Spindle(36)

Soon, Maribelle joined her to exchange the bobbins again. She started with frame number one. For a moment, Briar wondered if she should volunteer to take care of the work, but that would raise suspicion if the other spinners happened to notice what she was doing. Instead, while biting her lip, she watched Maribelle lift up a bobbin, drop it in her cart, and load an empty one in its place. Over and over as she worked her way toward the fairy-wood spindle.





Chapter Eighteen



Maribelle was one spindle away now. Briar watched, bouncing on the balls of her feet, ready to step in if there was a problem. She didn’t want to call attention to the new spindle, but she didn’t trust that small piece of fairy wood. It did something unexpected and that made her almost as worried as getting caught.

Maribelle’s chubby hand reached for the bobbin atop the wooden spindle. Briar’s heart beat against her chest. She rushed over and reached for the same bobbin. “This one is tricky,” she yelled over the noise of the machines. “I’ll help you with it.”

Maribelle shook her head, clasping the bobbin before Briar could get to it. “I can do it. I don’t need help anymore. Honest.”

Briar thought of Pansy as she looked into Maribelle’s earnest eyes. The girl was trying to show how grown-up she was. Fine. Briar wouldn’t take the burgeoning pride away from her, but she would stick close.

Grinning, Maribelle zipped off the bobbin, an empty one ready to replace it. A slight hesitation was the only indication that she’d noticed something amiss. She dropped the new bobbin and moved on.

Briar lowered her hands and backed away. Maribelle, with her tongue sticking out in concentration, finished the line, pushing her cart as she went. The full cart took all her strength, and again Briar was tempted to help her. But the girl was determined, and she made steady progress.

Briar breathed out her tension. So far so good. As long as the spindle held, everything should be fine. It would be fine. Better than fine.

All the same, Briar remained on edge. Frame number four never left the corner of her eye. She stayed attuned to it even more than usual, but for a different reason now. She wasn’t worried the threads would snap; she was worried they wouldn’t. Others would surely notice the change in routine and question her.

The day continued with Briar both hovering over frame number four and staying as far away from it as she could. Not once did her persnickety frame break down. Not once.

Not only that, the bobbins were filling up faster than usual. By the time Maribelle had gone down the entire line, frame number four was ready for doffing again.

Finally, near the end of the day, the overseer stopped by to see what was going on. “Frame cooperating today?” he said.

Was that suspicion in his voice? Briar nodded and kept working.

For the first time since being assigned these frames, she was ahead of all the other girls in production numbers. Even though it was Saturday and they’d be ending early, she’d made a full day’s production.

The spindle was working.

When the bell rang out signaling the end of the day, Maribelle was at her elbow to help clean the frames. Briar and her doffer worked together to get the stray bits of cotton out of the frames, either sticking the bits in their apron pockets or dropping them on the floor for the boys to sweep up. It was messy work and they came away with cotton fluff stuck to their clothes and hair, but it was worth it to go home early and, for Briar, to ride out on the bicycle to the cottage to see the children.

“Thank you, Maribelle,” Briar said as they finished up the last frame. The frame. “You did some good work today. Tell your mama I said so.”

Maribelle beamed. Then she turned her rosy face up to Briar and asked, “What happened to the spindle on this frame? Before dinner it was metal; now it’s wood.”

Briar searched for what to say. “It’s working better than it ever has before. Don’t trouble yourself over it.”

“It’s pretty. Do we oil it like the others?”

Briar hesitated. “No, leave it be. If it sticks we can oil it then.”

Nodding, Maribelle waved and was off with a speed only the young doffers could manage at the end of a long work week.

Briar turned back to her frame and noticed a sprig of Solomon’s Seal sitting innocently in that corner spot where an acorn and the heart-shaped rock had been previously.

“Henry?” she whispered as she reached out for it. The little white bells shook in her hand as she lifted it to smell the sweet scent. What was going on? How were all these little remembrances of him cropping up?

She carried the sprig with her to the payment line, trying to make sense of all that had happened that day. The spindle had worked even better than she had hoped, but her spirit was unsettled, and she began to question herself. It grew its own whorl. Humidity aside, how was that even possible?

The paymaster had already started distributions. Girls were receiving their envelopes, glancing inside, then passing wide-eyed looks to those behind them in line. No one dared complain outright in front of the overseer, but tonight in the parlors, tongues would be wagging.

Briar waited patiently for her turn. When the girl in front of her looked inside her envelope and then gave Briar a twisted smile, Briar responded with a knowing frown. She handed her payment number to the paymaster and he flipped through his box of envelopes until he found hers. She grabbed it and stuffed it in her pocket without looking.