A Second Chance

by Linda Byler

  Edna stayed cocooned in her room the remainder of the day, napping, writing letters, thinking about Florida, and wondering when her next job would be on the message line. She was ready to go.

  It wasn’t until the middle of February that the call came through. Allan and Laura Mast, a young couple who lived twelve miles away, clear on the other side of Topeka, had a baby boy. She could wait to come till Monday morning, since the mother was spending the weekend.

  Before leaving, Edna helped her mother bind a quilt and make a pot of vegetable soup. She sewed a new dress in olive green, a different color for her, but one that would bring out the olive tones in her brown complexion. She packed her duffel bag with the usual assortment of colorful dresses and white aprons, made sure she had her L.L. Bean moccasins and plenty of ankle socks, flannel pajamas, and a heavy robe. Some houses she stayed in were positively freezing, especially the upstairs of old farmhouses.

  She had never been a maud for Allan and Laura and had no idea where they lived. She looked forward to meeting a new family. This baby was not their first, but she had never been told how many they had.

  On Monday morning, her father told her gravely that Orva Schlabach’s wife, Sarah, had taken a turn for the worse. They gave her only weeks to live.

  “The poor girl. I can’t imagine Orva’s despair. And those children. Emery said the oldest boy is thirteen.”

  Her mother shook her head. “What a tender age. So hard under normal circumstances. No longer a child, but not grown up yet. Ach my.”

  Edna was drawing the zipper around the top of her black duffel bag. She heard only part of her parents’ conversation but stopped to ask how they expected to keep house without a mother. Usually, members of the family would help out, taking their turn.

  “I don’t know. I guess they aren’t talking about that yet, hoping for a miracle at the last hour,” her mother said gravely.

  Edna felt bad for the young mother, the husband, and children, but had only met them at Dave Chupp’s, so she had no close emotional ties to the family. Occupied with her preparations, she pushed it to the back of her mind and let it go.

  The Allan Mast residence was located only a few hundred feet off the well-traveled route 891. It was a new two-story house covered in gray siding with a long, wide porch out front, the walls covered in decorative stone that matched the siding perfectly, concrete urns placed on either side of the welcoming red front door.

  A barn/shop combination accompanied the house, in a darker shade of gray metal, with the same stone beneath a smaller porch. Shrubs of different varieties were placed at attractive angles, with bird feeders and birdbaths below young trees, which only added to the pleasant setting. The lawn spread to the road and beyond, covered in the melting snow, but Edna could tell everything was groomed and polished.

  She was met at the door by a woman who looked young enough to be the mother, dressed in a neat purple dress, her covering and hair flawless.

  She extended a hand, a bright smile of welcome on her face.

  “Hello. You must be Edna Miller.” She said quietly.

  Edna heard the patter of little feet, and a dark-haired, dark-eyed child clasped her arms around the purple skirt, peering up with an inquisitive gaze.

  “I am Edna. Do I have the right place?”

  “Yes, you do. How did you find it?”

  “Oh you know. All you need is the address and those square wonders called GPS devices get you there.”

  “Oh, absolutely. Well, come on in. We’re glad to see you. Although I’m not ready to leave yet. This baby boy is a darling.”

  She set her duffel bag on the rug; her eyes took in the beige and white palette of the house, the tasteful furnishings, the large rugs placed on high-quality wood flooring.

  From the reclining position on the large, gray, overstuffed couch, a soft voice greeted her.

  “Good morning. You must be Edna Miller. How are you?

  “I’m fine, thank you. And how about you?”

  “Well, considering I just had a baby boy, I’m O.K.”

  She sat up, put the fleece blanket to an adjoining chair, smoothed her blond hair and adjusted the black dichly that covered the back of her head.

  She was very pretty, with her blue eyes and a porcelain complexion, only a shadow of weariness beneath her eyes. Slim, with her robe cinched around a small waist, the young mother looked to be still a teenager.

  Edna looked from the dark-haired child to the blond, blue-eyed mother, a question in her eyes.

  A tinkling laugh, with perfect white teeth.

  “Oh, I know. Alicia is all mine. Ours. She’s the spitting image of Allan. As dark as he is. Now go look at little Adrian.”

  The mother beckoned her to a small bassinet, covered in white.

  Edna bent to lift the blue crocheted blanket away from the pale little face, the bald head complete with only a dusting of fine whitish hair. He was a beautiful boy; he just lacked hair and the dark coloring of his sister.

  “Isn’t that something?” Edna whispered.

  The mother chuckled. “I hope he will keep his blue eyes. But you know how they say the brown eyes usually dominate.”

  Edna nodded.

  She was led to the kitchen table, which was seemingly in the same room as the living area, the open floor plan creating a large, airy atmosphere. It was a sunny home filled with light and happiness. A steaming mug of coffee was placed in front of her, along with a plate containing a warm cinnamon roll.

  “Laura, you want your tea?”

  “Sure. I’ll be out. Come, Allie, you want some tea?”

  So she was Allie. With all the children Edna had encountered at her job as a maud, this one was almost too cute for an accurate description.

  She didn’t look real. A doll, really, and by all appearances, as sweet-natured as she was pretty.

  She climbed up on a chair, her knees bent, her little elbows propped beneath her chin, turned her dark eyes to Edna and said in perfect Dutch, “Das bisht glay, gel?” It meant, “You are little, right?”

  Edna laughed, wanted to reach out and grab her for a good, long hug, but drank her coffee and said, “Yes, you’re right. I’m not very tall.”

  Laura smiled and told Edna she couldn’t take responsibility for everything that came out of Allie’s mouth.

  “That’s alright. I have heard a lot worse from children.”

  “I’m sure. Do you enjoy your work as a maud? You know, you should be called something nicer, like caregiver, or nurse, or something,” Laura said, turning to look at her mother, who nodded in agreement.

  The whole morning spent at the kitchen table was focused on her, both Laura and her mother curious, eager to hear about her life.

  They told her she could probably write a book, and how interesting that would be to read of all her different experiences.

  “Oh, I couldn’t do that. I’m no writer, and I could hardly be truthful. People would see themselves, so no.”

  She shook her head, a shadow of remembering Dave and Emma Chupp crossing her face.

  “I can well imagine,” Laura said kindly.

  Edna was surprised to feel the sting of tears behind her eyelids.

  She prided herself in being unscathed, untouched by the homes that were less than enjoyable, tried to keep the negative thoughts at bay. But when kindness came unexpectedly, she let her walls down a bit and she felt the bitterness of defeat, whether she admitted to it or not. But to relate past experiences, to go from one house to the next spreading gossip, well, it simply wasn’t done.

  No matter how tempted she was, it wasn’t right to speak ill of anyone. Each family had a history, an upbringing, and were placed on earth in different circumstances. We all have nature and genes created by God, whose knowledge and wisdom were mysterious, so who was she to judge?

  She dug into the warm cinnamon roll, drank coffee, and felt as if she had known these two women her whole life.

  She did laundry, baked pies and cookies in
the bright kitchen, complete with the best bowls, a mixer, and every staple in the pantry she could imagine. Tupperware containers were set in orderly rows and labeled, holding oatmeal and brown sugar, 10x sugar, instant pudding of every variety, baking cocoa, and chocolate chips.

  The sunlight, with little Allie talking in her lisping voice, the kindness that radiated from Laura, all of it was a dream come true. After what felt like the insurmountable challenges she had faced at the Chupps’, this home seemed almost unfairly wonderful.

  When Allan Mast came home from work, tall, dark, and handsome with the conventional good looks of a movie star, his kindness and appreciation like Laura’s, it seemed as if she should pay them to enjoy her time with Allie, basking in the praise as Allan bit into his first forkful of her apple pie.

  One day blended into the next as she performed her duties, often resting on the couch with Laura, as they talked and laughed, cuddled the baby, and read stories to Allie.

  One afternoon Laura asked Edna if she’d ever thought about the names of her husband and children. Allan, Alicia (Allie), and Adrian. And she was plain old Laura.

  “Our names spell ‘Laaa.’ Like a stuck La-la.”

  They laughed together, happy to be in each other’s company. Edna knew she had found a true friend, one she would aspire to imitate the rest of her life.

  But she found herself watching the clock as the hands moved slowly from the two to the three, every afternoon. There was only a small amount of work, a house that seemingly never became dusty or dirty. Cleaning was a breeze, with a battery-powered Hoover that sucked up the dirt every bit as efficiently as an electric vacuum cleaner.

  After day six, she finally admitted to herself that she was bored. Just dreadfully bored with the perfection of it all. There was no challenge, no using of her abilities to set everything right, no satisfaction of making a difference to some overworked, underappreciated mother. She felt as if she was being smothered in Cool Whip, all light and frothy and delicious.

  On Sunday morning she made a pot of her famous sausage gravy with homemade biscuits she mixed from scratch. The praise was warm and genuine, even from Allie, who broke bits of biscuit into her gravy and scooped it into her mouth. The orange juice was perfect, the coffee piping hot, just the way Allan liked it. The pancakes were absolutely the best thing they’d ever tasted, and the syrup warmed just the way they loved it.

  She was the best thing that ever happened to them.

  Baby Adrian hardly ever cried, and when he did, it was only a few hoarse little whimpers that were immediately remedied. The Huggies diapers were soiled at regular intervals, disposed of into the Diaper Genie that left no odors whatsoever.

  Allie played with her assortment of dolls and toys, and had been perfectly potty trained months before the baby arrived. She went all by herself, awash in her mother’s praise.

  So why wasn’t Edna immediately soaring to the heights this kind family instilled in her? She was loved and appreciated beyond anything she had ever experienced, and should’ve been, well . . . happy. But the truth was, she could hardly wait till the two weeks were over. Edna thought about this strange occurrence, wondered if perhaps she was turning into a sour old maid who was so used to wallowing in misery that anything this close to perfection only served to send her scuttling sideways, crab-like, under the rock of her own dark expectations.

  But Edna decided she couldn’t help being bored. She liked a challenge, hard work, and tumbling into bed at night so bone-weary she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

  When the second Monday morning of her stay finally arrived, she left the house well stocked with homemade bread, granola cereal, casseroles in the freezer, and a layered chocolate cake with caramel frosting under its glass dome on the Pfaltzgraff cake stand.

  She left with her usual wages plus a hundred-dollar tip, swimming in effusive praise, warm hugs, pictures Allie had drawn and colored, and a gift card for Target in an undisclosed amount.

  Allan and Laura Mast were an exceptional young couple. They were what every young couple aspired to be on the day they were married.

  And for this, Edna could thank God and give Him the honor and praise.

  But she knew she needed more.

  CHAPTER 6

  SPRING SHOWED A FEW FLIRTATIOUS COLORS, YELLOW AND PURPLE crocuses peeping up among soggy brown leaves and layers of melting snow that still lay on the north side of the buildings and in low places. Water dripped from eaves, lay in puddles in gravel driveways, and dropped onto snowbanks and left indentations in a straight row.

  Edna thought she could smell the change in the air as she hung out laundry, appreciating the color of soft earth that promised new growth. Her fingers were freezing, however, with the cold breeze turning them red and aching. Nothing she wasn’t used to, so she lowered her hands and shook them well to restore circulation.

  She was washing her parents’ bedding, every blanket and quilt she could find, the afghans her mother crocheted in brilliant colors, and covers off the pillows on the couch. Edna even washed all the many little throw rugs that were drawn across the floor, like patches of ice perfect for causing her parents to slip and fall.

  These throw rugs were a necessary part of her mother’s well-being, evidently, so whatever, but they were being washed. And they would likely be washed many times in the future since her parents had paid seven hundred dollars for a Yorkshire terrier. A tiny brown and black dust mop that peed on the rug by the door whenever her parents failed to hear his whines, which was more often than Edna had any idea.

  She couldn’t believe it when she came home from her stay at the Masts and this small dog came clicking across the linoleum like a dust mop come to life. She gazed down into two sparkling brown eyes that looked up at her with all the wisdom of small dogs, sizing her up and deciding she was worth some excitement, whereupon the terrier let loose a very small amount of yellow urine.

  “Oh, now, Trixie. She does that,” her mother trilled, scurrying to grab a wad of paper towels.

  “Mam! A dog. Why a dog?” Edna wailed.

  “Oh now, Edna. She’s so cute. Dat and I need some entertainment. She’s downright the cutest thing we ever saw. You should see her with Dat.”

  Grinning broadly from his perch on the oversized chair, with all the pride of a new father, he shook his head in wonder, said she stood in front of his chair and yipped the most adorable little barks until he reached down to lift her up to his lap.

  “Just like a child,” he chortled.

  Edna bit her tongue, literally. Her eyebrows lowered, her nostrils flared, but all the protests stayed buried beneath a layer of parental respect.

  She did not like dogs. Especially small dogs. Especially Yorkies, those yipping little ankle biters. Now how was she going to live in the same house with a brown dog the size of a good shoe lumpa that seemed to leak from his bladder whenever anyone talked to him. As if her aging parents weren’t enough to send her clutching at the edge of her sanity.

  She banged the door to the laundry room after the last load was on the line, those denim trousers that seemed as wide as a blanket, really. She bet her father’s waist was at least a forty-eight.

  She rinsed the tubs, swept the floor, then filled the blue plastic bucket with hot water, added a squirt of Palmolive dish detergent, got a rag from the shelf beside the wringer washer, and set to work cleaning the brown and gray linoleum.

  She hummed, whistled below her breath, her right arm making swiping motions as she cleaned. She heard the distinctive clicking of tiny dog toenails on the floor, sat back and waited, thinking. Huh-uh. Oh no, you don’t. Not on my clean floor.

  On she came, in her rocking little gait, her brown eyes eager to greet this person who resembled her own species, down on her hands and knees like that.

  “Hey! Git!”

  Edna made shooing motions with her hands. Trixie regarded her with bright questioning eyes, her stubby little tail whirring. She decided Edna wanted to play and bounc
ed on over, her mouth open, her tongue lolling.

  “No! Git! Get away from this wet floor.”

  She placed a hand beneath the tiny dog and lifted her, giving her a good head start to the kitchen. Trixie didn’t want to go to the kitchen, she wanted to play with Edna, so she turned around and started back.

  “Mam!” Edna wailed. “Come get your dog!”

  Her father lumbered to the door of the laundry room, bent over and snapped his fingers.

  “Komm, Trixie honey. Komm.”

  Oh, so now it was “honey.” She glared at her father, who smiled back at her and shook his head.

  “You’ll get used to her. She’s a real companion. A joy to have around.”

  “I bet,” Edna said bitterly. She pictured herself washing urine-soaked rugs and pillow covers wet with dog saliva, eating soup with dog hair in it.

  Her mother cooked her usual breakfast of fried eggs and cornmeal mush, tomato gravy and thick slices of toast made from homemade bread in the broiler section of the oven. There was a small crockery pot of butter, a glass container of strawberry jam, water, and coffee. Her parents did not like the taste of orange juice, too sour they claimed, and so they swallowed Vitamin C pills and called it good enough.

  The kitchen was sunny and pleasant, her parents both pleased to have her there, with conversation flowing easily. Her mother was looking forward to having Sadie come for coffee this morning, which Edna was pleased to hear. Her husband, Harley, had gone to Canada with his coworkers at the welding shop where he spent most of his days, so Sadie said she deserved a treat and would spend the afternoon shopping.

  “Harley loves to fish, and this is the opportunity of a lifetime,” her father commented, spreading an enormous amount of butter on the thickest slice of toast Edna had ever seen.

  She opened her mouth and closed it again. If he wanted to sit there eating half a loaf of bread, then she guessed he’d just have to.

  The remainder of the morning passed quickly, with dishes washed, kitchen swept, a fresh pot of coffee put on the stove, and a variety of cookies and bars arranged on a plate in anticipation of Sadie’s arrival.