"Hush," Alfrid murmured against Danny's hair until Danny had quieted, his sobs turning to dry shudders that shook his body.
"Listen to me, Danny," Alfrid said, his voice as soft as the darkness in the room. "I will not send you away. Your home is here with me. Eight years ago Olga and I had the heartbreak of losing our two sons to diphtheria. You are as dear as another son to me, and I have no intention of losing you as well."
"Promise!" Danny whispered.
"I promise," Alfrid said, and Danny heard him add, "Somehow, we'll work out a way."
"Life goes on," Mrs. Pratka said, and somehow it did, the ragged, tearing edge of pain slowly diffusing into a dull, spreading ache.
Alfrid's second cousin, Melba Wallace, came to stay for a while. She was a short, gray-haired woman who repeatedly sighed as she worked, like a miniature engine letting off puffs of steam. Although she was pleasant enough to Danny and Peg and told them to call her u Aunt Melba," she tended to talk about and around them as though they weren't there.
Mrs. Wallace seemed to get along nicely, however, with Mrs. Pratka, who came over nearly every day to help and often stayed to cook supper. Sometimes, when Danny and Peg arrived home from school, the two women would be bent over their needlework in a conspiratorial buzz of conversation.
Mrs. Pratka would boost Peg onto her lap and snuggle her as she asked about school.
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At first Peg missed Olga so much that she couldn't eat and cried "Mama" in her sleep. Danny, who would creep into her room to hush and soothe her, began to worry that Peg would get sick, too, so he was thankful when she began to respond to Mrs. Pratka's attentions. On the day he heard Peg begin to chatter with the women, recounting a story with a laugh, Danny leaned against the door, sighing with relief. Peg was going to be all right.
Mrs. Pratka was kind to Danny, too, surprising him sometimes with hot cocoa and ginger cookies. Danny would gulp the treats as fast as he could and hurry outside to find Alfrid. He felt comforted and secure only when he was with Alfrid.
"In the early spring, before the planting, I'll have to hire a farmhand," Alfrid told him.
"I'll work hard. I can do what any farmhand could do," Danny said.
"Schooling comes first," Alfrid said.
"I can do both," Danny insisted. He wanted to prove to Alfrid that he was needed. And he loved Alfrid so much there was nothing in the world he'd rather do than work beside him.
The next few Sundays, after church services, Alfrid would leave Melba, Peg, and Danny for a few minutes to visit Olga's grave and tenderly lay a small holly branch or pine bough on the snow.
On the third Sunday Danny walked through the little cemetery with Alfrid, sorrowing with him, angry and fearful because there was no way he could help.
Alfrid laid a sprig of holly bright with red berries at the base of the headstone and murmured, 'There'll be flowers in the spring." He stepped back and held Danny's hand firmly, but Danny knew that Alfrid wasn't talking to him; he was talking to Olga.
Then the last Sunday in January, as they drove home after services, Melba turned to Alfrid and said, "There's never enough time for mourning, Alfrid, but it's time you began thinking about taking another wife."
He gave her a sharp, quizzical glance before she added, "You can't run the farm by yourself. It takes two to make a go of it—a man and a woman. I can only stay a few more weeks to tend to you and the children. My own family needs me."
Danny sucked in his breath. Beside him Peg clutched at his hand, her fingers inside the wool mittens twisted into his so tightly it was painful.
"I don't want to think or talk of that now," Alfrid said.
Melba sat up primly, pulling her shawl more snugly about her neck against the cold air. "You had love in your marriage, which makes you more fortunate than many. But now you need a good, strong, thrifty woman who knows how to manage a household."
"Melba, this is no time to—"
"How do you expect to keep the children without a wife to aid you?"
Peg whimpered, then choked back the sound, staring at Alfrid with wide, frightened eyes. Danny's chest began to ache, and he found it hard to breathe.
"I'm not ready. There is no one—" Alfrid began, but Melba wouldn't give up.
"Yes, there is," she said. "Ennie Pratka is fond of you, Alfrid. She's a hard worker and would make a good wife."
"Ennie Pratka!" Alfrid's heavily gloved hands almost dropped the reins, and his mouth fell open.
"Think about it, Alfrid. That's all I'm asking. I know how stubborn you can be and how you have to mull an idea over and over before you'll accept it, but you're going to have to make a decision soon."
An idea exploded into Danny's mind with such force that he jumped. That's it! Of course! he thought. Peg gaped at him, and he leaned close and whispered in her ear, "Don't worry. I know what to do. I just thought of a wonderful plan!"
As the buggy stopped in front of the barn, Danny leapt out and ran through the snow to open the big barn doors. The moment that Alfrid led the horses inside, Danny unhitched them and led them into their stalls. He waited until the horses had been rubbed down, then turned to face Alfrid. "I don't think you should marry Mrs. Pratka," he blurted out.
Alfrid looked embarrassed. "Danny, Melba shouldn't have spoken in front of you and Peg. This is a matter that only I can decide."
"But I can help you!" Danny said eagerly.
"Help me?" Alfrid shook his head and hung the harness with the rest of the tack. "If you are going to try to assure me that you and Peg can run the house—"
"No!" Danny said. "That's not it. I understand that a man can't take care of a farm by himself. I just don't want you to marry Mrs. Pratka. I know someone else who'd make you a better wife. She's a grand woman who's a hard worker and strong as a whole team of horses. She'd make you a lot happier than Mrs. Pratka would. She'd make us all happy."
For a moment Alfrid just stared at Danny. Then he found his voice and asked, "Who is this woman?"
Danny smiled and answered, "Our mother."
"That would be impossible," Alfrid said.
"No, it wouldn't!" Danny spoke rapidly, intent on convincing Alfrid. "Ma can do anything, and do it well, and she's not afraid of hard work. She's used to it. Sometimes she sings while she works, and her voice is better than any you've ever heard in church. She has a
ready laugh and a fine Irish wit, and her hair is as red as Peg's. Da used to tell her she was beautiful. And she is."
He took a deep breath, desperately groping for the right words to say. "Peg and I—it would be the best tiling in the world if we could have Ma back again. But it isn't just for us. When the idea came to me I knew I had to tell you about it, because our ma would make you a good wife, a much better wife than Mrs. Pratka could be."
Alfrid sat hunched over on a nearby bale of hay and leaned his elbows on his thighs. "Your mother lives a long distance away, in New York City."
"But she'd come if we asked her and if you paid her railway fare! I know she would."
"To marry a man she's never met?"
"You're our father. I'd write and tell her what a fine man you are. We could ask Mrs. Banks and Mr. MacNair to write, too."
"The fare probably would cost a great deal of money."
"Maybe Ma has some saved, and I could try to get a job. You could ask Mr. MacNair what it would cost."
Alfrid rested his forehead in his hands. "That's enough for now, Danny. Sooner or later I must face the situation and give it some serious thought, I know, but it's been such a short time since we lost Olga."
Danny had been trying to help Alfrid, but he'd made him feel worse. "I'm sorry, Father," Danny whispered. "I love you."
With a groan, Alfrid lifted his head and enfolded Danny in a hug. "And I love you, son. I'll do whatever is best for us. I promise you."
Danny heard the kitchen door bang open and Melba calling, "Alfrid! Danny! What's keeping you? Ennie is here and wants to set dinner on the table!"
>
Alfrid stood, his hand on Danny's shoulder as they
walked to the open barn door. "We're coming," he called. "We're ready."
Danny guessed that Melba had told Mrs. Pratka about the discussion in the buggy, because Mrs. Pratka's eyes sparkled brilliantly, and she smiled broadly each time she looked at Alfrid.
"Ennie, your escalloped squash is wonderful!" Melba said. "And your chicken couldn't be better. Oh, if I could only make gravy like yours."
Mrs. Pratka dimpled and patted at her hair. 'Tyrus— may he rest in peace—often said if they gave out medals for cooking, I'd be awarded a solid gold one."
"And he was right," Melba agreed. "A fine wife and a fine cook. No man could ask for anything more."
They both looked pointedly at Alfrid, who dropped his eyes and shifted in his chair.
Melba sighed dramatically and said, "Your stitchery puts anyone's to shame, Ennie. You're a woman of many talents. Don't you agree, Alfrid?"
Alfrid mumbled something. His face turned red, and he poked at his chicken with his fork.
It wasn't fair, Danny thought Alfrid had said he needed time to think, but they were ganging up on him. What if the two women talked Alfrid into marrying Mrs. Pratka before he had a chance to consider Ma? Danny quickly broke into the conversation. "Can you sing?" he asked Mrs. Pratka.
She blinked with surprise. "What do you mean, can I sing?"
"I mean it's nice to hear someone singing around the house. Our ma liked to sing for us," Danny said. "Isn't that right, Peg?"
Peg put down her fork and her forehead wrinkled in a puzzled frown. "Yes," she said slowly. "She did. I almost forgot."
Danny stared at Peg in shock. "You forgot?"
"I said I almost forgot." Peg's lower lip curled out defensively, and her eyes swam with tears. "I wouldn't forget Ma."
Danny leaned back in his chair, suddenly without an appetite. He had counted on Peg to help him to convince Alfrid. But if she had grown so far away from Ma that it was hard for her to remember, she wouldn't be much use.
Melba shot Danny a quizzical look, then turned to Alfrid and said, "Before I leave I'm going to make an inventory of the pantry and see what you need to replenish it. Ennie has kindly offered to work with me. She's very quick and skilled at tasks like that."
"I'm glad to be of help," Mrs. Pratka said modestly.
"She'll need to know where everything is."
The way Mrs. Pratka simpered at Alfrid made Danny want to groan aloud.
"And there are some things that need to be disposed of," Melba continued, "like that foolish ball of twine on the back shelf."
"Leave that twine alone!"
"My goodness, Alfrid. I only suggested that—"
Alfrid's chair squeaked back, and he rose from the table. "Please excuse me," he said. "I have an important errand in town."
"But you haven't finished dinner!" Mrs. Pratka said. "And I made molasses pie especially for you because I know that you like it."
"Thank you," Alfrid said. "If you save a piece, I'll eat it for supper tonight."
"How about a nice big wedge now and one later? Sit down, Alfrid. I'll dish it right up."
She was halfway out of her chair when Alfrid said, "No! I'm sorry, but there is someone in town I must talk to."
"Who? And why must you go before you've finished your dinner?" Melba asked.
Alfrid didn't answer the question. He just said, "I should be home before dark. Danny, will you take care of the cows?"
"Of course I will," Danny said. "What else do you want me to do?"
"Just lend a hand to your Aunt Melba, if there's anything she needs."
"I will," Danny said.
No one spoke as Alfrid left the room. Danny could hear him in the kitchen pulling on his coat and boots. Then the kitchen door opened and shut.
Melba and Mrs. Pratka looked at each other. "What was that all about?" Mrs. Pratka asked.
"I don't know," Melba said. She turned to Danny. "Do you know what Alfrid's errand could be?"
"No," Danny said, trying to figure out the answer. "Unless it's a meeting of the abolitionists."
"Not on Sunday afternoon," Melba answered. "I wonder what Alfrid is up to."
Danny wondered, too. Alfrid had said there was someone he had to talk to. If it didn't have to do with the abolitionists, then who could this person be? Katherine Banks lived in St. Joseph. So did Andrew MacNair, when he wasn't scouting towns or off in New York with another group of Orphan Train children. Could Alfrid be going to talk to one of them? About Ma? About asking her to come to Missouri to be his wife?
Danny was wishing so hard for this to be true that he didn't hear when Mrs. Pratka spoke to him.
"Danny. Danny, what is the matter with you? You haven't finished your dinner either."
Danny opened his eyes and sat upright. "Please excuse me," he said, following Alfrid's example. "I'm not hungry, and I have to take care of the cows."
Melba just sighed and shrugged, raising her hands, so Danny scooted his chair back from the table.
"What happened? Was it the chicken? Was it overcooked?" Danny heard Mrs. Pratka ask in bewilderment as he tugged on his coat, hat, and gloves and ran from the house.
He grabbed a shovel, throwing all his energy into cleaning the animals' stalls, working until he was perspiring and panting, his breath rising in puffs of steam. Maybe, just maybe, Alfrid was asking Andrew about Ma and how to go about sending for her!
Danny paused, resting on the shovel. What would Andrew tell him? What if he advised Alfrid just to marry Mrs. Pratka? What if the railway fare from New York cost too much?
As another horrible thought struck him, Danny sagged against the side of one of the stalls, his knees suddenly wobbly. What if Alfrid writes to Ma and asks her to marry him, but Ma won't come?
By the time Alfrid arrived back at the farm, it was already dark, and Mrs. Pratka had gone home. Melba was so irritated with Alfrid that she had snapped at Peg and Danny all afternoon, and Peg had clung to Danny for comfort.
"What are you writing?" Peg had asked Danny, squeezing into the chair beside him and jostling his elbow. A drop of ink splatted one edge of the paper.
Danny had been too excited to care. "I'm writing a long letter to Ma," he had said. "I've got a lot to tell her."
"What?"
"I told her about—about Alfrid, and about the farm, and about how much we miss her, and I wrote what I told Alfrid about her, and ..." Danny looked carefully at Peg, wondering just how much information to give her. He decided to be cautious. "And I asked her to come and visit us."
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Peg had gasped, jumping to her feet. "Could Ma do that?"
"Hush!" Danny had hissed at her. "This is our secret. Don't say anything until—well, until I tell you that you can.
Peg had nodded solemnly, her eyes shining.
Danny had quickly finished his letter and had taken it upstairs for safekeeping. He could mail it the moment Alfrid decided to send for Ma.
Now, as Danny heard Alfrid ride up, it was all he could do to keep from rushing to the barn to ask if he'd really gone to St. Joseph to talk to Katherine or Andrew. Instinctively, he knew he shouldn't. He had given Alfrid the idea, and he couldn't push him. Look what had happened when Melba and Mrs. Pratka had tried it.
Danny held his breath as Alfrid entered the parlor. Peg ran for a kiss, and Melba let out a long, aggrieved sigh. "Well," she said, "did you accomplish your very important errand?"
"Yes, I did," Alfrid said. He sat on the sofa next to Danny.
Melba's nose tilted a little higher and she sniffed. "Is it too much to ask that you tell me why you had to rush off as you did? You hurt Ennie's feelings. She thought you didn't like the way she had roasted the chicken."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt anyone."
"You might tell her that."
"I will when I have the opportunity."
Melba sighed again and picked up her needlework. Danny gritted his teeth. He,
too, was yearning to know why Alfrid had ridden into St. Joseph.
The room was silent for a few moments. Then Melba dropped the needlework onto her lap and looked directly into Alfrid's eyes. "Have you given any serious thought to our conversation this morning?"
"Yes, I have," Alfrid said. "I've decided you are right. I should make plans to marry soon."
Peg stared at Alfrid, hugging Whiskers so tightly that he mewed in complaint and tried to squirm from her arms. Danny closed his eyes, unable to breathe.
But Melba exclaimed, "Good! Ennie will be so pleased! I'll stay for the wedding."
"There may be a wedding, but it will not include Ennie," Alfrid said. As Melba's mouth fell open, he added, "I received the information I needed today from Andrew MacNair, and together we drafted a telegram in which I invited a woman to consider becoming my wife."
Melba shrieked, "You did what? Who is she?"
Alfrid rested a hand on Danny's shoulder. "Noreen Kelly," he said. "The children's mother."
Peg and Danny made such a racket, jumping up and down, hugging each other and Alfrid, and screaming with delight, that they didn't notice for a few moments that Melba had fallen back, swooning, into her chair. She had to be helped to her room, where she could loosen her corset strings and lie on her bed with a cold, wet cloth on her forehead, before Danny could question Alfrid further.
"Remember, your mother may not accept," Alfrid warned Peg and Danny. "She may not want to make a drastic change from life in the city to farm life."
"She lived on a farm in Ireland!" Danny said. "I'm sure she won't want to stay in a small attic room in New York, working for some other family, when she could be living in the countryside in a house of her own." He paused. "And with her own children again."
"Danny wrote a letter to Ma and asked her to come!" Peg said.
Danny ducked his head, then grinned at Alfrid. "Just in case that's what you wanted. It's ready to mail."
"Then we'll mail it tomorrow."
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