Jo stomped her foot. “All right, you two. You’re welcomed to take over.”
Margaret turned away from Jo as she struggled to maintain her own chuckle from escaping. She sat at the table, her attention fell on Fiona, glad to see her interact with the family instead of moping in her room. Despite another burned breakfast they’d still force themselves to eat. Margaret loved the playful atmosphere.
“Wouldn’t be a problem if Tessa were here,” Jo mumbled, dishing out the blackened remains of eggs and ham. A single tear slid down her right cheek. “She can cook.”
Adam’s head bobbed up from the inspection of his breakfast. “Tessa make cookies?”
“The very best,” Jo answered with a strained smile.
Jo sat at the table, and Margaret gave a pat to her shoulder meant to offer reassurance. “Hold out a little longer, honey. We’ll figure out some way. Maybe Warren will come around.” Fiona and Jo snorted simultaneously. “Well, it would be nice.”
There was a knock at the back door, and Nicholas opened it enough to stick his head in. “Everyone decent?” Even Adam joined in the chorus of no’s. “Goody,” Nicholas said. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Uh-oh. Jo’s turn to cook?”
“Ha, ha, funny. Keep it up, and I’ll sit on your chest and scrape off the fuzz you call a mustache.”
Nicholas guffawed. “Bad morning?” He sat in the empty chair across from Jo.
“Something like that,” Margaret answered for Jo. “I believe the fault is with the skillet.” She grinned at him when he responded with a quirked eyebrow. “You’re more than welcome to join us.”
Adam wrinkled his nose and nudged his plate forward. “You can have mine.”
“Adam, finish your breakfast,” Margaret said.
“Okay,” he said, voice sullen.
“You’ll need your energy,” Margaret said. “You’ll be coming to school with me today. It’s the last day, and I thought you’d like to be with the other children.”
Adam paled. He didn’t say anything for a long time, then asked, “Do I have ta? I wanna stay here.”
Fiona’s brow furrowed. “It’ll be good for you to get out, be around other kids.”
“Wanna stay here.” His voice was so quiet. Margaret wondered if he’d been punished for speaking his mind.
“Are you afraid the other kids will be mean?” Jo asked. Adam shook his head. “’Cause, if they are, Auntie Jo will give them her mean look.” She crossed her arms and presented her fiercest scowl.
Nicholas gave a feigned shudder. “Goodness. Remind me to stay on your good side.”
“Are there any reasons you don’t want to go?” Fiona asked. Adam shrugged. Not able to see, Fiona reached out, settling a hand on the top of his head. “Sweetie, if we know what’s bothering you, we can fix it.”
Margaret leaned forward and placed her elbows on the table. “I’ll be with you the whole time and never leave your side. None of the children will say or do anything to hurt you.” Adam squirmed in his chair. Margaret sighed. She didn’t want him afraid but didn’t want to incite emotional trauma by forcing him to do what he wasn’t comfortable with doing. “I’d hoped you would want to spend time with me today. Maybe I can find someone to come by and look after you.”
Adam’s expression revealed guilt. He was too young to be remorseful for emotions he probably couldn’t identify. “I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t have to if you’re not comfortable, Adam,” Margaret explained.
Nicholas raised his hand, schoolroom style. “Ooh, can I have his cookie.”
“I get a cookie?” Adam asked as if that might be the only catalyst for his compliance.
“Aunt Margaret always has snacks and games for the last day. Bet you could talk her into more than one,” Fiona said in a stage-whisper.
“I won’t force you to come, Adam. I can bring a couple back for you.” She stood. “I’ll go see if I can find someone to watch you while I’m away. Nicholas and your aunts have a lot to do in the workshop today, or I’d let you stay with them.”
Adam got down from his chair, with only a little assistance from Fiona, and rushed toward her. “I’ll go. It’s okay.” But his tone suggested otherwise.
“Are you sure?” she asked. Adam nodded. “Thank you, Adam.” Margaret returned to her chair, and Adam crawled into her lap.
Fiona walked outside with Nicholas and Jo, ready to get some work completed. She fully intended to concentrate a lot of time with Margaret and Adam over the summer. Today, they had to fine-tune a piece or two, which they would load on the truck so Jo could make the deliveries. After today, any work done would be completely Jo’s commissions and responsibility. She could tell Jo looked forward to creating her own reputation, one beyond just being the youngest Cavanaugh sister. Jo needed this opportunity for self-growth and self-awareness, especially since the business would be solely hers when Fiona died.
Fiona was better at maneuvering the workshop without serious harm to herself or the tools, products, and tables. Fiona sat at her most comfortable workstation and sanded the few blemishes from her latest work before it would be labeled complete. Off to the left she could hear Jo and Nicholas loading the truck. Fiona grinned, picturing the perfectly groomed Nicholas working beside her tomboy sister, both probably perspiring with their efforts, as they chatted away with each other.
The gentle rasp of sandpaper across wood settled her. Fiona took this opportunity to rehash the odd reluctance to leave the house that Adam displayed at breakfast. What could be troubling the child to cause such distress? She was happy he agreed to go with Margaret, though hesitantly. Fiona decided she’d talk with Margaret tonight, discuss ways to broach the topic with Adam. They needed to find a resolution as a family.
“That’s the last one,” Jo announced. “I’ll get these dropped off, and then Cavanaugh Sisters can, for the most part, go on hiatus.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come along?” Nicholas asked. “I’m just as capable of unloading as loading.”
“I’ll manage. Besides, I’ll have help at each of the three stops.” Jo snickered. “Some men aren’t bothered by the way I dress when the wives are home. They’re expected to treat me nice, or their women tend to devise some nasty forms of penance.” A pause. “Fiona?” Jo strode closer to her. “It’s looking rather grey out today, will probably rain.” Fiona suspected where the weather update would lead. “Would it be all right if I drive downtown? Just in case I see anyone I know?”
Fiona bit her lower lip. She hated that Jo needed to suffer through subterfuge. But Fiona would have done and did, anything to find clandestine moments to be with Margaret. She at least had the guise of being male to assist in her efforts at the time. “Be careful, sweetie. Warren’s not the sharpest tool in the workshop, but he’s certainly sneaky enough to consider the same weather patterns as cover for furtive behavior.”
Jo kissed the top of Fiona’s head. “Not to worry. I’ll be cautious.” She squeezed Fiona in a tight hug. “Rest up. After today, Margaret and Adam are going to run you ragged.”
“Love you, Jo.” Fiona tapped the arms around her. “I hope you can find a few moments with Tessa. She’s pretty swell.”
“Yes, she is. Thanks, Fiona. Be back.” Then Jo was racing to the truck and driving away.
“Wish life could be more accommodating. For everyone, especially young people in love.” Fiona placed the sandpaper and box on the worktable. “I appreciate you helping.”
“Nothing you wouldn’t have done for me. Can I make a suggestion?” Fiona nodded. “Let’s take Jo’s advice. We’ll go back to the kitchen, I’ll make us coffee, and we can talk.” A silent interval, then, “If you’re amenable, I’d like your commentary on a matter, personal to you, but concerning a topic that we covered a couple weeks ago.”
Fiona could sense his tension. “That was long-winded. Are you saying you have questions relating to your feelings for Ruth?
And they can only be answered from an invasion of my personal life?”
“Wow, I’m glad you speak the language of awkward—and avoidance.” Nicholas chortled. “Coffee first?”
“Of course.” Always the gentleman, Nicholas escorted Fiona across the yard to the back door, seated her at the table, and fussed around the kitchen as he made coffee. All made Fiona grateful. “So, what’s on your mind, Nicholas?”
Fiona heard the solid clink of saucer and cup placed before her, in a not-so-subtle announcement of its location. Then, the slow scrape of chair legs on the floor before he sat. “Done a lot of soul-searching since my confession two weeks ago, which dredged up a lot of my feelings for Ruth.”
“Is that not a good thing?” she asked.
“Not if you consult the horrors of my sleepless nights. I’ve done Ruth a disservice, haven’t I?”
“And to yourself, Nicholas. Were you able to reach a decision?”
Nicholas inhaled deeply. “Just that she’s a chapter I really need to finish. When she refused to marry me, I thought Ruth didn’t love me with the same fervor I did for her. But, maybe, she strode closer alongside the truth than I recognized. Did I love her because of what she knew or despite it? When Ruth pushed me away, told me to find to my guiding star, I hurt with one more rejection. And, unlike with my biological family, loved her enough that her dismissal was soul-wrenching. I think part of me believed I hated Ruth for what I perceived as her perfidy.”
“She simply wanted you to be certain, Nicholas.” Fiona could follow this path of his. Nicholas would leave soon. She didn’t fault him wanting to do so. He truly did need closure. “Ruth needed you to do this for her, too. From what you told me Ruth battled her own demons. Did you love her because she stood by your side, and you owed her—”
“It wasn’t like that,” he said defensively.
“We know that, but did Ruth? She was shunned and stared at for her deformity all her life. Then, along comes someone who wants to be with her anyway. Could she have talked herself into believing you pitied her?” Fiona leaned closer to him, sliding the coffee cup toward the middle of the table, rested her elbows on the top. “One thing I know about, Nicholas, is being haunted by the monsters of our past. The hardest struggle in life is to see them for what they are and move beyond them. The struggles won’t always go away. But we can compartmentalize them, stuff them in the back corner of a mental cupboard. Silly as it may be if others knew about our family meetings, it’s what keeps us together and strong. Because we communicate.”
“How’d you get so smart?” Nicholas asked. “Fancy thinking going on there as well.”
She rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair. “Helps to be in love with a teacher. Margaret is above me in so many ways. But she doesn’t see life in that way. She is her best when I accept the exuberance when sharing a point of view, explaining in magnificent detail a topic that has caught her attention. Yes, sometimes she gets to a place where, true to my own upbringing and station, Margaret needs to dumb-down for me. The stupid street kid who never finished school.”
“Neither Margaret or I consider you stupid. That’s a hateful word. You have an intelligence that comes from the heart. Because of being a street kid.”
“Thanks.” She grudgingly accepted his compliment. “I do pick up things and, it benefits me, and Margaret sees I’m a better person for it. She knows my reactions are from wanting to be the best person I can be for her. And our love of each other, my love of her passion, humor, and understanding are why I love her so deeply.” Fiona suspected the future was as scary for Margaret as for her. She wanted eternity with Margaret but would have to settle for a handful of days, months, maybe a few more years. If she were lucky. Fiona needed to eke out every ounce of time they had remaining. Margaret should never doubt that Fiona loved her with everything she had to give. Fiona felt his hand on her arm. She apologized, swiped at tears she now felt fall.
“No need. The purging of this type of fluid is good for the body.” Nicholas gave a comforting squeeze. “You alright?”
Fiona sniffed and giggled. “Was that a fancy way to say crying is okay?”
“I do what I can.” His tone was teasing. She liked that best about him, his efforts to bring humor to temper an emotionally charged situation. “As you were saying, communication is important. Something Ruth and I should have done before emotions took over.”
“And why Margaret and I may take a step forward with Adam and find it prudent to often take two steps back. It’ll take time, but we’ll figure out Adam’s fear.”
Nicholas expelled a heavy breath. “Which brings me to a personal question. Before that, I’d like to say I pass no judgments but seek clarity.”
“That sounds…scary. Never good if you have to preface with a disclaimer.”
“You can’t judge my sincerity in my expressions, so I hope you believe—”
“Just ask your question, Nicholas.” Why was he so awkward?
“Why did you accept Adam? Not that he’s not a great kid. I mean, you have so much going on with your health.”
“My slowly dying—or quick, under certain circumstances. Leaving behind the one brightness in my heart, Margaret. Those same reasons are why I can do it.”
“It was awful presumptuous of Janice. What if you and Margaret declined?”
“Janice knew that wouldn’t happen.” Fiona wondered how best to explain. “Will Adam work as a painful reminder in the future? Probably. He’ll also be a reminder of happier times. Will it be hard for Margaret to be forced to raise a child on her own? Yes. But I hope Adam will be the catalyst for her to get up every morning. Jo will help as she can but has her own life to think about.”
“But Fiona, why a child with obvious issues? He’s afraid to leave the house. Won’t that make raising him a lot harder?”
“For a time. Yes. We need to isolate the reason for Adam’s fear.” Fiona reached for her coffee and finished the now cold liquid. She repressed a shiver from the repulsive taste.
Nicholas noticed and moved away from the table. “Let me refresh your cup,” he said. “Weak coffee is bad enough. Cold coffee is criminal.”
“Thank you.” Fiona waited until he returned to the table. “The easiest way for me to explain this is by using us as examples.” She cleared her throat. “Despite your horrible upbringing, Ruth showed you a more positive outlook because she believed and cared for you. My childhood started out okay but was quick to turn negative. If I hadn’t met and been loved by Margaret, I could have met a brutal end. I don’t want to believe I’d have given into the criminal element, but I can’t say for certain.”
“I assume Jo would have met an unfortunate end too.”
Fiona winced at the reminder of what Jo’s future had held. “None of us are unscathed. Which is why we will do everything we can to put Adam on a proper path to achieve his fullest potential. As a family we will help him overcome the worst of his fears as best we can. There aren’t any guarantees, but we’ll never know the possibilities if we don’t try.”
“You’re a better person than I am, Fiona.”
“How so?”
“Don’t know if I could take on the responsibility of another person’s emotions, and like Adam, physically damaged child and expect a positive outcome.”
“Ah, but you can’t discount the possibility either. There are so many children in need of loving care and support to keep them from surrendering to the dark recesses’ life offers. Maybe you need to ask yourself—if your reunion works out—how beneficial Ruth could be, or how she would react to the chance to do so for another life. Because given the prospects in our lives in this day and age, this is the only way for us to have a chance to influence another’s existence.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Margaret released the children for the summer break. Adam silently sat at a desk in the front row of the classroom, a picture book opened, but he wasn’t reading. Instead, Margaret noted hi
s surreptitious glances at her, and sometimes at the door. She finalized grades into the individual report cards before the beginning of a summer off from teaching. An older woman, with greying hair pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head, walked in as if cued. “Hello, Mrs. Goodman. Ready for summer?”
“Oh my, yes. I get to catch up on my knitting and quantity time with my grandchildren.” Mrs. Goodman wrinkled her pert little nose. She was the epitome of the expectation of a sweet grandmother. When she passed Adam, she smiled down at him, gave a hello, and brushed her hand down his back. It was a tender exchange, but Margaret thought she caught a sadness and—was that a tear?
“Quantity time?” Margaret raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you mean quality?”
Mrs. Goodman giggled. “And I would mean it if my old bones could keep up with them. Can’t say whether the children find the quality intended. So, before they exhaust me into a somnolent state, I aim for quantity.”
“I understand,” Margaret said. And she certainly did. Some days the students were so exuberant, she felt she needed to drag herself home. “What can I do for you?”
“Wanted to privately take this opportunity to collect all the report cards, and wish you a wonderful summer,” the older woman said, moving around the desk. Margaret stood respectfully and was wrapped in a warm hug. In Margaret’s ear, she whispered, “Congratulations and best wishes with little Adam. He’ll be a blessing to your already blessed house.”
Adam wasn’t ready for school, but she had explained to the principal and his secretary, Mrs. Goodman, the change to her circumstances. There would be times she would need to bring him to work. Would he even be school age by the time she lost Fiona? Her chest responded as if a vice squeezed her heart at the thought. Stop it, she reprimanded herself, focus on having her now. “Thank you, Mrs. Goodman. May you have both quality and quantity time for the summer and beyond.” Mrs. Goodman left after a final goodbye. She was certain Adam looked relieved at her departure but still wary. Margaret remembered the information Janice shared about Adam’s past. From his reactions, she believed she understood Adam’s concern.
Speak Easy Speak Danger Page 23
