Free Discovering Emily by Jacqueline Pearce Page B

retreated back to her lap, empty.
    â€œYou pick your food up, Richard,” Mother said gently. She gave Emily a sympathetic look, and Emily sat on her hands, resolving to take her punishment more stoically for Mother’s sake — even if she did feel it was unjust.
    After supper, it was time for the children’s weekly Saturday night bath. Dede dragged the big tub from the back porch into the middle of the kitchen and set pots of water boiling on the stove. When the tub was full, Lizzie shucked off her clothes and stepped into the steaming water. Dede helped to scrub Lizzie’s back while Alice and Emily waited for their turns. Because she was the dirtiest, Emily went last.
    By the time Emily climbed into the tub, the water had already cooled down. Dede dumped a fresh pot of boiled water around Emily’s knees, nearly scalding her. Then, Dede set to work on Emily’s back with the soap and scrub brush.
    â€œOuch!” Emily protested. She was sure Dede was scrubbing her skin much harder than she had Lizzie’s or Alice’s.
    â€œSit still, Emily,” Dede ordered. “Remember, cleanliness is next to Godliness.”
    Emily clamped her teeth shut tight on the words that wanted to come out and worked at scrubbing the ink face off of her hand. She didn’t want to give Dede any more opportunities to punish her tonight.
    After the bath, Emily wrapped herself in a towel and ran up the stairs after her sisters. She put on a fresh nightgown and jumped into bed next to Alice. She pulled her knees up tight against her hungry stomach and wrapped her arms around them. She wished she had a puppy that would curl up next to her, warm and comforting. But Father had already told her he wouldn’t allow a puppy. Puppies were hard to control. They made messes, had accidents on carpets, dug holes in flower gardens. Father kept his own dog, Carlow, chained up outside. But it would be so nice to have an animal of her own. A puppy would love her no matterwhat. A puppy wouldn’t care if she got dirt under her fingernails or slid down banisters or sang too loudly or did things the way she wanted. Whatever that way was.
    Emily wasn’t sure what it was that she wanted to do or be. Alice wanted to grow up and be a mother. Lizzie wanted to be a missionary. It was easy for them. They were good at things. But Emily didn’t seem to be good at anything — except, maybe, getting into trouble.
    Emily’s stomach growled. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. She felt as empty as her stomach.
    Alice touched her shoulder, and Emily pretended to be asleep. Then she felt Alice’s arm reach across her. Emily opened her eyes and saw that Alice was holding out something wrapped in a cloth napkin. The something smelled good.
    â€œThanks!” Emily whispered as she pulled the little bundle under the covers with her and sank her teeth into the delicious thick bread and cold meat.

4
Sunday
    â€œRise up! Rise up! It’s Sunday, children,” Father called, stepping into the girls’ bedroom.
    Even if he hadn’t said anything, Emily would have known it was Sunday by Father’s smell — Wright’s coal tar soap and camphor. Every Sunday Father washed with his special soap and dressed in clean clothes stored in the big camphor-wood chest of drawers, which he’d brought with him on a sailing ship from England.
    Father left the room, and Emily climbed reluctantly out of bed. Some things she liked about Sundays and some things she didn’t.
    â€œMilly,” Alice said, interrupting Emily’s thoughts. She nodded meaningfully at the bed.
    Emily took up her side of the bed covers and began straightening them. Once the bed was made Emily went to the wardrobe to take out her Sunday dress. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Alice lean over the bed to smooth out some wrinkles Emily had missed.
    Emily pulled on her long black stockings, climbed into starched bloomers and