WHITE LILY

Chapter 1. It was Mr. Fitch’s last trip before winter and business had been brisk all day. The end of another successful year had arrived. He would stay home for the winter, rebuild his stock, and the Lord willing, invent a new remedy or two. Immaculately dressed in black top hat, striped frock coat and trousers, white shirt with frilly collar and cuffs, white kid gloves, and brightly polished boots, Mr. Fitch was the picture of success. A person who didn’t buy Fitch’s products would be neglecting the well-being of both his animals and family. Equally ostentatious was the buggy in which he rode, the varnished spokes of the wheels flashing in the afternoon sun. Standing fifteen hands high, the bay mare in the traces trotted effortlessly ahead exuding both power and grace. On the seat beside him sat a pair of black leather valises, stuffed with phials, paper packages, and bottles of coloured liquid which jiggled noisily on the rough road. The letters on one case spelled the word, Human, and the other, Vetinery. Close to the frontier, where medical science had not yet set foot, the well-dressed gentleman brought hope to the ill and infirm, both man and beast. Even the farmers and townsfolk along his route who were not currently ailing, took advantage of this last opportunity to buy his offerings, which reputedly would not only cure the sick, but protect the user from future maladies. With a cloud of dust trailing the buggy wheels, and clods of earth flying from the hooves of the high stepping mare, he steered the animal off the road into the double track of a farmer’s lane. Golden stooks of wheat straw still stood in the field to his right, while furrows of black upturned earth covered the one on his left. The farmhouse, its logs blackened by age and the weather, seemed to have been built in three sections, leaving a step in the roof at each juncture. Two horses grazing in a paddock behind the house lifted their heads at the sound of his mare’s hoof beat and trotted towards the fence as Fitch stopped his horse in front of the vacant drive-in shed. The widower, Jake Hurst, who lived there with his daughter, either wasn’t at home, or had taken his buckboard to work in a back field. Mr. Fitch couldn’t remember whether the farmer had two horses or three in the paddock on his previous visits. In any event, the shimmering heat wave rising from the chimney meant there was likely someone in the house. Fitch left his valises on the front seat, dismounted, put his boots up on the step one at a time, and brushed them vigorously until he could see the sky reflected in the tips. He then straightened his tie, strode boldly to the back door, and knocked. There was a flurry of footsteps on the inside, the sound of the bolt sliding back and the door swung inward. “Good afternoon, Miss Maggie,” he greeted the teenage girl who opened the door. “Is your pa home?” “Good afternoon, Mr. Fitch,” she replied. “No he ain’t. The pump broke and he done take it to town to get it fix.” Fitch cast an eye toward the back of the house, where the pump barrel hung from a tripod over the well. “Did he take it to the blacksmith’s shop, Miss Maggie?” “Yessir. He lef’ afore dinner.” “So if all goes well, he should be back in time for supper?” “If Mr. Duke ain’t busy,” she said. “I’m gittin’ it ready anyways.” “Then I suppose I’d better be getting along,” Fitch said. “Could you spare me a drink of water before I go, please?” “Yessir,” Maggie answered. “I done fillin’ four pails afore Pa pull the pump.” She turned to go back into the kitchen and the visitor followed her inside. The brimming full bucket of water beside the sink looked inviting indeed to the thirsty traveller. Fitch glanced around the room as the girl dipped a glass, and smiled sweetly as she brought it to him. “I thank you, little lady,” he said, took the dripping glass and quaffed a mouthful. “Downright delicious,” he said, smacking his lips. “After a hot day in the sun and wind, young lady, your kindness is a life-saver. I’m very much in your debt.” He drank the remaining water and handed back the glass. “My, my, you look grown up.” “I guess ’cause it’s ’count a me havin’ to look after Pa and everathin’ since Maw done gone to heaven. Everbody says so anyways.” “Yes, my dear, it’s been quite a responsibility for one so young, but it has made a woman out of you. Look at this room; you wouldn’t know that a young lady like you could keep it so clean and tidy.” It wasn’t an exaggeration. The room was tidy, and above all clean; you could eat off the floor. Chintz curtains hung in the windows, and they too were clean. In most farmhouses, the kitchen curtains were discoloured from the smoke and grease; not here. “Has your Pa found a lady friend yet?” he asked the girl, wondering if there might be somebody else in the house. “No sir, and he ain’t lookin neither. He sez he don’t need no strange woman bossin’ n’ ’busin’ his daughter. We get along jes’ fine by ourselfs. I hep in the fields and the barn jes like any woman.” She tossed her hair back. “From what I see, even better,” Fitch said, looking into her eyes. The compliment brought a smile to the young lady’s face. It wasn’t every day she got recognition for her hard work, and now from such a distinguished gentleman. Fitch smiled back. “Do you like sweets, my dear?” The smile on her face was his answer. “I brought you some,” he said, and drew a stick of maple sugar candy from his coat pocket. He slowly removed the brown paper wrapping, noting the eagerness in the girl’s eyes as she followed his every move. He broke a piece off and placed it in her hand, which she hesitantly held out. Mr. Fitch continued to smile as he watched her convey the confection to her lips and take a hearty bite, the smile returning to her face as she sucked it. “I’m glad you like it, Miss Maggie, because I bought it ’specially for you.” “Oh, thank you, sir,” she said with a little curtsy, flattered that she could possibly be in the thoughts of such a fine gentleman. “You be so kind a-thinkin’ a me when you be meetin’ so many people all the while.” “If you must know, Miss Maggie, I think of you all the time. I really look forward to calling on your pa, just for the chance of seeing you again. You’ve grown up very pretty.” Maggie blushed. The lump in her cheek had almost disappeared. “Here, have another piece.” He broke off another piece and handed it to her. Feeling very self-conscious, she said, “I ain’t much to look at… in these old rags, sir.” Maggie looked down and smoothed her faded cotton dress. “But they’s clean. Ah does all the washin’ ever’ week, sometimes twice. Pa says ise a better housekeeper than some of the neighbours’ wives.” “And indeed he’s right. This place is spotless. You’re going to be a great asset to some handsome, well-dressed gentleman some day.” “You be really a-thinkin’ so, sir?” she asked, blushing again. “I know it,” he said. “He’s going to come driving a fine horse and carriage and take you away to his castle. You’ll be dressed in silk and satin and have servants waiting on you hand and foot.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Oh, Miss Maggie, you are going to be quite the lady. I can see it all.” The smile on her face told Fitch she was savouring the thought. He added, “Oh Miss Maggie, you are so beautiful.” Maggie drew herself up to her full height of five feet two, thrust her chin out and asked again with a shake of her head, “You be really a-thinkin’ so, sir?” “Indeed I do, my dear lady,” he answered. “Here let me show you.” He cupped the left side of her chest. “See, how well developed you’re getting already. In another year you will blossom into the most marvelous flower ever seen in these parts, and you will want to wear your dresses like this.” He began to undo the buttons of her blouse, which she wore done up to her neck. “Oh no,” Maggie said, putting her hand up to stop him, her eyes opened wide.