by Sally Laity
Meanwhile, I pray you will not cease your efforts concerning the immigrants for whom you carry such a heavy burden. I will think of you charging off to their rescue each morning. I draw great comfort from knowing that others, like Eliza, share that call. Through my friendship with her, I came as close as I ever could to actually entering into your ministry. Truly, her heart is as big as yours. The two of you would make a wonderful team. And should it grow beyond that, one day, I should hold no ill feelings against either of my two very dearest friends.
Please don’t forget me, dearest Micah, for you will always be in my most fervent prayers.
With deepest love,
Anabelle
Utterly stunned, Micah could neither think nor pray. There’d never been a time in his life when Ana hadn’t been there for him. True, they’d drifted somewhat apart when he began working with Child Placement, but he’d always envisioned their relationship eventually deepening to include that.
But this. This sounded so final, as if she had already thought about it and prayed about it and come to this irrevocable conclusion. She would go her way; he would go his. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.
Was it?
❧
Morning dawned hours later than usual, Micah was sure of that. Not having slept at all during the longest night of his life, the first streaks of daylight found him still in his clothes in the upholstered chair.
All too soon he’d have to leave for work.
Have to go about this day as if nothing unusual had occurred.
Have to get involved with other people’s troubles and struggles with the same fervor he’d always shown.
His spirit was too heavy to pray. He’d tried, heaven knew he’d tried, but no words would come. And now as he sat listless and lifeless, he wondered how many days and nights would pass before he became accustomed to existing without the one person who’d made up almost the entire other half of his world.
Releasing all the air from his lungs in a whoosh, he dragged himself up and headed for his shaving brush and razor. And he hoped for all he was worth that there wouldn’t be some huge problem to deal with today.
❧
Eliza tucked the sheets around the mattress in the newly outfitted guest room, then added a blanket and counterpane before fluffing the pillows. She felt guilty that she hadn’t waited for Anabelle, but there’d been no word of her friend as yet.
Moving to the wardrobe, she assessed its contents. Ana’s parents, upon hearing of the venture, had contributed generously toward a variety of simple nightwear and everyday clothing and underthings to keep in store, plus several kinds and sizes of shoes for young children of either gender. But Eliza’s first thoughts continued to center on the little Riccio girls, whose plight had inspired this action on her part. Somehow it seemed only right if they turned out to be the first occupants of this small haven.
She stepped to the doorway and swung a critical glance about. It was as ready as it ever would be.
It was nearing suppertime when Micah at last made an appearance. Something in the sag of his shoulders, the lack of the usual twinkle in his eye, signaled dire news. Eliza observed a peculiar tightness in his expression and new lines of strain, particularly around his mouth. It almost seemed an effort for him to smile.
Aunt Phoebe, obviously having drawn the same conclusions, spoke up first. “My. It would appear this has not been the best of days. Is something amiss?”
He drew his lips into a grim line. “I’ve had better.”
“Well, sit right down, lad. We were just about to partake of supper, but there’s plenty. If you’ve no other plans, perhaps you’d be interested in joining us, for a change—unless you’re expected elsewhere.”
His nod of acceptance seemed to indicate a slight improvement in spirit. “If you don’t think you’ll find me depressing company. As it turns out, I do happen to be on my own tonight.”
“Not at all,” she assured him. “It’ll be a rare treat for my niece and me. We get weary of only having each other to look at across a table.” Waving him to the nearest chair, she turned to Eliza. “Bring the man some tea, will you, dear? And I’ll check on our meal.”
Hurrying to do her aunt’s bidding, Eliza couldn’t help wondering why Micah wouldn’t be supping with the Dumonts, as was his custom. Whatever the reason, though, it truly would be nice to have someone to talk to over supper besides her aged relative. She poured a cup of strong tea and took it to the parlor. “Do you take sugar? Cream?” she asked, handing him the drink.
Warmth returned to his eyes when he smiled. “Cream sometimes, but black will do. Thanks.”
“Supper will be ready shortly. Just sit here and relax.” At his nod, she returned to the kitchen.
Over succulent roast chicken and buttered potatoes a little while later, Aunt Phoebe managed to keep the conversation centered around pleasantries while Micah gradually lost much of his somberness. And when at last he started appearing more himself, she finally broached the earlier topic. “So, you mentioned you were having a horrid day before you came to us.”
He nodded grimly, but now, at least, with some of the old optimism.
“Bad news from the Garibaldis?” Eliza probed, her pulse quickening as she anticipated his surprised pleasure upon discovering her and Anabelle’s secret awaiting upstairs.
“It’s partly that, yes. I’m afraid it’s as we feared. The couple finds it impossible to continue providing for their friends’ orphaned daughters. They need to be relieved of the burden immediately. And I’m out of options. There’s just no place to put them.”
“Oh, but there is,” Eliza blurted out.
He looked up, as if suddenly seeing her for the first time.
“It was a surprise. Anabelle and I have been working on it for days.”
Some of the customary ruddiness in his complexion paled. He cleared his throat. “What do you mean?”
Eliza sought her aunt’s approving nod and took heart. “That guest room you and Charles carried furniture into— well—Aunt Phoebe has allowed me to furnish it to be used as a shelter for children. Whenever you find you have one or two little ones who have absolutely nowhere else to go, we can put them up, temporarily, until more permanent arrangements can be made.”
“You’re not joking?”
“Of course not, silly. And it would thrill me no end to be able to look after little Rosa and Gabriella while you find them a new home. However long it takes.”
He shook his head in wonder. “I am speechless. Never in a million years would I have imagined something like this.”
“Would you care to see it?”
Looking from Eliza to her aunt and back again, Micah blotted his mouth on his napkin and stood. “Lead the way, dear girl. Lead the way.”
She smiled and impulsively snatched him by the hand, grabbing a lantern from the hallway on their way to the staircase. Then she all but raced up the steps with him in tow. Nibbling her lip in anticipation, she flung the door wide and gestured for him to enter. She held the lantern high.
“Look at this,” he said in awe, stepping inside, his words carrying a tone of incredulity. He surveyed the new quarters momentarily, then turned to search her face. “And this was all your idea, I take it?”
Nodding, Eliza felt a blush warming her cheeks. “But Aunt Phoebe had some good suggestions, and of course, Anabelle helped me pick things out, plus did half the work. We could hardly keep from telling you! And her parents, the Dumonts, gave us money to buy some children’s clothing. What do you think?”
“What do I think?” He scratched his head, still displaying overwhelming surprise. “I’m deeply touched, Eliza. More so than I can express. I felt on the verge of complete hopelessness when I arrived at your door this eve, yet now, I—” He turned to glance once more into the room, bracing a hand on the doorjamb as he took everything in.
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Eliza, deeply moved at Micah’s inability to express his feelings, stayed her tears. “I only wish Anabelle had come with you,” she murmured. “It was as much her surprise as it was mine. She should have been in on your reaction, too.”
Micah’s back was to her at the moment, and she saw him stiffen, heard the ragged intake of breath. His palm slid down the wooden frame. “She. . .uh. . .is gone, Eliza.”
“Gone?” she echoed, the pitch of her voice high in disbelief. “What do you mean, gone?”
“Just that.” He turned, placing both hands on her shoulders as he looked straight into her eyes. “Anabelle has left New York—for good, apparently—and I haven’t a clue where she is.”
seventeen
Eliza gawked at Micah for a full minute, aghast. “You can’t be serious! Anabelle, gone? How can that be possible? I don’t believe it. I won’t.”
“Believe it or not, it’s your choice,” he said resignedly. “Nevertheless, she has left New York, for who knows where. Mother Dumont would give me no information, I can’t think of any distant relatives. Nothing.”
“And she led you to assume she won’t be coming back?”
“Quite.”
Becoming aware of a throbbing in her temples, Eliza drifted to the top landing and sank onto it, setting the lantern on the floor while she cupped her head. Then she looked back up at him, his features heavily shadowed in the subdued light. “But why? What possible reason could Ana have had for simply vanishing from us so suddenly? She never even hinted she was unhappy. Oh, this is all too much.”
Micah eased down beside her and rested his elbows on his thighs, his hands dangling between his knees as he stared straight ahead. “I couldn’t have put it better myself.”
“But didn’t she say anything to you? Give any warning at all?” It was so reminiscent of when Weston and Melanie disappeared out of the blue.
He shook his head.
Eyeing him, Eliza sensed he knew more than he was telling her. “And she left no word whatsoever?”
He winced. “A letter. Her mother gave it to me last night.”
“Well at least that’s something, is it not? What did Ana say? If you don’t mind my asking, of course.”
“It’s a long story, Eliza. I’m not sure I can go into it all just yet. I’m still having problems enough dealing with it as it is.”
“Oh, do forgive me. I’m sure it must have been quite personal.” She paused. “There wasn’t. . .I mean, it wasn’t. . .well, surely no other man was involved.” The very idea made Eliza cringe.
“Not to my knowledge, no.”
“That’s comforting, at least.”
Micah gave a little huff. “Small comfort, I’d say.”
“Of course. I’m sorry, Micah, really I am. This is just so unexpected. I can’t quite figure out what to make of it. I can’t even think.”
He tilted his head and opened his mouth as if about to ask something, then closed it again.
“What is it?”
Studying his hand as he flexed and unflexed it, he finally turned to Eliza but then couldn’t hold her gaze. “I don’t suppose. . .that is, did she ever express any doubts to you. . . concerning our engagement?”
Eliza searched back in her memory, trying to dredge up every last word Anabelle had said during the times they’d been together. “I know she loves you very much and has done so most of her life. But she did wonder aloud, once, if she’d ever be the sort of wife you needed.”
“That’s what she wrote in the letter, too,” he admitted miserably. “Utterly ridiculous, really—especially since her doubts seem connected primarily to my work. But any misgivings she might have had she should have discussed with me. And we could have worked them out together.”
Eliza could only nod in agreement.
“Well,” he said at length, “it seems neither of us has much light to shed on the situation. At least, not enough to make her action seem even remotely practical.” He got up and offered a hand. “I do thank you for the listening ear, anyway. You’re about the closest friend I’ve got at the moment.”
Placing her fingers into his, Eliza shook her head as she rose, grasping the lantern on her way. “Considering what becomes of my ‘best friends,’ ” she muttered dryly as they slowly descended, “I wouldn’t count your association with me much of an asset.”
He chuckled under his breath. “Nevertheless, we’re all each other seems to have at the moment. And we may appreciate knowing there’s one person with whom we feel free to unburden our souls.”
Eliza found that statement oddly comforting.
“Speaking of burdens,” he said as they reached the bottom, “might I assume your problem of the other evening has worked itself out?”
Another maddening blush did its best to appear. “Yes. After considerable prayer and submission to the Lord’s will, the matter is ended. That particular man won’t bother me again.”
“Good. Ana and I prayed for you when we parted that night.”
“Thank you. I—”
“Oh, there you two are,” Aunt Phoebe said, breezing toward them. “I’ve cleared the table of the meal, made a pot of fresh coffee, and am about to serve dessert, if anyone’s interested.”
“Sounds good to me,” Micah said pleasantly.
Eliza only smiled, and they gathered around the table once again.
“What did you think of the new guest room upstairs?” the older woman asked, slicing a generous hunk of chocolate cake and passing it to their guest.
“Most amazing. I had absolutely no idea the ladies had undertaken such a marvelous project. Eliza tells me you’re in agreement to my bringing a child or two here on occasion, to be looked after temporarily?”
She nodded and served the next piece to Eliza. “I did have a few reservations about the matter, but my niece assures me she will manage the venture adequately.”
“Well,” Micah replied, “it would appear you’ll be having your first young visitors tomorrow. I can’t say for how long they’ll need lodging, but I will be doing my utmost to find them a permanent family.”
“We’ll be ready,” Eliza said. But the excitement she had expected to feel was tempered now with the sad news of Anabelle’s absence.
❧
Loading the meager bundle of his young charges’ belongings into the buggy before heading back inside, Micah drew a fortifying breath and prayed for strength to get the children through yet another wrenching parting. Even before the Garibaldis’ doorway came into view, he could hear wailing and sobbing echoing the length of the dreary hallway. A few curious heads peeked out of other apartments lining the corridor.
“Dere, dere, bambinos,” the overwrought woman of the household crooned soothingly as he approached. “Nice’a Mr. Richmond, he finda you a new mama, new papa. Everyt’inga be better, eh?”
“N–no, no,” Gabriella sobbed, clinging to her guardian’s legs with the dogged strength of a six-year-old. “We s–staya here. Wit you.”
Tiny Rosa, smothered protectively in a tangle of other dark-eyed children’s arms, peered between them from a few feet away, her doe eyes huge with fear.
By now even the lady herself had to blot tears on her apron as she looked hopelessly to Micah, then patted the little girl’s head. “It’a be better. You see. We come’a visit sometime.”
“No, Mama,” Vinnie whined, confusion drawing his boyish eyebrows into a vee above his nose as he huddled over Rosa. “Dey can have my food. Don’a make’a dem go. Please, no.”
But in a show of sheer determination, she peeled Gabriella’s thin arms from around herself and shoved her forcibly to Micah. “It’sa for da best. You see. Better nobody starve.”
Trying his utmost to hang onto the distraught, weeping little girl even now twisting to get out of his clutches, Micah watched Mrs. Garibaldi extract the younger siste
r from her own children’s embrace and deposit the toddler in his free arm. Then, somehow managing to corral her own little ones behind one deceptively strong arm and leg, she closed the door with her other hand, and the wailing on that side diminished by half.
Gabriella’s, however, went up a few notches. “No! No! Don’a take us awa–a–y–y–y.” Using all her energy now in a last desperate attempt to squirm free, she slipped low enough to give a mighty kick to her abductor’s shin.
Micah saw stars as the searing pain shot up his entire leg but grasped the girls even harder, limping the remaining distance to the buggy.
To alleviate the damp chill of the day, he’d draped a quilt open on the seat beside his place. Depositing the children onto it, he held them in place while making swift work of wrapping the bulky lengths around the pair.
Gabriella, though still crying audibly, appeared to recognize her inevitable defeat. The sobs turned to coughs, and she went rigid, sitting stiff as a board while Micah tucked the free ends under her and her sister’s slight weight. Rosa’s bewilderment led only to whimpers as she huddled close to her sibling.
Fairly confident that he was winning, Micah gulped a huge breath and climbed aboard, clucking the horse into motion. He knew better than to count the victory prematurely, though, and sought assistance from the Lover of all children even as he pulled out onto the thoroughfare.
During the long drive to Harper House, he kept up a running dialogue in the quiet tones of a confidant. “I know you’ll like the nice room where you’ll be spending the night. Some of my real good friends have fixed it up especially for you. These ladies love children, but God never gave them any of their own, so they just help little ones whenever they can. They’ll have plenty of good food and even some things for you to play with all the time you’re there. I expect you to remember the manners your mama and Mrs. Garibaldi taught you and be on your best behavior.”