“I didn’t know you planned to put bulbs out here,” Geoff remarked. “I would have helped you get them in the ground earlier in the season.”
Emmeline shook her head. “I thought of this recently.” She met his eyes. “It’s a remembrance garden, Geoff.”
He could almost hear the ticking of his pocket-watch. Compelling his throat to swallow the hard lump that caught there, Geoff managed, “What do you mean, Emmeline?”
Her expression asked him to understand. “It’s in remembrance of the baby,” she said, her voice low, her eyes on the fresh plantings.
Sorrow, crisp as the leaves littering the ground at their feet, rose in Geoff’s heart. The mere mention of his little dead child – of the death of their hopes - had done it. Though Geoff ground his teeth, hardened his jaw, stiffened his shoulders, the tears came anyway.
Oh, Lord, I wanted to be strong for Emmeline, his mind cried out as his chest began to shake with silent weeping. Since the day of Emmeline’s surgery, he had not cried, determined to resign himself to God’s will, hard though it was, resolved to display not a chink in his armor… at least, until he could repair it.
But he had failed. Through the cloak of grief, Geoff felt Emmeline’s arms encircling him, quiet and soothing. She would have made such a good mother. Why? Why? Why? The cries no longer merely revolved in his heart and brain but ricocheted toward the heavens.
But there was no answer. If rending his garments could have forced a response, lashing his body, begging, he would have done it. Yet he knew in his heart that none of those actions would compel an answer from God’s lips. Only the song of the wren, sharp and clear and high, rang out through the rustling trees.
“It is a garden of hope as well,” Emmeline whispered, her hands still on his ribs. “In the spring, these bulbs – so dead as they seem – will rise to life.”
He wiped the back of his hand roughly over his eyes. “Hope… Hope of what, Emmy? Certainly not that God will answer our prayers for a child. Surely even you can see that His answer is no.” He paused, then numbly continued, “And so we must simply submit.”
She didn’t answer for a long time. Geoff was about to turn from the tree and go inside the house when Emmeline finally murmured, “We hope in Him. Don’t you think, Geoff, that perhaps – just perhaps – He answers all sincere prayers with a yes, but we might not see His answer in this life? Or that His yes might appear different than the way that we expected it to look?”
Perhaps… Perhaps, she was right. Confusion – and the desire to believe - and even anger fought hard for control in Geoff’s heart. He didn’t speak or move for long moments.
At last, he shrugged. “I don’t know, Emmeline. I just… just don’t know.” He kissed her hair, right where it met the skin at her temple. That she would know his despondency had nothing to do with her!
She leaned against him, returning the kiss to his jawbone. “I love you, Geoff, darling.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The following Monday, Paulie decided to bring his idea out into the open. As usual, he walked by Grace’s side as they made their way from the high school toward Main Street, where Grace would undoubtedly inform him that she would make her own way from there.
What’s she hiding? He’d asked himself that a million times. Her family’s poverty? A lot of families had dug themselves into a hole, what with buying on credit and the Market Crash a few years back. And businesses weren’t hiring people anymore; it was hard, really tough, to make ends meet. Paulie’s family hadn’t experienced much of that; his dad’s work as a leading obstetrical and gynecological surgeon secured plenty of business, yet Paulie knew that many of their friends had gone – were going – through a difficult time. Naw, it couldn’t be that. It was too common a problem to hide it.
So what is it? One day, he promised himself, he’d find out.
But right now, he had a question that needed asking. “Grace,” he started as they turned a corner, heading away from the school. Several students trailed behind them and walked ahead of them, but nobody with whom either of them was friends.
Grace looked up at him, her gaze shy but full of life. “Yeah?”
He shifted the stack of schoolbooks from one arm to the other. “I have a favor to ask.” Paulie watched her face carefully and saw that he’d definitely surprised her. “I’m wondering if you would mind giving me some tips in math.” He held his breath, wondering whether she’d see right through his ploy.
But she just looked quizzical and a little guarded. “Tips?” she questioned, slowing her pace.
“Yeah,” Paulie said, hoping to explain it right. “You know, we have that big math test coming up in a week-and-a-half. I haven’t been doing great in math lately – not terrible, just not great – and I’d really like to get my average up again. You do swell at math,” he added and then held his breath.
Grace had come to a complete halt. Her expression blank, she stared at him. Great, what’d I say now? She’s probably gonna grab her books and run home! Paulie groaned inwardly. But he kept his smile on his face, trying to appear as winsome as possible.
“You mean help you cheat?” she finally said.
What? “No, not at all. I don’t cheat,” he stated, a bit offended. “I’m wondering if you could, I don’t know, maybe help me understand the concepts better.”
He was unprepared for what came next.
“I’d have to charge you,” she said, glancing to the side, as if she didn’t want to meet his eyes.
“What?” He almost laughed. Was she joking?
But no, she was not. That much was apparent from the way in which she responded to his exclamation by raising her chin with a defiance Paulie had not known she possessed.
“How much?” he managed at last, choking down his disbelief.
At this, she seemed unsure. “Uh…” Her eyes went to the stack of books in Paulie’s hands, and he knew that she was about to take them and leave him. And he didn’t want to lose her company for a second.
“Hey, how about you think on it and let me know?” he suggested.
Slowly, Grace nodded. He offered her a smile, and she gave him one – a very tiny one – in return before they resumed their trek toward Main Street.
Walking along at Paulie’s side, Grace couldn’t believe her good fortune. Here Mama had just been saying that she couldn’t wait until Grace quit school so that she could earn some money for the house, and Paulie popped up with this question. True, he hadn’t known Grace was going to charge him for help with his schoolwork, but then, Grace hadn’t known it either until the words dashed out of her mouth. But it certainly did seem like the perfect solution. How can Mama complain if my schoolwork pays hard cash?
And though Grace felt a slight twinge at charging her friend – she could call Paulie no less than that – she brushed the spasm of conscience aside. Hugging her thin cardigan tight to her body, Grace shivered in the chilly late autumn air. Not everyone could live a cushy life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
December 1934
“The order of operations, Paulie. Remember the order of operations,” Grace sternly reminded him, forcing herself to keep a straight face when he winked.
“Okay, Grace. Order of operations,” Paulie repeated, grinning silly.
Her finger tapped the book sprawled out on the table. “Do the next ten problems, and then I’ll look them over,” she said. She still couldn’t believe that she was doing this: tutoring Paulie Giorgi in math at Mrs. Kinner’s kitchen table. The Blessed Mother must have heard her prayers after all.
“Yes, ma’am,” Paulie answered, winking up at her again.
Flustered, Grace turned to her own work, an easy history assignment. “You joke it off, Paulie Giorgi,” she said, keeping her voice even so that he wouldn’t know that her heart skipped beats when she was so near him. “But you’re the one losing the ten cents every day ’cause you don’t try hard enough.”
He went silent then, and Grace felt sorry
that she’d been so harsh, just to hide her own discomfiture. She was about to soften it up, but Mrs. Kinner entered the room. Wearing her apron as usual, the woman smiled at the two of them; Grace returned the friendly expression shyly.
How strange that Paulie hadn’t minded what Grace had assumed was a high price for her tutelage! And that, when they’d stopped together at the Kinners’ house last month and mentioned Paulie’s proposition, Mrs. Kinner had offered her kitchen as the perfect spot to conduct the tutoring. Insisted was more like it, thought Grace now as she put her pencil down to watch Mrs. Kinner move elegantly toward the cookie jar.
“Anyone hungry for a snack?” Mrs. Kinner turned suddenly, and Grace dropped her gaze, not wanting to be caught staring.
Paulie perked up. “I am!” he announced. “What kind of cookies, Mrs. K.?”
Mrs. Kinner brought the jar over to the table. “Let’s see,” she said, pulling the lid off. “I see sugar cookies and sugar cookies and more sugar cookies.”
“I should’ve guessed,” Paulie laughed. “It is Christmas-time.”
“Two weeks left,” Mrs. Kinner added. Apparently excited, she smiled at Grace, but Grace felt hard-pressed to return the gesture this time. Christmas at the Picoletti house would be awful this year; Grace was sure of it. They hadn’t heard from Ben since he’d gone back to the track in early fall.
And Aunt Mary barely brought Evelyn to visit. Thanksgiving was a joke, remembered Grace miserably. She’d seen Papa swing out of the driveway early that morning, Gertrude at his side, surely on their way to Uncle Jack’s house. Nancy spent the holiday with her new husband’s family, and Lou… Who knew where Lou was any day of the week now? Mama hadn’t even bothered to fix a turkey since it had just been the three of them: Grace, Cliff, and Mama. Grace had cracked open a few cans of tomato soup; they’d crumbled Saltines into their bowls and called it Thanksgiving dinner.
Would Christmas be any different? Grace guessed not. She blinked back the tears that sprang so unwanted into her eyes and pretended to focus on her history assignment while Mrs. Kinner and Paulie chattered about their upcoming happy holiday.
“We’re going back to New York to visit Mother’s family,” Paulie said. “It’ll be nice to see them again, but I kind of wish we could spend Christmas in our home.”
“Will you leave before the twenty-third?” asked Mrs. Kinner. “That’s the special Christmas Sunday service at First Baptist.”
Grace peered through the lace of her eyelashes at Paulie. He bit his lip thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I’ve gotta ask Dad.” Then he turned to Grace. “Hey, Grace, you should go to that service. I bet that you would like it. We sing all sorts of Christmas hymns, and we light the next-to-last Advent candle…” He trailed off, then added, “And the pastor usually gives a good sermon, too.”
“It is a beautiful service,” Mrs. Kinner agreed.
Grace stiffened. “I’m a Catholic,” she reminded them. She hoped that her cold reply would dissuade them from trying to coax her further. What would Father Frederick say?! Her family already had enough gossip making the rounds without Grace attending a Protestant Christmas service!
But Paulie paid no mind to her coolness. “Well, that’s perfect,” he enthused. “Go to… what do you call it? Mass?”
She nodded.
“Right. Couldn’t you go to Mass on Saturday night, and then come to First Baptist on Sunday morning?”
Never! Grace licked her lips, unsure of how she should phrase her definite refusal without losing Paulie and Mrs. Kinner’s favor.
“Won’tcha think about it, Grace?” Paulie persisted, biting into a large snowman-shaped sugar cookie.
“You could sit with us, dear,” Mrs. Kinner offered.
Grace thought of Mama fingering her rosary each night as she sat in her rocking chair. Mama would skin her alive for even considering this; Grace was sure of it!
“I… I’ll think about it,” she finally replied and bent her head feverishly over her homework.
Sarah looked at the clock and then at the back door. Nearly eight, and Grace wasn’t home yet. There were probably still chores to be done; didn’t Grace know…?
She shook her head. No. If she was honest, Sarah would admit it: She was lonely, and knowing Grace was in the house alleviated that.
It’s my own fault, Sarah chastened herself. When Grace had come to her last month, pleading to be allowed to tutor some boy in math, Sarah had agreed solely for the sake of the extra fifty cents it would bring in every week. “As long as you come home first and do your chores,” Sarah had cautioned her middle daughter.
And Grace had kept her part of the bargain. Every day after school, since November, she arrived home to complete her chores, wolf down an early supper, and leave for some woman’s house where the tutoring took place. Who the woman was, or why the tutoring took place at her house, who could say; Sarah certainly didn’t pay attention to such non-important details.
‘Specially since Charlie had taken to spending nearly every night either at Gertrude’s cottage or at his brother Jack’s. Glancing out the window, Sarah saw that a light snow was beginning to fall – the first one of the year. If Charlie was planning to come home tonight – Sarah didn’t count the cottage at the back of their property as his “home” – he’d have been inside by now.
“Where is that girl?” Sarah mumbled again, banging the teakettle down on the Plymouth gas stove. She waited over the burners, craving the heat the stove threw into the cold house. At last, the water boiled hot, and Sarah poured herself a generous cup of tea. Normally, she preferred coffee, but tea was cheaper since she could reuse the bag three or four times. And cheaper equaled better, especially with Christmas coming…
She’d buy nothing for Lou and Nancy, of course; they wouldn’t expect it and, for all Sarah knew, they probably wouldn’t even stop at home for Christmas. And Grace shouldn’t hope to receive anything, either, at her age. Cliff, certainly, would have a little something; he was a boy, and boys were by nature and habit greedy things. For Evelyn…
Jealousy stabbed into Sarah’s heart, making her grit her teeth as she calmly stirred a quarter-teaspoon of sugar into the tea. The last time Mary brought her here, Evelyn acted like she barely knew me. Me, the one who gave birth to her! Dressed in a raccoon fur coat and bright patent-leather shoes, Sarah’s youngest child had half-hidden behind Mary, not attempting to leave her guardian’s side during the entire visit. In an odd way, Sarah had felt relieved when the two left; it had caused too much pain to know that her physical separation from her favorite child had turned into an emotional estrangement as well. Who knows what Mary has been telling her…
But Evelyn would fare better where she was, Sarah reminded herself. Already, Mary spoke of sending Evelyn to a fine all-girls boarding school, perhaps next year; and after that, maybe college. Yes, Evelyn will make something of herself, Sarah assured her heart as she picked up the chipped, steaming teacup and took her customary seat on the kitchen’s rocking chair. A radio – bought with the little money Sarah’s mama had left her when she died – balanced on the small table beside the chair.
With a deep sigh, Sarah sank into the chair cushions and flicked on the dial. She settled her head against the chair’s back and held the warm teacup steady on her plump belly. Seven months already. The baby will be here in February. At least, she hoped so. The women in her family had a habit of carrying babies well past their due-date; she’d carried Ben almost a month over his expected arrival. And who knew exactly when this baby had been conceived, anyway? Sarah had too much on her plate to keep definite track of anything so inconsequential.
Somehow, the banter of the two radio comedians sounded banal and foolish tonight. Maybe it was because Grace wasn’t home yet, and so Sarah couldn’t quite concentrate on the jokes the man and woman exchanged between them. Impatiently, she leaned toward the dial, clicking through the stations, trying to find something that didn’t grate on her nerves. At last, she found what sounded like old-
fashioned singing; something through which she could just rock numbly. Satisfied, Sarah leaned back and sipped the steaming amber liquid.
A few minutes passed. Sarah felt the tension of the day rocking away, soothed by the sweet singing. Then suddenly, her half-closed eyes shot open: This was a Protestant radio program! Perking up her ears, Sarah listened more closely to the lyrics:
What a Friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and griefs to bear!
What a privilege to carry everything to God in prayer!
Oh, what peace we often forfeit, oh, what needless pain we bear,
All because we do not carry everything to God in prayer!
Yes; it was Protestant. Sarah was sure of it! She pushed her weary body forward to click over to the comedy show again, but before she changed the station, the thought that she actually liked what she was hearing went through her mind.
She glanced uneasily around her and then chuckled. As if someone was watching me! If I like listening to it, there’s no reason I shouldn’t, she reasoned. But her own mother’s warning about Protestants fought against her own logic: “The Protestants – all of them – would like nothing better than to eat us Catholics alive!” Her mother had meant spiritually, of course, but her words still sent a shiver of fear down Sarah’s back.
Yet the words of the song drew her. The choir sang another verse:
Are we weak and heavy laden? Cumbered with a load of care?
Precious Savior, still our refuge, take it to the Lord in prayer.
Do your friends despise, forsake you? Take it to the Lord in prayer!
In His arms He’ll take and shield you; you will find a solace there.
Well, in her younger years, Sarah might have been taken in by those words, but now she was older and wiser. Prayer had never unburdened her, really. Had it ever made her hopeful for a time, that things would change, maybe get a little better with Charlie?
The Fragrance of Geraniums (A Time of Grace Book 1) Page 16