July 9th, 1816

Jenny paced outside, trying to divert her attention from her mother and Elsie.  They stood not far away, busy hanging up laundry.  Why Elsie was speaking to Caroline, but not Jenny, was beyond her.  Wasn’t it really her mother’s fault that Dr. Larson had left?  Elsie should have been furious with her, not Jenny.  All Jenny had done was tell her.  In hindsight, perhaps that didn’t make things that much better.

At least Elsie was finally coming out of their room.  For three days she had done nothing but lay in bed, scribbling in her journal, saying as few words as she could.  Then, out of nowhere, she had started following Caroline around, doing whatever chores she asked of her.

And it wasn’t as if Caroline and Elsie had ever been particularly close before, Jenny thought while sucking her cheek.  How, all of a sudden, did Elsie have a better rapport with Jenny’s own mother than she did?    

She couldn’t stand it any longer.  It was ridiculous for her to be trotting back and forth through the cold like some caged beast.  With a deep breath, Jenny made her way towards the chatting pair.

“Can I help?” she asked, not waiting for a reply.  She began unfolding a large sheet and stood up on her toes to hang it on the clothesline.  Laundry had never been her favorite chore, but she was happy to do it if it meant she could begin to make up with her cousin.

Elsie froze.  “I’m sorry.  I just remembered, I left something inside.”  She was gone before Jenny could even blink.  She watched her retreating figure disappear into the house, and groaned, crumpling an apron.

“Don’t wrinkle that!” Caroline said.  “Honestly Jenny, you must get a hold on your temper.”

“It isn’t fair,” Jenny huffed, as she smoothed out the apron.  “It’s been a whole week since he left.”

“Well,” said Caroline, shaking out another sheet, “he unfortunately mattered to her a great deal.  A week won’t change that.”

“I know,” Jenny sighed.  “I just don’t understand why she’s still angry with me.  It’s not like I made him leave.”

Caroline exhaled and tilted her head up, as if begging for assistance from heaven.  “Is all you think about yourself?”

“No,” Jenny mumbled.

“She’s not angry with you.  But she is feeling a great many things, and I don’t think that she’s quite ready to discuss those things with anyone.”

“She’s discussing them with you.”

Caroline laughed.  “All we talk about is the weather.  She won’t talk about anything of import with me either.  I just want to make sure that she’s talking to someone.”

Jenny paused unfolding a sheet to bite her nail.  “That still doesn’t explain it.”

“Explain what?”

“Why she won’t talk about nothing of import with me.”

Caroline stopped beating out a sheet and turned to her daughter.  “Just give her time.  She wouldn’t talk to me for quite a while either.  But now she is.  Just give her time.”

Jenny supposed that was probably correct advice.  But she still didn’t want to listen to it.  Why did her and Elsie’s friendship have to suffer because of stupid Dr. Larson?  Jenny had been starting to feel like a real person at last, when she had finally found someone who understood her.  Wasn’t that supposed to be what growing up was?  Finding your foothold in the strange, vast wilderness of the world?  Finding where you belonged?  She didn’t want to go back to the way she was. 

“Jenny,” said her mother suddenly, disrupting her thoughts.  Jenny looked at her, as Caroline took a deep breath, her brow furrowing.  “You’re a good girl,” she said.  “You have a good, strong heart, and sometimes it’s hard to have one, because it takes hold of you and leads you every which way.  But you should be proud that you’ve got it.  The trouble with the world is that most people don’t.”

The wind blew through Jenny’s ears.  Her mother had never said anything like that to her before.  Something that made her believe that maybe, just maybe, her mother really did see her.  That she would weep if Jenny was whisked off to Tirmanog.

“Mama,” she said, turning to look up at her, “you have a good heart, too.”  Caroline stared motionlessly at her daughter, then nodded.

For just a moment, nothing seemed to be amiss in the world.  All that mattered was letting clothes and sheets dry.  For just a moment, time really could solve any problem.