“I don’t know,” Poppy answered. “I was real little when my mother left me.”
When they reached the Butterworths’ house, the sparkling stars were out and there were lights shining through the windows. How nice it would be to always come home to a clean, pretty house like this one, Poppy thought. “Can we check on Ticktock first?” she asked, and Claire nodded.
As they headed toward the goat’s house, Claire pointed to a bright reddish star overhead. “That’s Aldebaran. It’s in the constellation of Taurus, the bull.”
“There’s a bull up there?” Poppy was puzzled. There were sheep in the church and a bull in the sky? Sometimes she couldn’t understand what people were talking about.
Claire laughed. “Yes, there’s a bull and a dog, a serpent, and a bear—all sorts of things up there in the sky. After supper I’ll show you.” Suddenly she grabbed Poppy’s shoulder and pointed to the sky. “Look! A shooting star!”
Poppy looked up in time to see a brilliant trail of stardust soar overhead. “It’s real pretty,” she said breathlessly. “I’ve never seen a shooting star in all my borned days.”
“Make a wish,” Claire said. “When you see a shooting star, you must make a wish.”
Poppy thought of Ma Brennan and the girls and the others who lived at Under the Willow. How mean they could be if it suited them! She closed her eyes tightly and wished hard.
I wish Ticktock would be safe from Ma Brennan and her gang. Poppy didn’t know if two wishes were permissible, but she made a second wish anyway. I wish no one in this family would ever be hurt by them—or by me.
As they approached the gated pasture, Ticktock bleated and ran to them. A bell jingled on her collar.
“Father bought Ticktock a collar with a bell,” Claire said. “Now we know where she is all the time.”
Even Mr. Butterworth cares about Ticktock, Poppy realized. Everyone cares about everyone in this family.
She and Claire leaned over the fence and Ticktock nibbled gently at their fingers. “Hello, you sweet nanny,” Claire said, scratching the goat’s head. She turned away, went up the back porch steps, and opened the kitchen door. When Poppy hesitated, she called, “Come into the house, Poppy. We’ll visit with Ticktock after dinner.”
Inside, Mrs. Butterworth was basting three large chickens she had pulled from the oven. The smell of chicken and herbs and stuffing filled the room. Mrs. Butterworth looked startled when she saw Poppy. “Oh, you’ve brought Poppy with you.”
“She came by the store,” Claire explained. “I thought she could use a nice chicken dinner.”
Mrs. Butterworth smiled slightly. “Forrest is in the parlor with your father. Let me have your groceries,” she said, taking the bag from Claire. “Oh, good. You bought butternut squash. And Poppy, would you like to mash the potatoes for me?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Poppy nodded. “I’ll be glad to help.”
Claire placed little Mew in a basket near the warm stove. The kitten stretched and curled up to sleep again. Then Claire hung up her coat and put on an apron that was folded on the chair. She took Poppy to the sink and handed her soap. “Wash your hands first, Poppy.”
After Poppy had washed up, Mrs. Butterworth set the pan on a rubber mat at the kitchen table along with a dish of butter. Poppy mashed the potatoes with a steel masher that Mrs. Butterworth gave her. “Put lots of butter in, too, Poppy. You don’t need to skimp,” she said.
After a few minutes, Mrs. Butterworth peeked into the pan. “Very good! You’ve made it as smooth as can be. Not a single lump!”
“At home I’d get smacked if I left a lump.”
Claire, who had been busy cutting up butternut squash, took in her breath, and Poppy saw her give her mother a meaningful look.
When Poppy was finished, Claire said, “Come meet my fiancé, Forrest. He’s in the parlor with my father.”
But Poppy pulled back. Something felt very wrong. She didn’t belong within this warm family circle—especially since Ma Brennan insisted she steal a key to the shop.
However, at that moment a tall man with a mustache entered the kitchen from the hall. “Darling, you’re back!” He gave Claire a kiss on the cheek. “And who is this?” He smiled at Poppy.
“This is Poppy Brennan. She’s a friend of Justin and Ticktock—and our little Mew. I invited her to stay for dinner.” Claire turned to Poppy. “This is my fiancé, Pastor Belmont.”
“I’m happy to meet you, Poppy.” The pastor put out his hand and Poppy felt her face flush. No one had ever presented her so politely before.
She took the pastor’s hand timidly. “How’dya do, sir.” She spoke so softly, she hardly heard her own voice.
“Poppy’s already mashed the potatoes, and now she’ll help me set the table for dinner,” Claire said. “Justin and Charlie should be along soon.”
Claire and Mrs. Butterworth showed Poppy how to set the large dining room table with silverware. Claire didn’t embarrass Poppy, who knew nothing of where the forks and knives should go and all that, although it did seem to Poppy that Mrs. Butterworth gave Claire long looks when Poppy didn’t know where to put things.
There were china plates that all matched, and tall crystal goblets that Claire filled with a pitcher of water from the icebox. Mrs. Butterworth handed Poppy new white candles to put in real silver candlesticks. And when Mrs. Butterworth lit the wicks, the shining silver and glass sparkled in the candlelight.
The biggest surprise was the place set aside for Poppy—not at the kitchen table, but right in the dining room with the whole family.
Justin and Charlie arrived just as Claire carried a huge platter of chicken to the table, along with dishes of mashed potatoes and winter squash.
“Oh, I see Poppy’s here,” Father said when he came into the dining room. But Poppy could see a question in his eyes as he looked at his wife and daughter. Well, no wonder, Poppy thought miserably. I am from Conley’s Patch, and no one should ever trust me. Why, they probably think I’ll walk off with a silver spoon or something.
When everyone was about to sit at the table, she tugged on Claire’s arm. “I think I should go now.”
“No, dear,” Claire said as she removed her apron. “Not until you’ve had a good supper.”
After everyone was seated, Mr. Butterworth asked Forrest to say grace. Poppy had no idea what the word “grace” meant, but she watched everyone and did as they did, bowing her head as Pastor Belmont gave thanks.
Plates were passed, and Claire piled Poppy’s high with food. Poppy watched until everyone else began to eat. Then she dug into the chicken and mashed potatoes, bolting down more food than she had ever eaten at one sitting. Claire patted Poppy’s shoulder and smiled at her fiancé across the table, who grinned at her.
“It does my heart good to watch you eat, Poppy,” Pastor Belmont said.
Poppy’s mouth was too full to respond, so she swallowed water and sputtered, “I ain’t never had such a good meal, mister.” She wiped her mouth with her wrist, hating to dirty the neat linen napkin by her plate.
During dinner, Mr. Butterworth asked Charlie, “How did things go at the shop today?”
“I had a great day, Father. You know that chronometer that we thought you’d never sell because of the price? Well, I sold it today to Mrs. Ogden.”
“The full twelve hundred dollars?”
Charlie grinned. “All she wants is engraving on the back.”
“Oh, my boy, you’re a born salesman.” Father smiled and winked at his wife. He turned again to Charlie. “Any other happenings at work?”
“Um, I was wondering if I might make a design for a pearl pendant. I understand Mrs. Palmer wants to take pearls on her trip to Europe.”
“Well, yes—why don’t you do a design on paper? Remember that you’ll want to keep it simple, and not only because it will be for a pearl, which generally uses a simple setting. But I’m thinking it might be time for you to work with the gold itself.”
“Oh, Father, that
would be a great honor for me … I mean, to have one of my pieces in Mrs. Palmer’s collection …” Charlie seemed suddenly at a loss for words.
“Don’t put the horse before the cart, son,” Mr. Butterworth said. “You haven’t even designed it yet—”
“And Mrs. Palmer hasn’t seen the pearl, let alone purchased it!” Justin interrupted.
“How about you, Justin? How did you do at the shop?”
“I, er … uh … I tagged the watch chains today—marked the prices and all that.”
“I hope you did them right,” Father said.
Charlie and Justin exchanged glances. “I was real careful, Father,” Justin assured him. But Poppy noticed Justin looking down at his plate and making circles in his mashed potatoes with his fork.
Mr. Butterworth glanced at Poppy. “Were you in the store today, Poppy? Is that where Claire … picked you up?”
“Oh, no, mister,” Poppy answered quickly, recalling how Mr. Butterworth and Charlie made her leave the day before, when she had gone to see Justin and Ticktock. “I was just walkin’ by and saw Justin outside, so I stopped. And then Miss Claire came along.”
Claire nodded. “That’s when I invited Poppy to help me get supper. She set the table and mashed the potatoes. She did very well, didn’t she?”
Mr. Butterworth didn’t answer, but he looked at Claire for a long moment, and Poppy knew he wasn’t happy that she was at their house for dinner. When Miss Claire invited her, Poppy should have said no. After all, she was just a guttersnipe from Conley’s Patch. She reached for her goblet of water to take away the dry feeling in her throat, but her hands shook and drops of water spilled onto the white tablecloth. She took a deep breath and then stood up suddenly, nearly knocking over her chair. “’Scuse me. I’m gonna leave. I need to go home. Um, thanks for the dinner.”
She ran through the kitchen and out into the dark night.
TUESDAY NIGHT,
OCTOBER 3, 1871
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
- Time Will Tell -
For a moment no one spoke after Poppy left. Justin’s gaze went from Poppy’s empty chair to his father, who was peering over the rim of his teacup at Mother. She glared at him accusingly. Charlie raised his eyebrows at Justin as if to ask, What now?
Pastor Belmont’s eyes were on Claire, who seemed to be in shock. Then Claire broke the silence in a trembling voice. “We cannot let that child go back to that Ma Brennan and that awful place where she’s been so badly treated all her life …” She jumped up and ran after Poppy.
Justin heard the front door open. “Poppy, wait! Please don’t leave,” Claire was calling. The door closed with a bang.
Again no one spoke. Then Father set down his teacup. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t trust that child. She’s from the Patch, for goodness sake, and she’s hanging around Justin and the store—and now our house!”
“You made it very clear that she’s not wanted here,” Mother stated.
“I did not,” Father replied. “I said nothing cruel.”
“Your silence was loud enough,” Mother said.
“You told me yourself you didn’t trust her,” Father went on.
“Maybe so, but I would never hurt her in any way … like you did,” Mother said.
“How did I hurt her? I never said a word.”
“If looks could kill, you killed her,” Mother snapped.
“Poppy’s not a bad person,” Justin piped up. “I like her, even though she’s kind of tough. It’s like she doesn’t know much about … things.”
“Oh, she knows a lot about things,” Charlie said. “She’s been on the streets all her life.”
“I mean, she doesn’t know much about families and friends and … those kinds of things.” Justin found it hard to explain what he liked about Poppy.
Forrest spoke up. “Claire and I feel that with kindness and love, anyone can change and have a good life—if she chooses to.”
“She’s had enough kindness from this family,” Father said.
“I can’t help feeling sorry for Poppy,” Mother said wistfully. “Besides, Claire is very fond of her.”
“Claire’s fond of everyone,” Father argued. “She loves Poppy the way she loves the kitten. Poppy’s cute, that’s for sure. But she’s a little wild thing, and like any wild thing, she’ll eventually bite the hand that feeds her.”
“Oh, for goodness sake, she’s just a child,” Mother argued.
“Yes, a child from Conley’s Patch,” Father responded. “Besides, she’s older than she looks.”
“Her life has made her older,” Forrest said. “Self-preservation is the first law of nature.”
“Time will tell who Poppy really is,” Father said. “Now, what’s for dessert?”
TUESDAY NIGHT,
OCTOBER 3, 1871
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
- Special Words to Ticktock -
Poppy was already out of the house, down the steps, and running to the main road when she heard Claire calling after her.
“Poppy, please wait for me. I need to talk to you. Don’t run away like this. Come back.”
Poppy stopped in her tracks. Claire wants me to wait. She felt a sense of relief. If she never saw Claire again, her heart would be broken in two. This was the very first time she’d ever had anyone she really cared about—or who cared about her. Claire does care, doesn’t she? At least she seems to. Or is she just being kind to a little guttersnipe?
Poppy had to know for sure, so she waited for Claire to catch up with her.
“Poppy, dear, don’t be sad or angry at my father,” Claire said breathlessly as she approached Poppy. “He just doesn’t understand people who come from … another … culture.”
“You mean people like me—from Conley’s Patch.”
Claire nodded. “He’s been robbed in the past, and that place out there where you live, that’s owned by Roger Plant—it’s a den of thieves and … worse.”
“Is Mr. Butterworth afraid I will rob him, too?” Poppy asked.
“Probably. But I know you would never rob or betray anyone—especially those who care about you.” Claire put her arms around Poppy and held her close.
Poppy hugged Claire tightly, afraid Claire might disappear if she let go. What if Claire knew that Ma Brennan is planning to rob the jewelry store? What if she knew I have to give Ma a key to save Ticktock? Surely Claire would hate me if she knew.
“Do you … really … care about me?” Poppy asked her.
“Of course I do. I thought you knew that without asking,” Claire whispered. “But maybe you need to hear it—in real words.” Claire pulled away and lifted Poppy’s chin so they looked in each other’s eyes. “Poppy, I care about you very much—in fact, I’m learning to love you.” Claire’s eyes filled with tears as she went on. “I want you to be happy and away from those people who have hurt you. I want to show you how good and happy families really live. I want you to know that you don’t have to steal.”
“But I have nowhere to live and no family. I’ve had to steal so’s I can eat.” She held back her own tears, but her mouth quivered. “I’m not part of your family, either, ’cause no one but you wants me around.”
“Oh, you must know how much Justin likes you, Poppy. He teases you a little, the way boys tease their sisters. I’ve told Forrest all about you, and he wants to help you.”
“But what shall I do? I can’t go back to your house—not after what happened in there with all the ’spicious and hateful looks I got. ”
And I can never go back to Ma Brennan’s, she wanted to say.
As if reading Poppy’s thoughts, Claire spoke. “You mustn’t go back to Conley’s Patch. I’m going to suggest something, but I need to talk to Forrest about it first. In the meantime, perhaps for now … you might stay overnight with Ticktock—and that way you won’t need to see my father again tonight.”
Poppy almost blurted out that she had already spent one night in the goat barn but decided it didn’t m
atter now. “I’d like to stay with Ticktock,” she said, “but I don’t want your father to find out.”
“I won’t tell him and he won’t be going out to the goat barn. Ticktock is Justin’s responsibility. Father’s not a mean man, Poppy. However, he knows that Conley’s Patch is full of thieves. After all, Father owns the biggest jewelry store in town, so he has to be cautious.”
Poppy nodded. She understood only too well that Mr. Butterworth should be fearful and cautious. Plans were already being made to rob his jewelry store. No one from Conley’s Patch could be trusted. Not even me, Poppy thought sadly.
“Come on, Poppy. I wish you could come sleep in my room, but for now, if you don’t mind sleeping in the goat barn …”
“I don’t mind, ma’am. I’ll be quiet and … I’ll cuddle with Ticktock like I—” Whoops! She almost said, Like I did last night, but caught herself in time.
Claire took her hand and they walked back to the paddock. “Look at the stars, Poppy,” Claire said. “I swear I just saw another shooting star. I wonder if there’s a shower of stars tonight.”
Poppy looked up in time to see another. “I saw one!” she exclaimed. “May I make another wish?”
“Of course. But don’t tell what your wish is. It’s a secret you share only with the stars.”
Poppy closed her eyes and wished once again. I wish that Mr. Butterworth’s store will never be robbed, she pleaded silently, and I wish Ticktock will be safe from all harm.
Claire opened the gate to the enclosure. The little goat bounded up to them, her bell jingling merrily. “You love Poppy, don’t you, Ticktock?” Claire cuddled the goat. “You be a good girl and share your house tonight with her.” Claire got up and whispered, “Poppy, tell Ticktock you love her.”
Poppy was startled. Those were words too difficult for Poppy to say to anyone. “I … I don’t know …”
“It’s all right—I’ll tell her,” Claire said, bending over the goat and petting her head and nubby horns. “You are a sweet and gentle little nanny. I love you, Ticktock, and I know Poppy loves you, too.” Ticktock butted Claire gently and then turned to push against Poppy.
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