Tabitha

by Vikki Kestell

  “What kind of nursing will you be doing when you take up your position?” Rose asked.

  “Ah. I will be working in the hospital’s emergency services to begin with. However, I have a keen desire to work in public health, in disease prevention. When a suitable position in public health nursing opens, I hope to be accepted.”

  “And you, Miss Silverstine? What kind of nursing appeals to you?” Rose asked.

  Claire ducked her head. “I love working with children, ma’am. I hope to do private pediatric nursing when I graduate.”

  “What will you do over your furlough?” Joy inquired. “Where do you call home?”

  “I am from a little farming community in Wyoming, ma’am,” Claire replied. “My brother will be here tomorrow to fetch me home.”

  After lunch, the group sorted themselves into the two vehicles—Rose, Breona, Joy, and O’Dell in one automobile; Carpenter, Claire, Tabitha, and her parents in the other.

  When Banks assisted Claire to disembark at her dormitory, Tabitha got out with her and they embraced.

  “I shall miss you so much, Tabitha,” Claire whispered.

  “Until we meet again, sister of my heart,” Tabitha murmured in return. “Remember to write?”

  “I shall,” Claire promised.

  The thirty-mile drive from Boulder to Denver took three hours and involved one changed tire. “Someday the roads will allow us to travel at higher speeds and someone will invent automobile tires that do not blow out over every little rock or hole in the road,” Carpenter groused amiably. In a soft voice he added, “In any event, I shall be glad not to make this tedious drive again for a time.”

  “Not as glad as I shall be,” Tabitha laughed in whispered response. “I do not care to ever make this journey again!”

  She smiled at her father, seated across from her next to Carpenter. Her father dozed, his chin bobbing gently on his chest.

  Without Carpenter saying anything, Tabitha’s nursing senses had already observed and concluded that he was unwell. She gently squeezed her mother’s hand.

  “We are s’ very proud of you, Tabitha,” her mother murmured. The sentiment seemed the only thing that she could say, but Tabitha understood: Her parents were overwhelmed—dazed by their journey from Texas by train, by their luxurious apartment in Carpenter’s home, by being whisked to Boulder and back in Carpenter’s automobile.

  By meeting their daughter, back from the grave.

  I doubt they have ridden in a motorcar before now, Tabitha realized. They must be so discomfited, so out of their element. She raised her mother’s rough hand to her lips and kissed it.

  “I am so glad you are here, Mama.”

  Across the car in the dimming light, Carpenter’s eyes watched her.

  “Thank you,” Tabitha mouthed.

  Carpenter walked Tabitha up the porch steps to the door of Palmer House. “I shall bring your parents to you tomorrow afternoon,” he assured her. “Your father will be more rested then, and Breona will have prepared a room for them.”

  As Tabitha reached for the venerable old door to the house, she spied something new: a shiny metal sign nailed to the house, just to the side of the door. Her fingers traced the graven words, Lost Are Found.

  “What is this?” she asked Carpenter.

  “Mr. Wheatley’s work, at Joy’s request. A reminder to us all that God knows where Edmund is. A reminder to us all that we are to pray and not give up hope.”

  Tabitha stared at the sign with new understanding. Then she placed her hand on it and prayed aloud. “O Lord, we do not forget. We have asked you to bring Edmund home. Your eyes are upon the whole earth, and you see him, even right now. Father, we trust you to bring him back to us, for in you, the lost are found.”

  “Amen,” came Carpenter’s heartfelt response. When Tabitha opened her eyes, his palm was upon the sign, next to hers.

  Tabitha’s return to Palmer House was all that she had wished for. Her friends greeted her at the front door and gathered around her in the great room to welcome her home. Though she was meeting several girls for the first time, the spirit of the old house had not changed: It was still home to her, and she delighted in the unfamiliar as well as familiar faces.

  “Will! What a great big boy you are now.” Tabitha knelt next to Marit and Billy’s tow-headed child.

  “I’m gonna be six, Aunt Tabitha,” he announced with pride.

  “I can hardly believe it, sweetheart.” She hugged him but, as boys that age generally do, he wriggled free from her embrace and raced away giggling.

  “And little Charley? Charley, is this you?” The toddler, suddenly shy, buried his face in Marit’s neck. Everyone laughed and Marit tried to coax him to say hello, but he was having nothing to do with Tabitha.

  “He is going on three, now,” Marit apologized to Tabitha, “and is very villfull and full of mischief. Ven he makes up his mind, ve cannot change it.”

  To underscore Marit’s explanation, Charley peeked out at Tabitha. “No!” he hollered.

  “Don’t worry; he will warm up to you,” Billy promised.

  “No!” Charley pronounced a second time.

  Everyone laughed, which only mortified the little boy. He buried his face in Marit’s bosom and burst into tears.

  When the bustle of Tabitha’s homecoming subsided a little, Sarah and Corrine took hold of her arms and pulled her up the stairs. The two young women who worked for Joy in her fine home furnishings store had shared the room next to Tabitha’s since Palmer House opened.

  “You lucky thing, you,” Corrine grinned.

  “Me? What do you mean?” They reached the second floor landing, but the two young women guided Tabitha to the staircase leading up to the third floor.

  “You, dear girl, no longer share a room on the second floor with one of us peons! Miss Rose has given you a room on the top floor,” Sarah informed her. “She felt that if you are required to work long shifts at the hospital, you needed a ‘quieter environment in which to take your rest.’ I believe those were her exact words.”

  Corrine glanced at Sarah and they burst into giggles.

  “Why, whatever could Miss Rose mean by that?” Sarah giggled again.

  “A ‘quieter environment’? Yes, whatever could she mean?” Tabitha snorted—and the three of them giggled together.

  Sarah stopped before one of the three turret rooms of which Palmer House boasted. Corrine threw open the door. “Welcome home. You have a room all to yourself, Tabitha!”

  Tabitha gaped. “Really? I have never had such space before—or such a lovely room!” She entered and turned in a circle, relishing the simple but warm furnishings.

  “It was Joy,” Sarah said, clapping her hands. “She chose these things from the shop especially for you, and we all pitched in to decorate the room for you.”

  “We agreed—we wanted your room to be special,” Corrine added, “to celebrate your great accomplishment. To welcome you home.”

  “Do you like the new wallpaper?” Sarah asked.

  “What about the curtains?” Corrine added.

  Tabitha could not speak. Her heart was too full.

  Then the three of them were hugging, and Tabitha’s heart overflowed. Thank you, Lord, for bringing me home again. How I love you!

  The next morning Tabitha helped Breona make up the parlor for her parents. Because of her father’s ill health, going up and down a staircase was out of the question. The parlor was the only room on the ground floor, other than Mr. Wheatley’s two little chambers (the former butler’s pantry and quarters) that could accommodate them. Breona and Tabitha slid the small settee against a wall and set up the two bedsteads Billy had brought down from the attic.

  “I am sorry the parlor will be unavailable while my parents are here,” Tabitha said to Rose.

  “Do not be sorry, Tabitha. Their visit is an answer to our prayers,” Rose replied.

  Not long after lunch, Carpenter and Banks arrived with their precious cargo. Carpenter help
ed Tabitha’s father navigate the front steps and Banks brought in their single suitcase.

  As Carpenter and Banks were leaving, Carpenter stole Tabitha aside for a private word. “I will be away on business for a fortnight, Tabs, and shall return on the second Friday from now. May I call on you and take you for a drive the following day?”

  “Yes. I would like that.” They smiled, easy with each other. Tabitha added, “I believe my parents will be leaving that Wednesday. They have shown me their return tickets and seem quite set on it.”

  “I believe it would be difficult for them to adjust here,” he answered. His voice was silky soft, and Tabitha’s heartbeat quickened a little

  She nodded and looked down. “I have not properly thanked you for bringing them all this way to be reunited with me.”

  Carpenter grew more serious and asked, “Perhaps we can speak of that when I return?”

  Tabitha’s heart thumped harder. “Of course.”

  “Until then,” he whispered.

  After showing her parents their room, Tabitha settled them in the kitchen with Breona, Marit, Billy, and Mr. Wheatley. Her mother was talking the women’s legs off, while Mr. Wheatley was talking her father’s arm off.

  Tabitha sighed and smiled. It made her happy to see her parents looking so content and comfortable with her friends, but she also had a concern: Sooner or later, the origins and purpose of Palmer House would come out—and so would Tabitha’s reason for living in the house.

  It will not be an easy conversation to have with them, Lord. I pray that you will help me when I tell them of my past and help me to glorify Jesus—I pray that they will see him in me when it is all said and done.

  The days flew by, however, and neither of Tabitha’s parents asked her to explain why she was living at Palmer House, nor did they even turn an inquiring eye upon her. Each morning Tabitha took her mother on a short walk. Her father, unable to join them, spent the time they were out playing checkers with Mr. Wheatley—to that gentleman’s everlasting delight.

  Tabitha and her mother would walk arm-in-arm to the little park a few blocks away and wander along the pine trees lining the paths that wound through it. After their third walk to the park, Tabitha came to the realization that her mother would not be bringing up the difficult topic.

  They usually sat down on a bench near the middle of the park to just enjoy their surroundings. They spoke of many things, mostly about Tabitha’s childhood home and the nearby farms and people she remembered, but each time their exchange veered toward Palmer House, Tabitha noticed how her mother steered the conversation in another direction.

  Only once did Tabitha glimpse something, a hint of understanding in her mother.

  “When you left with thet Cray Bishoff, I knewed it would lead t’ sorrows fer ya, Daughter. I’m ever s’ glad thet you have come to this place in yer life, glad thet you are happy now.”

  “I-I wasn’t always happy, Mama,” Tabitha said softly. She was ready to admit to the truth—but her mother forestalled her.

  “Them days is all in th’ past, Tabitha. All in th’ past. Thet’s where they should stay put.” Her mother stood abruptly and glanced at the cloudless sky. “Gonna be a hot one agin t’day. Shall we hev anuther go ’round th’ park while it’s still cool?”

  She offered her hand to Tabitha and they, mother and daughter, arms about each other, walked on.

  Tabitha’s mother muttered, “A’course a hot one here ain’t got nuthin’ on Texas, do it?”

  Tabitha laughed, her mother chuckled, and Tabitha understood that the topic she had feared was closed, not to be broached again.

  Almost two weeks later, Billy drove Tabitha and her parents to Union Station. As much as they had relished every moment spent with Tabitha, relief showed on their faces. Tabitha knew they were anxious to return to their farm.

  “Do you have your tickets?” Tabitha asked for the third time.

  “Yeah, girl. An’ th’ wonderful lunch Marit done give us.” Her mother, tears starting in her eyes, placed a rough hand on Tabitha’s cheek. “Ya have a good life here, Daughter. We be so glad fer ya.”

  Tabitha hugged her parents close to her. “Daddy . . . Mama, I love you so much. I-I want you to know that Jesus loves you even more than I love you.”

  Her father, usually quiet and unspoken, cleared his throat. “We are a-seein’ the difference in ya, child.” He turned away from her, self-conscious of his moist eyes. He sniffed and wiped them with his hand before turning back. “Miss Rose prayed with us last night t’ become Christians—real Christians.”

  Tabitha’s mother nodded, affirming her husband’s declaration of faith. “Th’ day ya left us was th’ worst day of our lives, Daughter. We thought th’ day we got yer letter was th’ best. But now thet we have seen ya . . . now thet we know ya hev a good life . . . well, now we kin—”

  Her mother broke off on a sob and Tabitha’s heart filled in the blanks: Now we can die in peace.

  Tears dripping freely down her face, Tabitha waved at the departing train until it wound down the tracks and out of sight.

  ~~**~~

  Chapter 16

  In the days following her return to Denver, Tabitha could not pin down her emotions—yes, she was relieved and overjoyed to be finished with her grueling education . . . but she was also sad and bereft because those days were gone forever. She was not accustomed to having so much time for herself and suffered a restless itching because she would not start work at the hospital until the end of June.

  As he had intimated he would, Carpenter called on her Saturday, midmorning. “Could we take a drive, Tabs?” Carpenter asked. He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and they descended the front steps of Palmer House together. Carpenter led her down the walkway and out to the street where Banks had the car waiting.

  “Where are we going?”

  “It is a surprise,” Carpenter grinned.

  For a change, Tabitha felt free—as light as a feather. For no particular reason, she laughed aloud.

  “You are happy,” Mason remarked. He grinned again. “I like seeing you happy, Tabs.”

  Twenty minutes later they pulled onto the edge of a grassy field and Carpenter’s surprise became apparent. Tabitha stared out the window at the short line of aeroplanes ahead of them.

  “Wh-what are we doing here?” Tabitha stuttered.

  “Do not worry. I am not planning to take you up today. But I wanted you to meet my friend and see the plane I am thinking of buying.”

  “Very well.” Relieved, Tabitha blew out a great breath and then asked, “Will I be able to go close to one of the aeroplanes? Perhaps touch it?”

  “Certainly. If you like, we can let you sit in one of them. Is that something you would enjoy?”

  She swallowed. “Perhaps. I do not know.”

  This time he chuckled. “You will never have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable when you are with me, Tabs. I do not believe in forcing others to do what amuses me. Let us just have some fun together, shall we?”

  She nodded, further relieved, and felt herself growing a little excited. “All right. Yes!”

  A tall, gangly man waved at them from down the field. “That’s Cliff. He was my instructor. Now he is quite a good friend. He owns the biplane I hope to purchase.”

  “Why is he selling his aeroplane?” Tabitha asked. “Is there something wrong with it?”

  “No, not a bit of it. We have been using this aeroplane to give lessons. But, the thing is, he is leaving for England shortly and is in a rush to sell it before he goes.”

  “Oh? Why is he in such a hurry?”

  “Ah, well, he is volunteering to train British pilots.”

  “England does not have flying instructors?”

  Carpenter shook his head. “You know the Brits are expecting war to break out in Europe any moment, Tabs. As a Canadian, Cliff feels honor-bound to help the Empire. The British wish to have many trained pilots who can fly reconnaissance for the military. I
t is a brilliant idea, of course. From an aeroplane a pilot can see for miles in all directions.”

  “I see,” Tabitha answered him, but her heart was troubled at the mention of a coming war.

  Banks parked the car a short distance from the line of planes and Carpenter helped Tabitha to step out. “Do watch where you step, my dear. We pilots lease this field from a farmer but his steers also graze here.” He snorted. “And they—and what they leave behind—can be quite the impediment when trying to land.”

  “I grew up on a farm,” Tabitha laughed, “so thank you for the warning!”

  They drew near Carpenter’s pilot friend and Carpenter introduced Tabitha. “Miss Hale, may I present Mr. Clifford St. Alban? Cliff, this is Miss Hale.”

  Tabitha shook hands with St. Alban while studying his strange attire—warm trousers, a padded, belted coat, and a wool scarf. She was particularly caught by the soft leather hat that completely enclosed his head and the odd eyewear dangling from around his neck.

  St. Alban saw her eyes lingering on his getup. “Up in the air the temperatures are much cooler than here on the ground, sometimes quite cold. We bundle up before we fly. Of course, wind is a factor, too. My helmet covers my head and protects my ears—and the strap keeps the helmet from blowing away.”

  “The goggles keep our eyes from watering,” Carpenter interjected. “The goggles fit our faces quite snugly so the wind cannot blow inside them or rip them from our faces when we are far up in the air.”

  Tabitha’s eyes grew larger as she understood that Carpenter had been “far up in the air” many times. She glanced up and shuddered. Both men laughed at her shiver.

  “Come see the planes, Tabs,” Carpenter urged her. They walked toward the four aeroplanes parked alongside the field and Carpenter strode up to the third in the row.

  “This aeroplane was made by Mr. Glenn Curtiss. It is a tractor model. Look—it has two seats, side-by-side. When I was learning, Cliff sat next to me while I operated the controls. This is how we train new pilots.”