Joy for Mourning

by Dorothy Clark

  Laina looked up. “I’m trying to discover—by searching through the Bible—if God truly does answer prayers. And if He does, why mine have been ignored.” She sighed. “It’s a big book.”

  Lord, guide her to Your truth. Thad nodded and cleared his throat. “It is indeed.” He swallowed the last of his tea, put his cup down and rose. “It’s getting late—I’d better be going. Thank you for the cookies.”

  “Thank you for your help.”

  He nodded and headed for the door.

  “And thank you for bringing Audrey to me. She’s a pure delight, though unnaturally quiet.”

  Thad stopped and turned back to face her. “Quiet? In what way?”

  “In every way. She prefers to be alone. I’m sure you noticed she didn’t make an appearance earlier this evening.” Laina tossed her napkin down on the table and rose. “I’ve been letting her spend her time in her room, hoping that will change once she becomes accustomed to being with me. I wanted to give her time to learn to trust me. Is that the right thing to do? I don’t want to force her to be with me.”

  “What of meals?”

  “She’s asked for a tray in her room.” Laina walked over to stand beside him. “Am I wrong to allow her to eat alone?”

  Thad looked down into Laina’s concerned blue eyes and wished he had his doctor’s bag with him so he had something to do with his hands. He scrubbed one through his hair and focused his attention on the girl they were discussing. At least, he tried to. “I think you’re wise to let Audrey come to trust you. However, trust is given when we learn someone is trustworthy. She won’t learn to know you by spending all her time alone.”

  “Yes, I see.” Laina nibbled at her bottom lip. “What should I do?”

  Thad yanked his gaze away from her mouth. Dear Lord Jesus, I can’t think straight. Help me get out of here, Lord.

  “Well…” His right knee began to jiggle. He began to pace the room. It was easier on him to be at some distance from Laina. He turned and came back her way. “You said Audrey’s well mannered?”

  Laina nodded, her dark, softly curling hair rippling with reflected light. It looked soft and silky, and he knew it smelled like roses. Thad pivoted back in the other direction and drew in air through nostrils flared like a race-horse’s.

  “That being the case, as a first step I believe you should require Audrey to take supper with you in the dining room. It’s a reasonable request and it will give you a chance to be together in a pleasant atmosphere.” He turned and headed for the door. Their gazes locked. His pulse sprinted. “It will give her the opportunity to come to know and love you as Billy and Emma do.”

  As I do.

  The thought jolted him clear to the soles of his feet.

  “An excellent idea, Thad. I’ll do as you say.” Laina smiled at him. “Perhaps you could join us for supper tomorrow night and ease us through our first meal together? It would be very helpful to have you with us. Would seven o’clock suit?”

  Thad stared at her, listening in his mind to the sound of the door to his escape slamming shut. He had given his word to help her. What price honor? He held back a self-disgusted snort and nodded. “Barring an emergency, I will be here tomorrow night at seven. Don’t wait supper if I don’t appear—I’ll be otherwise engaged with a patient.”

  He gave her a polite bow, stepped through the doorway into the entrance hall and hurried outside to take a deep breath of cool night air.

  “Look, Mama, I gots my own bed!” Emma ran to the chaise, hiked her soft cotton nightgown above her knees and climbed under the covers. “See the pretty flowers?” She patted the quilted coverlet. “Nanny said they’re roses. An’ they’re pink. I like pink.” She gave a little bounce. “An’ Billy’s qu-qu—”

  Laina smiled down at her excited daughter. “Quilt?”

  “Yes! Quilt.” Emma bounced higher. “Billy’s quilt is blue! An’ this is blue.” She touched the wood paneling behind the chaise, then patted the sheet beneath her. “An’ this is white.” She jumped to her feet and reached for Laina. “I remembered my colors you teached me!”

  Laina scooped her into her arms and hugged her tight. “Yes, you did. I’m very proud of you. I’ll teach you more colors tomorrow.” She glanced over to where Billy sat curled up in his cotton undershirt and pantaloons, watching them. There was a book in his hand. The chair dwarfed him. She smiled and walked over to him. “Is that your new numbers book?”

  He nodded and held it up for her to see. “Nanny Tobin teached—” he flushed “…taught me ’em up to twenty.”

  Laina widened her eyes and gave a little gasp. “Twenty! You can read numbers all the way to twenty! Why, Billy, that’s wonderful! I’m proud of you.” She freed a hand and cupped the back of his head. The ridge of his scar stretched underneath her fingertips, bringing to mind the day they had met. An accident that disguised a blessing? “Will you say your numbers for me tomorrow?”

  “Yeah. I mean…yes.” He beamed up at her.

  Laina smiled, leaned down to drop a kiss on top of his blond curls, then straightened and used both arms to hold Emma. The toddler had already gained weight. Her cheeks were round and rosy and her little arms and legs no longer felt like sticks. As for Billy…

  Laina looked down at the young boy who was the son of her heart. His face was pink with health and there was a slightly embarrassed but oh-so-happy look in his shining brown eyes. Was their meeting a blessing, an answer to prayer? Or simply a case of happenstance, of one need meeting another? Did it really matter? She’d be eternally grateful either way.

  Laina hugged Emma, then ruffled Billy’s hair. “It’s bedtime for you two. Let’s go sit on the bed and I’ll read you a story before I tuck you in for the night.”

  “Goody! I like stories.”

  Laina laughed. “You like everything.”

  Emma’s face clouded. She shook her head. “I don’t like lightnin’.”

  “Yeah.” Billy nodded agreement. “But it’s all right if Mama climbs in bed with us and tells us stories.” He hopped up the bedside steps, flopped down on his stomach on top of the blue quilt, then propped his chin on his fisted hands and looked up at her. “Would you tell us a story tonight, Mama? Would you tell us the story about the little girl and boy that lived in a tree, and how the lady took them to live with her when the boy got hurt?” A slow flush spread across his cheeks almost as wide as his grin. “I like that story.”

  “Come in.”

  Laina opened the door. Audrey was seated at the writing desk by the window.

  “Leave the cocoa on the nightstand please. I’ll drink it later.”

  Laina laughed and stepped into the room. “I have no cocoa, Audrey. I’ve come to say good night.”

  The girl dropped the pen she was holding and rose to face her. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Brighton. I thought you were Sally.” Her cheeks were pink with embarrassment.

  “An understandable mistake.” Laina smiled and moved toward her. A drawing of a young girl playing a violin covered the piece of paper Audrey had been working on. Laina halted, staring down at it. “Why, it’s you, isn’t it? That’s a very good likeness.” She glanced up at Audrey. “May I?”

  “If you wish.”

  Laina picked up the paper. There was another under it covered with drawings of violins. Something stirred deep in her unconscious. She stared at the drawings, grasping for the vague, elusive something.

  “I’m sorry for wasting your paper and ink, Mrs. Brighton. I promise I won’t do it again.”

  There was an undercurrent of fear in Audrey’s voice. Because of treatment at her stepfather’s hands? Laina’s emotions swung from pity to anger. She ignored them both—neither would profit the girl. She looked up. “This is your bedroom, Audrey, and everything in it is for your use. When the paper and ink are gone they will be replaced.”

  She pulled the candle closer, studying the drawing in her hand. “You have a gift for portraiture. I knew immediately this was you.” She picked up the othe
r paper. Something about music… “Violins interest you. Do you play?”

  “I did.”

  The words were soft, bitter. Laina looked up, all other thoughts fleeing her mind as she focused on the girl. “What happened?”

  Tears sprang into Audrey’s eyes. “My violin was a valuable one. When Mother died, my stepfather sold it.”

  There was deep pain in the girl’s voice. Laina drew a calming breath. She would love five minutes alone with that greedy, brutal stepfather. “I’m sorry, Audrey.”

  The girl nodded, blinked her eyes and looked away, her stiff posture rebuffing any attempt at comfort.

  Laina laid the papers back on the desk. “Are you comfortable here, Audrey?”

  There was an audible intake of breath. “Yes, Mrs. Brighton. The room is lovely. Green is my favorite color.”

  So polite. So wary. Who could blame her? “I’m pleased you like it.” Laina made a mental note to have the seamstress start on a green dress for Audrey tomorrow. It would look beautiful with the girl’s auburn hair and hazel eyes. And the one she’d already ordered made out of the bronze sateen would be flattering, as well. It should be finished tomorrow. She smiled, anticipating Audrey’s pleasure, then took a breath and plunged. “Dr. Allen is coming for supper tomorrow evening, Audrey. We’ll dine at seven.” She looked up. “I’m looking forward to your company at table. Please be downstairs on time.”

  “But, but I’m only twelve years old!”

  Laina’s heart soared. It was the first spontaneous, childlike thing Audrey had said since she arrived. She looked at the girl’s shocked face and dismissed the protest with an elegant wave of her hand. “I don’t stand on ceremony with Dr. Allen, Audrey. He’s a friend.” She gave her a warm smile and walked to the door. “Good night, dear. I hope you have pleasant dreams.”

  Laina stepped into the hallway, pulled the door shut, then leaned against it and grinned. At last Audrey had looked and acted exactly what she was—a twelve-year-old child. There was hope after all.

  Thad finished writing the daily notes in his medical journal, rose and stretched his arms up and out to the sides. It felt good. He rotated his shoulders and neck, loosening the taut muscles, then closed his office door and headed upstairs. Of their own volition his legs carried him to his bedroom window. It faced north. Toward Walnut Street and Twiggs Manor. Toward Laina.

  I’m trying to discover—by searching through the Bible—if God truly does answer prayers. And if He does, why mine have been ignored.

  Laina’s words flowed into his mind. Thad plowed his fingers through his hair, then tugged the window open and drew in a long breath of the fresh night air. The light note Laina had forced into her voice hadn’t fooled him for a moment—there was a world of hurt beneath it. It had taken all his self-control not to go around the table and take her into his arms.

  Thad shook his head and forced the image from his mind. If he started thinking that way he’d drive himself crazy. He leaned on the sill and looked up.

  “Lord, please help Laina to discover the truth she seeks. Help her to understand that what You do for one, You do for all. Answer even the silent cries of her heart, I pray, and cause her to recognize Your hand of blessing in the answers she receives. I ask it in Your holy name. Amen.”

  Thad stood staring at the starry night sky a moment, then lowered his gaze and looked north again. Foolishness. He couldn’t even see Twiggs Manor through the intervening buildings and trees.

  He turned from the window and walked over to flop down on his bed, his heart and mind full of Laina. He tried to block her out, but failed miserably. He scowled, punched his feather pillow into shape and rolled onto his side, away from the window.

  It didn’t help.

  Thad growled and flipped onto his other side, tired but unable to sleep. Thoughts churned in his mind. He’d never had this problem before. He’d always been able to overcome any attraction to a woman by concentrating on his work and putting up a defensive wall around his emotions until the attraction died. But Laina Brighton was another story. She had burst into his life and lodged in his heart from the instant he saw her standing in the street protecting an injured child. He had no defense against her, because what he felt for Laina—right from that first moment—was a lot more than mere attraction. She was magnificent! Regal! How could he not love her?

  “Arghhh!” Thad threw the covers back and surged to his feet. Tired or not, he might as well go downstairs and write his answer to Dr. Bettencourt’s last letter—he wasn’t going to sleep, anyway.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Good morning.”

  Justin jerked his head toward the door. “Good morning.” He rose to his feet as Laina entered the morning room. “You’re up and about early.”

  “Yes, I am.” She laughed. “Having children changes one’s lifestyle.” She gave an elegant little wave of her hand. “Sit down, dearheart, and finish your breakfast.”

  “Will you join us?”

  She glanced at Elizabeth and shook her head. “I’ve already eaten. But I will have a cup of tea.”

  Justin came around the table and held a chair for her.

  She smiled her thanks. “Forgive me for coming so early and interrupting your meal, but I have a small emergency.”

  “An emergency?” Justin paused on his way back to his own chair. “What is it?”

  “I have no violin.”

  His brows knit together. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Don’t frown, dearheart.” Laina reached over and took a piece of buttered scone from his plate as he seated himself. “I went to the music room this morning and discovered I have no violin.” She broke off a bite of scone and popped it into her mouth.

  “Laina, that is not an emergency. However, that is my scone.” Justin gave her a mock scowl and lifted the cover of the bun warmer to get himself another.

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “Yes, dearheart, it is. And a very good one, too. I like the raisins in it.” She laughed as he shook his head and reached for the butter. “But back to my emergency. I discovered last night, quite by accident, that Audrey plays the violin.” Her face tightened. “At least, she did until her beastly stepfather sold hers.”

  She stopped to smile at Owen, who had appeared and was placing dishes in front of her. He smiled back and poured her tea. “Anyway, Thad said I should have Audrey come down to dinner instead of eating alone in her room and so, of course, I invited him to supper tonight, and then—” She bit off her words. “What does that mean?”

  “What does what mean?”

  “That look you exchanged with Elizabeth.”

  “It means I love my wife.” Justin laid down his butter knife. “Continue with your story.” He took a bite of sausage.

  Laina glanced at Elizabeth, who was stirring honey into her tea. But wasn’t she concentrating on it a little too much? Laina frowned and turned her thoughts back to her purpose for coming. “Where was I…” She took a sip of tea, then steepled her fingers and tapped them together. “Oh, yes—the drawings.”

  “What drawings?”

  “Of the girl playing the violin. When I saw Audrey’s drawings—”

  “Audrey drew the girl playing the violin?”

  “Yes.” Laina shot Justin a look. “Dearheart, do pay attention, please. The sketch is a very good likeness. I recognized Audrey immediately, so I asked if she played the violin and she told me she did until—well, I told you about the stepfather selling hers.”

  Laina frowned and took another sip of tea. “There was such hurt in Audrey’s eyes I decided right then I would ask her to play for us tonight after supper. But this morning I found I have no violin. So you see, Justin, it is an emergency. I came here in the hope you could tell me where I might buy one.” She swept her gaze over the two of them. “Did I mention I want you to come for supper tonight?”

  “We’d be delighted.” Elizabeth smiled. “Abigail’s violin, which no one uses, is in a cupboard in the drawing room. Why don’t you
take it until you can purchase one?”

  Laina beamed. “That’s a wonderful idea, Elizabeth!” She shifted her gaze to her brother. “Justin?”

  He nodded. “Owen will get it for you. Keep it as long as you like.”

  “Thank you, dearheart. You’re both so very generous.” Laina smiled and lifted another piece of Justin’s scone off his plate. “Perhaps your generosity would extend to your cook’s recipe for these?”

  “Come in.”

  Laina opened the door and stepped into Audrey’s room, holding a large brown paper package in her hands. “Good afternoon, Audrey.”

  The girl rose from the writing desk and gave a polite bow of her head. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Brighton.” She glanced down at the package, her lovely hazel eyes lighting with curiosity before they dulled again to indifference.

  Laina waited, hoping, but the girl didn’t ask any questions. She smiled and held out the package. “This came for you.”

  Curiosity flared again in Audrey’s eyes, followed quickly by fear. She put her hands behind her back. “I didn’t order anything, Mrs. Brighton—honest. I haven’t been to any shops. I haven’t been out of my room.”

  Laina tamped down her rush of anger at the people who had caused the girl such fear. “I know that, Audrey. I ordered it for you.” She smiled and offered the package again. “Open it please.”

  Audrey looked at her for a long moment, then stepped forward and took the package. She placed it on the bed and began to undo the string that bound the paper.

  Laina watched, her fingers itching to rip the paper apart and expose the dress Madame Duval had made. She clasped her hands together and stepped closer to the bed, where she had a better view of Audrey’s face.

  The girl removed the string, coiled it around her fingers and set it aside, then separated the double-folded seam and parted the paper. She gave a soft gasp.