by Sally Laity
With a sly smile, Phoebe swung her legs over the side of the bed and maneuvered her feet into the warm knitted slippers next to it before padding to her dresser. Hopefully the pill box would be somewhere in the middle drawer. All she had to do was find it and sneak it into the wooden box hidden beneath her bed before Eliza returned and caught her up. That would leave a mere five articles to be added.
She could hardly wait for Christmas!
❧
As Eliza straightened up the dwindling displays on the various shelves in the gift shop, the door opened. Her heart lurched as Micah stepped inside on a blast of chilly air.
“Good afternoon, Eliza. Thought I’d check in on that aunt of yours again.”
“How nice. She always enjoys seeing a friendly face.” Eliza purposely kept her tone breezy, hoping to recapture her poise and waylay the maddening blush that seemed to appear so easily in Micah’s company despite her best intentions.
“Hope I won’t be disturbing a nap or anything.”
Eliza shook her head. “I’m quite sure she’s awake. I took in a lunch tray a little while ago, and she didn’t appear tired in the least.”
“Good.” He loosened his coat, flashing a jovial grin on his way past, and his confident footsteps took him down the hall.
She plucked the feather duster from its hook and flicked it over a porcelain doll and a pair of crystal candleholders, her movements carrying her before an oval wall mirror that was accented by a spray of dried flowers positioned above. Catching her reflection, Eliza realized the smile she had given Micah Richmond had yet to fade. With an exasperated huff, she schooled herself into line and attacked her chore with more discipline.
It wasn’t long before she heard Micah returning.
He bent to pick up a crocheted coaster that must have fallen during her dusting and handed it to her. “Thank the Lord your aunt appears to be a little more perky each time I come by. Amazing resilience, that lady.”
Eliza had to agree. “Of course, she knew she had to follow the doctor’s instructions to the letter or face me, cracking the cat-o’-nine-tails over her back,” she said facetiously, replacing the coaster on the stack of others.
A teasing light gleamed in his eyes, and for a fraction of a second, Eliza thought she saw them wander over her. “How true. The moment we met I saw right through you, to that mean streak that runs a mile wide.”
Her soft laugh couldn’t have been held in check no matter how much she might have wished it, and a similar, deeper one rumbled from his chest. Yet for some reason she sensed everything was not as it appeared. She hesitated about questioning him but gave in to her intuition. “Is there something wrong, Micah?”
His expression took a somber turn, and he shrugged. “I wasn’t going to mention it, particularly to you. Perhaps I shouldn’t even have come.”
A jolt of alarm seized Eliza. “Whatever do you mean? Is my aunt not doing well after all?”
He held up a calming hand. “Please believe me; she truly does appear to be recovering quickly. No, I’m afraid my concerns lie in other directions just now.”
Continuing to study his demeanor, Eliza drew her own conclusions as the memory of two heartbroken little girls huddled together on a miserable pallet surfaced in her mind. “Well, if you’re hesitant to say anything to me about it, I must surmise it has something to do with the children. Am I right? Has something happened to them?”
Micah inhaled a long breath, then slowly expelled it. He rested an elbow on the shelf beside him, meeting her gaze. “It. . .uh. . .has more to do with the Garibaldis, actually.”
“They’ve decided they cannot continue to look after Rosa and Gabriella.”
An amazed smile spread across his lips. “That’s one thing I admire about you, Eliza. You’re very astute. I came here for the express purpose of assuring myself that Mrs. Harper is improving—definitely not intending to involve you in my problems.”
“Quite gallant of you, I must say. However, if that problem, as you call it, concerns those poor little girls, then I’m already involved. I’ve felt deeply burdened for them since the day I first saw them. You might very well come out with it. I must know.”
Micah pressed his lips into a grim line and stepped to the window, his back to her as he looked outside. His shoulders sagged. “The Garibaldis have made every effort to incorporate the Riccio girls into their household. Done their level best. But lacking the income the girls’ parents brought in, it’s nigh impossible for them to make ends meet. Mrs. Garibaldi as much as asked me to start making other arrangements for those little ones.”
A heaviness settled over Eliza’s chest. “But it’s almost Christmas,” she murmured. “Surely they can stay where they are until after Christmas.”
“And then what?” Micah asked, turning to face her. “I’ve already contacted everyone I can think of, and all for naught. It’s precisely the approaching holidays that make it next to impossible to find a haven for Rosa and Gabriella right now. To be perfectly honest, I haven’t the slightest idea what I can do to help them.”
“Well, we’ll just have to think of something, then, won’t we?”
“We?” A half-smile lit Micah’s compelling features.
Not to be undaunted, Eliza only repeated herself with more conviction. “We.”
“When you think of something,” he said flatly, “be sure to let me know. I’m out of options at the moment. Even if I can’t find a family who’ll adopt them permanently, I need a place where they’ll be looked after, a temporary shelter until a spot opens up for them. Our facility is filled to the hilt with other children in the same boat they are.”
Eliza had surmised as much, but hearing the sad information again made the need seem even more acute. “I assume you’ve already made the matter public knowledge at church.”
“Our church, Mrs. Wallace’s church, and a raft of others.”
“Well, then, we’ll have to look elsewhere.”
He chuckled, but without a hint of mirth. “No doubt you’ve a long list of places that fit the bill.”
“Not yet. But I will.” The strength of her certitude surprised even Eliza, yet she knew somehow that she would find a home for those girls, even if she had to build it herself!
❧
Micah watched with fascination as it seemed as if the wheels inside Eliza’s head turned like perfectly meshed gears inside a pocket watch. He really hadn’t intended to dump this weighty matter on her slender shoulders. That had been the absolute last thing on his mind. He couldn’t remember exactly how she’d managed to wangle the information out of him, but now that she had, it didn’t seem quite so impossible. Nothing was changed. She knew even less people in the city than he did. But somehow he sensed the Lord would use her in this situation. He just didn’t see how.
“Will you be calling on Anabelle this evening?” she asked out of the blue.
“Most likely. I go over there nearly every night. Her parents’ sort of—”
“Splendid,” she interrupted. “Then, would you please ask Ana if she can come over here tomorrow? Tell her I need her help.”
“Whatever you say.” Micah continued to stare, trying to decipher what was going on in that dark little head of hers, but at the moment he didn’t have a clue. He cleared his throat. “Well, I’d best be going. I have some more calls to make this afternoon.”
Tapping an index finger against her lips, she gave no indication she’d even heard him speak, but she nodded absently as she began pacing the floor.
“Uh, well, good day,” he said, crossing to the door.
“Hm? Oh, yes. I’ll be praying too. Something’s bound to turn up. You’ll see.”
Slinging a glance over his shoulder, Micah chuckled under his breath and left. That young woman had come a long way from the timid, cowed soul he’d first met, and the change in her was utterly fascinating!
/>
Whistling as he climbed aboard his buggy, he drove off.
twelve
“It’s now or never,” Eliza muttered to herself. She’d paced the floor between the gift shop and her aunt’s room so many times, trying to work up courage to broach the subject uppermost in her mind, she was surprised there was no obvious path worn in the carpet runner. But now that the shop was closed for the day and her constant prayers only served to strengthen her resolve, it seemed senseless to put the matter off any longer. She sloughed off her nerves and quietly entered the bedchamber.
An imperceptible snore drifted across the dimly lit room.
Eliza rolled her eyes and tiptoed out again, closing the door after her. Of course Aunt Phoebe would doze off at times, lying abed all day. But all that gathering of courage, for nothing. Oh, well, it was her own fault for taking so long to make up her own mind.
The hearty smell of the pork roast Eliza had started earlier permeated the house, making her stomach growl. Had she even had dinner? The day seemed little more than a blur. Going to the kitchen, she peeled potatoes and carrots and set them to boil. Then she took a lamp and headed for the stairs.
She’d been inside the spare room a dozen times over the last few days, getting replacement supplies or putting some unused object out of the way. She noticed that the pattern in the wallpaper had faded over the years, but the wainscoting was still in good shape. The room had been ever so pretty back when her family had stayed here on visits. But standing in the doorway now, the lamp held high, she envisioned it as something far more noble than a mere guest room. It could easily be transformed into a haven for a needy child, or even two. Two little girls. A hopeful smile tugged at her lips.
But how would she convince Aunt Phoebe?
Taking a step further inside the shadowed depths, Eliza imagined it housing a double bed with colorful counterpane, a good-sized wardrobe, a rocking chair, and some bright curtains. Surely she could persuade Anabelle to help fix it up. And the two of them could sew some little dresses. . . . Each new plan gave birth to another, until Eliza feared her head would burst.
When Aunt Phoebe awakened a short while later, she appeared completely rested and more like her old self than she’d been for days. Eliza couldn’t suppress the desire to compliment her. “You’re looking wonderful, Auntie. How about coming to the parlor for supper? I’m sure Doc Jenson would approve if I helped you to the table and back afterward.”
Some of the care lines vanished from the older woman’s face. “Why, that’s a splendid idea. I haven’t had anything but these four walls to look at since Sunday. I’d dearly love a change of scenery.”
“Then let me get your wrap and slippers.” She snatched the flannel wrapper from where it lay draped over a chair back and helped her aunt into it, then supported her as she stepped one foot and then the other into the warm slippers.
They walked slowly up the hall, and reaching the parlor, Eliza seated her in a chair near the fire, then went to fill their plates with food. In no time at all they were enjoying the succulent pork with mashed potatoes and gravy and honeyed carrots.
“This is perfectly delightful,” Aunt Phoebe said, touching her napkin to the corners of her mouth when she finished. “I couldn’t eat another bite.”
“Not even a sliver of pie?” Eliza asked. “One of your regular customers, a Mrs. Knight, brought over a fresh apple crumb pie and asked me to pass along her good wishes for your recovery.”
At this, the elderly countenance gentled. “Why, how very sweet of Mabel. I just might be able to down a small piece. With a cup of tea, if you don’t mind. Maybe then you’ll tell me what’s on your mind.”
In the process of rising to her feet, Eliza sank back down to her chair in surprise. “How did you know I wanted to talk to you about something?”
Her aunt smiled slyly. “When a person spends a good deal of her life dealing with the public, she becomes rather skilled at being able to read other folks.”
Eliza shook her head in wonder. “I see. Well, I’ll go get our dessert. Then we can talk.”
Actually, she reasoned, it could be a good thing, her aunt’s being so discerning. It saved her from having to think of a way to bring up the subject of the room.
As she poured the tea a short while later, Eliza retook her seat and sampled a bite of pie. She closed her eyes in delight.
“Mabel has a real way with pie, doesn’t she?”
“It’s excellent. I don’t know when I’ve had better.”
“So, what is it, child?” Aunt Phoebe took a cautious sip of the hot liquid and relaxed against the back of her chair in expectation. “Bad news from home?”
Eliza blanched. “I did receive some startling news from Mother, but this has nothing to do with that. It’s a different matter entirely.”
“Well, best you come out with it. That’s the simplest.”
Drawing a long, slow breath for fortification, Eliza plunged forth. “I hardly know where to start. You know about Micah’s work and the frustrations he faces on a daily basis, trying to place orphaned children in a city that’s already overcrowded.”
“Yes, we’ve discussed the matter quite often.”
“Well, until I actually made that visit to the tenements myself,” Eliza said, “I hadn’t the foggiest notion of the breadth of the problem. Now that I’ve been there and witnessed the sordid conditions, I feel almost guilty that we have so much, when others lack even the bare necessities.”
“Which is precisely why I run the gift shop,” her aunt reminded her. “So that I can help out in a tangible way.”
“I know, Aunt Phoebe. Truly, I do. But don’t you ever feel that it isn’t enough? Don’t you wish you could do more?”
“At my age? What more could I do, if I might ask?”
Eliza’s pulse rate quickened, and her mouth went dry. She quickly gulped some tea and set down her cup. “I’m not asking you to do more, exactly. This is a project I would like to undertake on my own—with Anabelle’s help, if she’s willing.”
Aunt Phoebe continued to stare but did not interrupt.
“It’s the spare room,” Eliza blurted. “I’d like to convert it into a child’s room.”
The older woman tucked her chin.
“Nothing permanent, mind you,” Eliza quickly added. “But for those times when Micah’s at his wit’s end and needs a temporary shelter for one or two little children while he tries to find them a real home.”
“But you don’t know what you’re suggesting! A child—children, here? At Harper House?” Her gaze making a swift circuit of the parlor shop, Aunt Phoebe seemed to center on all the breakable items, the shelves of fragile things that could meet their doom within a few seconds of a rambunctious child’s entrance.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Eliza said placatingly. “But I really don’t think a little girl would be much trouble. Or even two, at times. It would be just for a few hours, in some cases. Days, in others. With an assortment of playthings available for them to keep themselves occupied, they’d have no reason to venture down here and touch your things.”
“Quite an interesting theory, I’d say,” her aunt said without emotion. “Have you ever been responsible for little ones?”
“Not for an extended period of time, no. But I’ve been around enough of them to know that they will accept established boundaries when treated with respect and love and a firm hand.”
Aunt Phoebe shut her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose under her eyeglasses in thought.
“And I don’t foresee any problem with my plan. I think it’s possible and worth a try, at the very least. Would you let me try, Auntie? For the sake of the children?”
She raised her eyelids and met Eliza’s gaze. “Did he put you up to this? Micah?”
“No,” Eliza said, shocked. “I never mentioned the subject to him at all, though
I confess I’ve been considering my undertaking for several days now.”
“I see.” Her slight bosom rose and fell as her demeanor revealed troubled thoughts. “I must tell you, child, this whole notion of yours has caught me somewhat off balance.”
Eliza didn’t know how to respond. She remained silent.
“But I will pray about it—”
Blinding hope made Eliza smile. But the smile wilted as quickly as it had appeared once her aunt went on.
“That’s the best I can promise. I know the need exists and is very serious. I also know I’m not physically able to deal with the noise and confusion or inconvenience of having little ones underfoot, but you are. For that matter, perhaps that’s why the Lord brought you here in the first place. Not as an answer to my prayers, but to Micah Richmond’s.”
Eliza hadn’t considered that possibility, but she had to give the suggestion merit. The ministry the young man was involved in was a very compassionate one, one that drew her in immediately and compelled her to do whatever she could to help.
“I’m quite tired now. Would you please help me back to my bed?”
“Of course, Auntie. And I won’t bring up the subject again until after you’ve had a chance to pray about it.”
An almost imperceptible nod seemed all she could manage.
❧
“So,” Anabelle said brightly as she hung her cloak. “Micah says you wanted to see me.”
Eliza nodded. “Come into the kitchen, and we’ll have tea while I bring you up to date on a matter I’m considering.” Linking her arm through her friend’s she drew the girl along.
After a little more than a quarter hour had passed, Eliza realized she had been talking on and on with scarcely an interruption, and that a peculiar expression had drawn Anabelle’s fine brows together in a frown. Her cheeks appeared nearly as white as the shawl collar on her gown. “You don’t care for my scheme?”