Looking for Home

by Arleta Richardson

  “I … we … want to adopt the youngest one,” she repeated with impatience. “What is his name?”

  “William,” Mr. Lehman answered automatically, “but—”

  “I’ll call him Reginald,” Eugenia declared. “Can Matron get him ready immediately?”

  Mr. Lehman leaned back in his chair and studied his visitor. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Quincy, but I’m afraid that will be impossible.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The Cooper children won’t be available for adoption until the father is located,” the man explained. “If and when that occurs, they will all go together.”

  “Together! Ridiculous! Who is going to take four children at one time? Your main concern is placing children in good homes, isn’t it? What is the reason for all these silly rules?”

  “The Home is under state regulation, Mrs. Quincy. Even if I wanted to separate the Cooper children, I couldn’t do so without the consent of the family.”

  Eugenia was no longer wearing her brightest smile. She was unaccustomed to being denied anything, and she found the situation most wearisome. As she smoothed her gloves in her lap, her mind tackled the problem. She didn’t want to use the last weapon in her arsenal, but there seemed to be no alternative.

  “Mr. Quincy has given much to this institution over the years. I’m afraid I shall have to ask him to withdraw his support unless …” Her meaning was clear.

  “We appreciate Mr. Quincy’s generous gifts,” Mr. Lehman said carefully, “but in this instance, there is nothing I can do. I’m sorry.”

  “I expect we’ll see about that, won’t we?” Eugenia rose and strode haughtily toward the door.

  George Lehman hurried to open it for her.

  “Good day, Mr. Lehman. You will be hearing from me again.”

  I’m sure I will, George Lehman thought as he watched Eugenia leave.

  The sound of the big front door closing signaled her departure. Watching out the office window, he followed the angry woman with his gaze as she sailed down the path and entered her limousine.

  When she was gone, George felt as though he had done battle with the Furies.

  Bert wasted no time locating Ethan in the barn, where he was sweeping the floor.

  “You can’t guess what I just heard,” he whispered hoarsely, “up there by the office.”

  Visions of both Riley and Hugh approaching Mr. Lehman about him held Ethan speechless. He stared at the freckles on Bert’s face and clutched his broom for support.

  “A fancy lady in a huge car is going to take Will away. I heard her tell Mr. Lehman.”

  Ethan had difficulty switching his thinking from the threat he’d been anticipating to a threat unimaginable, and he continued to stare at Bert.

  “Didn’t you hear me? I said—”

  But Ethan had dropped the broom and grabbed Bert’s skinny arm. “What lady? What car? Did she take Will?”

  “Ow! Leggo! I didn’t do nothin’! No. She said she’d be back.” Bert rubbed his arm and backed off. “I thought you’d want to know.”

  “She can’t do that,” Ethan declared. “They won’t let her take him, will they?”

  Bert regained his composure. “Look, Ethan, this here is an orphanage. That’s the kind of stuff they do—get homes for kids like us. Well, maybe not us,” Bert reconsidered, “but little kids like Will, or blonde, curly-haired girls.”

  Ethan felt a moment of relief. So Alice would be safe. Her hair was red and as straight as it could be.

  He sank onto a bale of hay. “She can’t have Will. I won’t let her. Nobody can unless they take all of us.”

  Bert sat beside him. “How you goin’ to stop her?” he asked.

  Ethan’s shoulders drooped as he peered at his friend. “I don’t know. What shall I do?”

  Bert chewed thoughtfully on a straw. “Looks to me like this is serious enough to pray about,” he offered. “You ever prayed besides ‘Now I lay me down to sleep’?”

  Ethan shook his head. “Not much. I prayed that Ma would get better, but she didn’t. I prayed that Russell would let me stay home, but here I am.”

  Ethan thought of all that had happened since he’d forgotten to make his bed and Matron had told him that the Lord was interested in how he did his work. It looked like that was all the Lord was interested in. First Riley and then Hugh had threatened him, and now Will was in danger. For someone who hadn’t had much practice, it looked like he was collecting a lot of things to pray about.

  Come to think of it, Ethan told himself, you don’t seem to be very good at praying.

  Perhaps he’d better begin to make some plans of his own. “Who is this lady with the car?” he asked Bert.

  “She said her name was Mrs. Quincy.” Bert glanced at his friend. “And that she’d call Will ‘Reginald’ when she took him home.”

  Ethan was disgusted. “Reginald! What kind of name is that? Anyway, Ma named him William, and she can’t change that. You’ve got to help me think of some way to keep her from taking him.”

  “I don’t know.” Bert looked doubtful. “I’ve noticed that grown-ups pretty much do what they want when it comes to kids.”

  This fact hadn’t escaped Ethan’s attention either. But when it came to the safety of his little brother, he was ready to fight even grown-ups. “I’ll find someplace to hide him,” he announced.

  “Where you going to hide someone that big?” Bert wanted to know. “Your cupboard is too small, and they clean under the beds.”

  “What are you planning to hide, kid?” Hugh had appeared out of nowhere.

  When neither younger boy answered, he repeated his question.

  “N-nothing,” Ethan stammered. “We—I—didn’t take anything.”

  “So how come you need a place to hide it?”

  “He wants to hide—” Bert began, but a sharp poke from Ethan ended the explanation.

  Hugh stared at the boys, but neither said any more. “Won’t talk, huh? Well, don’t forget that I’ll be watching you, and you know what happens to kids who don’t mind their own business.”

  When Hugh had disappeared out the barn door, Bert turned to Ethan. “What’s the matter with him? What’d he mean about minding our own business?”

  “I guess he doesn’t want us to talk about him.” Ethan shrugged.

  “I don’t want to talk about him,” Bert declared. “I don’t even want to think about him. We got enough problems of our own.”

  Ethan nodded in agreement. He couldn’t tell Bert that Hugh was one of the problems.

  As the days went by and no one carried Will off, Ethan began to relax. Bert had probably misunderstood the conversation he’d overheard. Besides, there were a lot of other things to claim Ethan’s attention.

  Chapter Seven

  Eugenia Tries Again

  Eugenia Quincy returned to the orphanage after giving Mr. Lehman a few days to rethink his position. She entered the office with a cheerful spirit and a determined step. Mr. Lehman seated her and waited politely for her to open the conversation.

  “I hope you have reconsidered your decision about the young Cooper child,” she said. “You do know the advantages we have to offer him. Mr. Quincy is in a position to expedite the adoption, and I would like to have it taken care of at once.”

  “Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear when we spoke earlier,” George Lehman replied. “This isn’t a matter within my jurisdiction. Any living parent must be located and must give permission for an adoption to take place. We haven’t located Mr. Cooper yet. Also, as I mentioned, the older children in the family don’t want the younger ones separated. We will honor their wishes.”

  Unbelievable! Eugenia thought. Here is a man who doesn’t realize the danger of opposing me. Well, he soon will.

  Eugenia Quincy continued to smile as she sat in George Lehman�
�s office. But her eyes flashed a warning that George didn’t fail to note.

  “I see,” she continued. “I’m sure that if you give it careful thought, you’ll find that there are loopholes in every situation, even this one. In the meantime, there could be no objection to my taking the child for a few days to get him acquainted with his future home, could there? I’d appreciate it if you would ask Matron to get him ready at once. I have errands to complete, and I’m running late.”

  George was becoming impatient with this woman. In deference to her husband’s position, he had to treat her with civility, but he might as well be talking to a tree stump. She obviously hadn’t heard a word he’d said.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Quincy. We appreciate your interest in Will, but the boy is too young to be away from the people he knows. It wouldn’t be wise to upset him that way.”

  With those final words, George arose. As far as he was concerned, the matter was settled. But as he again watched Mrs. Quincy march toward her car, the uncomfortable feeling that it was most certainly not settled stayed with him.

  Eugenia sighed at dinner and put her fork down.

  “You aren’t eating, my dear. Are you not feeling well?” Patterson asked.

  “I’m fine,” she replied. “Just restless. There’s not much going on. I need something to occupy my time.” She glanced furtively at her husband, but he had gone on with his dinner and didn’t appear to take the hint she had given him.

  “I’m very busy at this time, or I would arrange for us to get away,” Patterson said finally. “I’m afraid I can’t spare Gridley right now to go with you either. Why don’t you take Clara and run up to the lake for a few days? You could drive the small car. Perhaps I can join you later in the week.”

  This wasn’t what she’d had in mind. However, her voice was even as she answered him. “Thank you, dear. I’ll think about that.”

  As she wandered discontentedly around the house that evening, the suggestion became more attractive. It had been a long time since she’d had to fight this hard for something she wanted. The longer it took, the more determined she was to have it. She needed to get away to think this through.

  Her mind made up, Eugenia called Clara to her room. The dark-haired, young servant appeared promptly.

  “Clara, pack bags for you and me to go to the summer house. I’d like to leave early tomorrow morning.”

  “Yes, mum. Will the mister be going?”

  “No, there will be just the two of us. Ask Greta to prepare some food for us to take.”

  “How much food, mum?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Eugenia waved her away. “Enough for a week at least. Mr. Quincy can bring what we need if I decide to stay longer.”

  Clara departed, and Eugenia threw herself down on the chaise lounge. Was she the only one in this house who could make a decision about anything? At least she was sure of one thing. She would have a foolproof scheme for getting that child before she returned home.

  Chapter Eight

  Will Goes for a Ride

  One bright morning Otis made an announcement after breakfast.

  “Whitewash day, boys. Bert, Philip, Ethan, and Billy—work on the henhouses. You older fellows come with me.”

  “What are we going to do?” Ethan asked as he trotted along with the others. “What is whitewash?”

  “Paint,” Bert explained. “All the outbuildings get cleaned up with it once a year. I guess it kills the bugs. Makes ’em look better, too.”

  “The bugs?”

  “Naw, silly. Didn’t you have a henhouse or pigsty or nothin’ at your place?”

  Ethan recalled the few scrawny chickens that scratched around the Cooper yard. They had roosted in the trees at night. He had to admit he remembered nothing that was painted.

  It didn’t take him long to enter wholeheartedly into the project. Paint flew everywhere as the boys happily sloshed big brushes against the wood. An occasional jab at one another as they worked side by side seemed like a good idea, and it wasn’t long until the boys and buildings had received a generous coat of whitewash.

  It was Ethan who noticed the hog snoring peacefully in the dusty pen. “He could use some cleaning up,” Ethan said to Bert. “And you know he has bugs.”

  Bert looked doubtful. “I don’t know if we’re supposed to paint hogs. Maybe it isn’t good for them.”

  “It doesn’t hurt us,” Ethan argued, “and his hide is tougher than ours. Come on. Let’s try it.”

  “You try it,” Bert decided. “He might wake up and not like it. Get in the pen, and I’ll hand you the paint.”

  It took only a moment for Ethan to scramble over the fence and into the pigsty.

  “I’d stay behind him if I were you,” Bert advised. “If he opens his eyes, he won’t see you first off.” He looked nervous as Ethan approached the big animal with the pail and brush. “If he starts to get up, come out of there quick,” Bert added. “He could knock you down with his snout.”

  Ethan eyed the hog. “He does look a lot bigger in here than he did out there,” he admitted. “If he wakes up, I’ll get away.”

  Ethan needn’t have worried. The hog was dead to the world and didn’t move as Ethan began at his tail and moved up the huge side with the paintbrush. Bert hung on the fence and gazed wide-eyed until Ethan reached the hog’s ears. Then there came a snuffle and a snort, and the earth trembled.

  “Whoa!” Bert shouted. “He’s turning over, Ethan. You better move!”

  Ethan jumped back, but he wasn’t quick enough. Without opening an eye, the huge beast flipped to the other side and flattened Ethan to the ground.

  “Hey, look at that!” Bert marveled. “He didn’t even wake up, and you can paint the other side.”

  Ethan wiped the dust off his face and glared at Bert. “Not much, I can’t. He’s sitting on me.”

  There was silence while Bert took this in. “You mean you can’t get up out of there?”

  “My leg’s under him, and I sure can’t shove him over again. Now what are we going to do?”

  “Won’t do any good for me to poke him,” Bert determined. “I’ll run and get Otis. Stay right there.”

  It’s not like 1 could go anywhere, Ethan thought as he considered his dismal situation. I just hope this hog stays asleep.

  Otis soon arrived with a rake, and after much prodding with the handle, he got the animal onto his feet. Then Otis scooped Ethan off the ground and ran for the fence.

  “I never told you boys to whitewash the inside of the pigsty,” he said sternly. “It’s a wonder you weren’t killed.”

  “We weren’t painting the pigsty, Otis,” Bert informed him. “We were painting the hog.”

  “Painting the hog?” Otis exclaimed in disbelief. “If that animal hadn’t been so full and so sound asleep, he’d of ate you alive. What in tarnation did you want to do that for?”

  “Ethan thought it would kill the bugs,” Bert explained.

  “And he sure had a lot of room to look better. He’s one heavy pig.” Ethan rubbed his leg and hopped around on it.

  “If you hadn’t landed in one of those holes he’s dug out, he’d a-busted that leg in two,” Otis told him. “Brush as much of the muck off as you can and go on up to the house. I’m sure Matron will be glad to see you.”

  Otis stomped back to the barn, and Bert translated the message. “He really means she won’t be glad to see you. Matron doesn’t like messes.”

  Bert thought for a moment. Then his face lit up. “I know! We’ll go down to the stream, and you can splash around with your clothes on. That’ll wash ’em out, and by the time we go up to dinner, you’ll be dry. Matron won’t have to know what you did.”

  Within seconds the boys raced off to the stream running through the farmland. Since they were there, they figured they might as well both enjoy a swim.

&nb
sp; “Oww!” Ethan yelled. “This is cold!”

  “Keep moving fast,” Bert instructed. “It’ll take a while to get rid of all that dirt and paint.”

  Ready to depart, Eugenia Quincy was attired in a long driving coat, her large hat secured firmly with a gauzy scarf. Gridley fastened the bags to the back of the car, settled a big wicker basket beside Clara in the backseat, and stepped back. Eugenia took her place behind the wheel and drew on her gloves.

  “Have a safe trip, madam.”

  Eugenia nodded. “Thank you, Gridley.”

  The car chugged out of the circular drive. The fifteen-mile trip covered roads on which the travelers were likely to meet nothing more than an occasional horse, and the little car didn’t begin to reach the speed of the limousine.

  The route to the lake took Eugenia past the Briars. Though she usually ignored the Home as she passed, this morning she recalled with annoyance her unsatisfactory conversation with George Lehman. She really should report the man to Patterson for his insubordination … but that would mean telling her husband what she’d been up to.

  As the car approached the arched sign over the entrance, Eugenia slowed down and regarded it with distaste. Stubborn man!

  All of a sudden, she stopped the car, and Clara was forced to lunge for the basket before it slid to the floor.

  “Oh! What is it, mum?”

  Eugenia didn’t answer but stepped down from the high seat and walked to the fence that surrounded the lawn. There stood a small boy staring with obvious delight at the vehicle in the road.

  Eugenia smiled at him. “Hello, there. Do you like that car?’’

  The boy nodded. “Pretty car!”

  Eugenia surveyed the yard and the building. There was no one in sight. “Would you like a ride in the pretty car?”

  His eyes lit up, and he nodded vigorously.

  Eugenia leaned over the fence and picked him up. Swiftly she deposited the little boy on Clara’s lap in the backseat. Before the girl could even speak, the car was moving again.