Irene

by Linda Ford

  “The boys must be quite a handful.”

  Irene smiled. “Harry and Donald? No. They’re both dears.”

  Dorothy gave her a narrow-eyed look. “I heard tell Donald doesn’t talk.”

  Irene’s smile never faltered though her patience was growing thinner by the minute. “He’s a man of few words.” She wished Zach would come back, but Fred had asked to borrow a piece of leather to fix something or other.

  Dorothy, not to be discouraged, plowed onward. “It’s a shame. It really is.”

  Irene sipped her tea, determined not to take the bait.

  “We all said so at the time.” Dorothy cast her a hopeful look, no doubt wanting to see a spark of interest in Irene’s eyes.

  Irene’s smile felt starched. She knew Dorothy would continue whether or not she said a word. “Is that a fact?”

  Dorothy nodded vigorously enough to rattle her cup and saucer. “A crying shame. I never did understand why Zach felt he had to join the war.” She sniffed. “In the end, they fought and won without his help.”

  Irene pinched the handle of the cup so hard she feared it would snap. How dare this person sit as Zach’s judge and jury!

  The woman across from her sniffed loudly. “She was never strong. He should have seen it. The rest of us did.” She was gathering up a head of steam. “But you know what men are like. They can’t see what’s right in front of them unless it jumps up and grabs them by the nose. And poor Esther wasn’t one to push herself forward. She was a sweet, gentle girl. Not strong, mind you. He should have never left her on her own. It was asking too much.”

  Unable to take any more, Irene jumped to her feet. “More tea?” She shoved the plate of cookies toward the woman. “Have another cookie.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.”

  She caught the sound of men’s voices and rushed to the door, practically ready to throw herself into Zach’s arms, she was so grateful to see him.

  He gave her a strange look then grinned. She knew he had read her desperation. “Fred brought the mail.” He handed her a bundle of letters and papers.

  “Thank you so much.”

  She looked behind the men. “Where are the boys?”

  “I said they could stay and play with the kittens.”

  She nodded and closed the door, turning to Fred. “Would you care for more tea?”

  Fred shook his head. “No thanks. We need to be getting back home. Come along, Dorothy.”

  The woman swallowed the last of her tea and rose. “I’m so glad for this chance to visit.” She took Irene’s hand. “Remember, we’re close by if you ever need anything.” She squeezed Irene’s hand.

  Irene waited until the door closed behind them before she dropped into the closest chair.

  Zach chuckled. “Did she manage to squeeze your life story from you? Esther said the woman was like a bee buzzing around for something juicy to light on.”

  Irene shook her head. “I think this was a fishing trip.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “She was fishing for information. Not that she got any. Mostly I said, ‘Is that so?’ and she’d be off again.”

  “I ’spect she’s harmless enough. Fred’s a good man.” He reached for another cookie and took the bundle of mail.

  Irene didn’t bother saying she thought Dorothy was anything but harmless going around making accusations and sowing seeds of doubt.

  “Some letters for you.”

  She took them.

  The boys clattered in, pressing around her. “You got letters?” Harry asked.

  “Yes, one from Grace and one from my father.”

  Two pairs of eyes looked up at her.

  “Would you like to know what they say?”

  Two heads nodded.

  “Boys, that’s Irene’s private business,” Zach warned.

  “I don’t mind. If there’s anything I don’t want to share I’ll simply skip reading it.” She tore open Grace’s letter first and skimmed it. “She says she and Billy are doing well. She went to the theater and says it is lovely. She says Billy was talking to Wop May.”

  “Who’s Wop May?” Harry demanded.

  “A Canadian pilot who shot down some of the German airplanes.” She thought of the many stories Billy had brought them.

  “Wow.” Harry was duly impressed.

  “He was in the final fight with the Red Baron, one of Germany’s best pilots.”

  Zach grinned at his son. “Sounds like fun, doesn’t it?”

  “I heard that the Canadians were some of the best pilots.”

  “Why would that be, I wonder?” Zach asked.

  “More nerve than brains, maybe.”

  He chuckled at her dry assessment. “Oh, we Canadians are a notorious lot.”

  Harry raced around the room, his arms out, dipping and soaring like an airplane.

  Irene glanced through the rest of the letter and folded it way.

  Zach sorted through the other items; she opened her father’s letter, smiling as she read how he was seeing one of the nurses she had worked with.

  “Good news?” Zach asked.

  She nodded and told him. “No wonder he couldn’t wait to get two grown daughters off his hands.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “Surprisingly enough, I don’t. He deserves whatever happiness he can find.”

  “It’s time to think about fixing some clothes for you boys.”

  “I got new pants before Dad went to war,” Harry said. “He bought them just before we said good-bye to him at the train station.”

  She stared at Harry. It was the first time he’d spoken of his past. Hoping he’d say more, she asked, “What pants were those?”

  “I’ll show you.” He led her to the bedroom and dug into his bottom drawer, pulling out a wrinkled pair of brown trousers and handing them to her.

  She shook them. They looked as good as new. “Why, they’ve hardly been worn.”

  He nodded, his eyes never leaving her face. “I never wore them.”

  “Why ever not?”

  His bottom lip quivered, and she knelt in front of him, taking his hands. “Was there some reason you didn’t wear them?”

  He nodded.

  “Can you tell me?”

  Again he nodded, but he didn’t speak. Donald sidled up to him and pressed into his side. Harry took a shaky breath. “Mommy said we would never see Dad again.”

  “Ah, I see.” She saw many things—the fear that made him cling to a pair of trousers as insurance against his father’s return, the uncertainty of a young mother who feared she would never see her husband again. A haunting ache filled her. She had not seen her husband again, but it was she who’d left, not Zach. “But your daddy came back. Why have you never worn them?”

  “I couldn’t.”

  She waited, but he said no more and she stood up, wondering what strange thoughts filled this child’s head. “Can you wear them now?”

  “I think they’re too small.”

  Holding them against him to measure, she had to agree. “I guess I’ll have to adjust them for Donald.”

  Harry relaxed, knowing he would never have to wear them. Somehow, she didn’t understand how, he seemed to associate Zach’s leaving and his mother’s death with this piece of clothing.

  “What else do we have? May I look through your drawers and see?”

  Harry nodded.

  She sorted his clothing into separate piles; mending, things too small but fixable for Donald, and those for Donald to grow into. Then she sorted through Donald’s clothing. The mending pile grew rapidly. “Now where will we find yard goods so I can make you each new trousers and shirts? Something nice to wear to town.”

  “In the big chest?” Harry suggested. “The one in the hall.”

  “Of course.” She lifted the lid, surprised at the size of it. “It’s as big as a small house.”

  Harry laughed. “For real small people.”

  She grinned at him. “Now don’t yo
u be saucy.” She ruffled his hair to show she wasn’t angry.

  A woman’s heavy winter coat lay on top, and she held it up. Talk about small people! This would be small even for Grace. “Was this your mama’s?”

  Harry nodded.

  She studied it for possibilities then set it aside, exploring further. A stack of photos. She turned the top one over. A family picture with Zach, a woman, and a babe in arms. She bent to examine it. Esther had been a tiny woman. She glanced at Harry. “You look like her.” He leaned over her shoulder and looked at the picture.

  “That’s me as a baby,” he said.

  “I thought so. I wish I could see you better. I’d like to see you as a baby.”

  He picked up the other pictures and chose one, handing it to her. “Here.”

  “Oh. You’re so adorable.” Dressed in white rompers, posed on a wicker chair, his brown eyes looked back at her, the same solemn expression she’d grown familiar with. “You still have the same look in your eyes.”

  He watched her. “Was I really adorable?”

  She lowered the picture and met his gaze. “Yes, you were. And you know something?”

  “What?”

  “You still are.” She hugged him.

  He leaned into her with a desperation that made her heart ache.

  “Didn’t you know that?” She stroked his hair, overcome with love for this child.

  He shook his head.

  “Then listen while I tell you again.” She held him so she could look into his face. “Harry Marshall, you are a lovely child. I think you are wonderful. I’m so glad I came to be your mother.”

  Harry nodded then turned back to the pictures. “Here’s one of Donald.” He handed it to her. “What do you think of it?”

  She ran her finger over the likeness, her smile widening. Donald, grinning at the camera, seemed about to explode into mischief. He had gone to the bedroom; she called him. “Donald, come and see yourself.”

  He stood in the doorway, eyes wary.

  “It’s a picture of you as a baby. Look.”

  He sidled up to her and leaned his dark head over the picture. Three fingers slid into his mouth.

  “You are so sweet. I don’t think I have ever seen a nicer smile.” She chucked him under the chin. “Where are you hiding that smile, young man?”

  He patted his tummy.

  She grabbed him and tickled his stomach. “I guess I’ll have to tickle it out of you, then.”

  He smiled, but it was a cautious shadow of the one in the picture.

  She let him go. “What else do we have in here?”

  Harry handed her another picture. “This is when Mom and Dad got married.”

  Esther smiled sweetly at the camera. Zach gazed adoringly at his new wife; his smile spoke volumes of pride and joy.

  Irene touched his face wondering if his smile was hidden in his stomach, too.

  The kitchen door slammed.

  Irene glanced up. Was it dinnertime already? Zach strode into the narrow hall.

  “What are you doing?” His voice was hard.

  “I was looking for yard goods to make the boys new clothes. We found these pictures and were looking at them.”

  “Put them away.”

  She nodded, struck dumb by his harshness. The boys shrank back against her. Quickly, she gathered the pictures together, set them back in the chest, and closed it. This needed discussing, but not while the boys were present.

  She hurried to the kitchen and served up the soup and bread she’d prepared earlier. She glanced around the table, determined not to let the heavy atmosphere prevail. “Has anyone seen our deer lately?”

  All eyes turned toward the window.

  “I saw them this morning, sliding into the trees,” Zach said.

  “I haven’t seen them in days. How big are the fawns now?”

  “They’re still little shadows following the doe. By the way, that reminds me. You boys better check on your kittens today. I think they’re getting big enough to climb out of the manger.”

  Harry and Donald looked at each other, exchanging some silent message. Harry turned to his dad. “Can we bring them to the house?”

  Zach gave his sons a sober look. “You can bring them for a visit but only for a few minutes. They need to be with their mother yet, and I don’t want them hanging around underfoot.”

  Harry grinned at Donald.

  Irene waited until dinner was over and the boys had raced off toward the barn before she confronted Zach. “I don’t mean to be putting my nose where it doesn’t belong. My only intention was to do the mending and fix some clothes for the boys. I’m sure you’ve noticed that their clothes are in need of repair. And both boys have their ankles and wrists sticking out by inches. But if there are things you don’t want me touching, say so.”

  He sighed. “Touch anything you like. Just don’t bring those pictures out. That’s a part of my life that is over and done with. The past is past.”

  He was wrong. That part of his life controlled him and his sons to such an extent they no longer knew how to smile and enjoy life. “Is that why your smile has disappeared? And Donald’s? And why Harry is fearful? Because the past is past?”

  He pushed his chair back, the sound sending pinpricks down her spine. “I don’t want you touching that part of my life.”

  She stifled a cry, stung by his rejection. How could she ever hope to become part of his life if he shut her out of such a large portion? She straightened her shoulders. “If that’s your wish, so be it.” She meant to remain calm and cool, but the thought of all that pain left untended was too much for her. “But you’re making a mistake. Both you and the boys need to talk about your loss and deal with it.”

  His hard look made her shiver. “Thank you for your learned advice, but we have our own way of dealing with it.” He jerked to his feet and strode from the house.

  Irene watched him cross the yard in long, angry strides. She stared long after he’d disappeared from sight. She should have kept silent. Their relationship did not allow a free exchange of opinions. But her feelings for Zach and the boys precluded keeping silent. She saw how they were all hurting, and she wanted nothing more than to help.

  “Please, God. Help me to keep quiet when I should. Grant me wisdom to speak when it’s the right time—and patience with this situation.”

  She cleaned up from the meal, then collected the mending and pulled out the sewing machine she’d found in the cupboard behind the door in the bedroom. She’d learned to use such a machine during the war and thanked Esther for having one.

  She had repaired several shirts when the boys returned with their arms full of kittens. She left her task to admire and play with the kittens.

  “I better take them back now,” Harry said. “Come on, Donald, you can help.”

  Irene returned to the pile of mending, and the boys returned to play outside where they could spend hours constructing an intricate, tiny farm from twigs and stones and a bag of marbles.

  The afternoon settled around them, warm and lazy.

  Suddenly, Donald stood at her elbow.

  “I never heard you come in.”

  He handed her a shapeless object.

  “What do you have?” She examined it. It was soiled and torn, but it was obviously a stuffed bear. She looked at him, trying to understand what he wanted. “You want me to fix it?”

  He nodded.

  “I’ll do my best. Is it something special?”

  To her utter shock, his eyes filled with tears. She scooped him into her arms and hugged him, rocking back and forth as she murmured. “Poor little man.” Her heart was irretrievably linked to this child. He might not have been created under her heart, but he had been born in her heart. She loved him so fiercely she could not stop the tears from trickling down her cheeks, dripping into the dark hair of this precious child.

  He let her hold him a moment longer then pushed away, giving the ragged toy a pat before he rejoined his brother.

/>   She labored over the toy, painstakingly fixing the many tears. One place required a patch as the material had rotted. After she had the shape restored, she scrubbed it carefully. Finally satisfied, she used two clothespins to hang it on the wire line behind the stove where she normally hung the dish towels to dry.

  Donald slipped inside as she finished.

  “I’ve just hung it to dry.” She pointed to the toy.

  He walked over and touched it before he gave a tiny grateful smile and went back outside.

  When Zach came in for supper, a boy clasped in each hand, Donald hurried over to the stuffed toy.

  “It’s not dry yet, but you can have it if you like.” When he nodded, Irene unclipped it.

  Donald took it and climbed up into his chair while Irene set the serving dishes on the table. “I’ve made your favorites. . . .” She broke off at the startled look on Harry’s face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Where did that come from?” The child pointed at Donald’s toy.

  Irene shrugged. “Donald brought it to me and wanted me to fix it.” Harry’s expression puzzled her. “Is something wrong?” She looked at Zach who watched Donald with puzzlement. “What is it?” she demanded.

  Zach shrugged. “It was his favorite toy. He carried it everywhere with him. He had it under his arm when I left to join the army, but I never saw it again. Until now. I wondered what happened to it.”

  Irene turned to Donald. He clutched the worn toy, his fingers entrenched in his mouth. “There’s only one person who knows where it was, and he’s not telling.”

  “I don’t suppose it matters after all. Pass the potatoes, please.” Zach turned his attention to the meal.

  But Irene saw the way Harry stared at Donald, and she wondered.

  “It’s a cold wind tonight.” Zach leaned over to shut the window above the table. “Looks like we’re finally going to get that rain.”

  Irene stared out the window at the lowering clouds obliterating the mountains. “If it means the weather will clear, I’ll be grateful. I miss the clear blue sky and the sight of my mountains.” She ignored his raised eyebrows. “What’s the point in having the best view in the world if one can’t see it?”

  He lit the lantern and pulled his chair close to read the papers while she darned one of his socks.