“Yes, ma’am. All done.” John poked his brother in the back.
“Okay, good. Can you help me with laundry?”
“Laundry?” Luke groaned, and fell to the ground, holding his head. “That’s what women do.”
“I’ll do the wash. I just want your help. My ribs still hurt, so I need two strong boys to collect all the dirty clothes, and bring them to the washroom.”
“Yes, ma’am! We can do that.” John puffed his chest out.
She fetched Julia-Rose from the kitchen and placed her on a blanket with her rag doll on the floor of the washroom. By then, the boys had dumped piles of dirty clothes on the floor. She had them watch the baby while she filled up buckets of water and heated them on the stove. Good thing her ribs were better, because she was back to lugging water again.
Eventually, they had water, soap, a scrub board, and dirty clothes, and Angel began her work. Good heavens, this family goes through a lot of clothes!
Her back ached and her hands burned from the soap and hot water, and she still had a pile of clothes to go through.
She plopped down right there on the floor, deciding to have a break. She stretched her back muscles and rotated her neck.
If she wasn’t so weary, she would think up new names to call her stepmother. Easy for Sylvia to traipse off to Virginia—with only one maid, poor thing—and send her out here. Some of her enthusiasm from earlier evaporated. She crossed her legs in a very unladylike fashion and leaned her elbows on her knees, her face in her hands.
Julia-Rose picked that moment to hand her the much-loved rag doll. “Mama.”
“Thank you, little one. It’s a pretty dolly.” Her hands shook as she brushed the curls back from Julia-Rose’s forehead, and tears rushed to her eyes. This beautiful child deserved a mother. So did the two imps noisily chasing each other around the tree outside. And their brothers. Blowing out a breath, she got back up and continued the wash.
A few hours later, she stood in the yard and eyed the line of clean clothes that blew in the soft breeze behind the house. The tubs had been emptied, and Julia-Rose was down for a nap in the kitchen. The twins had curled up on a blanket under a tree, and fallen asleep, fingers intertwined.
Nate hadn’t come home for noon dinner, so she put the pot of ham hocks and beans that Mrs. Darby had set up for her yesterday on the back of the stove to stay warm. They would have that for supper with the leftover bread. Unused to all this hard work, and feeling sleepy herself, she lay down on the settee and was soon fast asleep.
Loud knocking on the front door woke her. A little disoriented at first, she rubbed her eyes and looked around. Julia-Rose stood on her cot, a sopping diaper hanging half off, dried milk caked around her lips. The twins sat on top of the kitchen table and smeared jam on bread, that—heaven help us!—they had cut with her large knife.
She rose from the settee, and tried to return her hair into a semblance of order. It was half up and half down, so she shrugged, and went to the baby. The soggy diaper flapped against her apron as she opened the door.
A well-dressed couple stood on the porch. The woman was middle-aged, thin, her lips pinched in disapproval. Adorned all in black, her scrawny, witch-like hands were folded at her waist, where she clutched a small reticule, also black. The man next to her was tall and skinny. Beneath his large nose, a full mustache turned up at the ends. He took off his hat as she opened the door. Neither one of them smiled.
“Can I help you?” Angel asked as she jiggled Julia-Rose who had begun to cry, probably wanting out of the wet diaper. Before they could speak, Luke and John came running from the kitchen, and stood on either side of her, jam covering their faces and clothes. They grabbed her skirt with sticky fingers.
“Who are you?” The woman said in a high-pitched voice.
“I beg your pardon.” Angel drew on her experience in New York society where she’d expected to be the lady of a well-staffed, upper crust home. “Who are you?”
“We, young lady,” the man said, stiffening, “are Mr. And Mrs. Louis Belford.”
When Angel did nothing but stare at them with disdain, the woman added, “We are Amy’s parents. We’ve come to visit our grandchildren.”
Angel’s stomach collided with her feet. The children and the house were a mess. Strange, the twins didn’t seem to recognize their grandparents. She stepped back, fussing with her hair. “I’m so sorry to keep you out on the porch. Please, come in.”
Mrs. Belford sniffed, and entered the house, holding her skirts close so as not to touch anything.
“Won’t you have a seat?” Angel pulled the blanket off the settee she had used for her nap.
“You didn’t answer our question, young lady.” Mr. Belford sat rigidly at the end of the settee. “Who are you?”
“She’s our new mama,” John said.
“Nathan has remarried!” Mrs. Belford gasped and grabbed her throat. She extended her hand toward her husband, who patted it.
Trading her anxiety for anger, Angel lifted her chin. “Yes, he did. If you’ll excuse me, I must take care of the baby. Please make yourselves comfortable, and I’ll be right back.” She turned and hurried from the room and up the stairs. John and Luke continued to stand at the entrance to the room and stare at the older couple.
I wonder if this day could get any worse. She wiped Julia-Rose down and changed her diaper and dress. She couldn’t go back and face those people. They were so disapproving. She could certainly hold her own with them. Years of training would see to that.