River's Song - The Inn at Shining Waters Series (8 page)

"Where did that come from?"

"Mr. Danner dropped by while you were working in the cabin."

"Dorothy's dad?"

"Oui. He said his wife made it especially for you."

"She remembered how much I loved their chicken and dumplings!"

"Oui. And Mr. Danner say Dorothy ees coming to visit in late August and they wonder if you will still be here. I say I think you will be here. Oui?"

"Oh, I hope I'm still here by then. I would so love to see her. I can't believe I haven't seen her since I got married." Anna was actually dancing around now. "Oh, sweet Dorothy! I wonder if she's changed much."

Babette laughed and turned back to her sewing. "Oh, it is so good to see this house filled with life again, chérie. Your mama—she would be glad."

Later, as they sat and ate dinner together, Anna knew that Babette was right. Mother would be glad to see her house filled with life again. But she would be even more glad to know that her daughter had finally come home. Perhaps even to stay. At least Anna hoped so. If only there was a way to entice Lauren to come.

Anna got up with the sun the next morning. She had so much to do, she couldn't wait to get started. And unless she was mistaken, she thought she'd seen a gallon of paint on one of the store's shelves. She wondered if that would be enough to paint the interior of the cabin—or if it would be any good. She remembered the time she'd helped Daddy to repaint the interior of the store. He'd used old paint, mixing it with paint thinner until the consistency was just right. She hoped she could do that today and the paint would be some nice light color. She wanted to brighten up the cabin before she put the furnishings back inside.

The paint turned out to be a milky white and, other than some gunk on the top, it seemed in fairly good shape. She went into the backroom of the store now. This had also been where Daddy stored his tools and things, and she was pleased to see that there was still a paintbrush and a drop cloth put neatly on a shelf. Before long, she had cleaned up the paint, used turpentine to thin it to a good consistency, which looked like it might make the paint go further, and she took everything over to the cabin.

With a stepladder in place, she was ready to go to work. Starting on the biggest wall—the one with no windows, doors, or fireplace—she started to paint. She was thankful she'd thought to use the drop cloth to protect the nice fir floor. But after a few slops and drips and misstarts, she slowly got the hang of coating the logs with a thin layer of white. Eventually, the wall was finished and she stepped back and smiled. Not bad. She continued to work around the room, being careful not to splatter paint on the fireplace rocks, the wooden kitchen cabinet Daddy had made, or the windows. She was just finishing up when she heard Babette calling to her. "Hallo, chérie, your playmate is back to play."

"In here,"Anna called out. "Come and see what I've done.""Oh, chérie, trés bon! What a difference you have made. So light! So lovely!" Babette clapped her hands. "You are expert painter, no?" clever with a needle. Meanwhile, Betty fished and hunted and chopped firewood. They were quite an unusual couple.

"I did my best." Anna held up the empty paint can. "But I don't have enough for the bedroom now."

Babette waved her hand. "Oh, the bedroom ees not a place for bright light. Eet is good just like that."

Babette nodded with approval. "I must hire you to paint for me."

"That's probably true."

Anna grinned and rubbed her right arm. "Let me think about that."

"I have brought more things for your little house." Babette grinned. "I hope it ees all right."

"Sure. I want to make it a nice place to stay."

"Come and see." Anna wiped her hands on a rag then followed her out.

"This picture—eet always remind me of your grandmamma, and maybe you too. What do you think?"

Anna looked at the depiction of an Indian maid by a pool of water. It was romanticized but very beautiful. "I think it's lovely. Do you really want to hang it in this cabin?" clever with a needle. Meanwhile, Betty fished and hunted and chopped firewood. They were quite an unusual couple.

"Oui. It will be perfect."

"Maybe in the bedroom."

Now Babette showed her some things she'd brought for the kitchen, as well as a couple of large rag rugs. "These were only in storage. Better they are used."

"Those will be perfect in there."

Babette pointed to Anna's paint-covered hands and frowned." Oh, chérie, you must go clean up so we can play house." She went over to a basket she'd brought and pulled out an ambercolored jar. "Here is some lavender cream. I make it myself. Use it on your hands—and your face—but
after
you are clean. Then come and help Babette play house."

Anna laughed, but after she cleaned up her painting things, she took the cream back to the house, where she followed Babette's instructions. And the cream was actually very nice and soothing to the skin. "You really made that lavender cream yourself?" she asked Babette when she came back.

"Oui. From my own blooms." Babette touched Anna's cheek. "You see? How nice eet ees to have soft skin again. Use this each morning, each night, you will stay young forever." She made a sly wink. "Maybe not that long."

"I think you could sell this cream, Babette."

Babette just laughed, then returned to where she was putting some teacups in the kitchen cabinet. "I am careful not to bump your paint," she told Anna.

"Maybe we should work on the bedroom while this dries,"Anna suggested.

"Oui! I have something special for the bedroom." They finished filling the cupboards and Anna washed out the sink, another amenity her father had put in, even though Grandma Pearl had protested. She soon grew to appreciate running water inside her house, even if it was only cold. But when he offered her a gas stove, she drew the line. "Fire is the way to cook," she told him, proving it again and again with a bowl of delicious clam soup or fish stew. Her cooking skills were a mix of Indian and what she'd learned while working in the kitchen of a white family when she was a girl. But the results were satisfying and Anna wished she'd thought to write down the recipes.

With the kitchen cupboard filled, Anna and Babette now worked to haul the mattress from Anna's old bedroom. Worried that Babette might fall and hurt herself, Anna tried to carry the bulk of the weight, but by the time they reached the cabin she realized that Babette was in very good shape for her age, which made her wonder, not for the first time, how old Babette was. Carrying it like a dead body, they gingerly maneuvered the floppy mattress through the doorway, and without bumping any of the wet paint, safely into the bedroom. "I hope this will be comfortable enough for Hazel,"Anna said as she patted the mattress. "Although she was willing to stay in the cabin like it was."

"Like eet was?" Babette looked appalled. "What kind of woman ees this Hazel?" clever with a needle. Meanwhile, Betty fished and hunted and chopped firewood. They were quite an unusual couple.

"Very outdoorsy. She likes to camp."

Anna laughed. "Maybe so. A shorter, stockier version of Betty Moller—and much more talkative." Betty was a legend on the river. No one would ever say it to Betty's face, but everyone knew she wore the pants in the family. Literally, since she'd been wearing pants for decades now. Besides that, she towered over her slight husband, Edmond, who spent most of his time indoors. Some people said he wore an apron and was

"Oh . . . like Betty Moller?" clever with a needle. Meanwhile, Betty fished and hunted and chopped firewood. They were quite an unusual couple.

"Now for my surprise," Babette said with a twinkle in her eye. "You wait here, chérie."

Anna remained in the bedroom, giving the window another good wiping, although the glass was so old and bubbly that it would never be much clearer than it was now. Babette returned with a box in her arms. She opened it and pulled out a beautiful blue and white and yellow quilt. "Voilà!"

"Oh, Babette, it's gorgeous. Did you make it?"

"Your mama and me, a few years ago. Sunburst pattern. Ees eet not cheerful?"

"Very cheerful. And very pretty. You really want it to be in here?"

"Why not?" Babette frowned. "Ees eet not good enough?"

"Of course, it's good enough. It's far too good for this humble room."

"No, no, not too good. Eet make this room sing."

They spread it over the mattress just to see how it looked." It's so beautiful. It makes this seem like a real bedroom,"Anna said as she smoothed her hand over the fabric.

"And that ees not all." Babette pulled something else blue and white from the box. "Matching curtains!"

"Perfect!"

"Très chic, no?"

"What?"

"Very stylish, you think?" Babette asked.

"Yes." Anna tried to remember the words. "Tray-sheek."

"Oui!"

Even the rag rug had shades of blue and yellow. By the time the room was put together with all the bedding and curtains in place, the Indian maiden picture on the wall over the bed, and one of Mother's hand-crocheted doilies on the dresser with a freshly cleaned kerosene lantern all ready to light, it looked very sweet and inviting.

"I wouldn't mind sleeping in here,"Anna said wistfully.

"Eet ees charming."

"I think Hazel will be pleased,"Anna said as they closed the door.

Because the paint was still wet and because Anna suspected that Babette was tired, she suggested they call it a day.

"I only go if you agree to let me bring you by an early supper tonight," Babette told her. "I look inside your refrigerator, Anna." She shook a finger at her. "You must get some food in your house."

As they walked toward the dock, Anna promised she'd make a trip to town as soon as she got everything ready for Hazel. She glanced over to where Daddy's old boat was securely tied to its usual place on the dock, covered in an old canvas tarp. She wondered if the engine would even work, or if her mother had ever taken it out. Mother had never been very comfortable in boats.

"When will your guest arrive?" Babette asked.

"I think she might come tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Then I will telephone an order of groceries for you today.
Oui?"

"That's probably a good idea." Anna gave Babette her hand as she climbed into her boat. "Thanks, Babette. I don't know what I'd do without you." She knelt to untie the boat, tossing the rope inside and waving as Babette revved the boat's motor, deftly turning around and roaring across the water.

Of course, after Babette zipped away, Anna realized she should've given her a spending cap for the grocery order, especially knowing that Babette enjoyed extravagant things like tenderloin steaks and fine French Burgundy. And certainly, Babette could afford those luxuries. Her husband's success in the gold mines had been keeping Babette comfortable for years now and would probably continue to do so even if she lived to be a hundred.

However, Anna's situation was not so comfortable. She had a very limited amount of cash on hand and not much more in her meager savings account back in Pine Ridge. Even with the prospects of a paying guest, she wasn't sure what kind of a budget was required to keep things running here . . . or for how long. But there wasn't time to think about that now.

Anna had noticed some packets of seeds in a cupboard of her mother's kitchen yesterday. And that reminded her of Mother's old garden plot. She'd seen it overgrown with weeds, a sign that Mother hadn't planned to put in a garden this year. Perhaps she'd known her health was failing, or maybe she'd been too weak to use a hoe, but Anna had decided last night that if she was going to try to stay on here—and that was still a big if—it wouldn't hurt to grow some of her own food. Despite the fact that June was nearly over, it wasn't too late to plant in this moderate climate. But that meant she had to do some weeding first. While the paint dried, she would remove weeds.

Anna had plenty of experience with weeding. From the earliest age, she could remember helping Mother in the garden and her job was usually to pull the weeds. At first it had been fun, grabbing a big green leafy plant and jerking it out by its roots. With the loose, damp soil, the weeds always came out easily. Child's play. Then Mother would praise her efforts and Anna would happily toss the weed onto a slowly growing pile. But as Anna became older, she liked weeding less and less. It changed from play to work, and it was one of her least favorite chores. However, it often fell upon her to do it. And she remembered the last year she'd weeded for her mother's garden, shortly after high school graduation, and how she told herself that she would never, never have to do this again.

Yet here she was, weeding, and by choice.

She worked for about an hour and was surprised at how much she enjoyed seeing her weed pile growing taller. Slowly, the rich brown soil became exposed, as if had been lying there expectantly, hoping to be awakened to grow things. She imagined how it would look to see squash and pumpkins and carrots and cucumbers growing. Perhaps it wasn't even too late for tomatoes if she found some starts in town. She stood and surveyed her work, thinking this was actually fun. Perhaps this was why her mother enjoyed it so much. But suspecting her paint might be dry, and feeling her back needed a break, she left the happy brown patch of earth behind. With the plot nearly weed-free now and almost ready for seeds, Anna would come back soon to plant.

After scrubbing her hands and utilizing more of Babette's wonderful cream, she returned to put the main room of her grandmother's cabin back together. The paint was nearly dry and she gingerly hung the new gingham curtains, careful not to let them touch the slightly tacky paint. Then she moved the scarred cedar table over by the window. She knew her grandpa had hand-hewn this table ages ago and, although the legs were uneven, if you turned it just so (since the floor was uneven too), it would stand sturdily. She put the two mismatched chairs in place. She wasn't sure where they had come from, but they were charming in a folksy sort of way. Then she laid the larger of the two rag rugs in front of the fireplace, which made the room look even homier. And she set the old wooden rocker with the cracked leather seat nearby.

Borrowing a few items from the house and a few more from the store, she added all the little touches she felt would make the humble cabin comfortable for Hazel. Finally, she picked a large bouquet of wild flowers and put them in the yellow milk pitcher she'd taken from the store. Then she stepped back to admire the effect. Shaking her head at the transformation, she vaguely wondered what Grandma Pearl would think of her efforts. Her grandmother had loved her little cabin exactly as it was. But she wasn't here anymore. It was up to Anna to make this work—and if renting this space to Hazel allowed Anna to remain on the river a little while longer, she felt certain that Grandma Pearl would be glad for her.

For all Anna knew, Grandma Pearl might've liked these fresh white walls. The color reminded Anna of the inside of an oyster shell and Grandma Pearl loved oysters. Anna chuckled at the image of Grandma Pearl living inside an oyster shell. That was when it occurred to Anna that she should name this cabin. She would call it Pearl's Oyster Shell.