“Ye came to see me, Little Annie Wright.”
“Last time I was here ye asked me to bring my latest carving. So I’ve brought ye my latest creation.” She pulled back the cover of her basket. Carefully, she retrieved the doll she’d made for Rebecca. She’d carved the face from a piece of pine to look like her sister. They shared the same sandy-brown hair and blue-green eyes that suggested the Chesapeake Bay after a summer gale. The dress she’d fashioned with fabric scraps from her sister’s bridal gown.
Mother Gibson reached for the doll. “Mary?” She pulled the doll close to her chest and rocked as if the doll was alive and breathing. “Sssshhhh, Mary. Mama’s here, child.” She rocked. A hum of an old hymn flowed from deep within as she consoled the doll-child.
Ann’s heart warmed at the reception of her creation. This doll had found its home. She’d carve another for Rebecca. Ann pulled the knife from her pocket and set the basket in her lap. She started to carve a small figure.
“William had a knife like that.” Mother Gibson’s eyes focused on Ann. “He carved all kinds of things. Made me a little squirrel when he came courtin’.”
Mother Gibson and Grandpa?
“Don’t be so shocked, Little Annie.” She chuckled. “We sparked for a little time, but once he saw Letitia Scott it was all over for me. I thank the Good Lord for that day. Without her I would have missed my Thomas.” Lace sleeves slid down Mother Gibson’s skinny forearms revealing red creases over blue marks on her wrists. Red ribbons which dangled from the chair spindles swept the floor. Ann searched the room for Catherine.
“Here now, ye can’t be taking that from Miss Ann.” Catherine swept into the room, placed a tea tray on the table, and took a position next to her charge.
Mother Gibson turned toward the fire clutching the doll.
“She can have it.”
Onyx eyes glittered. “Nonsense. What’s an old woman need with a dolly?”
Catherine reached around, took hold of an arm and tried to yank the “Mary” doll from her charge. A rip tore into the room. Tears filled Mother Gibson’s eyes. Ann dropped her wooden figure into the basket. She let her knife remain.
“I am so sorry,” Mother Gibson said. “Catherine is right. Ye take her.” She briefly cradled the doll and then handed her off to Ann with care.
A quick look showed a torn seam under Mary’s arm. Ann retrieved her needle and thread from her basket. “I’ll mend her for ye, Mother Gibson.”
Surprise brightened Mother Gibson’s countenance and brought strength to her voice. “Tea, Catherine.”
“And send for Mr. Archer.” Ann added.
“I’ll do no such thing,” Catherine said. “It’s time ye had a rest, Mother Gibson. Miss Wright, I will order yer horse brought around.” She crossed to a tea table and rang a bell.
Ann sliced the ribbons off the chair.
Catherine paled when she saw Ann rolling the ribbon.
A servant appeared.
“Bring Miss Wright’s horse.”
Old eyes full of hope caught Ann’s. “I’m not tired.”
“Come now, let’s not have any of yer feistiness. It’s time for a nap.” Catherine clattered across the gleaming room to rest hands on the back of the chair.
Ann retained her seat across from Mother Gibson. “I said send for Mr. Archer.”
“And who might ye be ordering me about, Miss Wright?”
“Ye’ll do as ye’re told, or I’ll have ye removed from yer position, and ye’ll leave this plantation before nightfall.”
“I’ll do no such thing.” Catherine crossed her arms.
“I will not leave until Reed gets here.”
“It will be a long time, because I’m not sending for him.”
Movement out the front window alerted Ann to the presence of her horse and the stable boy. Ann opened the window. “Send for Mr. Archer immediately. Ye may take my horse.”
The boy mounted and set off toward the main house.
Catherine remained posed behind Mother Gibson while Ann mended Mary. She was pleased her fingers didn’t shake as she plied her needle. When Mary was mended, Ann handed the doll back to Reed’s grandmother. “Mother Gibson, shall we have some tea while we wait?”
Hooves thundered into the yard.
Ann slipped out to the front to meet Reed.
As he dismounted, he hit the ground with a thud. Relief swept through Ann at the sight of his strong form. He grabbed her shoulders. Ann resisted the urge to step into his embrace.
“What is it Ann? Are ye hurt?”
“No, but I am very concerned about yer Grandmother.”
“Is she hurt?”
“Come see for yerself.”
They entered the front parlor.
