Free The Long Way Home by Lauraine Snelling Page A

spite of what her mouth was saying, her fingers had a mind of their own, and that mind said to stroke the fabric and remember what a dress feels like.
    Jesselynn could feel the heat creeping up her neck. ‘‘But I don’t have any undergarments either. Please, this is too much.’’
    ‘‘Nonsense.’’ Rebeccah turned to a chest of drawers and pulled out the necessary camisole, pantaloons, and petticoats, all made of the finest lawn and trimmed with lace and ribbons. ‘‘I don’t have an extra corset, but you are too thin to lace up anyway. I heard that corsets are going out of style.’’
    ‘‘Water’s here.’’ A voice spoke from the hall.
    ‘‘Come in.’’ Rebeccah spun away to open the door. A black woman with a bucket of water in each hand led the way, followed by another.
    Just the sound of the water swishing into the tub made a smile begin in Jesselynn’s heart and spread quickly to her face. A bath, a real honest-to-heaven bath, with hot water and soap.
    ‘‘Enjoy yourself. When you finish, if I haven’t called you yet for supper, you can stretch out on that bed for a few minutes. Might feel real good.’’ Rebeccah shepherded the two servants out ahead of her, then peeked back around the door. ‘‘Happy bathing.’’
    Her light laugh trailed behind her as she descended the stairs.
    Jesselynn needed no second invitation. Within moments she was stripped to the skin and stepping into hot water scented with rose petals. The fragrance rose with the steam, and no matter that the air temperature was hot as the water, she sank into the froth with a sigh. Leaning back against the slanted metal, she closed her eyes and inhaled to full lung capacity. When she let it all out, she took another breath, sank under the water, and came up blowing and wiping the wet hair from her face. She soaped herself, scrubbed her hair, and sank again. A sound made her open her eyes upon rising.
    ‘‘Don’t pay me no nevermind. I jest set this pitcher here for rinsing.’’ The black maid left as silently as she’d come.
    Jesselynn lay back and let the water lap her chin. If she moved too quickly, water swelled over the tub edges, so she soaped the cloth and extended one foot for scrubbing. When finished with both feet, she sighed. How wonderful it would be to lie back and float for a while. Let all the troubles take care of themselves, remember back when a bath like this was taken for granted, was a woman’s right.
    She stood up cautiously to keep from slopping water, reached for the pitcher, and poured a stream of cool water on her head. It gushed down over her shoulders, rinsing, cooling as it flowed. She hadn’t felt so clean since before her father died.
    Once dried, she discovered rose-scented powder on the shelf, and so she dusted herself before stepping into the bloomers and settling the camisole around her middle. She came out from behind the screen after folding the towel and looked longingly at the bed. Crossing the room, she stroked the pale yellow coverlet, quilted in a scroll pattern with stitches too tiny to count.
    Such beauty in the midst of a harsh land. The fabric felt like silk beneath her fingertips. She pulled herself away and sat at the dressing table, a triple mirror showing her every feature. Her damp hair, freed from dust and grime, feathered about her face like a cloud of golden butterflies, tipped with walnut stain. Freckles dotted her slightly turned-up nose, causing her to shake her head.
    ‘‘So much for soft white skin. Mine looks like old shoe leather, with spots.’’ She ran a brush through her curls, rose, and slid the dress over her head. Lucinda would tsk if she saw her, but what Lucinda didn’t know wouldn’t hurt Jesselynn. Keeping her face from the sun had been the least of her worries, and now along with her hands and arms, it glowed golden brown, as if she were an octoroon.
    The dress fit as though it had been sewn just for her. Puffed sleeves, a scooped neck filled