“She’s not yours, Annie.”
“I know that. But she’s been given into my care by someone who’s desperate—someone who trusts me to take care of her.” She paused and then added, “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
That night, after Alice left and after Annie went to bed, Annie went over the events of the evening point by point. She thought of the pale, stoic face, thin arms and legs, and wispy white-blond hair. She remembered the sober expression in the large light-blue eyes. The child seemed to accept whatever life handed her, and Annie’s motherly instincts told her Noelle had not been handed the best.
She heard a sound in the room and turned her head sharply. Noelle was padding across the room to her. The white T-shirt Annie had dressed her in nearly glowed in the darkness. She reached the bedside, thumb in mouth, bear clutched in one arm.
“Honey!” Annie said, sitting up in some alarm. She turned on the bedside lamp. “Why are you awake? Are you sick?”
The girl took her thumb from her mouth long enough to reach up with both arms. Annie hoisted her into the bed and felt her forehead.
“Not feverish. Do you feel OK?”
Noelle nodded.
“Are you scared?”
The little girl shook her head. “Sleep right dere,” she said, pointing to the other side of the bed.
“You want to sleep in my bed tonight?”
Noelle nodded. She popped her thumb into her mouth and regarded Annie patiently. Annie folded back the covers, smiling.
“Crawl in here where it’s warm.”
Noelle clambered into place and laid down. Annie tucked the covers around her snugly.
“Is that better?” Annie asked.
The girl nodded.
“Are you sleepy?”
Noelle nodded again, her eyelids already drooping.
“Good. Me too. Let’s get some sleep, huh?” Annie turned out the lamp and settled back down. A moment later, Noelle moved closer, her tiny body warm and sweet by Annie’s side. As Annie cuddled her, she pondered Alice’s words. Call the police? Tell some authority figure who would take this little girl from Annie’s safe, loving care and put her with a stranger? Put her in a home full of strangers who may or may not give her enough attention and care?
“No!” Annie whispered fiercely into the night. Someone had entrusted Noelle’s care to her, and although she had no idea who had turned the child over to her, she was going to fulfill that trust.
11
In the morning, Annie remembered the clothes she’d bought for John and Joanna a few years earlier—warm clothing needed in Maine they’d never need in Brookfield. Everything was too big, of course—the twins were only five-year-olds at the time—but Annie quickly altered by hand-stitching some underwear, a long-sleeved shirt and rompers. The socks fit high up on her spindly legs, but then she put Noelle’s dingy, cloth sneakers back on the child’s feet. She brushed the silky, fine hair into a ponytail, and then hand in hand, the two went into the kitchen for breakfast.
Noelle devoured a piece of toast, a steaming bowl of oatmeal with raisins, and a glass of milk.
“I do believe you look better already,” she told the child. Indeed, the pale blue eyes shone and the thin cheeks had a bit of color.
When Noelle finished, she went upstairs with Annie into the spare room.
“I want to see if I can find any more clothes for you,” Annie said. “Of course, I’ll need to go to town to buy a few things, but let’s see what we have here.”
Noelle stood quietly beside her, teddy bear in one hand, thumb in her mouth. Annie knelt in front of the dresser and went through every drawer looking for anything she might have bought for the twins and forgotten about. She found two pairs of jeans, a couple of long-sleeve T-shirts, and two more pairs of socks. Always thinking ahead, she sometimes bought clothing or toys and games for her grandchildren, preparing for their visits, or more often, mailing the items to Texas with a note to remind them that she was thinking of them.
“I’m definitely going to have to go into town,” she said finally.
“Town?” Noelle asked. “McDonald’s?”
Annie raised her eyebrows. “McDonald’s, eh? Well, I think you need more nutritious food than that for a while. Maybe in a week or two we’ll get you a Happy Meal, OK?”
Noelle grinned around her thumb and nodded enthusiastically.
“In the meantime, I know Gram stored plenty of fabric in the attic. I can make you some clothes.”
Noelle blinked, sucked, and smiled as if she understood every word.
It occurred to Annie she was looking at her little guest as long-term, and she told herself that was not the best way to handle the situation. At some point, whoever left her here would be returning.
Except I can’t let her go back to a place where she obviously doesn’t get enough food or the right kind of clothes. One thing she did not want to do was take the girl into Stony Point where curiosity and questions would abound. She’d have to reveal the presence of Noelle sooner or later, but the least she could do until that time was feed and clothe her properly.
Annie gathered the girl up in her arms and smothered the little face with kisses.
“Nanny,” she said, pointing toward the front door.
Annie laughed in delight. “My name is Annie, but Nanny is close enough for a little girl who doesn’t talk much.”
“Nanny,” Noelle said, sighing, still looking at the door.
“No, honey. We’re not going outside now, but we’ll go somewhere one of these days, I promise. Maybe even to Portland!”
Noelle sighed again and dropped her hand.
“Let’s go upstairs,” Annie said. “There’s a regular treasure trove up there. I bet we can even find you some toys.”
The attic was chilly and dim and smelled of the collected artifacts stored there. Annie grabbed an old quilt from a stack of them near the door and wrapped it about Noelle.
“Now, if I remember correctly,” she said, “Gram had lots of fabric in that chest right over there.” Noelle started to follow her, but Annie stopped her. “No, honey, stay right here. I’m afraid you may fall dragging around that quilt past all this stuff. Um …” She looked around, spotted a stuffed toy elephant that had been hers in her childhood. She got it and handed it to the girl. “Here. His name is Binky-Boo, and he’s been alone a long time. Play with him, sweetheart, right here, while I see if I can find some material.”
Annie found a few yards of soft buttercup yellow flannel and a few lengths of darker, thicker fabric. She discarded some scratchy wools and latched onto some fluffy rose-pink fleece. The fabric was old. She didn’t know how old, and she hoped it was sturdy enough to last. At least there was enough she could make several simple, warm outfits and pajamas for Noelle.
Downstairs, she put Christmas music on the CD player, and then spent the morning in the dining room measuring Noelle and drawing patterns on discarded newspaper for pants, tops, and nightgowns.
“This is how my mother used to make clothes,” she told the child. “We didn’t always live near stores, so she made most of our clothes.”
Noelle looked up from where she sat on the floor with the teddy bear and elephant, bouncing them along as if they were walking together. She smiled and then turned back to the toys. Annie paused a moment, her pencil poised just above the newspaper as she gazed at Noelle. The little girl was so quiet and well-behaved it was almost eerie.
A few minutes before noon, just as Annie was going into the kitchen to prepare lunch, Alice called.
“I made a large lunch, and it’s ready right now,” Alice said. “Why don’t you and Noelle come over?”
Noelle was standing on her tiptoes, trying to see the tops of the counters, apparently looking for food.
“Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, peas, and hot rolls,” Alice added, as if she could see into Annie’s kitchen from the carriage house. “Comfort food.”
“We’ll be right over,” Annie replied immedia
tely, looking at Noelle’s thin, eager face.
Annie grabbed a saltine from a canister and handed it to her. The girl crunched it happily.
“We’re going to Alice’s for a good, hot lunch,” Annie said, “and that cracker will hold you until we get there. Now, let’s go get bundled up.”
The girl took a deep breath and stoically accepted being dressed in coat, gloves, scarf, hat, and snow boots.
If she did not have Noelle with her, Annie would have braved the snowy way like an old mountaineer through the trees between the two houses. But she refused to court any possible cold, germ, or virus getting hold of Noelle. Annie was glad she still had car seats from the twins’ earlier visits, and putting one in the backseat of the Malibu took hardly any time at all. Annie strapped Noelle into the car seat, and then she drove the short distance to the carriage house.
Alice threw open her front door.
“Hey there, sweet thing,” she said, kissing Noelle’s cheek. She touched the tiny nose with the tip of her finger. “Are you hungry?”
Noelle nodded, and Annie removed the girl’s mittens and unbuttoned her coat.
“This baby is going to be staying with me for a while,” Annie said. She met Alice’s eyes as she pulled the coat off the girl.
“You’re sure that’s the best thing to do?” asked Alice.
Annie handed Alice their wraps and then guided Noelle into the kitchen. The air smelled of homemade goodness.
“Let’s get her settled in and then I’ll tell you. OK?” Annie said.
Alice glanced at Noelle and nodded. “OK. By the way, I fixed her a booster seat of sorts with every pillow in the house.”
The two women busily filled a small plate with tender meatloaf, fluffy mashed potatoes and brown gravy, baby peas, and hot yeast rolls.
“Do you have butter and jelly for the rolls?” Annie asked, glancing around for it.
“Annie,” Alice said, gazing down at the plate, “I hope you don’t expect her to clean her plate.”
“It’s OK if she doesn’t,” Annie said, smiling and stroking Noelle’s hair as she picked up her spoon and dove into her meal. “But I think she’s making up for lost time. Look at her go.”
For a short time, they watched as Noelle happily shoveled in food. Then Annie drew Alice to the far side of the room and spoke to her in a lowered voice.
“I haven’t called anyone about her, and I’m not going to for a while. Look at her, Alice. She needs some care, and I can give it to her.”
They stared at the little girl.
“Does she cry for her mother?” Alice asked.
“No. Honestly, Alice, it’s like she appeared from nowhere, thin, cold, and hungry, but detached from any root. It’s just … I don’t know … beyond strange. It’s weird.”
“Very strange.”
“Exactly! If they find her family, I’m afraid they’d just hand her over like a bundle of clean laundry. At least I have the means and experience to care for a little one like her.”
“They’d investigate first, Annie.”
“But I’m not calling anyone yet. I can’t make it any plainer than that.”
Alice took in a deep breath and met Annie’s eyes. “OK. I accept your decision. But don’t you want to know where she came from and who left her here?”
“Of course I do! In spite of your somewhat wild notion that a stranger left her here, I can’t help but think it’s someone who knows me, or knows about me and realizes I can provide for the child. I feel confident that’s why I have Noelle in my care right now. And like Stony Point’s Santa, that person doesn’t want to be identified.”
Alice said nothing for a few moments. Finally, she said, “I just want you to be sure you’re doing what you believe is the right thing before I tell you what I did.”
“What’d you do, Alice?” Annie asked as a cold hand gripped her heart. “You haven’t called Child Protective Services or anything, have you?”
“No, of course not! But this morning I did an extensive Internet search on my computer, looking at every database I could think of. I have found no mention or image of a little girl like Noelle being reported missing.”
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Annie said. “I mean, that means she’s not been abducted or anything. Right?”
“It seems so to me.”
“Well, then. That’s all there is to it,” Annie said. “I’m not going to agonize over where she came from, at least not for a while.”
“Then I’m with you, and I’ll do all I can to help.” Alice smiled. “Let’s join Noelle. I don’t know about you, but that meatloaf is calling my name.” She paused before adding, “Annie, what about that old man?”
“You mean the old man on the beach? I haven’t forgotten him. I thought I’d check on him later, if you’ll stay with Noelle.”
Alice cleared her throat. “I don’t mean that,” she said. “I mean what about him and that little girl?”
Annie frowned. “What are you saying?”
“Think about it, Annie. He showed up on the beach, a stranger not far from you. You befriended him—”
“Well, I tried to befriend him. He seemed to want no part of friendship.”
“Yes. But think about this. He shows up down there on the beach not far from Grey Gables. You say he’s thin, dressed in ragged clothes, peculiar-acting, and you find out that he’s living in some kind of old shack. Well, put two and two together.”
Annie narrowed her eyes. “What are you getting at, Alice?”
“I’m just thinking.” She tipped her head toward Noelle. “You were so generous with him. Maybe he brought her to you.”
Annie’s meatloaf went down hard. “You think the old man has something to do with Noelle? You think she’s been with him all this time?”
Alice raised her eyebrows and her shoulders. “I don’t know. But it adds up, doesn’t it? Is it just a coincidence that they’re both here at virtually the same time, in the same general state of being?”
“That surly old man and this sweet little child?” Annie made a sudden movement, as if trying to throw off such a notion. “Oh, Alice. No! Surely not.”
But the more the idea clung to her thoughts, the more feasible it seemed. It would explain so much—except the reason for leaving a little girl with a stranger.
“Noelle?” Annie said. The child glanced at her and dug her spoon in what little mashed potatoes were left on her plate. “Honey, do you have a grandpa?”
Noelle blinked and put the potatoes in her mouth, but didn’t say a word.
“She never says much, does she?” Alice said, refilling their coffee cups.
“Hardly a thing.”
They ate quietly for a moment, each lost in thought.
“She has cleaned her plate, Annie. Shall I give her a little more?”
Annie studied the girl for a moment, noticing the heavy eyelids.
“No, I think she’s full. I’ll just put her to bed.” She scooted away from the table and then dampened a thick paper towel at the sink. She washed off Noelle’s hands and face, and then picked her up. “Is it OK to put her in the front bedroom?”
Alice nodded. “Tuck her under the comforter. It’s soft and warm.”
When Annie returned a couple of minutes later, she sat down and said, “She not only eats a lot, she sleeps a lot.”
“Granted that I don’t have a lot of experience with children, but isn’t that rather unusual for a child her age? She’s probably—how old—two or three? Don’t children at this stage have so much energy you can’t keep up with them?”
Annie nodded, picked up her coffee cup and sipped.
“Kids her age generally run around, whooping and hollering, getting into everything possible. They chatter ninety miles a minute and exhaust their caretakers. At least that was my experience with LeeAnn when she was little. When her twins came along, it was double the energy and chatter.”
“I’ll bet!” Alice said, laughing a little. She leaned fo
rward and squeezed Annie’s hand. “I know you miss your family, especially this year when you’ll be without them for the holidays. I realize Noelle is filling that need for you right now. But I also know this: You have the best interests of that little girl at heart.”
Annie fought back tears, shoving away her yearning to see LeeAnn, Herb, and the twins. She refused to substitute them with Noelle. The child needed to be loved for who she was, not for who she replaced. Annie cleared her throat and returned Alice’s warm grip.
“Thank you for understanding. You’re a true friend.” They smiled at each other and then released each other’s hands. “I’ll help you get these dishes washed, and then if you’ll watch Noelle for me, I’ll walk down to the shack and talk to that old man. It’s time for some answers.”
Alice grinned.
“I love it when you get tough.”
12
The cold wind off the water never ceased to take Annie by surprise. That day the wind bore teeth like a starving leopard, tearing into her throat and face, seeming to suck out her very breath. A weaker-willed person may have turned back to the warmth and safety of home, but Annie—who possessed strength of will and character—was on a mission. Not only would she never leave the old man to survive the winter without some form of intervention, she refused to let an abandoned child go to an unfit home or return to an unhealthy environment. She had to know if Noelle came from the stranger she’d cared for the last couple of weeks.
Gratefully, she stepped at last into the relative shelter of the cove. The wind still gnawed at her and the cold was bitter, but in the cove Annie didn’t feel as though the elements would swallow her whole.
Ahead of her, the shack looked deserted. If a fire burned in the stove, the wind scattered its smoke before she could see it. Annie did not let the abandoned appearance deter her purpose, and she moved forward.
She knocked on the door, waited, and knocked again.
“Hello!” she shouted, knocking louder.
The door finally opened a couple of inches.
“Why are you here?” the old man said. “I told you not to come back.”
A Stony Point Christmas Page 9