It was still dark when Cat Philips awoke. She could just make out the forms of her five sisters in the three beds that filled the small room. She could hear sounds coming from boys room, so she knew they were stirring.
She slipped out of bed and ran her finger through the rime of frost on the tiny window that let the pre-dawn light into the bedroom. The days were getting longer, and in a week or so they would be preparing the ground for planting. She could see the lighted windows and a curl of smoke from the kitchen across the narrow yard from the house.
Wake up, Mena! Its going to be a beautiful day! exclaimed Cat, shaking her younger sister, Parmenia. Mena simply turned over in the bed they shared and pulled the quilt up over her head. Rachel, in the other bed, had not moved, but Evie was already sitting up, with the quilt wrapped around her for warmth.
Hush, commanded Evie, dont wake Rachel. I dont think shes well. She complained yesterday of pain behind her eyes and an ache in her arms.
The girls jumped at the sound of a door slamming and loud footsteps on the stairs. Thee had better not! shouted a voice that could only be John.
So much for sleep, muttered Ann, the oldest, sitting up.
What is wrong with him? asked Margaret who shared the bed with Ann.
No one seemed to know. Cat was worried, too, but chose not to say anything. She watched John storm out into the yard and off toward the barn. For the last few days he had done his work as though a rain cloud hovered above him.
Cat pulled her petticoat over her nightshirt and slipped into the short gown. She pinned the gown at the top, and tied her apron over it to keep it closed at the waist. Her long wool stockings felt soft and warm on her chilled feet.
At the bottom of the stairs, she grabbed her shawl off the peg by the door. She headed across the back yard by the well and into the kitchen. Fire was such a worry that it was wise to have a kitchen in a separate building behind the house. In the summer the heat from cooking stayed out of house. Having an out kitchen was not so pleasant on cold days like today when food had to be carried to the dining room across the frozen yard.
Cat sighed as the warmth and the smell of coffee and ham engulfed her. She nodded to Annie who was feeding the fire in the open hearth. Her daughter Harriett was clinging to her skirts. Mother was mixing batter for hotcakes, and smiled at Cat as she came in.
Good morning, daughter. We could use a few extra eggs this morning.
Yes, Mother. And its going to be a fine day.
The contrast between Mother and Annie struck Cat as amusing. Mother was slim and fair and beautiful. There was calmness about her that Cat longed for herself.
Annie was as dark as anyone Cat had ever seen. She looked as old as grandmother, but was younger than mother. Grandfather had purchased Annie and Harriett from a man in Kent County to serve the family for a limited time. At the end of that time they would be free. Cat wondered what it would be like without them. Even little Harriett did a bit of the work.
The Philips family was no larger or complex than most families. The children seemed to come in pairs. Ann and Rachel were the oldest, old enough to marry. Robert and John were the oldest boys. Next came Catherine and her younger sister Margaret. The two young girls were Evie and Menia. Isaac and William were still babies.
No one would confuse Grandfather with Robert who bore the same name, nor Father with John. What had possessed Grandfather to purchase a slave who bore the same name as three other women in the house? Ann was a name held in common by Grandmother, Mother and the eldest Philips daughter. The family had done what it could by calling the slave Annie.
Grandmother put down the coffee grinder and smiled at Cat. And how is Catherine Philips this morning? Fine, thank thee, Grandmother, replied Cat, picking up the egg basket by the door. She headed toward the barn across the frosty ground. She was always the first of John Philips daughters to be out the door in the morning.
She stood gazing down the hill past the barn and over the millrace toward Red Clay Creek as it splashed past the farm and the mill. She knew that at Newport it joined the Christiana and moved on toward the Delaware River and the ocean beyond. Wherever it went, Cat loved this piece of it that watered the Philips farm and turned the millwheel. The mill, emerging from the darkness to her right, was silent, its wheel still as it awaited repairs. The water in the millrace slid into the diversion channel and back toward the creek before it reached the wheel. The tenant houses on the road past the mill were still dark.
The barn seemed to be asleep, though she knew things inside were stirring. Even the rooster held his tongue. The only sound was birdsong filling the air with praise and promise.
Cat loved this early morning quiet.
She turned toward the barn where John was forking hay from the loft to the animals below. The supply was dwindling, and they would need more soon.
Homer and Milton, the oxen, waited patiently for their share. Further down the aisle The Fool, the Philips riding horse, banged and snorted for his food. Cat could hear Grandfather talking softly to the cows as he milked them.
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