A sharp, military rapping at the screen door woke the dogs but as soon as they saw who it was, they immediately retreated to the sunporch. My grandmother was so startled she dropped a mixing bowl of cake batter and let loose a colorful stream of cuss words.
Come in, Hilda, she called tiredly, I declare I don't see why you can't just knock like e'vbody else.
Miss Hilda, starched and creased within an inch of her life in her riding habit and hunting boots, strode in.
Alice, she announced, Are you aware that there's a curious sort of person in your blackberry patch?
I am, Nana replied a little impatiently, It's Lizzie's granddaughter from next door. She was wantin' to make a cobbler.
So she has your permission? Hilda frowned.
She does, my grandmother said in her best "as if it's any of your business" tone of voice, Have some tea, dear, it'll take the edge off.
I've already had my tea, Alice, and I prefer my edges sharp and intact, as you well know.
This was so true I had to duck my head to hide a smile. Truth was, Miss Hilda was nothing but sharp edges and angles - her posture, her speech, her bearing - even her expectations were hardened and inflexible as steel. My grandmother was practical-minded, sensibly dependable and morally well corseted, but our British neighbor was a ramrod of strength, primly proper, straight forward to the point of insulting, merciless in defense of the queen and more than a tad scary if you were a child. You minded your business and watched your step with Miss Hilda or, as my mother had once said, she'd run you over like a world war two armored division.
She could also be the very soul of compassion if she judged you worthy, a good friend but a worse enemy, a superb horsewoman and a fiercely independent advocate for women's rights. She was what Sparrow often called, Not 'specially feminine but formidable as a frontline, not a woman to be toyed with.
That particular day, she had brought along her rarely exposed softer side.
I've come about Mary Martine Crocker, Miss Hilda said briskly, She is a woman in need.
Nana paused, one oven-mitted hand on the handle of the old cast iron stove and one balancing a muffin tin. I noticed that she didn't look at Hilda directly.
Mary Martine? she asked cautiously, What about her?
The Widow Crocker, as she was known, was a young woman from the French Shore with a treacherous reputation. It was said that she'd met Hugh Crocker when he was still married and charmed him away from his wife and all six children as easily as falling off a log. While deserting his family with nary a backward glance, it all fairness, it was also said that Hugh had brought this wicked woman to the island only after his wife had moved in and bedded down with a lobsterman from the mainland. No one was really clear about who had done what and when, but island loyalty was strong and Hugh, born and raised among us, was forgiven while the woman from the French Shore was seen as a homewrecker and remained an unwelcome outcast. She rarely left the small house at the other end of the island and when Hugh got likkered up one Saturday night and drove his old pickup into the lily pond and drowned, she closed and shuttered the house and refused to come to the funeral. Mad with grief, said some. Sins come home to roost, said others.
That had been in the early spring and here it was mid-July.
It's time to put past sins to bed, Miss Hilda told my grandmother, time to show a bit of generosity of spirit. The woman is in need. And there are the children to consider.
I could see that Nana had her doubts but once set on a course, Hilda was not one to be deterred.
I shall do this with or without your assistance, Alice, she said smartly, but I'm compelled to point out that your support would be most valuable. She is a woman without means and and it will not do for us to continue to neglect our Christian duty.
She has paid the price of her indiscretion, she added grimly, I fear the future's wrath, if it should come, may be on our own heads.
Whether she was actually moved or persuaded by Hilda's arguments or just didn't have the energy to put up a fight, I never did know, but Nana sighed mightily and gave in. At that afternoon's meeting of the Ladies Auxiliary, she stood her ground and when the dust settled, charity had won. The island ladies all agreed to give the condemned widow a fresh start - Hilda actually hired her as a part time housekeeper and rabidly encouraged others to do the same while Miz McIntyre offered her a weekend job at the general store - it seemed forgiveness wasn't as far out of reach as we'd imagined.
This was so true I had to duck my head to hide a smile. Truth was, Miss Hilda was nothing but sharp edges and angles - her posture, her speech, her bearing - even her expectations were hardened and inflexible as steel. My grandmother was practical-minded, sensibly dependable and morally well corseted, but our British neighbor was a ramrod of strength, primly proper, straight forward to the point of insulting, merciless in defense of the queen and more than a tad scary if you were a child. You minded your business and watched your step with Miss Hilda or, as my mother had once said, she'd run you over like a world war two armored division.
She could also be the very soul of compassion if she judged you worthy, a good friend but a worse enemy, a superb horsewoman and a fiercely independent advocate for women's rights. She was what Sparrow often called, Not 'specially feminine but formidable as a frontline, not a woman to be toyed with.
That particular day, she had brought along her rarely exposed softer side.
I've come about Mary Martine Crocker, Miss Hilda said briskly, She is a woman in need.
Nana paused, one oven-mitted hand on the handle of the old cast iron stove and one balancing a muffin tin. I noticed that she didn't look at Hilda directly.
Mary Martine? she asked cautiously, What about her?
The Widow Crocker, as she was known, was a young woman from the French Shore with a treacherous reputation. It was said that she'd met Hugh Crocker when he was still married and charmed him away from his wife and all six children as easily as falling off a log. While deserting his family with nary a backward glance, it all fairness, it was also said that Hugh had brought this wicked woman to the island only after his wife had moved in and bedded down with a lobsterman from the mainland. No one was really clear about who had done what and when, but island loyalty was strong and Hugh, born and raised among us, was forgiven while the woman from the French Shore was seen as a homewrecker and remained an unwelcome outcast. She rarely left the small house at the other end of the island and when Hugh got likkered up one Saturday night and drove his old pickup into the lily pond and drowned, she closed and shuttered the house and refused to come to the funeral. Mad with grief, said some. Sins come home to roost, said others.
That had been in the early spring and here it was mid-July.
It's time to put past sins to bed, Miss Hilda told my grandmother, time to show a bit of generosity of spirit. The woman is in need. And there are the children to consider.
I could see that Nana had her doubts but once set on a course, Hilda was not one to be deterred.
I shall do this with or without your assistance, Alice, she said smartly, but I'm compelled to point out that your support would be most valuable. She is a woman without means and and it will not do for us to continue to neglect our Christian duty.
She has paid the price of her indiscretion, she added grimly, I fear the future's wrath, if it should come, may be on our own heads.
Whether she was actually moved or persuaded by Hilda's arguments or just didn't have the energy to put up a fight, I never did know, but Nana sighed mightily and gave in. At that afternoon's meeting of the Ladies Auxiliary, she stood her ground and when the dust settled, charity had won. The island ladies all agreed to give the condemned widow a fresh start - Hilda actually hired her as a part time housekeeper and rabidly encouraged others to do the same while Miz McIntyre offered her a weekend job at the general store - it seemed forgiveness wasn't as far out of reach as we'd imagined.
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