Chapters (36)
“It’s mighty good to see thee, Lyddie Worthen,” he said. “We miss having thee up the hill.”
She tried to smile at him. “Thank you for the …”—whatever the strange parcel was. “It was good of you to bring it all this way.” When on earth would he leave?
“Thy Charlie is well,” he said. “I was by the mill just last week.”
Charlie. “He’s doing well? Fit and—and content?”
“Cheerful as ever. He’s a fine boy, Lyddie.”
“Yes. I know. Give him my—my best when you see him again, ey?”
He nodded. “Thy house came through the winter in good shape.” He saw her glimpse the door. “I mustn’t hold thee longer from thy dinner,” he said. “God keep you.”
“And you,” she said.
He grinned good-bye and was gone.
She didn’t have time to open the parcel until after supper. Enclosed in several layers of brown paper was a strange, official-looking document, which at first she could make no sense of, and a letter in a strange hand.
My dear Miss Lydia,
By now you have despaired of me and decided that I am a man who does not honor his word. Please forgive my tardiness. Thanks to the good offices of our friends the Stevenses (true Friends, indeed) as well as your gracious loan, I was able to make my way safely to Montreal. I have now the great joy of my family’s presence. Enclosed, therefore, herein is a draft which can never repay my great debt to you.
With everlasting gratitude, your friend,
Ezekial Freeman
She could not believe it. Fifty dollars. The next day she used her dinner break to race to the bank. Yes, it was a genuine draft from a solvent Montreal bank. Fifty dollars. With one piece of paper her account had bulged like a cow about to freshen. She must find out at once what the debt was. She might already have enough to cover it. Why hadn’t her mother replied to her inquiry? Did her mother even know what the debt was? Did she care? Oh mercy, had the woman always hated the farm? Was she glad to have it off her hands?
Lyddie wrote again that very night.
Dear Mother,
You have not answered my letter of some months prevyus. I need to know the total sum of the det. Writ soon.
Yr. loving daughter,
Lydia Worthen
She didn’t take the time to check her spelling. She sealed the letter at once. Then, reluctantly, reopened it to slip in a dollar.
She awoke once in the night and pondered on what she had once been and what she seemed to have become. She marveled that there had been a time when she had almost gladly given a perfect stranger everything she had, but now found it hard to send her own mother a dollar.