were colors here, and shapes. Peppers and squash. Melons and peas. Each different. Each perfect. A feast for the eyes and the tongue.
âHere, little ones,â I called to my two helpers. I handed each girl a cob and pointed to the half-filled bag of corn. The yield was poor today. I squinted at the horizon, hoping for a thunderstorm, but the sky remained its same splendid, cloudless blue.
âSusie?â a familiar voice called. âWhere are you? I have peaches.â
I waded through the rows of corn until I reached the gardenâs edge. My sister Phoebe searched for me, one hand shielding her eyes from the sunâs glare, the other clasping a bucket of ripe, velvety fruit to her chest.
I checked her from head to toe. Her complexion was clear, although too brown, and her hair hung in golden ringlets against her bodice of pale blue. With a smile of pride, I joined her.
âYour peaches look delicious. Did you pick them?â
âMama did.â She blinked vaguely in the bright haze, then moved into the shadow of the stalks. âShe wants me to trade them at Mr. Fosterâs store, but I donât wish to go into the village. People stare.â
âThey find your beauty astounding.â My sister had inherited the prettiness common among the women in my motherâs family. The ladies of the village couldnât help but notice and envy. âTheir attention is kindly meant,â I added, hoping I was right.
âI donât care why they stare. I donât like it.â Her pout only lasted a moment. âMight the Pratts take the peaches?â
Tugging my little helpers closer, I asked in a falsely puzzled voice, âWhat do you think, Delilah? Would we like peaches, Dinah?â
Two tiny blonde heads nodded in unison.
âI agree.â I turned to Phoebe. âWe shall be glad to take them. Fresh peaches would make a delightful treat to end the week.â I had coins hidden in a jar in the kitchen cellar. Unbeknownst to Mr. Pratt, my mistress gave me her spare cents, trusting me to make special purchases when the need arose. It had been a while since sheâd given me any, yet I had been frugal. There was sufficient to pay Phoebe. âWill you want to be paid in coins?â
âMama said she would rather trade for vegetables and bread.â
âVery well.â I hoisted the bag of corn. Dinah and Delilah grabbed handfuls of my petticoat and tramped along behind me.
My sister fell into step beside us. âSusie, whatâs your favorite chore?â
âCaring for the babies. They are so sweet.â I smiled indulgently at my two little helpers before frowning at my sister. At twelve, she still demonstrated a worrisome tendency toward absentmindedness. âPhoebe, please be careful with the peaches. You have dropped one.â
She stopped to remedy her mistake and then hurried to catch up. âWould I like caring for babies?â
âYou stayed with our brother Caleb after his wife had our nephews. Did you like that?â
âNo.â Phoebe shuddered. âPerhaps it was worse because they were twins.â
It was worse because of my sister. She had fallen asleep when she was supposed to watch them. And she had scarred one of the babies by dripping candlewax on his leg. Neither of our brothers would ever again leave Phoebe alone with their children.
âYou wouldnât like minding babies. Why do you ask?â
âI may soon tend five. Is that a lot?â
The question sent my heart racing. I stepped into her path, bringing her to a halt. âIndeed, it is many children. Who told you such foolishness?â
She stared at me silently, lips trembling.
âTell me quickly. Has Mama found you a job caring for children?â
Phoebe shook her head.
I released a shaky breath and continued up the slope toward the kitchen.
âSusie, donât be angry. Mama doesnât like the idea, but Mr. Shaw