The Sound of the Wind In the Leaves: A Novel

By Jana Meador

In 1916, seventeen-year-old Eva leaves her small Bohemian village to work on an English estate, setting in motion the incredible story of one family's struggle to ensure their brick building business and household survive the Great Depression, Nazi occupation, and a communist takeover. Across three generations, they discover that their will is indomitable, so long as they retain their traditions, remain steadfast in their love for one another, and never let go of their values...but the inner calls to do so - like the sound of the wind in the leaves - are not always easy to hear amid the world's drumbeats of greed and war.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Apr 22, 2019
• ISBN: 9781483498607

Book preview

I

Chapter One

Eva, 1916-1922, Dover, Kent County, England

S eventeen-year-old Eva, dressed in a black and white uniform, stood in Charles Snow’s kitchen. The wealthy industrialist hired her for his estate and she became the new help in the kitchen. The young teenager had her brown curly hair neatly combed away from her eyes and tied into a bun in the back of her head. The foreigner quietly watched Biddy. She was a woman of a great height, standing around five-foot-eight-inches and could have weighted probably about 350 pounds. The main cook in her fifties, of large statue and breasts, just finished skinning a large yellow spud. The smell of the potatoes reminded Eva of her home. Biddy put all the peels to an iron-wide and deep pot which she later boiled and fed the pigs. The freshly peeled potatoes were first rinse in a porcelain bowl filled with cold water and then transferred to a new cooking pot, filled with clean water. Biddy turned to Eva and nodded toward the pile of potatoes on the counter. Eva’s quickly rolled over the skin, while the other hand skillfully with one precise movement cut the brown layers.

Biddy nodded in a silent approval, and the corners of her rosy lips curled up in a chubby smile. She stood an impressive five-foot-ten high, her hair combed and pinned into a high, tight brown bun, with strands of silver on each side of her temples; her uniform consisted of a white cap, covering part of her head, mostly the pinned hair and exposing her thick, chubby neck. The shade of her skin changed from bright red across her big cheeks to light pink around her collar bones and the back of the neck. The sun did not shine anywhere else on Biddy’s voluptuous body, since she spent most of the time in her uniform cooking in the kitchen or resting on her break outside on the bench, always munching and chewing on food from the kitchen. The uniform’s top buttons tightly wrapped around her large breasts, but the seemingly uncomfortable fit didn’t slow down Biddy’s daily performance. The woman stood on her feet for long hours, creating the most delicious, mouth-watering meals for the Snow family for more than two decades. She lived in a small house nearby the main residence, which was split into quarters and primarily used for the Snow’s staff. Biddy got up early every morning, even before the rooster’s call, which the others, such as the gardener, the maids, the caretakers often made fun of and Biddy joked back, that one day, she’s going to snatch the rooster’s neck and cook it herself, to have the last word.

Oh no, you wouldn’t do that to that silly bird, would you? the caretaker laughed.

I’ll be glad to help you. God knows that the feathered bastard only eats, poops anywhere he wants, and wakes us up way too early each morning, the gardener’s rusty voice agreed quickly.

Biddy flapped her hand in the air, and the men shushed. She moved over to the entrance, where the green paint peeled on the edges of the wood, to where the door shut, and pressed her hand on the side, to help her lift her leg over the single step on the ground. A scrape of the green color lifted from the wood, and the air carried the piece down where it disappeared in the green grass. Biddy continued through the hallway to the left and into her single room. The wooden planks screeched under her heavy frame, and her small, wide heels clapped over the bare parts, all the way, until Biddy stepped on an oval shape rug, by her bed and sat down, burying her bottom into a thick, down-filled blanket. She placed both of her hands over her face and yawned. Then she pressed her knuckles to the side of her hips and into the soft, deep blanket, leaned forward, and looked down at her feet. She crossed her right leg and with her toe, she took the left shoe off pushing downward on her heel. She repeated this with her right foot, and then kicked the shoes together to the side on the oval rug. Biddy stripped off the uniform’s cap and set it on the side table next to the kerosene lamp. She glanced over to the only, small, square window. The frame had nicely smooth, polished pine wood, light brown, and because it had been recently replaced, the tiny room smelled like a pine forest.

Samuel Bastow’s Midwinter

Eva’s body jerked upon hearing the sharp, swift sound of the leather reins over the horse’s back. Heya! Samuel Bastow yelled angrily, staring and frowning at the exhausted mare ahead of them. Eva curled up her fingers hidden in her knitted purple mittens and straightened them out, repeating the action to get the blood flowing through her freezing fingers. The air entered out of the horse’s nostrils as a white long fog, mixed with her breath and quickly dissolved in the sub-zero temperatures. The workhorse pushed his strong hooves and lifted them up; his front light brown legs at the bottom carried frozen particles of snow attached to his long hair.

Samuel Bastow quickly shifted his hands over to Eva and said with emphasis, Hold onto the reins, girl.

Eva shrugged and lowered her head and with her mittens gripped onto the leather reins. The seventeen-year-old girl watched as Samuel jumped off the carriage. Eva turned her head to the left over her shoulder, muted, watched the man as he lowered his head and back, moving his hand onto his tights, his thumbs burying in anger into his wool dark gray pants. He grunted something under his thick mustache, then lifted his left arm, and with the tip of his thick thumb and forefinger moved his hat slightly backwards, uncovering the many deep wrinkles that lined his forehead. He stood and turned first to the east, then to the west, and shook his head in silence. He unbuttoned his coat, slid his hand under the cloth, and took out his watch. Eva’s eyes widened upon seeing the golden chain that glittered briefly from the sun beam that made its way through the tall, spruces branches. He flipped the golden polish cover and checked the time.

Eva let out a deep sigh, without asking, she turned her head and faced the horse, still holding onto the rains.

We have to get the horse untied from the carriage. Tie the horse to the tree and lift the carriage ourselves.

Samuel crossed over to the front and looked up at the frightened girl. Do you understand me?

He lifted his left arm and flapped his hand in a single sweeping motion, Come on down. After a while of digging out the buried wheel in a mushy snow, Eva broke in sweat, she felt the drops sliding down on her back, between her shoulder blades down the spine and eventually on her underpants. The daylight dimmed fast in the midwinter early afternoon, as the two tried to dig up the wheel and move the carriage. Sweat drops entered from underneath Samuels’s hat and made its way down his temples, bright red, full cheeks, sliding down on his shaved skin, curving over his jaw, where they disappeared into his woolen scarf. His coat across his chest moved into the rhythm of a deep, heavy inhale-exhale beat. Several deep heavy sighs came out of his mouth, as Eva watched the man trying to dig the carriage’s wheel out of the mushy, deep snow. Suddenly, Samuel brought his right arm up and pressed his hand over the mid-section of his chest. The man’s body went into a muscle spasm under the attached, stiffened and weakened at the same time as his mouth opened, desperately gasping for air into his lungs. Eva quickly jumped off the carriage, shouting Mr. Bastow, Mr. Bastow…

Samuel’s eyes rolled trying to look at her, as she approached him.

Eva watched as Samuel’s body fell head first into the snow and silence surrounded them. Eva knelt, her eyes widened in horror, she leaned over Samuel’s back, tilted his head, and stopped just above his head. There was no sign of movement, no sign of life. She lifted her chest and opened her arm, grabbing the man’s coat from each side and pushed toward herself. Mr. Bastow’s heavy body fell right back in the same position. Eva stood and bent over to gain more momentum, but as she once again lifted the man’s torso, his head flopped down then long, agonizing inhale followed by onset of cough brought him back to life. Eva’s eyes met his and her wide, revealed smile uncovered rows of healthy, straight, white teeth. Oh, thank God.

You look so pale. Samuel said. You thought I was dead, didn’t you?

Eva shyly nodded and then embraced Mr. Bastow in an honest, strong hug. The full moon provided some light, reflecting its glow of off the snow on the way back to the estate.

Please, don’t mention anything what happed today, he said calmly, his voice lowered, nearly in whisper. After a short pause, he added with a slight shaky tone, I don’t want Biddy to worry about me."

Eva placed her left hand, dressed in woolen mittens, over Samuel’s.

Thank you, he added.

The mare stood patiently, resting his right hind hoof, while Samuel and Eva worked their way out the forest. A few moments later, the two and their horse dashed through the solitary terrain returning to the house.

By the time they neared the Snow’s residence, the darkness fell across the wide sky, and the temperatures dropped, and the horse marched in the yard, with is hair knotted in frozen balls, bigger and smaller on the back of its neck. The front door opened and Biddy carrying a lit lantern rush to them, Oh thank God! she yelled sincerely as helping Eva and helped step down. What happened? Biddy looked at Samuel Bastow.

We got stuck in the mushy snow, that’s all, he replied honestly.

Biddy placed her chubby arm around Eva’s narrow shoulders, Oh, you poor thing, come inside, get these cloths off…How about some hot stew? I bet both of you must be starved. Another worker came out and unloaded the goods off the carriage, bringing them inside. Then took the horse to the stable, dried him with cloths, and placed fresh hay and carrots down. Biddy hung Samuel’s coat and hat on the hanger on the kitchen wall, close to the brick oven, which heat helped to dry the damp clothes. Biddy did the same for Eva’s, rushing both to the long wooden table, to sit down on the bench. She placed two steaming mugs filled with tea in front of them, then added fresh cream and a bowl of coarse sugar on the table. Eva stretched her arms and wrapped both of her palms around the metal mug; her finger still red from the cold. A pulsating sensation ran through her fingertips upon touching the white colored mug. She reached for the cream and poured it in, watching the two liquid blends, and then she took the silver spoon and put a generous amount of sugar in. The young girl stirred the spoon, a light metal clink sound entered the air, when she lifted her chin and looked at Samuel Bastow. Eva spoke with her large, chocolate eyes her lips parted but didn’t say anything. Samuel gave her a warm smile. He quickly reached for the cream and sugar and placed three spoons into his mug. Then he glanced at the young foreigner, seeing her bright red cheeks turn into a wonderful smile, two dimples protruding on each side. He then brought his blue metal mug to his lips and took a sip, dipping the tips of his thick mustache in the liquid.

Biddy ladled a beef stew into two deep soup plates.

Thank you, Eva said shyly as her stomach made a loud, screeching sound. Embarrassed at the moment, she lowered her arm and placed her hand instinctively on her belly.

Right on time, Biddy joked.

The invigorating aroma coming from the thick beef broth brought on saliva in Samuels’s mouth. He placed the overly large and deep silver spoon between his wide fingers, the fingers of a working man’s hand and watched as it sank under the cubes of potatoes, beef, onions, garlic, potatoes, and dried wild forest mushrooms. He licked his lower lip upon bringing the mouth-watering delicious soup to his mouth.

Mmm, mmm, mmm, he hummed in delight, his chubby cheeks vigorously chewing the homemade dinner.

Biddy watched silently from a distance, as she stood by the wooden stove and next to the warm open brick oven. Her eyes switched to the young girl, she watched as Eva lowered her head and shut her eyes, smelling the soup first. The corners of her young, cherry lips curled into a satisfying smile. Eva held her first spoonful in her mouth. Still with her eyes closed, the young girl pictured herself sitting home, behind the table with her mother and father, the smell of the soup, its taste just like she remembered her beloved one cooked. She saw herself looking at her mother’s face, weathered and wrinkled from hours of working the fields in the sun and in the cold weather, as she sat down to join her family for dinner. She saw her beloved mother, as she slowly untied her head scarf from under her chin, her finger thick and stained with dirt behind her broken nails, skin rough and interrupted with multiple cuts of various length and depth and shapes, as her hands worked tirelessly since she was a little girl herself, helping her parents around the livestock and on the fields. Her mother took of the dark blue scarf, decorated with sunflower pattern and folded the fabric neatly and set it aside on the table. She brushed her palm over the bun in the back over her head and moved one of the pins to secure her hair. Eva’s father, watched his wife in silence, until their eyes briefly met, he raised his arms, placing his elbow on the table, folding his hand together, the mother and the daughter followed, they shut their eyes as the father said a short prayer. Then the father was first to reach for the wooden spoon to take a sip of the hot welcoming beef stew. She chewed the soft potatoes, tender small pieces of beef, and the white mushrooms until they slid down her throat, as she remembered going to the forest, picking up variety of wild mushrooms with both of her parents, then cleaning them in the kitchen, wiping the soil off the stem, and chopping them finely on the wooden board, then placing some aside, for winter, to be dried on a net and carried up in the attacking, where the warm, dry air let the sliced mushrooms to be ready in a few days, to be jarred and lidded and stored in a cool pantry and later used for beef stews throughout the winter or variety of creamy soups and sauces.

Just like what Biddy did and used in her beef stew. Biddy’s tasted like home, sweet warm cozy home, as Eva chewed a piece of carrot, with a soft touch of garlic, just the right amount that would not overpower the other vegetables and spices; the thyme, rosemary and bay leaf. Her mother’s kitchen smelled like spices, so did Biddy’s.

Mama, she whispered softly.

A clink of silver spoon over the porcelain, as Samuel finished his dinner, suddenly interrupted the comforting feeling. Eva opened her eyes. She glanced over at the empty plate across the table. A cold realization set. The utensils her mother used were carved out of wood and made by her father. They never made a clinking sound while eating the stew. Eva’s face frowned for a moment.

Go on, girl, eat! Biddy jumped in quickly, still standing in the distance, her right hand bent at the wrist, the top of her palm leaning into her chubby side. She stretched her neck looking at Samuel and called loudly, Would you like another plate, Mr. Bastow?

Fifteen minutes later, Samuel and Biddy relaxed with a glass of whiskey. The bottle came as a gift for Christmas from Mr. Snow to Biddy, and the woman enjoyed the liquor after a good meal, calling it a medicine for her digestion. When Mr. Snow argued he could buy her an herbal liquor, she declined and said there isn’t anything quite like a good old whisky. Eva politely declined to join them and offered to clean up the dishes instead. She didn’t tell Biddy the scent of the whisky caused her an upset stomach. Perhaps, if there was a glass of plum liqueur, like the one her father distilled every autumn from the tree in their garden, she would have enjoyed having a glass after dinner. She listened to the voices behind her back, blending together, getting louder, then bursting into a vibrational laughter and infectious laughter only Biddy let out her thick throat, and Samuel’s almost inaudible whisper that brought on more vivacious, even more laughter. Eva’s lips parted and showed her beautiful youthful straight teeth, and her shoulder moved into the rhythm of the joy of hearing such healthy burst of laughter of the two slightly tipsy people behind her back. She set the cotton red and white kitchen cloth on the counter. Eva picked up the plates and crossed over a few steps to the right and lifted her arm, tilting her head, as she opened the cupboard. Just as she raised her left arm in the air, holding the plates, a sound of great intensity, yet single and dull, mixed in with Biddy’s onset of laughter. A high pitch, uncontrollable scream entered, followed by shattered pieces of porcelain on the floor instantly changing the atmosphere in the kitchen.

Jesus Maria, Eva said breathlessly, as she quickly moved over to Biddy. She placed her arm on her shoulder and lowered her head just above the panicking woman, Shhh, she tried to calm Biddy, who kept on screaming, her eyes widened and frightened staring at the lifeless body of Samuel Bastow. Trembling and in shock, Biddy’s scream quieted, as her eyes stared blankly at the bald spot on Samuel’s crown. Eva leaned her shoulder down and over the old man’s body and raised her two fingers, forefinger and middle finger and pressed them against Mr. Bastow’s bare skin on his neck. She waited a few seconds, her youthful face now showing a protruding two wrinkles between her eyebrows. Biddy turned away, she no longer could look at the stiff body at the table.

Mr. Bastow is dead.

Biddy pushed her heel and mechanically stood, letting the chair slide back, causing squeaky noise over the wooden floor. She heard herself say, in an unrecognizable voice, Mr. Bastow is dead…

One set of heavy rains followed for the next three days and melted the snow; the ground became softer after the warmer temperatures brought on downpours. Upon Biddy’s wish, the helpers moved Samuel’s body in the brick cellar, where Mr. Snow kept potatoes and other root vegetables, such as beets, and where the shelves were full of jarred apples, berries and various jams and jellies. There were hangers on the walls, full of yellow onions and garlic.

Eva shivered and instinctively brought her scarf tighter around her neck. She glanced at Samuel’s face, now greyish in color, eyelids firmly pressed; her light brown eyelashes appeared long and thick when they met from the upper lid to the bottom one. Eva couldn’t remember noticing the man’s eyelashes being so long and thick, quite beautiful, she thought.

She offered her help with undressing and washing Mr. Bastow’s body, but Biddy rejected her quickly.

She let Biddy be in charge knowing this wasn’t her place to decide what clothes to pick and which shoes to put on. Mr. Bastow was going to be buried in style; from head to toe, Biddy took care of details such pressing Samuel’s shirt, leaving the fabric wrinkle free, even though majority of the shirt would be under the jacket. She starched the collar, making it firm yet not too stiff otherwise around his neck. Biddy washed his hair and combed it to the side and back, just like Samuel would do himself and around the bold spot on the top of his head. Biddy picked the best, barely worn pair of black leather shoes, that she has seen him wearing only on special occasions, such as Easter and Christmas. Eva noticed and smiled upon seeing two exactly the same size loops tied on both of the dead man’s feet. Biddy was a true professional. Mr. Bastow would be buried in style, clean and shaved and dressed in his best clothes. Suddenly, Mr. Bastow’s lips parted, and his lower jaw opened wide. Eva screamed, and her body jumped frightened. She quickly grabbed the oil lamp and ran out the cellar as fast as she could. She busted the door open and the swung back, hitting the wooden frame behind her back. The metal latch and lock clinked, and the force threw the lock on the grass, now drowned under the deep paddles. Eva ran through the water, making the drops splash around her feet. The mud flew off her soles and splattered. She lifted the side of her long skirt – the wetness made the fabric heavy and cold, moving between her calves – so she brought the other hand down, her fingers pressed against the hand of the oil lamp and lifted the skirt higher, the glass bumping into her right tight, the oil moving like a sea wave hitting the lamp’s sides. Large drops beat onto Eva’s face, and the wind gust icily, causing her cheekbones turn red and cold. A hand came out of the darkness and grabbed her by the elbow. Eva dropped the oil lamp and the light shut instantly. She screamed out her lungs as she turned her head and torso, trying to get away from the firm grasp.

Shhh, it’s me. It’s okay. A familiar voice spoke through the hellish night. John took her out of the rain. She told him she saw Samuel move, but John reassured, Mr. Bastow was dead for good. He sent Biddy to cover the man’s mouth with a handkerchief, since there was nothing they could do to keep Samuel’s mouth shut. The lips would have to be stitched, to prevent the jaw from opening.

Later, after Biddy made the young girl a tea from dried yarrow flowers, the women had a laugh, Eva telling her, she had never seen a dead person before. She apologized leaving Biddy to do all the work with cleaning and dressing Mr. Bastow.

Two days later, on the third day of Samuel’s death, two men from Mr. Snow’s staff dug a hole. Another put together a simple coffin. They buried him with the white handkerchief over his open mouth. Biddy got two days off work. She spent them mourning quietly in her room. Eva came to her door, knocked shyly and put a tray with hot tea and food on the floor. She respected Biddy’s privacy and left her alone. Meantime, Eva took over Biddy’s responsibilities in the kitchen and cooked for Charles and his wife Florence. Biddy taught her how to cook classic British meals the Snow family enjoyed eating. Eva liked to spend time in the kitchen, working with his hands, preparing meals. She felt close to Biddy; she remained her of her own mother, caring and loving, and an excellent cook.

The Snows enjoyed eating a lot of meat. They also had a sweet tooth. On the day of her shift, Eva baked a wild duck in the oven. While the bird roasted slowly, she worked on the onion sauce, one of the favorite dishes of the master. The young skillful cook peeled one large onion and chopped it finely, wiping tears into her sleeve. Eventually, the strong odor of the vegetable made her nose itchy and runny. She had to put the knife down and wash her hands with soap and then splash her face with cold water. The girl worked fast, moving around the kitchen, she sat the prepared onion aside and reached for a lard jar. Eva scooped a few spoonfuls into a preheated skillet, watching the white lard dissolve, adding the onion and letting it fry for a couple of minutes. The inviting smell in the kitchen from the roasting duck mixed in with the hot onions. She gave the pan a quick stir and poured beef stock in, followed by Snow’s very own home-made red wine.

Eva threw in the wild duck’s drippings and added salt, pepper and a one whole stick of cinnamon. She placed the lid over the pan and left it simmer on the flame. After 15 minutes, she took the lid off, the boiling steam lifted quickly, and the hot mixture made Eva mouth’s water. She poured into her palm dried muster seeds and watched them blend under the sauce with the onions and drippings. The last ingredient to add was a root ginger. She used fresh slices, thin, not too many, as Biddy told her to be careful, not to overpower the flavor solely with ginger. She checked on the duck, the pale skin now turned to light brown color, and Eva ladled the collected liquid from the tray and swiftly poured it over the duck’s top. This made the skin crispy and delicious. She took the pan with the onion sauce off the flame and set