Piecing It All Together by Leslie Gould

Author:Leslie Gould
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary Fiction;Christian fiction;Mystery fiction;FIC053000;FIC042100;FIC042040
ISBN: 9781493425167
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2020-05-31T16:00:00+00:00

EMMA CHECKED ON Mathilde several times during the next week, along with being called to Harriet’s as well. Without Mathilde’s help, the home had fallen into disarray. Each time she visited, Emma helped with the washing, cooking, and cleaning. All Harriet could talk about was when Mathilde would return. Emma assured Harriet that Mathilde needed time to heal too, but the woman didn’t seem to believe her.

On Saturday, when Mathilde, Jean-Paul, and their little ones showed up at Phillip’s farm, it was obvious Mathilde didn’t need as much time to heal as Harriet. It was now near the end of September. The weather had held, and Jean-Paul said sometimes the rains usually didn’t begin until mid-October or later. But sometimes they began sooner.

Jean-Paul began helping Phillip and Isaac finish fitting the logs on the barn. If Emma had to, she’d keep house in a room of the barn, but she hoped they’d be in the cabin soon.

Agnes was strapped into a cradleboard with a hoop made out of hickory near the top to protect her head. A smaller willow hoop, with a weaving secured in the middle and a blue feather and a white shell hanging from the bottom, hung from the larger hoop and dangled over the baby’s head.

“It protects her from bad dreams,” Mathilde explained as she saw Emma glancing at it. “And catches the good ones.”

Emma had never seen anything like it.

Mathilde unwound strips of deer hide on the cradleboard that secured the baby and then lifted her out to clean her bottom, using a wet rag. She pulled out a tray of soiled moss from the cradleboard, discarded it, and then filled the tray with clean moss. Emma thought that much easier than changing a cloth on a baby’s bottom.

Agnes’s legs and feet were wrapped in rabbit fur, and she wore a long-sleeved tunic, also made from fur. She also wore a hat and seemed as warm and cozy as could be.

Mathilde swung the cradleboard onto her back, over her buckskin dress, while Baptiste stayed close to his mother’s side. She pointed to the pile of river rocks and the buckets. The rocks were for the fireplace, which Emma hoped to cook over during the cold winter instead of a campfire outside. Her stove back in Pennsylvania was a distant memory now.

“Do you need more rocks?” Mathilde asked. “I can help.” She grabbed one of the buckets and started for the creek, while Baptiste bumped along beside her, determined to keep up. Emma followed, not sure Mathilde should be lifting rocks. She said so, but Mathilde simply said, “I am fine.”

When they reached the creek, Baptiste picked up a stone and hurled it into the water. He threw another and another as the women placed rocks into the buckets. When they’d finished, Mathilde picked up hers, and Baptiste, without being summoned, wrapped his tiny hand around the handle beside his mother’s to help her carry it.

Once they’d unloaded the rocks close to the cabin site, they headed back down to the creek.

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