I walked over to the parlor door. “I’m just trying to keep him interested in new things. Trying to keep his mind occupied is a full-time job.”
Robert put down his newspaper and frowned at me. “Why can’t he take pictures of sunsets? Why does he have to be gathering data on our friends and neighbors?”
I thought about that for a while. “Excellent point.” I went back and sat next to William and asked what he thought about taking pictures of sunsets.
“Boring,” he answered.
“What if we did sunsets and sunrises, so you could compare how the light changes the sky?
He cocked his head and scrunched up his face, deep in thought. “Okay.”
In the dusky light of evening, William took pictures of the sunset. Early the next morning, I woke him up at dawn to catch the sunrise, before it climbed over the craggy cliffs in the east and flooded the valley.
Afterwards, William wanted to finish up the roll, so I suggested that he walk down the street and take a few pictures of the church, just as the sun fanned the buildings. I hoped he might get an interesting view of the church that we could frame for Robert for Christmas. William handed me the roll of film to drop at the film store the next time we went to Bisbee. I tucked it in my sweater pocket and promptly forgot about it.
At dinner, Elisabeth said that she had to write an essay for English class about what book she would take with her if she were shipwrecked on a deserted island.
“Can you take the Bible?” asked Robert.
“No. Dat Mr. Koops said no Bible. So vhat odder book?” she asked him. She was stumped. She didn’t enjoy reading. She still labored with her English and needed a dictionary to do most of her homework.
“Hmm,” he said, rubbing his chin. “Well, I’d probably take along Oswald Chamber’s My Utmost for His Highest.”
“I think I would take along The Christian’s Secret to a Happy Life by Hannah Whitall Smith,” pondered Aunt Martha. Written by a Quaker in the 1800s, it was a classic devotional. Still, I thought that was an interesting choice for Aunt Martha, who could never be accused of oozing happiness.
“What about you, Louisa?” asked Robert, helping himself to another portion of the meatloaf.
“Just one book?” I asked.
Elisabeth nodded.
“What a difficult choice.”
She rolled her eyes. “So vhat book?” she asked in a louder voice.
“I think I might choose a play by Shakespeare.” I had been trying to help Elisabeth read through King Lear.
Elisabeth looked at me as if I had lost my mind. “Dat man is too hard to understand. He says he is using English but I can’t understand a vord of him. Shakespeare is da vorst.”
“What about you, William?” I asked, tapping his arm so he would know I was speaking to him. “What book would you take with you if you were shipwrecked on a deserted island?”
William looked at me carefully to read my lips. Then he reached for the butter plate. “Can Dog come with me?” he asked.
“Okay,” I said.
“So vhat book?!” Elisabeth barked, losing patience.
“I think…,” he said, adding pats of butter into his steaming baked potato. Butter was becoming a staple in homes after rationing had eased and William couldn’t get enough of it. He had never accepted Oleo as a reasonable substitute. “I think…I would bring a book about how to build a boat if you get stuck on a deserted island.” He added another pat of butter, then watched the butter melt into little rivers in his potato.
With a catlike smile, Elisabeth went back to eating with renewed gusto.
Before Thanksgiving arrived, I wrote two letters. One to Alice, Robert’s sister, inviting her to come for a visit. The judge helped me to locate the O’Casey family and I hoped they would forward the letter to Alice.
I also hoped that if she were to be found, Robert would welcome her warmly.
Well, so I hoped.
The second letter I wrote was to Karl Schneider. He had enclosed two more notes in Danny’s letters to Elisabeth and then had sent me a letter directly. Despite feeling strangely unsettled about communicating with Karl, I finally decided that if he was willing to help locate Friedrich Mueller, I should accept his offer. I had yet to hear a single word from the judge’s nephew. I had nowhere else to turn. But I did ignore Karl’s repeated pleas for forgiveness. And I signed the letter: ‘Cordially, Mrs. Robert Gordon’. I underlined my name for emphasis. Twice.
Too soon, it was Thanksgiving. Cousin Ada was due in, which meant Aunt Martha was cleaning the house from top to bottom in a frantic fall cleaning mode. William and I stayed outdoors as much as possible. Even though my abdomen was rather pronounced, I still gardened, turning over the dirt and preparing the soil for my fall crops. Robert had built a compost box for me that we kept hidden on the side yard to create amendments for my garden. Little by little, my garden was taking over the entire front yard.
Rosita stopped by on her way to her restaurant one morning when she saw me out front. “What are you going to plant now, Louisa?”
“Well, broccoli, carrots, lettuce, onions, cabbage in those beds.” I pointed to the side yard. “And closer to the front of the house, in the bed next to the roses, I’m going to plant flowers. This year, I’m going to put in narcissus bulbs so the house will smell of spring.” It would smell like springtime in Germany, I hoped. “I’ve got the bulbs in the icebox right now.”
“The icebox? Flower bulbs in the icebox?
“Bulbs need a cold storage period. Arizona is much too hot for bulbs, so I’ll dig them up when they finish blooming and put them back in the icebox.”
“Doesn’t Aunt Martha mind bulbs in her icebox?” Rosita asked, familiar with Aunt Martha’s fussy ways.
“Why, yes! She minds quite a bit! But she does like my flowers.”
Rosita smiled and sat down next to me. “How are you feeling?”
I leaned back on my heels. “Good. Wonderful. The baby moves all of the time now.”
“Just don’t hurt yourself, doing all of that bending.”
“I’ll be careful.” I patted my middle. “Aunt Martha says I have peasant stock in me.”
Rosita looked at me, confused. “Is that good?”
I sighed. “Probably not.”
Her face stretched into a big gap-toothed grin as she headed off down the street toward her restaurant.
After dinner that night, a loud, “Elisabeth! Get down here!” bellowed from the parlor. Robert walked into the kitchen, holding up the daily newspaper, which had large holes cut out of it like Swiss cheese.
Elisabeth flew down the stairs. When she saw him, her eyes grew wide. “I had to cut news for Danny! About rockets! And about Israel and Palestine and dat United Nations! You said it vas okay!” She looked worried. Robert had never raised his voice to her.
Robert frowned. “Well, could you at least wait until I am done reading it?” He went back into the parlor, shaking his head.
* * * *
A few days later, Ada came sweeping into our house in her usual “roar in, roar out” style. Sensing the excitement, Dog dashed down the stairs and skidded up to Ada, jumping up to lick her face. I hurried to get Dog under control. “I’m sorry, Ada!” I said, as I held back his wiggling body with both hands. “He takes greeting very seriously.”
“That mutt is as welcoming as a swarm of bees,” groused Aunt Martha, as she came in from the kitchen to greet her cousin.
Dramatically, Ada brushed off her new red wool suit with fox fur trim. “I don’t know what it is about dogs, but the more I dislike them, the more they seem to like me.”
Hearing the commotion, Elisabeth came downstairs. She watched Ada ooh and aah over everyone. Ada couldn’t get over how tall William had grown. He wiped his cheek down with a flourish after she had finished covering him with wet kisses. Then she patted my swelling abdomen and pronounced that this baby was a boy, no doubt, from the way I was carrying it.
Inch by inch, Eli
sabeth slid into the parlor to investigate. She peered at Ada with an odd look on her face.
Suddenly, a horrible realization flooded over me. I felt as if I was in a dream, running in quicksand. Don’t say it, Elisabeth, please don’t say what I think you’re about to say!
“How in da vorld did you get so fat?” she asked Ada.
A deafening silence filled the room.
“Why, just too much good living, little girl!” Ada grabbed Elisabeth for a smothering hug. “And we’re just going to have to fatten you up, too, little Lizzy,” she claimed. She continued to hug Elisabeth, rocking her back and forth. When Ada finally released her, Elisabeth looked dazed, as if she’d never encountered anyone like this before in her life.
Regarding Ada, I shared those sentiments.
Robert came through the door with multiple suitcases tucked under his arms, including a cat crate. Setting them down, he rubbed his shoulders and muttered, “They nearly took my arms from their sockets.” Dog began sniffing and didn’t stop until he had sniffed every square inch of the place, finally locating the source of that smell, hackling and growling as if he had just found dinner. Quickly, William put on his leash and dragged him outside, where Dog resigned himself, mournfully, to a long stay on the tie-down line.
A music aficionado, Ada often asked me to play the piano for her. One afternoon, I had just finished playing a Mendelssohn selection for her when Elisabeth walked through the room. “Elisabeth is an even better piano player than I am, Ada,” I whispered.
Elisabeth heard me and stopped abruptly, just as I had hoped. She narrowed her eyes at me. “Dat’s right. Louisa makes mistakes. Lots and lots of mistakes.”
“Oh, really?” asked Ada provocatively. “What kind of mistakes? She sounded perfect to me.”
With great enthusiasm, Elisabeth explained how I often was off tempo. “She never knows vhen to push da timing or vhen to hold back. And her crescendos should be in tree notes,” she held up three fingers, “but she is alvays off. Off, off, off!”
I nodded. She was right.
Ada wisely feigned ignorance. “I’m not quite sure what you mean, Lizzy dear. Would you mind showing me?”
Elisabeth scrunched up her face, contemplating whether she would accommodate Ada’s request or not, but she couldn’t resist an opportunity to show me up. I raised my eyebrows at Ada, impressed with her perceptiveness.
Elisabeth sat down at the piano and played the piece I had just played with astonishing precision. As she drew to the final few measures, she stopped. She looked down at the piano, pressing one key over and over. It was stuck. She jumped off the stool, and pointed furiously at the keyboard. “You call dat a piano? Dat is not music! Dat is da vorst piano in da vorld!” She shook her head stormily and stomped off.
I glanced quickly over at Robert, who was playing chess with William at the kitchen table. Robert had surprised me with this piano when I had first arrived in Copper Springs, knowing how I loved to play. “It’s a wonderful piano, Robert. There’s just one key that sticks a little. That’s all. I can try to fix it.”
Ada hurried to the kitchen. “Do you realize the talent in that child? Why, she’s a wunderkind!”
“Yes, of course we realize that,” Robert answered.
“But we must develop it!” she said.
I came into the kitchen behind her. “It’s not that easy, Ada. That’s the first time I’ve heard her play for anyone since she came. She associates the piano with her past, and she doesn’t want to be reminded of it.”
Ada shook her head. “Something must be done, Lulu. It would be a crime to neglect that kind of talent. A crime!”
Later that day, the judge joined us for dinner. Ada shifted into high gear when she discovered he was a widower. It was a curious sight to behold. Ada, flirting outrageously with the judge, Aunt Martha, lips pressed tight, shooting daggers at Ada.
Just as I had suspected!
A little undercurrent of romance had been blossoming with Aunt Martha and Judge Pryor! Once, I had noticed Aunt Martha softened her hairstyle from that tight little knot of a bun symbolic of her personality.
Another time, I noticed that she was wearing lipstick. Lipstick!
Ada wasn’t even aware of Martha’s injured feelings. Nor was the judge. Unfortunately, he seemed rather dazzled by Ada. It was understandable. Ada was dazzling.
This situation needed drastic intervention.
I kicked Robert under the table. “Ow!” he yelped.
“Robert, isn’t this dinner wonderful? Aunt Martha is such a wonderful cook,” I said.
Robert completely missed my cue and rubbed his shin, glaring at me as if mortally wounded. Clearly, he was not going to be of any help.
“We would really be up a river with our paddles if we didn’t have Aunt Martha,” I said.
Robert looked at me curiously. “Do you mean, up a creek without our paddles?”
“Yes. That’s just what I said,” I answered, frowning at him.
“Well, Louisa, if you’re going to start using colloquialisms, you need to get them right,” he informed me in a patronizing tone. “They only work if they’re said correctly.”
I glowered at him, silently vowing to never use one of those silly expressions ever again.
That night in bed, I kept trying to read a book, but couldn’t stop thinking about the dinner. “Robert, I think Aunt Martha has a fondness for the judge. But it seems that so does Ada.”
He put down his book. “What? Is that why you spiked me under the table? I think you broke skin.”
“I gently nudged you and you completely missed my hint,” I corrected.
“Well, it’s ridiculous thinking, anyway.”
“Why is it so ridiculous? Aunt Martha and the judge would make a wonderful match.”
“Not if Ada has already set her cap on him.” Yawning, he switched off his bedside light.
Robert was probably right. It seemed to be a lifelong pattern between the two women. Aunt Martha remained a spinster, while Ada had gone through three husbands and was on the hunt to find husband number four.
Well, I had other problems to worry about. “I’m sorry Elisabeth said the piano was bad.”
“Don’t give it another thought. I understand. She has a low frustration point. She actually played beautifully.”
She did, too. Achingly beautiful. “Life has certainly changed, hasn’t it?”
“Yes, with more changes to come.” He stretched one hand tenderly on top of my rounded belly.
It should have been such a happy time. I should have been looking forward to the birth of this baby. Instead, I was filled with consuming worry about Elisabeth’s health and well-being, trying to close the gaping holes in her education while helping William continue to develop skills. I wished the days could slow down. How could I manage those two with a newborn added in the mix? I was starting to fear what lay ahead of me.
I glanced over at Robert in the dark. Sometimes I wondered how he really felt about having Elisabeth with us. Too kind to say otherwise, I was sure there were moments when he regretted it. I know for a fact Aunt Martha did.
When I first arrived at their home, nearly three years ago, I was astounded by the peace and order in this household. They didn’t even consider having a telephone installed in the parsonage; they considered it an interruption in the sanctuary of the home.
Interruptions. I sighed. That’s what I was, an interruption, when I arrived as a refugee. I brought my own fair share of upheaval into their lives.
And now, Elisabeth wreaked havoc. Not a week had gone by that we weren’t apologizing profusely to someone for her behavior. Other things had gone missing in the town, too; communion bread at the church, a crate of bananas behind Ibsen’s Grocery Store. Always food, which led to one source: my little “organizer.”
Ada’s remarks about Elisabeth’s undeveloped talent hit me hard, because I knew she was right. Elisabeth should be taking piano lessons, from someone more skilled than I, if she
would ever want them. That would probably mean finding a music teacher in Tucson, nearly two hours away. On top of that, our dentist and doctor bills for Elisabeth were already steep and climbing.
I glanced over at Robert. He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, a serious look on his face.
He turned on his side to face me and propped his head on his elbow. “I’m grateful for all you brought into this silent home.”
He had read my mind. “Even the worry and aggravation and the stack of unpaid bills?”
He smoothed wisps of hair off of my forehead. “No one ever said children would be easy,” he said, adding with a grin, “I think trouble comes with the territory.”
* * * *
The following week, an enormous truck arrived in front of the parsonage. Robert saw it from his study desk and went out to meet the driver. From the parlor window, William and I watched the two men conversing. I touched his elbow. “William—can you read their lips?”
“I’m trying. The driver says there is a delivery for Reverend Gordon.”
Robert kept looking at the front door and shaking his head.
“Dad says it won’t fit in the door,” added William. “What is it?”
“I have no idea. Let’s go find out.”
We went outside and listened to Robert and the driver discussing the problem. “There’s no way it can fit,” said Robert. “You’ll just have to return it.”
“No can do, Reverend,” said the driver. “What if we turned it right side up and took off its legs?”
“But even if you got it through the door, it can’t fit in the house. The dimensions would take up the entire parlor.”
All of a sudden, I knew what the delivery was. A new piano. A burst of generosity from cousin Ada. Knowing her, it would be a grand piano, not even a baby grand. Leave it to Ada to send us a grand piano when we couldn’t even pay the dentist’s bill. The two men went to the back of the truck, puzzling over this impractical gift.
William scurried out to investigate. “I think the only doors it would fit through are the church doors,” said William, looking at the piano in the truck.
“William! That might just be a perfect solution!” exclaimed Robert happily.
The Copper Series Page 36