”

“They’re both there. Now go!”

Heart pounding, Joanna went to the study and found Marse Chester sitting behind his desk, ledger, pen, and ink pot set out neatly before him. The mistress stood to his side, her hand resting on the back of his chair as if they were posed for a portrait.

Head bowed, Joanna waited for them to address her.

“Your child was born alive, I see?” said Master Chester, eyeing the weight of her sling.

“Yes, sir,” said Joanna, fighting the urge to turn her back and shield her daughter from his view.

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