by Janette Oke
“Oh.” Followed by silence.
Lillian frowned, confused.
They loaded into the car. Grace opted to be among those who made the walk home. From the front passenger seat, with Bryony on her lap, Lillian watched out the window as the car rolled past the trio who were on foot. The children inside waved. George and Lemuel waved back, but Grace walked resolutely forward. Lillian felt a bristle of concern on the back of her neck.
During lunch Grace seemed withdrawn. She conversed with others but seemed to make no effort to include Lillian and Walter in her conversation. By the time the dishes were done, Lillian had become quite worried. Preparations were made for the afternoon walk, and finally she had a moment to motion Grace aside.
“Is there something wrong? Have I done something that’s upset you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve hardly spoken to me. Is it Walter? Are you upset I invited him to lunch?” Lillian watched the rise and fall of Grace’s quick breaths. She was clearly distressed. “What is it, Grace? Please tell me.”
She shook her head. “It isn’t fair. I keep telling myself that I’m being unfair. But I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“About what?”
Her hands twisted together in front of her for a moment, and she seemed reluctant to lift her eyes and admit her concerns. “No, I’m being unreasonable. I’m sorry. It’s wrong of me to be upset by this. Please try to forget it. I’ll try too.” Grace hurried away, leaving Lillian bewildered and sad.
As Lillian prepared for the birthday celebration, stringing ribbons above the dining room table and fashioning paper hats, worry crowded out most of her joy. She was certain the cause of Grace’s offense was Walter, but she had no idea what her sister might find upsetting about their relationship. Did she think they’d behaved improperly? Was she jealous of the time given to him? Did she find him intrusive? Unsuitable? Walter? What on earth could be wrong?
Lemuel was the last to enter the house after their Sunday afternoon walk. He’d dawdled beside the back door, scanning around the yard to see if Ember the kitten was nearby. Now that she was mostly grown, she was more often than not out in the woods hunting. A commotion had already begun inside the house by the time Lemuel made his way in through the back door leading to the kitchen.
“Oh, what is it, Miss Grace? What is it?” Hazel stood in the hallway near the foyer, jumping in place.
“It’s a party, darling! For all of you!”
Harrison halted at the dining room doorway, incredulous. “What for?”
“Well, it’s kind of a birthday celebration.” Miss Grace was beaming with joy. “We don’t know everyone’s actual birthday, and we’ve missed out on a couple of yours, so we decided to just pick today and make it a party for all.”
Lemuel approached, let his eyes sweep around the room, at the decorations, at the other children, at the extra guests. Bryony’s wide-eyed expression became a merry smile. Matty scooped up the stack of folded hats and began to pass them out, one per child—including Andrew and Paul Mooreland. He insisted they be worn. Lemuel accepted his with guarded enthusiasm. It still wasn’t clear to him what had brought on the sudden need for festivities. But the wrapped gifts that sat in front of seven places at the table were interesting. He wasn’t sure he’d ever received a wrapped gift before. At least, he couldn’t recall one. He slipped the hat onto his head and tied the string in place.
“Miss Lillian, where do we sit?”
The question seemed to jolt Miss Lillian out of a stupor. Chairs were already being pushed aside as small hands tried to reach for the ribbons that tied up the little bundles. “All right, please listen. George is here, next to Hazel. Then Harrison and then Bryony. Miss Tilly is next at the end—at the place without a gift.” Miss Lillian was moving around the table, gesturing to each seat. “Then comes Matty next, and Milton, followed by Lemuel, Andrew, and Paul. As we don’t have enough chairs, I thought the rest of the adults could stand.”
“Can we open ’em now, Miss Lillian?”
“Let’s wait, Hazel. Let’s get you all seated first.”
More bumping of chairs as their occupants settled themselves. At last they were all ready and waiting impatiently.
“I think we’ll say a prayer first, then open your gifts—and then we’ll have cake.”
Most eyes around the table closed. Lemuel gazed from child to child at the bowed heads. Were these presents just more bounty that had been stolen away from Miss Lillian’s father? Would he be angry about this too? But with a flash of clarity, he decided he didn’t care. Let the consequences fall where they may, it was too important to accept the joy he was seeing around him now. If he wasted it all on fear of the unknown—on fear that at any moment the good would evaporate before him—it might be the last good moment he’d know. He dropped his gaze and closed his eyes. God, I don’t know what You’re plannin’, but thanks for this anyhow. Thanks for just letting us be happy for a while together.
CHAPTER 17
George
From the time of the birthday party to the departure of the children for school on Monday morning, Grace and Lillian had not been alone together. The front door clicked shut and Lillian felt the heaviness between them was instantly conspicuous.
“I think I’ll help by gathering laundry.” Grace moved away up the stairs.
For a moment Lillian intended to stop her but changed her mind. It’s Grace’s decision to be aloof. She already claimed the problem as her own. It’s her prerogative to address it in her own time.
Turning in the opposite direction toward the kitchen and Miss Tilly, Lillian volunteered, “I’ll fetch the laundry tub from the cellar.”
“Thank you, sis.”
The morning proceeded in much the same manner, Grace avoiding conversation, Lillian therefore avoiding Grace. By lunch they were each in their own worlds, closed off. Lillian felt defeated.
Just as they sat down at the table, Lillian heard the front door open and close again quietly. “Who on earth?”
Grace hurried from her seat to the front entry. Lillian heard her gasp. “What are you doing here?”
Lillian and Miss Tilly followed immediately. There stood George, removing his coat slowly to expose his brand-new shirt torn at the shoulder, patches of dirt staining his knickers.
“What on earth happened?” Lillian asked.
“Nothin’.”
“Oh, George, this isn’t nothing. What happened to you?”
He lifted his hand. It held a note. Grace received it from him. Lillian closed her eyes.
“Please go up and change into your play clothes,” Grace said. “Then bring these down to the kitchen. Maybe we can scrub some of the stains off while they’re still fresh.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He kicked off his new shoes and headed up the stairs.
That’s all Grace has to say to him? No questions asked? No words of encouragement to a visibly shaken child? Something was sorely amiss.
Lillian followed her sister into the dining room. Grace walked to the far end, standing at the bay window before she opened the note. She read it aloud, “‘Miss Bennett and Miss Walsh, Mr. Thompson requests a meeting with you after school today in order to discuss a fight that took place between George and Albert McCready.’”
George has been in a fight? Lillian’s eyes flashed back toward the stairs. She asked aloud, “Was he hurt? We didn’t even ask him if he was hurt.”
Grace groaned. “We’ll ask when he comes back.”
George allowed their inspection after he returned and seated himself in the kitchen. He had a swollen knob on the back of his head that he claimed had been caused by rolling on the ground in the schoolyard. The skin on one hand had a little raw patch at his knuckles. And still, Grace was able to get very little additional information from him. He would only admit that an argument had broken out during recess and had escalated quickly.
“This isn’t like you, George. I’ve never known you to have a temper. W
hat was the fight about?”
“Nothin’.”
“No, I’m sorry, young man. That’s not good enough. You’re going to have to tell me what happened.”
There was a trace of sorrow in his persistent denial. “It weren’t nothin’.”
Grace rose from the seat beside him. “Miss Lillian and I will speak to Mr. Thompson after school. If there is anything else we should know before that conversation, you’d be wise to share it with us soon. For now, George, I want you to—you must fill—no, you must first finish your schoolwork, and then if there’s time remaining, I want you to chop wood until the others come home.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He walked past Lillian. She fought the urge to reach out and gather him into her arms. But Grace must know better, so Lillian allowed him to pass.
For the second time the sisters waited in Mr. Thompson’s office for him to arrive. This time the discussion was apt to be far more serious. Lillian licked at her lips and swallowed several times in an attempt to overcome her dry mouth.
“Good afternoon.” Mr. Thompson’s voice was stern already as he settled into his chair. “I’m sorry to have to call you both in, but I appreciate that you’ve come.” He began to swivel back and forth in preparation to speak.
Grace was unwilling to wait. “How is the other boy? Was he hurt too?”
Lillian remembered George’s raw knuckles and hoped he’d done no harm.
“He’ll have a black eye. This was a serious altercation.”
“Do you know who started it? How it started?”
“None of the children is willing to answer that question. We’ve asked a few of their classmates who were present. But we’ve been given no good answer. I assume George was unwilling to tell you.”
Grace nodded her head.
Lillian leaned forward in her chair. “What will you do?”
For a moment Mr. Thompson sat quietly. He sighed. “I think we’ll need to take action on this. Unless I have more information, I’ll have to suspend both boys for a period of time. At this point, I would say one week. We can’t abide fighting on the school grounds.”
It was settled. George would be unable to attend school for a week. The long walk home was cold and unpleasant.
Miss Tilly was able to mend George’s shirt so that the tear was fairly imperceptible. The change in his heart was much more obvious. He snapped at the other boys, and he was sullen to everyone. The week of his punishment dragged by slowly. Lillian found no reason to believe that his attitude regarding his actions had improved. It seemed that he’d chosen to fester with resentment instead.
But after his return to school, the days began to pass by without additional incident. Lillian gradually forgot her fears. She overlooked the simmering expression on his face at meals. She focused instead on the changes that had come over Grace. They were amiable to one another, but their confidence in their partnership seemed to have been shaken. It showed in a million little ways in their lagging, stilted conversations—particularly when the children were gone away at school.
One such afternoon, Grace lowered the costume she’d been working on. “Roxie Mooreland would like to have Bryony settled with them by the end of the month. Is there anything you can think of that we can do to make the transition easier?”
“I don’t think so. I think she’s very prepared for the changes. Their visits have gone well, and she seems completely at ease with them.”
“Fine then, I’ll tell Roxie that we’ll have her things packed and ready to go soon.”
“Oh, but we’ll miss her.”
“Of course.” Grace’s words were softened by sadness. She began stitching again. “Oh, and I received a note from Miss Tilly’s friend Rosemary. She says there’s a couple in Hope Valley who are seriously considering adopting George and Hazel.”
“Without meeting them?”
“Well, they’d come here for that purpose.”
Lillian pondered the idea for a moment. “That’s a possibility, of course. I wonder if it might help George to switch to a new school. I wouldn’t say so normally, but with his recent troubles . . .”
Without looking up, Grace said, “Yes, maybe.”
It’s not my place, Lillian reminded herself. Grace’s withdrawal is her own choice. She should have the space she needs to resolve it. Her mind went back to the children. “I’m not sure I could say the same about Hazel. She’s putting down some good roots here. I’d hate to sever that.”
“True. But in the end, having a family to care for them is more important than school.”
“I agree. But if this couple is serious, maybe we should make a trip that direction. It would help the children to see the town, to get a sense of the situation there.”
“Perhaps Walter would drive you.”
Lillian stood. She’d had enough. “I wouldn’t ask him. I wouldn’t take advantage of his generosity like that.” Drawing her letter box from the cabinet, she muttered, “I’m going to write to Father. I’ll be back down again shortly.” She started to ascend the stairs.
Just then a loud knock echoed in the entryway. Lillian’s first thought was of George. Is he home again? Has there been more trouble?
She headed to answer it, dreading what she might find.
“Good afternoon, ma’am. Is this the Walsh residence?” The man before her was cheerful and pleasant, medium build with striking blue eyes. “I’ve got a delivery for Grace Bennett and I’ve been told this is where she lives.”
“Yes, thank you. Yes, I’ll get Grace. Please step in.”
Grace appeared in an instant. “Roland? Is that you?”
“Hi, Grace! I hoped you’d be home when I got here.”
Grace approached with a broad smile. “I had no idea they’d send you. How are you? How’s work going?” And then without waiting for an answer, she said, “I’m sorry. Lillian, this is Roland Scott. We worked in Lethbridge together.”
“Pleased to meet you, miss.” He tipped his fedora and nodded toward Lillian.
“I’ll get my coat, Rolly. I’ll help you bring things in.”
They disappeared together out the front door. Lillian stood confused. Who was this Roland? Why did his name sound familiar? No, she determined she wouldn’t be sidetracked. Rather defiantly she lifted her wrap from its hook and followed behind.
“I’m sorry it took so long to get these supplies to you,” the man was explaining to Grace. “We were just about ready and then we received the letter about the twin boys. Sid had to make contact with the former parents and get them to sign off before we were able to send a reply. It took longer than anyone guessed. But aren’t they a pair! Those parents! So I hope you haven’t been too inconvenienced with your long wait for these supplies.”
“We’ve made do.”
“Well, Sid told me to tell you it wasn’t for lack of concern. We just wanted to be able to give you an answer on those boys too, about whether or not I’d need to shuttle ’em back with me.”
Grace stopped in her tracks. “And do you—need to take them back?”
He laughed. Even from where Lillian stood, she could see his blue eyes twinkling at Grace. “We figured that would be your first concern. No, I don’t need to bring ’em back, but you don’t have to be responsible if you’d rather not be either. We don’t want you to think you have to take on everybody else’s problems too.”
“Oh, we’d like to keep them. For sure.”
“Yup, that’s what we figured you’d say. It’s not over, though, not all the way—you should know that. The man who works for the society will be back in a month or two. He’ll have the final say about where they go. Can you keep them that long? Because they won’t be adoptable again until he has his say.”
Grace looked down, twisted at a button on her coat. “Well . . . Matty needs a little surgery, and we’ve been waiting to hear back. The doctor here in town is ready to do it—we were just waiting to hear from you all. Can we proceed now?”
“Yes
, you’re free to make that decision. I have papers releasing both of the boys. But I’ve got more good news. . . . I’m not supposed to go right back. I’m supposed to hang around a little and see what I can help you with.”
“You are? Where will you stay?”
“Sid knows a local pastor. Simon Bukowski, I think?”
“Pastor Bucky?”
“Yeah, that’s what I was told he goes by—Bucky. Anyway, I’m to stay with him.”
Lillian watched Grace’s smile. It flashed a little brighter than usual. She seemed to give more attention to Roland’s presence than was typical. Was there a spark between them? He seemed similarly interested. Was that the reason he was the one who had been sent? Perhaps had requested to make the trip?
They were already unloading his car. Lillian said very little. She watched them closely instead, carrying in boxes after them.
“Rolly, just set those down on the table. I’d like you to meet Miss Tilly, our housekeeper. Or rather, I should say that her name is Mrs. Till-en-dynd. She’s the one who’s been stretching our supplies while we waited for you to arrive.”
“And I’m powerful grateful to see you’ve brung us more. I thank you, sir, and I thank the good Lord fer sending ya.”
Soon the workroom shelves were filled again with provisions for the cold months ahead. The money was another matter. There were still only funds promised until Christmas. Perhaps that was the source of Grace’s troubled spirit. Lillian hoped that now things might return to normal again. And she wondered how many children would remain in their care until then. Would they all be settled somewhere by spring—by next summer when Father was due home? Surely, surely, a loving God will provide homes before so many more months have crawled past.
“Whose turn is it ta go to the Thompsons’?” George had draped himself over the stair rail, posing the question to Lemuel and Harrison, who were just coming in from shoveling coal.
“Harrison’s. I went yesterday.”
“Oh yeah. I forgot.” He lowered himself to a seated position on the second step. “I wish I could get a job. Aw, beans! I wish I could just quit school and go to work instead.”