Seventy-Three, Disappointment

Seventy-Three
Disappointment
10 October 1824
This morning, John came even earlier to accompany me to services.  I kept him waiting only a little as I finished brushing my hair and putting it up into a loose bun, securing it with pins.  I allowed John to watch me do so, as my “room” was still the main room of the house and that is where I dressed, slept, and performed just about any personal task other than tending to nature.  My hair has grown beyond my waist these last few years, as I have not thought about cutting it.  So brushing it takes some time and effort.  I had just begun when John arrived.  I invited him inside and I realized that this was perhaps the first time that he had seen me with my hair down.  I had just last night washed it so it was shiny and wavy, and you could faintly smell the lavender that I had sparingly used.  I took my time, slowly brushing the golden-brown waves, and then twisting and winding it atop my head, sitting like a crown.  I knew that John was watching, rapt.  I had accomplished exactly what I had intended to, as I saw him with his mouth slightly open, shifting in his chair more than once.
Now I am ready, I said.
John told me that he had come earlier than usual because he wanted to talk to me as we walked and he wanted plenty of time to do so.  I thought, could this be it?  Is he going to ask?
He started by telling me that on his recent trip, he had gone to Mobile on behalf of Mr. Robert Jemison, both to sell cotton, but also to buy some parts that he did not think we could easily make ourselves.  Parts to what?  I asked.  He smiled and said, I will show you later.  This certainly mystified me.
He continued, saying that this was the first time that a large plantation owner had asked him to go as his agent.  He turned to me with a grin.  I believe the trip was quite the success, he said.  But this is the Sabbath Day, and I do not want to dwell on business.
We walked to the falls and paused, taking in the autumn air that was still warm but turning cooler as each day went by.  We watched as we often do, counting the different types of birds and flowers and trees that we saw.  Sometimes we made it a game.  But today, he was just grinning, and he was rather quiet much of the time.  Oh, this is definitely the day, I thought. 
We walked a little further and I thought, well, the perfect place was near the falls, but then, it is rather loud there, and not the best place to be talking.   So I patiently kept walking with him until we turned on the path toward the Terry place.  I thought, well, maybe he will wait until after the services, for he will surely know that I shall have a difficult time sitting still, thinking of the news that I will want to share with everyone.
Hymns were sung, scriptures were read, and the sermon preached, and it was time for lunch.  I had been bringing more and more complicated things as I learned to cook them, and today I brought roasted chicken.  Well, maybe it was not so complicated for those who have cooked for a long time, but it was an accomplishment for me.  John made over how good it was, and licked his lips for extra effect.  We had been sitting outside upon a blanket, it being a perfect day to do so, and soon enough, we stood up to go, folding the blanket as we did so. 
John said, I have something to show you.  I played innocent, and I walked hand in hand to a shed behind the Terry barn.  We went inside, and it took me a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darker room, but then I could see that John was showing me a wooden box with a crank handle on one side.  This, he said, is what we use to gin cotton.  Of course, this is a very small one, but it serves as the model for a much larger one that I am building. 
He showed me where the raw cotton goes in, and where it comes out, with the seeds separated from it.  He explained that this was a saw gin, with teeth inside it on a cylinder—or was it several cylinders?--and a brush that pushes the fiber along.  He said he would turn the crank to show me, but it being the Sabbath, that would be work and thus forbidden.
Goodness me, I thought.  He really does take the Sabbath seriously.
John said that the parts were for a much larger gin that he was building for Robert Jemison who was planting many more fields of cotton during the upcoming year.  He said, and here, he paused for dramatic effect, that he will be needed on a regular basis after that to see to it that the gin ran smoothly.  He grinned even broader, and I caught his meaning.
Mr. Jemison lived several miles away, in Perry County.  I had thought that John’s recent trip was just something that he would do from time to time, as he had said nothing about leaving the Terrys.  But now he was hinting that he would be needed often enough to have to move.  I asked him, when do you expect to go to work for Mr. Jemison?
I suspect that it will be shortly before Christmas, he said.
He then turned, and went out of the shed, leading me by hand. 
Is that not the best thing you have ever seen? He said, excitedly. 
Just wait until we have the large one in place!
Clearly, he was excited to show me the gin and tell me about his new work.  I kept thinking, next thing to do is to talk about how will I like living in Perry County, or maybe he would say, we can afford to get married, or hopefully, something more romantic.  I kept thinking that maybe he is going to wait for the walk home, or maybe he will wait until we arrive at Warner’s, but at each part of the journey home, he kept talking about the gin and Mr. Jemison, and how exciting it will all be.
Glumly, I thought, well, he has waited a long time; I guess he is content to wait that much longer.
So here I sit, writing, and trying to not be sad or disappointed.