Will climbed the attic stairs slowly. It felt strange to be going to bed in the middle of the morning, but Aunt Ella had told him to lie down while she brewed some peppermint tea to ease his stomachache. He pushed open the door and his eyes widened in surprise when he saw Meg standing in front of his table.
“What are you doing in my room?”
At the sound of his voice, she whirled around and something white fell from between the pages of his Bible.
“How dare you read my letter!” Will’s voice shook with rage.
Meg faced him defiantly. “I didn’t read your old letter! You know I—”
“Get out. Just get out of here!” Will’s voice rose.
Head held high, Meg brushed past him and ran down the stairs. Will crossed the room and picked up the letter. He’d have to think of a better place to keep it. Then, aware of his aunt’s approaching footsteps, he stuffed it into his shirt pocket.
“You’re supposed to be in bed,” Aunt Ella said as she came into the room with a steaming cup.
Will took the tea and set it on the table. He hoped the herbal remedy would work quickly. He felt worse than ever now.
“Meg was upset that you accused her of reading your letter,” Aunt Ella said quietly. “She didn’t, you know.”
“She said she didn’t, but what was she doing in my room?”
Cleaning? And then Will saw the broom propped against the wall and the rag that had fallen to the floor near the table. Could the letter simply have fallen out of his Bible when she lifted it to dust the table?
“I—I thought she’d come to read my letter from Doc Martin. She kept asking me what he’d said,” he muttered.
“Meg can’t read, Will.”
Meg couldn’t read? Will sank down onto the straight chair. “I—I didn’t know that,” he said in a small voice.
“You knew there’d been no school here since the beginning of the war,” Aunt Ella said sharply. “I told you that the day you came!”
“Yes, but I—I thought you must have taught her! Mama taught Betsy and Eleanor to read and write, and to figure, too.”
“Your mama had time to teach her daughters those things. She didn’t have to spend every waking minute cooking and washing and mending and cleaning and gardening. And your mama had books.” Aunt Ella’s voice was hard.
Will watched his aunt leave the room and thought sadly that his coming here had made her life harder still, with even more cooking and sewing and washing and cleaning. She’d probably be relieved when she found out he was leaving. Will picked up the spoon and stirred his tea again. From the window he saw his aunt go into the toolshed and come out with a hoe. She was going to finish his morning chores! Maybe when he was back in Winchester, she’d realize that he’d done his share of work around here.
He picked up the now lukewarm tea and drank several swallows. The minty aroma seemed to fill his head. He drank some more, then went to lie down. At home when he was sick, Mama would sit with him and put cool cloths on his forehead. He found himself wondering what kind of woman Doc Martin’s sister was.
When Will opened his eyes, his stomachache was gone. He lay quietly, listening to the family talking in the room below.
“Is the boy still sick?” It was his uncle’s voice.
“He should be feeling better by now,” answered Aunt Ella. “I’ve made some broth for Meg to take up to him.”
“I’m never going in his room again. Never.” His cousin’s voice sounded more hurt than angry.
“Never’s a long time, miss,” said Aunt Ella tartly.
Will held his breath. He didn’t want to face Meg yet.
“But now is too soon,” came his uncle’s voice. “I’ll take it up to him.”
Will heard his uncle’s heavy tread on the stairs and felt a moment of confusion. Should he pretend he was still asleep? A sharp knock on his partially closed door was his answer. “Come in,” he called, sitting up.
Uncle Jed’s height made the low-ceilinged room seem even smaller. “Ella sent you this,” he said, handing Will a bowl of broth. He gestured toward the envelope in Will’s shirt pocket. “Is that the letter that caused all the commotion?”
Will nodded, embarrassed that his uncle knew about his terrible mistake.
“Do you know what it says?”
Will nodded again. He knew every word of it.
“Why not destroy it? Then you’d never have to worry about anybody reading it. Or about hurting anybody’s feelings because you thought they did.”
Will gulped. “I’ll burn it in the kitchen fire when I take over my bowl.”
“Good. You can apologize to Meg while you’re there.”
Resentfully, Will watched his uncle leave the room. He’d have apologized without being told to!
“Thanks for making me the broth, Aunt Ella,” Will said, setting his bowl and the teacup on the table. Then he turned to his cousin. “And I’m sorry I thought you’d read my letter, Meg. I didn’t know you couldn’t read.”
Meg’s eyes narrowed. “Even if I could read, I never would have read your letter! I don’t care what’s in it. In fact, I wouldn’t bother to listen if you tried to tell me!”
Will backed away, realizing that he had only made things worse. “I’m going to burn it,” he said, walking to the hearth and laying the envelope on the still-glowing coals. He stood for a moment, watching it crumple and blacken into ash. Then he turned and saw Meg and Aunt Ella watching him. He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what.
It was Meg who broke the silence. “Now you won’t ever have to worry about anybody reading your precious letter, will you?”
Aunt Ella sighed and added his dishes to her dishpan. Uncomfortable in the strained silence, Will hurried out of the kitchen and went to help his uncle with the pasture fence.
“You sure you feel like working? You don’t look so good.”
“I’m fine,” Will said shortly.
Uncle Jed looked toward the kitchen and then back at Will. “By tomorrow it will all be forgotten, lad. ’Cept maybe by you,” he added, reaching for a post.