by Sarah Banks
“Was he a housecat then?”
“No my Ma never let him step foot in the house. After she died, I asked my Pa if Mister Micer could sleep with me, and he said that we should respect my Ma’s wishes.”
“Well if he was a barn cat I’m sure he’s fine dining on mice and such.”
“You think so?” Claire asked hopefully.
“There’s only one way to know for sure. We’ll go and look for him.”
“When?!” Claire asked excitedly.
“Tomorrow’s as good of a day as any I suppose. We’ll get him first thing in the morning. I promise. But first we need to get some sleep.”
She brought a damp cloth for Claire to wipe her face and then changed Ben’s diaper. After putting Ben back into his crib she retrieved the oil lamp and book from her room and sat beside Claire on her bed and started to read aloud. It wasn’t long before both children fell back asleep and she read for a few minutes longer to make sure they were well asleep before returning to her room. Settling back into bed, she prayed the cat was still alive for the sake of this little girl who had already lost so much.
Chapter Nine
On Sunday Charlotte began to wonder if she had any sense at all. First a rooster startled her awake and it wasn’t even light out nor was their house even close to a farm that she knew of and where she thought roosters lived. Somehow after her initial sleepy confusion, she managed to roll over and fall back asleep, likely due to utter exhaustion. It must have been only minutes later when Claire tiptoed into her room to wake her up. Charlotte tried the same thing she had done with the rooster, rolling over and going back to sleep but Claire was even more insistent than the rooster had been, not letting her fall back asleep a second time.
“You promised we’d look for Mister Micer, remember?”
“I remember,” she mumbled. She stumbled out of bed, washed, dressed and then retrieved Ben, changing his diaper and dressing him. It probably took a lot longer than it should have to get him ready but she was faster and slightly more proficient than the previous day.
Pushing off breakfast until later, she followed Claire out the front door and in the direction of the homestead where she and Ben used to live until a few weeks ago. About twenty minutes into their walk she wondered why she hadn’t thought to rent a wagon from the livery not that she knew how to drive one. Although she was sure a driver could have been hired as well. But it was too late to turn around now. Her feet ached and her arms were tired from holding Ben. She felt a little bit childish when she asked Claire, “How much longer?”
“Just a little bit farther.”
A little bit farther turned out to be nearly an hour all together. Her feet were frozen when they finally turned off the main road they had been walking on the entire way and into a driveway. She couldn’t see the house yet but she could see the peak of what she thought was a barn in the distance up the hill. She sighed and looked down at her feet, placing one foot in front of the other.
Once the barn was in full view Claire broke out into a run. Even Ben who had been remarkably quiet the entire journey started to bounce and babble in her arms.
“You recognize your home, don’t you?” She asked, pressing a kiss to his crown.
By the time she made it to the barn Claire reappeared, disappointment etched in her features. “He’s not here. I checked all the usual spots.”
Charlotte didn’t know what to say. She was certain the cat would still be here. It had to be. There were no close neighbors for him to beg food from. “Let’s not give up quite yet. Have you checked all his usual hidey-holes?”
They checked the barn a second time more thoroughly but still with no luck before finally moving onto the house. The ladder, where she presumed Claire’s father had fallen to his death, was still perched on the side of the house. Charlotte averted her eyes.
Claire pushed the door open to the cabin where she had lived her entire life and squealed, running inside.
“Claire!”
Charlotte ran after her despite the fact that she might see a spider, snake or worse, a dead cat, but inside the small, dim cabin stood Claire, cuddling her very live cat against her chest.
“He was sleeping in the middle of my bed!” She exclaimed happily. “I didn’t think he’d be in here. Ma and Pa never let him indoors. I wonder how he got inside.”
Charlotte looked around the small two-room cabin, finally settling on a pane of glass that was missing from one of the windows. It had been covered with canvas, the flap now loose. “I think maybe here,” she said, pointing it out to Claire.
“He’s so smart. And he was sleeping in the middle of my bed so I think that means he was missing me just as much as I was missing him.” She pressed her face into his neck. “I’m so sorry I left you behind Mister Micer. I didn’t mean to. But we have a new home now. I’ve come to take you home with us.” Mister Micer mewed. Claire looked up. “He’s hungry.”
So was Charlotte after that walk. She tried not to think about the fact that it would be at least another hour until they could eat and she would be warm again.
“And he feels lighter,” Claire said with dismay, shifting the cat in her arms.
Charlotte smiled. He looked like a normal sized cat to her. “No doubt if he wasn’t getting extra food from you he had to live on mice alone for a little while. Come on, we should get back and after we have breakfast we’ll find something for him to eat as well.”
“Can he sleep in my bed tonight?”
“I suppose, as long as he doesn’t have fleas.”
“He doesn’t,” Claire immediately promised but Charlotte would definitely check for herself before letting him step one paw past the threshold of their house.
“Is there anything else you need while were here?” Charlotte looked around. It looked like aside from clothing nothing had been touched in the weeks since the homestead had been abandoned, besides the animals from the barn that is. She would ask Ethan to stop by and make sure to take anything that might mean something to Claire and Ben, especially reminders of their parents. “I can’t carry much.”
They filled a bag with a blanket Claire’s grandmother had crocheted, her parent’s wedding picture, the family Bible and a small music box of her mother’s.
With a promise to send Ethan back with a wagon, they started the long walk back to town, Claire holding a baffled Mister Micer who had also lived at the farm his entire life while Charlotte held Ben at her hip with one arm and the increasingly heavy bag in the other. She didn’t know how they would make it back yet she knew they would. All Charlotte could think about was the warmth of the hotel restaurant, a pot of steaming tea and a hot meal.
Ten minutes back on the main road and a wagon came up behind them driven by a lone driver around Charlotte’s father’s age. He had a lot more wrinkles than her father did but his eyes twinkled underneath his heavy brows.
“Don’t have much sense do you?” He said by way of greeting.
Charlotte laughed since she had just been thinking the same thing. “Not much lately, no.”
“Hi Mr. Thompson,” Claire chirped brightly.
“Hiya girly. Came back for your cat did you?”
Claire nodded happily.
“Well I have the rest of your animals if you ever want to stop by for a visit. But every time I tried to catch your cat, he disappeared in a blink. I guess he was just waiting for you.” His eyes shifted back to Charlotte. “And who’s this with you?”
Claire looked up at her. “My Aunt Charlotte. She married my Uncle Ethan two days ago. She’s from Philadelphia.”
“Is that so? Headed back to town? Well get on in. I’ll get you there lickety-split.”
After dropping Mister Micer back at the house and making sure he had a saucer of milk but no fleas or escape routes, Charlotte quickly changed Ben’s diaper and they headed to the restaurant. They had missed church which she would most certainly need to rectify the following week. And they missed breakfast which she didn’t care a
bout as much, she had always preferred lunch anyway. They spent nearly two hours in the restaurant warming up and filling their bellies. Only when Charlotte finished her second pot of tea and Ben started nodding off in his chair did she quickly clean him up and they left.
She put him to bed when they got home and for the first time he didn’t put up a fuss. After Claire fed her cat bits of chicken she had carried home in one of Charlotte’s handkerchiefs, she took him upstairs to lay down and finally Charlotte had a moment to herself.
She immediately set about building a fire. It took her far longer than she cared to admit but after a couple of failed attempts and choking on more smoke than could possibly be good for someone, she finally got one going all by herself. She would get better at this she told herself as she closed the door to the woodstove. She settled onto the sofa underneath one of the new blankets with her book and began to read. It wasn’t long until the house began to heat nicely and soon she too was taking a nap.
She awoke to a tapping sound. It took her a moment to realize it was knocking. Her book had fallen to the floor some time while she slept. She retrieved it, dusting it off quickly and set it aside with the blanket. She caught a quick glance at herself in the mirror and tried not to sigh. Her hair was in dire need of repair but she didn’t have time now. She straightened her skirts and pulled open the door.
“Mrs. Morgan?”
Charlotte hadn’t quite gotten used to being called that yet, any more than she was used to being called Aunt Charlotte. “Yes?”
“We work for Mr. Morgan at Morgan Furniture. We have a delivery.”
“You do?” She couldn’t possibly imagine what. Each room of the house was full of beautiful furniture except the two spare bedrooms and Ethan hadn’t mentioned anything to her about furnishing them. “What is it?”
“Bookshelves. Two of them. Mr. Morgan said we were to deliver them as soon as possible.”
“Bookshelves?” She echoed.
“Yep. Where do you want them?”
She turned a circle, studying the main room and finally gestured to a spare bit of wall and soon the men were hauling in two beautifully crafted bookshelves.
She thanked them and they left her with tips of their hats. She stood before the shelves, tracing a finger along the wood’s smooth, dark varnish. Ethan had gotten her bookshelves for her books, she realized with a small smile. There wasn’t a more perfect gift for her save actual books themselves. She raced upstairs to the spare room where her trunks were stored and threw open the first lid. Now it was time to really unpack.
∞∞∞
Recovering Mister Micer had changed Claire. Charlotte thought the girl to have a quiet and solemn nature as that was all she had seen of her so far, but having her cat back and perhaps talking over her feelings about what had happened to her father had lifted what was weighing on her so heavily.
In the time since Ethan left, their days had fallen into a routine. Sunday’s were church of course. Monday through Friday Charlotte walked Claire to and from school. Even though Claire was old enough to walk by herself Charlotte enjoyed their daily walks together. While Charlotte herself wasn’t that sociable and preferred the company of books, Claire loved books just as much as people. It wasn’t uncommon for her to have a girl or two over after school. And when Charlotte had suggested her first sleepover one weekend Claire had been over the moon.
While Claire was at school it was just her and Ben. Charlotte had perfected changing diapers and lighting the stove the first time around but unfortunately cooking was not her forte despite the cookbook she had poured over. Claire ended up being the key to that as well when Charlotte finally realized the girl could cook. Even at such a young age, she had learned from her mother more about cooking at the age of twelve then Charlotte knew at the age of twenty-two. Charlotte again swallowed her pride and allowed Claire to teach her, mostly simple things like eggs, bacon and biscuits, stew and cornbread so they wouldn’t starve. They no longer had to rely on going to the hotel restaurant three times a day although she did purchase a pie there now and again as that was far past her current level of skill at the moment and probably would be for some time. Claire seemed to enjoy cooking and didn’t seem to mind teaching her and as the days passed Charlotte started to get the hang of it. In this she definitely found it easier to be shown rather than read about it.
She spent her days tidying the house, putting anything left out away, making beds, sweeping and cleaning up after meals. She hadn’t braved laundry, instead continuing to send it out as Ethan had. She had plenty of time to read during the day while Ben napped. She also read in the evenings, first to both children at bedtime and then a little while longer after they were asleep. When she was alone, the house often felt empty, especially at night and she felt almost lonely, which was a new emotion for her.
Surprisingly she liked it best when Claire was home and Ben was awake. She enjoyed their time together – cooking, eating, walking, talking, reading, helping Claire with her studies and playing games. Ben had taken his first steps while Ethan was away and she was sorry he had missed it. She hadn’t been able to wipe the smile off her face that entire day at the simple joy of watching Ben take his first steps and realized in just a few short weeks she had become quite attached to both children. She would miss them when their grandparents came for them but she didn’t allow herself to think about that now, just focused on enjoying each day with them.
She wasn’t sure when to expect Ethan back. He hadn’t said nor had he written. She thought about him often. She found it odd that she seemed to miss the husband she barely even knew, yet she did and she was both nervous and excited for his return.
Chapter Ten
Ethan came home to a domestic scene he frankly hadn’t expected. Although he trusted Charlotte, he wouldn’t have left the care of his precious niece and nephew in her hands if he didn’t. After he left her, amid her insistence that she couldn’t cook and didn’t know the first thing about caring for children, he expected chaos to reign. Maybe a time or two his thoughts had gone to the possibility of the house burning down or screaming children but never what he walked into this evening.
The house was free of dust and filled with warmth, and not just from the hearth and the stew cooking there. Suppertime approaching, the table was set for two along with Ben’s high chair. There was a large, colorful rug on the floor in front of the sofa, pictures on the mantle, one of his sister and her husband and another of a couple he didn’t recognize but he assumed were Charlotte’s parents as she took after her mother quite a bit in appearance. He noticed the shelves had been delivered and were filled with books. There were also blankets and pillows he had never seen before on the furniture. There was even a cat blinking at him sleepily from his favorite chair near the hearth. His house looked like…a home.
“Uncle Ethan!” Claire cried happily, flying down the stairs and into his arms.
“Oomph.” He caught her and hugged her tightly, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. He had only had a few short weeks with his niece and nephew before he had had to leave town. He hadn’t thought he’d miss them as they weren’t a regular part of his life and he was extremely busy, but he found himself thinking of them frequently throughout the day while away.
The cat meanwhile slowly stretched and jumped from his chair, weaving between Ethan’s legs, rubbing and purring.
“And who’s this?”
“My cat, Mister Micer. The day after you left we walked back to the homestead and rescued him,” she explained proudly.
“Did you?”
She nodded and lifted him up with a groan. “He’s already getting fat again.”
Ethan laughed. “You walked all the way out there? In this cold?”
“Uh-huh. Aunt Charlotte told me that it wasn’t my fault that Pa died even though he wouldn’t have been on that ladder if it wasn’t for me and Mister Micer. I told her I had to leave him behind and she helped me find him.” Claire looked up at him, holding her ca
t tightly against her, her eyes shining and her lips smiling. He hadn’t quite understood everything she had just told him but he would ask Charlotte about it later. But before him stood a girl who was a lot happier than when he left and he knew he only had Charlotte to thank for it.
“I’m glad you’ve been reunited,” he said, scratching behind the fat cat’s ear. “Where is your Aunt Charlotte anyway?”
“I’m here.”
Ethan looked up and saw her standing at the top of the stairs holding Ben. He drew in a sharp breath. She was more beautiful than he remembered. Her green eyes were shining, her cheeks pink with warmth and half of her long copper locks had escaped their pins, tumbling past her shoulders, halfway down her back. Her smile was tentative. Despite being married, they were still strangers.
“Unc, Unc!” Ben started to chant, bouncing vigorously in her arms.
Ethan hurried up the stairs, meeting her halfway, taking the exuberant boy from her arms. He gave Ben a smacking kiss that caused him to curl against his neck and giggle. Ethan looked up at his wife and because he couldn’t help himself, pressed a soft kiss against her lips.
He pulled back, just enough to meet her wide eyes. “I’m home.”
∞∞∞
He watched as Charlotte added another plate to the table. Her cheeks weren’t as red as after he kissed her on the stairs but she was shyly avoiding his gaze when he wanted nothing more than to stare into the green, brown and gold depths.
“You survived?” Ethan teased, placing Ben in his chair and pushing him up against the table before seating himself. The house was still standing and both children seemed happy and well-fed.
She waved a hand. “As you see.”