My First Day at Skipwith, Virginia (Cont.)
Screen 3 of 7The younger woman, probably in her late forties, moved even closer to the door, smiled and answered quietly. "Well, now, ain't that nice. You're gonna be the new teacher. We shore do need a good teacher at Oaks, and you seem to be a fine young man." The pleasant way in which she spoke and of course what she said made me like her immediately. As she was about to continue, however, I sensed a question--some doubt in her eyes as she added, with some hesitation, "It's--uh--just that you are not very old or big, are you?"
Before I could reply--if indeed I had anything to say in answer to her observation--the older one interrupted. "But Daughter, we don' have no room for a boarder. You know Margaret and her cousin, Kathleen, will be livin' with us this winta." My look. of disappointment at this news did not go unnoticed, and the younger Mrs. Brame quickly added in a more optimistic tone, "Well, I jus' don' know. Maybe we can make room for you and maybe we can't. I'll have to ask Mr. Brame--he's my husband--when he comes in from the tobacco field for dinner." ("Dinner" in rural Virginia I soon learned was at high noon; the evening meal, much lighter, was referred to as "supper.")
They did not invite me to come into the house. They did not even unhook the screen door. I assumed they were somewhat embarrassed about their plain dress (they were both wearing early pioneer bonnets and rather somber calico gingham dresses reaching almost to their shoes), or perhaps they were worried about a house not cleaned up for company. But a more important reason, I suspected, was the fact that they were very busy, with much more yet to be done before feeding Mr. Brame and the "fieldhands" at noon.
"If you will come back about two or three o'clock," the daughter-in-law said graciously, "we can give you an answer then. We'll try to work sompin' out, but don' get your hopes up. Mr. Brame don' cotton much to strangers."
"Thank you; thank you very much," I answered as I backed across the broad front porch, bumping into the huge swing and almost falling as I turned around. "I'll be back by three," I promised. "I'll go over to Oaks and see what it's like. Then I'll come back to your house."
"What'll you do about food?" Grandma asked as I started down the lane.
"Oh, I have some cheese and crackers here in this paper sack. I got them earlier this morning at the general store next to the Skipwith Post Office. I thought I might get hungry. This will be my lunch."
"Shucks, that ain't enough for a growin' boy," Grandma insisted. "Cheese and crackers is too dry to eat alone. Wait a minute and I'll get you a nice apple from our fruit cellar," she said over her shoulder, as she disappeared with the swiftness and determination of a much younger woman.
Back in a moment, almost before the daughter-in-law could exclaim, "Oh, that Mother Brame!" she handed me a large ripe and perfectly shaped red apple which she said had been kept fresh in the cellar cooled by sawdust covered block ice cut from the surface of their pond the previous winter. Before I could thank her, she cautioned me about the well water at the school. "Now don't you drink any water from that pump on the grounds over at Oaks! Them Brinkley boys throwed a dead skunk in that well at the ice cream social las' month, and it still smells sompin' awful."
I thanked her for the apple and promised not to drink the water at school, all the time wondering what other things "them Brinkley boys" might do the next week. The thought was not comforting.
Once again on the country road, I headed in the direction of Oaks School. What would it be like, I mused. What would I do on the opening day of school, then just three days away? Were the pupils going to like me? Would the big boys mind me? These were just some of the questions that crossed my mind as I covered the next mile and a half in a more hurried gait, in anticipation of my first look at the school.
On the way, I met a wagon pulled by two mules and driven by a large husky young man in farm clothes who stood near the front of the wagon with his feet wide apart, holding the four reins in one hand. The road was so narrow, I had to step into the shallow ditch to allow the team to pass without hitting me. Once again I was looking up from below at a big Virginia farmer. How was it, I thought, that all of them seemed so tall?
"Howdy," the driver called out in a loud, jovial voice as he went by. I responded with a smile and a wave only, knowing the noise of the mules' hooves and the squeaky wagon wheels was too loud for him to hear my voice.
When the cloud of dust settled, I continued walking along the road, wondering what was ahead of me. One more curve and there it was--Oaks School, perhaps less than a hundred yards away. I stopped to collect my thoughts.
[Contents Vol. 1]
[David's Home Page]