Searching for Anna, Jenifer Carll-Tong [cheapest way to read ebooks TXT] 📗
- Author: Jenifer Carll-Tong
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"I'm happy that there is an abundance of food," Mary said. "I won't worry, knowing she has something to put in her stomach every day."
"What a blessing," Phoebe said. "This is so much more than I expected. And Mrs. Smith, don't be fooled by my small frame. I'm a hearty eater. I may be out of provisions within the month."
Mary laughed at this, but Mrs. Smith continued to frown.
"Well, if you do, please let us know," said the spokeswoman. "We have already agreed to provide you with more canned items from this year's harvest, since it is too late for you to have a garden of your own."
"That is so kind of you, Mrs. — ?"
"Oh, dear me, we never introduced ourselves! How shameful. My name is Emma Speer. My husband Thomas and I and our six children live on our small farm on the outskirts of town. This is Mrs. Smith, the matron of the town's boarding house. And this is Mrs. Wiggins," she said, introducing the only woman who had not spoken. Mrs. Wiggins smiled shyly. "She lives two doors down from me. And I believe Mary has already introduced herself."
"Not properly," said Mary. "I'm Mary Simmons."
"Well," said Mrs. Speer, "We should be getting back to our families and let you settle in."
It wasn't until that moment that Phoebe saw her trunks sitting by the door.
"Oh, my things are here!"
"Yes," said Mary as the women began to leave. "One of Mrs. Smith's new boys helped one of our constables bring them in last night. He said he met you on the train?"
"Yes – Wendell. Very nice boy. How is he doing, Mrs. Smith?"
"Today was his first day in the mine. That's all I know," she said gruffly, walking out. Mrs. Wiggins followed.
Mary hugged Phoebe. "You must come for tea. It will be so nice to have someone to chat with." She winked and then followed the other women.
Mrs. Speer was the last to leave. "If you are so inclined, my family would like to have you and your father to our home this evening for dinner. I know you are tired, but you need to eat, right?"
Phoebe turned slowly and spotted her father leaning in the corner. He gave a slight nod.
Phoebe smiled. "That would be lovely, thank you Mrs. Speer."
"Alright, then. I'll have my oldest pick you up at six," she said, closing the door behind her.
"Well, you've been awfully quiet," Phoebe said, hands on her hips.
"Didn't have anything to say," her father laughed.
"You don't think I was wrong, the way I chastised Mrs. Smith at the train station?"
"You were nicer than I would have been," he answered. "And I'm proud of the way you reacted to your new home."
"Well, that was more stubbornness than joy, I'll tell you. I wasn't letting that Mrs. Smith see my disappointment. That's all she would have needed, and she would have been off to the station to buy my return ticket."
Phoebe looked around, shaking her head. How can a town that builds such a nice church provide such a dismal parsonage?
"Well, I think I'll take a walk around while you unpack and see what this town offers in the way of overnight accommodations."
Phoebe looked at the one bed in the corner.
"Oh, Daddy! I'll sleep on the floor. You don't need to…"
"No, you will not. I'm sure I can find something. Maybe that nice Mrs. Smith has a room for me," he said, winking.
Without her father - or the judgmental eyes of the welcoming committee - present, Phoebe finally let her true feelings for her new home settle into her soul. It was horrible. The cabin, the furnishings, everything. How could Dr. Berger have ever thought to call a woman into a pastorate like this?
Not only was the area small, it was so sparsely furnished that she wondered how anyone had ever existed here, not at all what his letter had promised.
'You'll find a quaint cottage near the church that will be outfitted with everything you'll need to begin your new life in the Upper Peninsula,' he had written.
"Quaint, my foot," she muttered under her breath. A small bed, an even smaller dresser, a table and chairs and a stove. How was she supposed to begin a new life with so few items?
'The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests…'
"But you had nowhere to lay your head, Lord." She raised her eyes toward heaven. "Forgive me Father."
Feeling a bit better, she began unpacking her belongings into the dresser. Thankfully, she had packed lightly; the few items she'd brought barely fit into the bureau.
She was finished unpacking everything except her books. With no bookshelf, she had no other choice but to leave them in her trunk, as sad as that made her feel. She stepped back and crossed her arms. Had Dr. Berger's letter been more honest, she would have thought to pack additional items. Crocheted runners or doilies, some lace curtains or tablecloths would have made a big difference in making the cabin feel like a home.
'We are a common bunch of people with no need of your genteel foolishness.'
Phoebe wasn't certain what was more annoying, hearing the real Mrs. Smith say those words, or the imaginary Mrs. Smith that seemed to be settling into her brain repeat them.
Phoebe frowned. Something was off about the dresser, besides its size and a few broken off drawer pulls.
'It's missing something,' she thought. But what was it…
"A mirror!" she blurted out to the empty room. How in the world would she be able to make herself presentable without a mirror?
'You have no idea what you have gotten yourself into,' Mrs. Smith's caustic words echoed in her mind. "No." Phoebe spoke the word aloud to silence the grouchy woman's voice in her head. Everything would be fine, Phoebe realized, but there was no way around it - she would have to spend some of the little money she'd brought along on some essentials.
Intending to start a list, she dug through the trunk containing her Bible study materials until she found a pencil and a piece of paper upon which she wrote the word Mirror. She started a list of items, beginning with a mirror.
She next turned to the kitchen, if it could be called that. Dr. Berger had said in his letter that the parsonage would be equipped with everything she needed, but the corner of the room that would serve as her kitchen contained no more than a pot belly stove and two shelves. Phoebe sat at the table and scribbled more items, then crossed her arms again and leaned back in the chair, her foot tap-tap-tapping under the table. Her list was long, but as she looked it over, there was no fat to cut. It only contained necessities. Still, Phoebe knew enough about the cost of living to know her list contained far more than she could afford.
"This is impossible."
'They that seek the Lord shall not want for any good thing.'
Her foot stopped tapping. God had called her. He was here. He would not forsake her.
She looked at the list again. Maybe there was a little fat she could cut, after all. She began scratching items off.
With her edited list in hand and her hat pinned back in place, Phoebe set off for Mary's store.
It wasn't a long walk - no distance between points of interest was in a town the size of Iron Falls. You could pretty much see everything the town had to offer in the short jaunt from the church to the store, and Phoebe decided she liked the quaintness of the little village. The store stood on the corner of Commonwealth - the same street as the church - and what appeared to be the only other street in town. Mary had already pointed out all the buildings on Commonwealth. The other street, which ran up a moderately steep hill to the north of town, seemed almost identical to the first, lined as it was with a mixture of businesses and small homes. The only difference Phoebe could see was a larger, newer looking one-story building at the end that she couldn't identify. She spotted her father in front of that building talking with another man. Even from this distance, the man's khaki uniform and campaign style hat immediately identified him as a Michigan State Trooper. Of course; this building must be the Constabulary.
Her father waved, then shook the officer's hand and headed her way.
"Going shopping?" he asked, nodding toward the piece of paper in her hand as he approached.
"Just perusing," she replied. "The parsonage has none of the necessities that Dr. Berger said that it would."
"Can I see your list?"
"Of course."
As he read the list, she looked over his shoulder at the constable in the distance.
"Daddy?"
"Mhmm."
"Is that constable the one who delivered my trunks to the parsonage?"
"Why, yes.
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