right there. She would never be protected, loved and valued anywhere else like she was there with Hixson and his family.
Momma, outside with Poppa, realized the depth of feeling Sarah had caused in everyone. Poppa was as devastated by Sarah’s pain as he would be if the same thing had happened to Eliza. She knew he was a good man, of course, and tenderhearted, but she was surprised at Poppa’s reaction. She would not have expected him to feel this strongly about a daughter-in-law so quickly. She thought maybe it had something to do with the healing of his broken arm. Momma filed the idea away in her insightful mind, to consider further.
Charlton was lying awake, in turmoil. His heart went out to Sarah, for what she must have gone through. He was proud of and awed by the depth of Hixson’s love for her. But he was also not sure how he would feel if Annie was the victim of such an attack. He was afraid he might never be able to enjoy making love to her, knowing others had been there in such a way. He was ashamed to think that way, but he couldn’t help it.
Eliza had grown up on the farm, so she wasn’t completely ignorant of the ways of males and females together. This was her first experience with violence against a woman, though. She had been totally sheltered from such brutality. It called into question all the romantic young daydreams she’d been having.
Eliza thought Sarah was so beautiful and wonderful; she just couldn’t understand how anyone could ever hurt her. She was not old enough yet to understand that what she had seen on Sarah’s body were the least of her hurts.
Poppa was a remarkably wise man. For all of his coarse jokes and country ways, he saw most things very clearly. He knew how badly Sarah must have been hurt to still have bruises so apparent. That she had come this far with Hixson so soon after she was hurt said a lot, in Poppa’s mind, about how much she was willing to endure for him.
He considered how the black bruises on her ribs showed through the nightgown. They had to be mighty bad to show through, he thought, and that meant broken bones. He had a broken rib once and remembered it to be miserable. Sarah probably had several, along with everything else.
Poppa mulled it over: Hixson knew exactly what to do when she started to scream. That made Poppa think this must have happened before–more than once, surely. Momma seemed to think she had been attacked after a healing, but Poppa disagreed. Poppa decided that Sarah had been awake and aware of everything that happened when she was attacked. He was told that she was unconscious after she had healed him, just like he was. If whoever did this to her, did it after a healing, she wouldn’t have such a vivid nightmare. The wild look in her eyes that night had shown him that she was seeing it all, all over again.
Where did she find the strength and courage to go on, keep living, keep loving? Many would have given up, died, gone crazy, or maybe even killed themselves. The trauma she had survived only came out in nightmares, and who could control those? Momma was right about that part. Sarah was a little ball of iron.
Emma lay awake, plotting how to convince Sarah to stay. Everyone else in the house was awake, too, their minds working over this new information. No one slept that night, but sleep was not what they needed, anyway.
From that night forward, the Morris family referred to him as “Sarah’s Hixson”, or “your Hixson” when speaking to Sarah. When speaking of her, she would forever be “our Sarah”. The connection was ironclad. In the family’s eyes, they were now one and Sarah was family.
August 25th, 1865--Dover, Pennsylvania
Sarah was the last one to come down to breakfast. She was too embarrassed to face them, and stalled as long as she could. Momma knew what the problem was, and in her matter-of-fact way, faced it.
"Little Miss Sarah, I hope you like your eggs cold. That’s how they’re going to be if you dawdle any longer."
"Momma! Don’t scold her!" Eliza was indignant that Momma would talk so after such a night.
Momma shushed her at once. "No, we can’t act like something’s wrong. Our Sarah needs normal, and she needs a lot of it."
Hixson agreed. "Momma’s right, you all. She hates like sin to be fussed over. Let her think everyone just went back to sleep and forgot the whole thing. If she thinks you look at her and only see her hurt, she’ll leave. She’s too proud to be pitied."
They heard the bedroom door close quietly. Poppa talked about what chores they needed to work on that day, but he was a little over-loud and Sarah was not fooled.
"I’m sorry to be late. And for disturbing you all last night with my silly nightmares." Sarah wished she could just disappear into the floorboards.
"Don’t you worry about it, sugar." Momma led her into the room. "What with foxes getting after the chickens, the bawling of the milk calf and what-not, we get woke up all the time around here. Put it out of your mind. We all have. How many eggs for you?"
Sarah was about ready to be overcome. Instead, she kissed Momma on the cheek.
"Two eggs would suit me fine. Could you cook ‘em hard for me? I can’t stand to have something slimy on my plate."
Wanting to stay busy, she took the toast from the oven and buttered it.
"This is quite a family, you know that?" Sarah said while she put a plate for the eggs next to Momma, poured coffee, and tried to act like nothing was different.
Show Eliza the way to go, and she never wavered. She saw that Momma and Hixson were right about Sarah needing normal activity. "Sarah, could you help me with a quilt I’m making? Hixson and Emma both said your quilts designs are something special."
"I’d love to! Have you started it yet?" Sarah was relieved to have the subject changed. If Eliza had said she wanted help cleaning the outhouse-pit, Sarah would have jumped at the chance.
"All I’ve done is save up enough fabric. I have red, yellow and brown. Can you think of a design for those colors?" Eliza felt like she’d won a great victory.
Only Charlton remained distressed. He needed to talk with his brother. He desperately wanted to understand the love between them. In his own mind, he couldn’t help but compare his love for Annie, which he didn’t think measured up.
Emma waited for her chance to talk privately with Mrs. Morris. Around the time the sun was rising, she thought she figured out a way to get Sarah to stay. To do it, she needed first to hear straight from them that they wanted Sarah to stay. Assuming they did, the next thing she needed was Mrs. Morris’ help with a small subterfuge.
In a house that full and that boisterous, it was not easy to catch anyone alone for private talk. Unable to find another way, Emma watched for Momma to go to the outhouse, and caught her as she was coming out.
"Can I have a few words with you? Just between us?"
Momma nodded, looked around, and pulled Emma to the other side of the outhouse, out of view of the rest of the buildings.
"Mrs. Morris, I know it isn’t my place to ask, but I’m just going to barge right in and be rude. Would you want Sarah to stay here, with Hixson, to live?" Emma was always bold.
"Emma, I would. We all would. Do you think she’d be willing?" Hope lit up in Momma’s eyes. "But please, won’t you call me by my given name?"
Emma laughed out loud. "I would, but I’ve never heard it. I’ve only heard you called ‘Momma’ and ‘Ma’! You sure you remember it?"
"I’ll have to look it up, probably." She laughed. "I’m Rosalia Morris. Pleased to meet you, Miss Emma! Now, what’s your plan and how can we help?"
The two friends, closer than anyone could have guessed they would become so quickly, orchestrated a plan to get young Sarah Westbay to stay. Momma knew something that was an improvement on Emma’s plan, and they discussed that information for a time. Emma agreed that Momma had a fine idea, feeling excited to be underway.
They talked quietly and energetically for over an hour, ignoring the smell of the hot outhouse. Emma asked the questions and got the answers she had prayed for. Walking back, Emma said, "Rosalia, if we’re going to have secrets, we ought to find a better-smelling place to whisper!" The laughing ladies return
ed to the choring.
Supper that night included two loaves of the potato bread Emma was most proud of. Part one of the plan began.
Momma started. "Emma, your bread is the finest. What a baker you are! We haven’t seen bread this good since the baker joined the fight and never came back."
Poppa helped the plan along without yet knowing there was one. "Since before that, Momma. His bread wasn’t this good. Though yours is mighty fine."
"My bread is good, but not like this." It was a measure of Momma’s desire to have Sarah stay, that she would accept placement as second-best.
"Emma, you ought to pack up your young lad and move up here. Open a bakery. The one in town is for sale, with no baker to run it."
This was going to be easy. The whole family chimed in with support and approval for a plan they didn’t know about. Poppa, always practical, added, "Teach your boy to be a baker and he’ll never go hungry."
Without knowing what happened, Sarah’s biggest tie to her cabin in Virginia would be here in Pennsylvania. The little money Emma had been able to make growing vegetables would pale compared to what she could earn with a bakery. And young Caleb would have a trade, and a family business to go with it. Plans were made to return to Virginia after the wedding to collect Caleb and their household, sell their place and return to Dover to open a bakery.
Sarah was back to wondering if she should try to