“Mary Ella, would you listen to me? I want you to stay home. You don’t know the lady with the flowers.”
“Yes, I do, Papa. We talked for a long time. And, I’ve seen her outside lots with her flowers.” In what was likely another ploy to gain her way, Mary Ella stuck out her lower lip. “I like her and you would too, if you’d go see her, because she’s really nice.”
Seth admitted the flower lady seemed pleasant. At least before she’d slammed the door in his face. He’d been more harsh than necessary with her last night and regretted it as soon as he’d seen the hurt on her face. But he couldn’t take a chance with his daughter. He couldn’t stay home and watch her. Mrs. Grimes was an excellent cook and a good housekeeper, but she was too old to keep up with a young girl. It wouldn’t hurt for the lady across the street to tell Mary Ella not to come back. Maybe she would and that would be the end of it. He hoped so.
The hall clock chimed six times. Seth shoved his chair back and stood. “I’ve got to go to work. Be good, sweetheart, and stay home where you belong.”
“I want to go to school like other kids.” Mary Ella jumped up from the table and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Please, Papa, can I?”
“We’ve been over this before. You don’t need to go to school. You can read well enough now. Just stay inside and help Mrs. Grimes. She’ll teach you all you need to know.”
The thought of his little girl walking alone to and from school twisted Seth’s insides. Far too many dangers stalked the streets of the city. Horse-drawn conveyances were bad enough, but now motor cars darted here and there in every part of town, making a simple stroll across the street something to avoid if possible.
Mary Ella lowered her arms and stepped back with a scowl on her face. “Cookin’ and cleanin’ is all. That ain’t no fun.”
“Isn’t any fun.”
“Yeah, I know it ain’t.” She hunched her shoulders and crossed her arms.
Seth gave her unyielding shoulders a quick hug and kissed her cheek. “I’ve got to go. When I get home, I want to hear what you’ve learned today. And I don’t want Mrs. Grimes telling me you’ve slipped out and crossed the street again.”
“Maybe you better have a talk with Mrs. Grimes about tattlin’ then.” Mary Ella sneaked a saucy grin past her pout. He tweaked her nose and walked out the door.
~*~
“Oh, John, look at the pretty mums.” Abigail’s customers wandered the aisles of her greenhouse, exclaiming over first one and then another of the fall flowers.
Abigail followed, letting her fingers trail along the edge of the table so she could keep her bearings. “They should continue blooming for some time. If you set them out in a flower garden, they’ll come back each year.”
“Yes, I think I’d like that.” The woman laughed. “There are so many. May I pick any one I like?”
“Yes, please do.” The outside door opened and closed. Did she have another customer? Few people came to her greenhouse, but she did have some regulars. She called out. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”
There was no answer.
“Oh, what a cute little girl.” The woman spoke in a low tone to her husband.
So Mary Ella had returned against her father’s wishes. Abigail lifted the first pot and handed it to the man. He took the second as well and she pocketed the money from the sale. “Thank you. If you have any questions, I’ll be glad to answer them at any time. I’m sure you’ll get a great deal of enjoyment from your flowers.”
“I’m sure we will. Thank you, Miss Stevens. Your flowers are the prettiest we’ve found in Kansas City.”
“Thank you.” Abigail waved them on their way. As the door closed, she turned toward the sounds that indicated where her visitor waited.
“Hello, Mary Ella.” She smiled in the general direction of where she thought the little girl stood near the section with the posies and marigolds.
“Hi.” Mary Ella’s voice carried a lilt. “I didn’t know you had all these flowers, too. How come there’s so many windows on your house?”
Abigail laughed. “This isn’t really my house. It’s called a greenhouse because this is where I raise my flowers.”
“Oh.” She was quiet for a moment. “I guess it’s called a greenhouse because all the flowers have green on them and this is their house really.”
Abigail laughed again. She couldn’t remember when she’d had so much fun as she had yesterday, and already today Mary Ella had brought a smile to her lips. “I think you may be right. Have you had lunch yet?”
“Uh-huh. We had meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Papa likes meatloaf, but he didn’t come home today.”
“Is that right?” Abigail wondered what he would do if he came home for lunch a little late and found his daughter across the street. “Did he say you could come to visit me today?”
Silence.
“Mary Ella, did your father say it was all right for you to cross the street?” Abigail tried to sound firm.
The tiny voice barely carried to Abigail. “No, he said stay at home.”
“Ah, that’s what I thought.”
“But it’s okay.” The lilt had returned to Mary Ella’s voice. “He won’t be mad. He never is really.”
Abigail thought of the man standing on her front porch last night and disagreed. He’d been very angry when he promised to hold her accountable for Mary Ella’s disobedience.
“What about Mrs. Grimes. Won’t she miss you?” Abigail wondered about a housekeeper who couldn’t keep track of a little girl in her care. She should be the one held accountable.
Mary Ella giggled. “I don’t think so. She always takes a nap after we eat.”
Abigail had the distinct impression she should pity the poor motherless girl who ran free with no supervision. Her father tried to keep her home with empty threats while he growled at the neighbors she visited. She smiled at that thought, although she hadn’t smiled last evening.
She couldn’t find pity in her heart toward Mary Ella. Not really. She seemed happy and secure. And if Abigail wasn’t mistaken, about as mischievious as any little girl could be.
Mary Ella’s voice changed from teasing to something much like a plea. “I won’t stay long, Miss Abigail. Please, let me see your flowers. I do like flowers so very much, and we don’t have any at our house.”
Abigail’s heart went out to the little girl. How could she deny her a look at her flowers when she knew how much joy they could bring? “All right. But just for a little bit. When your father says it’s all right, then you can stay longer. Did you see my pretty mums and daisies?”
“I don’t know. Is that what this is?”
Guided by her voice, Abigail walked around the tables to Mary Ella and touched the flowerpot and the special small gouges that told her what it held. “Yes, this is a Shasta daisy. See the pretty white petals?”
She named the flowers while Mary Ella helped her tidy the greenhouse. When they finished, they headed toward the door leading into the house. “Would you like some hot chocolate before you go home?”
Guilt for aiding the child to disobey tried to gain a foothold, but Abigail shoved it away. Mary Ella was here now, why send her home? The enjoyment she brought was worth a few stolen moments.
The smile on Mary Ella’s face sounded in her voice. “Yes, please. I like hot chocolate lots.”
“In that case, maybe Mrs. Marshall can find some cookies to go with the chocolate.”
“Oh, yummy. I like cookies even better.”
They laughed and kept a continual chatter going as they entered the kitchen. Mrs. Marshall set out three mugs of hot chocolate and a plate of ginger cookies before she joined them at the table. Mary Ella kept them laughing with her zest for life and the stories she told of her excursions around the neighborhood.
“My papa wants me to stay home and learn to cook and clean.” Abigail visualized her wrinkled her nose and her eyes dancing with merriment. Or maybe she rolled her eyes and pouted. How she wished she
could really see this little girl.
“Can’t say that’s a bad idea.” Mrs. Marshall shifted in her chair. “See this cookie I’m holding? Much as you like these, seems you might should learn how to make a batch. Your papa would be mighty pleased for you to hand him a plate of cookies you baked yourself, don’t you think?”
Mary Ella was silent so long, Abigail wondered if she scrunched her face in deep thought. Finally, the quick, faint sound of movement indicated her nod. Her voice held a smile. “Will you teach me how?”
Mrs. Marshall and Abigail laughed. Abigail held up her hand. “Now just a minute. I thought your father said you couldn’t come over here anymore.”
“Yeah, but if I’m learnin’ to cook, he might change his mind.” Mary Ella stood. Her steps moved toward the dining room. “What’s in here?”
“That is our dining room where we eat our Sunday dinners and other times when we have special company.” Abigail stood and joined her.
“Maybe me and Papa will come and eat with you sometimes.” Mary Ella moved on into the room, so Abigail followed.
“What’s in here?” She had already crossed the dining room.
Abigail skirted the dining table to stand at the door leading into the living room. She placed a hand on Mary Ella’s shoulder as much to touch her as to keep track of where she was. Soft hair, put up in a pigtail, brushed her hand. Her father said blond. Abigail moved her hand to the other shoulder and felt the second pigtail. It was as soft as the first. “There are several things in the living room. This is where we sit and relax or visit with callers.”
“Like me?” Mary Ella moved forward, leaving Abigail behind.
Abigail laughed. “I don’t think you could sit still long enough to be considered one of our usual callers.”
“Do you have callers a lot? Me and Papa don’t. We just got moved into our house and people don’t know where we are yet.”
“I’m sure that’s true.” Abigail shuddered at the memory of Mr. Warren’s harsh voice. She wouldn’t want to call on the man, either.
“What’s this?”
Abigail moved toward Mary Ella’s voice. “What does it look like?”
“Like a book. It has a picture of a puppy on the front.”
Abigail sat in the easy chair. A table in the corner held her collection of children’s storybooks. “That one is about a puppy who didn’t want to stay at home. He reminds me of someone else I know.”
Mary Ella giggled. “You’re talking about me. Are these your books?”
“Yes, they are. My Papa bought them for me when I was about your age.” Abigail reached out, and Mary Ella placed a book in her hand.
Abigail ran her fingers over the worn cover, wishing she could see the bright pictures again. She picked up some more and handed one she recognized by the scuffed corner to Mary Ella. “This is Alice in Wonderland. Would you like to read some of it out loud?”
“I don’t read too good.” Mary Ella’s voice came out in a whisper.
“I won’t mind if you’d like to try. Maybe I can help you with the words you don’t know.”
“All right.” Mary Ella began reading in a slow, halting voice.
After several sentences, she shoved the book into Abigail’s hands. “I don’t want to read anymore.”
“Do you go to school, Mary Ella?”
“Papa won’t let me.”
“Why not?”
“’Cause I’ll get hurt.”
What had happened to make him so protective? “Why don’t I tell you the story of Alice and her trip through Wonderland?”
From her position on the floor, Mary Ella leaned close, so Abigail put her arm around her and told of Alice’s adventures trying to catch the white rabbit. She told of the Mad Hatter and the Cheshire Cat and other strange characters. The little girl seemed interested and asked questions that led to more telling and more questions.
When the front door opened, Abigail realized she’d lost track of the time. She’d enjoyed the story as much as Mary Ella had.
“Abigail!” Rachel’s shocked voice brought her story to a halt.
“Mary Ella!” Seth’s voice boomed.
Abigail turned to face their accusers. Her heart pounded with guilt she didn’t believe she deserved yet no doubt showed on her face. She braced herself for the double-barreled tongue-lashing that was sure to come. Her hold on Mary Ella tightened. This child gave her a purpose for living more than her flowers ever had. Would she be taken from her?
Chapter 3
Rachel’s skirt swished as she crossed the room, her heavy footsteps announcing her anger. Abigail’s arm tightened around Mary Ella, and she resisted shrinking from the sound of her sister’s approach. “I see you’ve been drinking in the living room.” The mug scraped the table when Rachel snatched it up.
Abigail flinched. She hadn’t known Mary Ella brought her chocolate with her. Her voice came out as weak as a small child’s caught in a disobedient act. “I’m sorry.”
“Yes, well I’ll leave you to explain yourself to Mr. Warren. Later, I’ll have something to say.” Rachel moved away toward the dining room and kitchen.
Abigail let her sister’s footsteps fade before she turned toward Mary Ella’s father. Although he hadn’t made a sound after the first outburst, his presence filled the room.
“Miss Stevens, I thought we had an understanding.” Seth’s voice held an unforgiving chill.
“Papa, look.” Before Abigail could utter a sound in her defense, Mary Ella sprang away from her side. “Miss Abigail has lots of books to read. This one is about a rabbit that was late. It’s called Alice in Wonderland, and we were reading it. I read some, too, and I helped in the greenhouse. That’s ’cause it’s got lots of windows and it’s the house for the flowers. I really like flowers.”
Mr. Warren must have heard the happy lilt in Mary Ella’s voice, for his softened. “So you’ve been having fun, have you?”
“Oh, yes, Papa. Lots and lots of fun. I like Miss Abigail. And, I really, really like her flowers. And her books and her hot chocolate.”
“I can see you like her flowers and her books.” His voice grew firm again. “But Mary Ella, are you supposed to come over here?”
“No, Papa.”
“Are you going to stop coming over here?”
After a short silence, he chuckled.
Abigail focused on the sound. She relaxed as she visualized the amused expression on his face. What had Mary Ella done? Oh, how she wished she could see. Had she shook her head in the negative and set those blond pigtails swaying? Well, she didn’t have to see to imagine the mischievous sparkle in her brown eyes as she looked up at her father. How her heart swelled with thanks for even so brief a description of the child.
“I see.” He seemed to think about the situation. “So coming to visit the flowers and the books is really that important to you?”
“And Miss Abigail.” Mary Ella’s voice bubbled. “Please, Papa. Can I come again?”
“Miss Stevens, how do you feel about my daughter’s visits? If she is a nuisance, I want you to tell me the truth.”
Abigail could detect no anger in his voice now. She smiled toward him. “I have thoroughly enjoyed both visits and hope she may come back often.”
“I don’t know how often, but I see I cannot stop her now that she has found both flowers and books.” He sighed a loud, dramatic sigh. “Mary Ella, since you insist on these visits, I will be escorting you from now on. If you cross the street again without escort, young lady, your visits will end immediately. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Papa.” Mary Ella giggled and threw her arms around Abigail’s neck, almost knocking her off balance.
Abigail closed her arms around the little girl, while warmth surrounded her heart in a way she’d never expected. Mary Ella’s vibrant enthusiasm was contagious.
“I have to go now, Miss Abigail, but I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon when Papa gets off work.”
“Wait just a minute.” Mr. W
arren spoke. “Did I say we would be back so quickly? Perhaps Miss Stevens has something else planned for tomorrow.”
“Oh, no, I don’t.” Abigail spoke without thinking. Warmth filled her cheeks. She sounded as eager as Mary Ella.
Mr. Warren laughed, the rich pleasant sound surprising her. “I see I am outnumbered by the so-called weaker gender.”
Abigail’s cheeks burned, and she ducked her head to hide her confusion.
Mr. Warren cleared his throat. Had he felt the same quickening of the heart that she had? Surely not. She was only grateful to continue the friendship begun with Mary Ella. Turning her eyes toward the sounds he made, she practiced her best company smile. “Thank you, Mr. Warren. I’ll look forward to your visit tomorrow.” Again heat rose in her cheeks, and she quickly amended, “To Mary Ella’s visit.”
“Yes, well, we must be going.” Mr. Warren moved toward the door. “Mary Ella, let’s be on our way. Mrs. Grimes will have our dinner waiting.”
“Bye, Miss Abigail.” Mary Ella’s footsteps grew lighter as she ran across the room.
“Bye, Mary Ella.” Abigail sat still while they went out the door and closed it behind them. With the click of the latch, air rushed from her lungs. She hadn’t expected to find Mr. Warren so agreeable. Maybe tomorrow’s visit would be even more enjoyable than when Mary Ella came alone.
She touched a hand to each burning cheek. She had never had such a thought before. Surely the man wouldn’t stay. She wouldn’t want him to.
~*~
Abigail waited for the promised reprimand, but Rachel didn’t mention the episode with Mary Ella while they ate. Instead, she spoke of Robert Barnes, her friend as well as the chief executive officer of Steven’s Steel, and their concerns about one of the engineers.
“We’ve decided to find another man for the position.” Rachel sighed. “I hate these things, but we can’t do slipshod work.”
Abigail wasn’t sure what the problem was and didn’t want to ask. Rachel always made her feel as if she couldn’t understand anyway. She swallowed, blotted her lips, and smiled. “I’m sure you and Robert will handle things just right. You always do.”
Lesson of the Poinsettia Page 2