I had made hair bows for Elisabeth, just like Trudy Bauer wore. There was another box under the tree for her from Robert. She ripped open the wrapping, and there were saddle shoes. Brand new ones, sent from the Sears Roebuck catalog.
Elisabeth didn’t react. She didn’t even look up at Robert. But she did hold the shoes in her lap, running her fingers over the edges and the laces. She even smelled them, deeply inhaling the new leather aroma, which made Robert grin.
I looked at Robert fondly as he gazed at Elisabeth. “How did you ever guess her shoe size?” I asked him.
“William helped me. We traced her feet one day and said it was for a math assignment. Then I sent the paper to Sears, and they matched it.” He turned to Elisabeth. “Try them on and see if they fit.”
They did. Like a glove. No gift could have meant more to her. It wasn’t just shoes. It was about belonging, fitting in to her peer group. For the first time in a long, long time, Elisabeth felt special. Robert had done that for her.
William couldn’t wait to open the gift from Ada. She had bought it on a trip to Philadelphia. He shook the box and felt a thud; whatever was inside flew from side to side. In the box was an unusual sphere of coiled steel, in the shape of a tight cylinder. Curiously, he read the box and announced, “It’s a Slinky!”
Then he ran to the top of the stairs, placed one end of the Slinky on the top stairs, and curled the top end on the next stair, and let go. Down it went, up and over, up and over, until it landed on the bottom stair, back in its original sphere. We watched it, stunned. Even Dog remained immobile, cocking his head, staring at this shiny metal thing.
Robert went over to pick it up, examining it, snapping it between his two hands like a deck of cards. “Fascinating!” he exclaimed, as if this piece of wire held the secrets of the universe. “It’s like a tension spring!”
“Well, Professor,” Aunt Martha said wryly to Robert, “help me get these wrappings cleaned up.”
“Vait,” Elisabeth ordered. “I have da present for you.”
We looked at her, surprised. Besides the fact that Elisabeth had no money, she had never felt the need to reciprocate a kindness. She sat down at the piano, put her hands on the keys, took a deep breath, and played a beautiful score of music for us. It was the same piece I had heard her play when she didn’t think anyone was home. Towards the end, she stopped and paused before turning shyly toward us. “I haven’t finished it yet.”
Slowly, like a cloud drifting past the sun, it dawned on me that she had composed it. Tears sprang to my eyes. I wanted to leap up from my chair and run to her, to hug and kiss her. I wanted to tell her how much I loved the music she created, and how touching it was to have her give us a gift. I wanted her to know that I felt it was one of the first signs that she was healing, from the inside. And the music was surprisingly soft, too, considering Elisabeth’s personality was rather fierce.
But I held back. After the Christmas play, when I bawled openly, I knew better than to start gushing.
Robert and I exchanged a look, his eyes serious and shiny. He stood up and went over next to her, crouching down besides her. “Elisabeth? I hope you realize that when you give someone a gift, you can’t take it back. Whenever I want to hear you play that piece, I hope you will oblige me and play it.”
She nodded solemnly again.
“I think I might just have to hear it everyday.”
And with that, she looked up at him and I saw a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. Another unexpected gift! Getting a smile out of Elisabeth was like panning for gold and finally finding a speck. He crouched down. “Thank you, Elisabeth.”
Then came the most shocking words ever heard out of Elisabeth’s mouth. “Tank you,” she whispered.
Little by little, something was softening in Elisabeth’s spirit.
Even Aunt Martha looked stunned. After Elisabeth had gone into the kitchen, she said, “So maybe there is balm in Gilead after all.”
Late that evening, William and Elisabeth and Aunt Martha had gone to bed. Robert had made a small fire that crackled in the grate. I came down and curled up next to him on the couch, tucking my head under his chin. “Put your hand there,” I placed his hand on my large tummy. “Feel the kicks?”
“I do. Maybe he’ll be a football player.”
“So you’ve decided this child will be a boy?” I said, smiling.
“Well, Ada said it was a boy and she’s not one to be disagreed with.” He handed me a small package.
“What’s this?” I said, lifting my head and looking at him. “I thought we agreed not to give each other gifts this Christmas.” On the day that we received Dr. Klein’s enormous dental bill for Elisabeth, we made a promise to each other to forego presents. We were that low on cash.
“I didn’t spend a penny, but I wanted you to have something.”
I opened up the blue box. In it were two pearl earrings. I looked up at him, curiously.
“They were my mother’s.”
I held them in my palm and gazed at the tiny and perfect opalescent balls. I had never possessed any jewelry other than the thin gold wedding band Robert had given me.
“Don’t you like them?” he asked gently. “You have a strange look on your face.”
“I love them.” I did, too. I was so touched. “I’ve always loved pearls. Do you ever think of the oysters that produced them, so long ago? To think a piece of grit in an oyster turns into a pearl. It’s a miracle, really.”
Now he looked at me strangely. “Sweetheart, trying to understand your mind is like trying to package fog.”
I smiled, touched his face with my hands and kissed him tenderly. “Thank you. For the earrings. For Elisabeth’s shoes. For everything.”
* * * *
The next morning William and I were alone in the kitchen, washing breakfast dishes. “Why would anyone give a baby a shower?” he asked. “Seems like a baby would be too little for a shower.”
“What would make you ask that?” I answered.
“I was spying on Mrs. Bauer and Mrs. Strang in Mr. Ibsen’s grocery store and they said that the ladies at the church should give you a baby shower but no one wanted to.”
I froze.
“So what’s a baby shower, anyway?”
I looked at him. “It’s a party for the baby. To give the baby gifts that he will need.”
He looked at me curiously. “Why wouldn’t they want to give our baby a party?”
“I’m sure it’s because it’s Christmas, and they know that the baby will get lots of gifts,” I lied, covering up for those insufferable church ladies.
“That’s not what they said. They said that the town klep…klepto…” he stopped and frowned, trying to remember the word.
“Kleptomaniac?” offered Robert, appearing from the parlor.
I turned my head slightly to look at Robert over my shoulder. Not hearing him, William didn’t notice that he was there. “I can’t remember the word,” William continued, “but they said that the baby would be able to get everything he needs from that town person because that person lived with us.” He looked at me intently. “So what did they mean?”
I shrugged, as if I didn’t know. “Time to get dressed for the day, okay?” I said. I stayed at the kitchen sink after William left, staring out the window at Dog chasing birds in the yard.
Robert came up behind me and slid his arms around my waist. He tucked his chin on my shoulder and watched Dog out the window with me. “You can’t let a few people bother you.”
They did bother me, but it was more than slighted feelings. I was concerned that they were right. I was still worried about Elisabeth. “I’m just glad that I’m…that Elisabeth’s…well, that she isn’t causing an adverse affect at the church,” was all that I said. The church was thriving, especially as servicemen were starting to arrive home to pick up their lives where they had left off. Robert was officiating at a wedding nearly every week, sometimes two. The Sunday church services were overflowing. �
�It’s just that…”
“Just what?”
I folded the tea towel carefully. “Sometimes I feel as if all I ever hear from those ladies is a steady diet of criticism. They took me out to lunch last spring to inform me that the pastor’s wife traditionally ran the Ladies Altar Guild. And then they even suggested that I might want to consider changing my clothing style. They felt I dress too youthfully.”
He turned me around to face him. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about that lunch?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I suppose I do feel a little guilty that I don’t do more. Especially with music. I want to do more…I want to help you…but…” The truth was that those church ladies made me uneasy and it had nothing to do with Elisabeth. The shift came when I stopped being a houseguest of the Gordon’s, whom they generally ignored, and became Robert’s wife.
The minister’s wife.
Suddenly, there was a long list of invisible expectations that were placed on my shoulders. The ladies seemed to view the church with ownership rights, as if its purpose was to serve their needs, not the other way around. Mrs. Bauer had even complained to me that the children’s Sunday school program was getting too crowded. She suggested that priority should be given to those children whose families tithed.
Did she mean, like paying country club fees? I asked her.
Her eyebrows furrowed together. She did not appreciate my question.
“I’m not a very good minister’s wife,” I said, defeated.
He stroked my hair back. “Louisa, you didn’t marry my job. You married me. And I think you’re a wonderful wife. You’re the heart of this home. You hold our family together. And look at all of the responsibilities you have! You’re teaching William, you’re helping Elisabeth settle in. Not to mention that you’re going to have a baby in a month or so.”
Maybe. But those church ladies rankled me with their opinions. “I feel as if I could never do enough to please them,” I said miserably.
“Not everyone feels that way,” he said, reading my thoughts. “Not the judge. Not Rosita and Ramon. Not the people who matter to us.”
I nodded.
“’As for me and my household, we will serve the Lord,’” he said, quoting from the book of Joshua. “Louisa, we live our life for God’s pleasure and purpose. Not to please some gossips at the grocery store. If there’s something we need to change, then let God do the telling to us.”
“Even though we seem to be harboring the town organizer?” I asked him. “I can’t really blame them. It is an exasperating habit.”
He nodded in agreement. “Elisabeth is coming along, bit by bit. She’ll give up organizing when she’s ready, as she feels more secure. In the meantime, it gives the town something to talk about.”
I put my arms around his waist and leaned into him, feeling protected by his close presence.
* * * *
True to his word, Robert asked Elisabeth to play the piano piece she composed each day. “When did you write it?” he asked.
“In da camp. During da night, I played. In here.” She pointed to her head.
What a wonder. Even a camp like Dachau couldn’t snuff out the wonderful spirit God had infused into her. I wondered how many other beautiful spirits were in those camps, silenced by the Nazis, but continuing to create music and books and ideas in their heads.
I was waiting for the right moment to tell Robert about having William enter Miss Howard’s second grade class at the start of the new quarter. Finally, I couldn’t postpone the task any longer. I went to his office one afternoon and sat down across from him.
“What?” he roared after I explained the idea. “You did this without discussing it with me? We had a plan. We were going to send him to the Southwestern School for the Deaf when he was ten-years-old. That was our plan. You agreed to that!”
“But he’s not ten yet. Miss Howard is a wonderful teacher, and she’s willing to accommodate him, and the principal will be willing to try.” I hoped so, anyway. I hadn’t exactly spoken to Mrs. Olasky yet.
He glared at me. “Why did you do this?
“Because he’s getting too far ahead of me. I can’t keep up with him, Robert. He’s so hungry to learn. And he’s hungry for friends, to play tag at recess, or throw a football around. Just to have a normal childhood.”
He leaned back in his chair for a long moment. “Then maybe we should consider the Southwestern School for the Deaf now.”
That was exactly the response from Robert that worried me. William would have to be a boarding student because the school was in Tucson, two hours away. “What have we got to lose by letting him try the local grammar school?”
“What if it doesn’t work, Louisa? What if he is teased, or feels inadequate, or doesn’t fit in…or doesn’t make any friends…or what if he fails?”
I sat on the edge of my chair, leaning forward. “And what if he succeeds, Robert? What if he does make friends? What if he does do well in school?”
“Oh Louisa, don’t be naïve. Look at Elisabeth! She’s different…she’s had a terrible time trying to fit in.”
“But doing better, Robert. You can’t deny that she’s making some progress. And besides, William has a very different personality than Elisabeth. I think you’re underestimating him. It’s just so…providential…that the one teacher in this entire school district who might be willing to have a deaf child in her class is moving to his grade. It’s a miracle, really.”
“William’s miracle is Elisabeth’s loss.”
That was true. I was concerned about the affect of more school periods with Mr. Koops. Elisabeth’s stomach aches were still severe and frequent. “Would you at least talk to William and see what he thinks about it?”
He scowled at me but finally agreed.
Later that night, I was reading in bed when Robert came into the room, walked over to the window, staring outside into the dark night, his arms folded against his chest. “So…did you have a talk with William?” I guessed.
He took a deep breath and exhaled. “He said, ‘Dad, you have to let me go.’” He turned to look at me. “My seven-year-old son told me that I have to let him go. And we both know he meant more than attending second grade.” He turned back to the window, sighing deeply.
Robert felt so protective of William, a quality I found endearing. “Parenting is hard,” he finally said, more to himself than to me.
I went over to him and tucked my arm in his, looking out the window. An owl hooted once, then twice. “Hear that?” I asked. “An owl has talons to cling on to a branch. It can even walk. But it has wings to fly. It’s meant to fly.”
He stared out the window for a long moment. “Why do things have to change?”
“You sound just like Elisabeth,” I said, smiling. “She thinks that change always means things get worse. Sometimes, change can be for the good.”
“Sometimes,” he said, “change can mean disaster.”
Chapter Eleven
Over the next few days, Robert grew distant and distracted. I would catch him deep in thought at odd moments, staring off into the distance. During dinner one night, he didn’t say a single word. Afterwards, he went back to his office. As soon as I could, I went over to join him. I closed the door and leaned against it. “What’s bothering you?”
He gave me a sideways glance. “Nothing.”
“Nothing? Nothing at all?”
He leaned back in his chair but kept his eyes on his desk. “I received a letter in the mail the other day from my editor. The...uh…the publisher changed his mind about my book. About publishing it.”
I wanted terribly to ask him questions, but I pressed my lips shut. I knew him well enough by now to wait for him to elaborate, rather than pepper him with questions. After a period of silence, he lifted his head and said without emotion, “Apparently, they learned that I have been…divorced. And they felt they couldn’t publish a book from a minister…who was…divorced.”
“They didn’t even care about th
e circumstances?”
“Apparently not.”
Amazing. It was amazing to me to see the damage Ruth caused continue on and on, even beyond her death. “They said nothing about the content of the book?”
“They liked the book. They’re paying me a kill-fee.”
I tilted my head. “What’s a kill-fee?”
He gave a short laugh. “Kind of a consolation prize. They’re paying me not to publish it.”
“If you accept the kill-fee, then it won’t be published?”
“That’s right.”
I crouched down beside him. “Send it back.”
He looked at me, puzzled.
“We need to find another publisher.”
“Don’t you think another publisher will come to the same conclusion?”
“Then we’ll just keep looking until we find one who will publish it. This book needs to be published.”
He cleared his throat, unable to speak.
“I’ll help, Robert.”
“You always do,” he answered, reaching an arm around me and brushing his lips against my temple.
“Good. Then help me up,” I said. “I think I’m stuck.”
That evening I had the house to myself, a rare occurrence that didn’t happen nearly often enough. Elisabeth was at Esmeralda’s; Robert had taken William and Aunt Martha on an errand to Bisbee. William insisted Dog should come along, despite Aunt Martha’s objections.
I decided to take a bubble bath and read through Aunt Martha’s latest Good Housekeeping magazine. I found her magazine in the kitchen and started to absentmindedly thumb through it when one of my pearl earrings fell off. I picked it up and put both earrings on the kitchen window sill, a reminder to ask Robert to fix the backing. Then I went upstairs to settle into a lovely, luxurious time of pure indulgence.
At least it was an indulgence until I heard the kitchen door slam shut. I jumped out of the tub and hurried to dress, eager to avoid Aunt Martha’s disapproval. I flew downstairs, expecting to find them home from Bisbee. No one was there. I peered out the kitchen window to see if the car was there but the driveway was empty. And it was then that I noticed my pearl earrings were gone. My heart sank.
The Copper Series Page 39
