by Janette Oke
Felicity led the way down the winding path through the tall timber. “It’s a bit of a walk,” she explained. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Oh no,” said Constance. “I love walking.”
The comment surprised Felicity. She had not seen the young woman walk anywhere.
“Walking is about the only way to get around here,” Felicity explained. “We don’t have roads for teams or motor cars.”
“It’s nice and quiet,” responded Miss Constance.
“Is that why you came?” asked Felicity.
The girl hesitated. At last she replied, “We came for Priscilla. She needs a quiet place.”
“Has she been ill?”
“You might say that,” Miss Constance answered after another pause.
Felicity looked at her walking companion. Surely Priscilla is not another escapee, she thought. She seems so—so normal—in a grumpy kind of way. Putting her thoughts aside, Felicity responded, “I’m—I’m sorry to hear that.”
Miss Constance was looking off in the distance, breathing deeply of the smell of pine and spruce. “Are there any bears here?” she asked.
Felicity hesitated. She didn’t want to lie, but she didn’t want to scare her companion either. After a short battle in her mind, honesty won. “Yes,” she answered. “That’s why we talk or sing when we walk—or rattle our pails or something. If they hear us coming they don’t stay around.”
Miss Constance laughed. It was the first time Felicity had heard her express any feeling of happiness. It sounded a little tight and strained, as though she was out of practice, but it was definitely a laugh.
“I think I’ll like it here,” she said.
“Are you staying longer than two weeks?”
A strange look crossed the girl’s face; then she nodded slowly. “I expect so. Unless Priscilla just can’t bear it.”
Felicity wondered at the remark, but didn’t question Miss Constance.
They beat Jennifer and Millicent to the patch and were busily filling their pails with plump, juicy berries when the other two girls arrived.
“How are they?” called Jennifer.
“Delicious!” answered Miss Constance. Stains on her lips proved that she spoke from firsthand knowledge.
Jennifer and Millicent found their own spot for picking and fell to work without conversation. Occasionally a bird flew over and loudly scolded the pickers for usurping the patch. They paid little heed to the chattering. Squirrels added their complaints from nearby trees. Chipmunks dashed into the patch and helped themselves, as if afraid there would be no berries left for them if they didn’t hurry.
Hearing Miss Constance sigh, Felicity turned to look at her. She was sitting quietly, her hands motionless in her lap, her face upturned, studying the scudding clouds.
“It’s getting hot,” observed Jennifer. “I’m thirsty.”
“Me, too,” said Millicent. “Let’s get a drink.”
“Did you bring water?” asked Miss Constance, returning from her reverie.
“No—we just go to the stream over there.”
“There’s a stream?”
“You can hear it if you listen carefully,” said Jennifer, tipping her head.
“Oh yes. I hear it. I didn’t realize what that sound was. Can we go?”
“Sure. But take your berries with you. Some animal might get into them if you leave your bucket behind.”
Miss Constance laughed again, a little freer now, as if she were beginning to find pleasure in life.
That afternoon at tea Mrs. Blakeney announced they would be leaving. Julia was disappointed. She had hoped for a bit more income from the family—even though they did keep her running with their multitude of orders.
“Send one of the young girls to help me pack in the morning,” Mrs. Blakeney ordered.
Julia promised she would.
“Do you need them both?” she asked, trying to be helpful.
“Oh, I think one should be able to handle it just fine—unless she is dreadfully slow,” said Mrs. Blakeney. “I just have the two suitcases.”
“And your daughters?” asked Julia, unable to believe that Miss Prissy, who hadn’t lifted a pretty pink finger since her arrival, would actually pack her own luggage. Unless, of course, poor Miss Constance would be packing for her.
“The girls! Oh, they aren’t leaving,” answered Mrs. Blakeney as though Julia should have known.
Julia stared at the woman, who kept talking without even a pause.
“It will work just fine. I know Priscilla is bored, but she must endure that. She knew it would be this way. Constance will see to her.”
Julia still had not thought of anything to say.
“Mr. Blakeney and I will be getting back to the city. There are so many events to attend to. I just can’t be away very long at a time. You understand. Things are always so busy in the city. Especially when one is a social leader, so to speak. I will try to find time to pop out now and then to see how the girls are doing.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Decisions
“Mama! Mama!” Jennifer cried as she rushed into the kitchen. “Millicent decided. Millicent decided!”
Julia stopped slicing bread. “That’s wonderful!” she exclaimed, knowing exactly what her daughter meant. She took Jennifer into her arms.
“She said she thought about it and thought about it—and then she decided to ask God to forgive her sins—and to make her ready for heaven.”
Felicity joined in the celebration. “That’s great, Jen,” she bubbled, getting in on the hugs.
“We should pray for her and help her in every way we can,” said Julia.
“She promised to come to all the Bible studies.”
“Does she have a Bible of her own?” asked Julia.
Jennifer shook her head.
“Then we must find one for her,” said Julia. “I’m sure we have an extra one we could give her.”
“Where is Papa?” asked Jennifer. “I want to tell him the news too.”
“He and Tom are helping Mr. and Mrs. Adams get ready for their move. You may run and tell him. But Jennifer, do it discreetly. Millicent should be allowed to share her own good news with others. Do you understand?”
Jennifer nodded and was off to find her father.
“My! What excitement,” said Julia. “But we do have guests to attend to. Felicity, would you get the cream for the tea tray? And fill the sugar bowl again, please.”
“When are they leaving, Mama?” asked Felicity as she went to get the cream.
“On tomorrow’s train. But the young ladies are staying on—for I don’t know how long.”
“I’m beginning to like Miss Constance,” stated Felicity. “If she were given half a chance, I think she could be downright pleasant.”
“Well, then,” Julia said, “let’s give her a whole chance. What do you say?”
Felicity grinned in reply.
They served the tea to Mr. and Mrs. Blakeney. As usual, Miss Priscilla stayed in her room. Miss Constance chose to take a bath after her outing to the berry patch rather than have tea in the parlor.
Mrs. Blakeney spoke to Julia over her cup of tea. “I have been admiring those silver candlesticks in the dining room. I have never seen any quite like them. I told Mr. Blakeney that you surely didn’t get them here.”
“No,” smiled Julia, amused at the woman’s forthrightness. “They came from the East. They were a wedding gift.”
“So, you are from the East?”
“I was raised in Montreal. My papa still lives there.”
Mrs. Blakeney nodded her head toward Mr. Blakeney as though to say, “I told you so.”
“I like the candlesticks very much,” continued Mrs. Blakeney. “How much are they?”
Julia fumbled for a response. Her first impulse was to tell her guest the candlesticks were not for sale. But Julia remembered the painting from the front hall. She would never have sold it had she been properly asked. Yet it was
gone and life continued, and the money had helped them through a difficult time. She was sure life could go on without the silver candlesticks as well. She turned to her guest.
“They are really—quite expensive,” she answered.
“I judged that,” responded Mrs. Blakeney, as though Julia had insulted her.
“I hadn’t considered selling them, but if I were to consider it—I would ask—” Julia thought quickly. If Mrs. Blakeney really wants my candlesticks, she will not have them for one penny less than they are worth. Having thought it through, Julia named a rather outrageous sum.
Mrs. Blakeney did not flinch. She turned to her husband. “You see,” she said smugly, “I told you they could be had. Pay her.” Then she looked at Julia. “I shall want to take them with me tomorrow,” she said. “See that they are wrapped carefully.”
Julia assigned the task to Hettie. She didn’t have the heart to bundle the candlesticks herself. Later, as she fingered the money paid for the purchase, Julia had the sense to thank God for meeting their needs. Then she blinked away the sentimental tears.
“You asked her for how much?” John choked as he and Julia talked in the darkness after retiring.
“She didn’t even blink,” replied Julia, with some resentment.
“She gave it to you?”
“Well, not exactly. She ordered her husband to give it to me, and he did.”
“You have the money?”
“I put it in the strong box in your desk drawer,” said Julia.
“Well, the money will certainly help, but I’m sorry you had to let the candlesticks go,” John sympathized. “I know they were important to you.”
Julia allowed the silence to snuggle in around them and then she said, “Not as important as my family.” She paused a moment before proceeding. “And that brings me to another subject I’ve been thinking about, John. It has to do with the girls. They need more schooling, and I don’t think I—we—are able to teach them much more. They need a real school.”
“I’ve been thinking too,” John cut in. “And I’ve been meaning to talk to you, but it’s been difficult to find a minute alone when we aren’t both exhausted.”
Julia tilted her head so she could see his face, but in the darkness she could barely discern the outline.
John continued. “I wrote a letter a while back. To Mr. Small. He has been in touch two or three times since the mill moved, you know, asking me if I wanted a job. Well, that was some time ago—but I thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask if he still has anything open.”
Silence again.
“Others have done it. Gone out for seasonal work, I mean. I could come and go on the train while you and the girls stay here. Maybe we could afford a tutor if I had a paying job. It wouldn’t be for long—”
That’s what has been troubling John, thought Julia. He knows we are short of funds even with my few guests. Yet he is hesitant to seek work because it will mean splitting up the family. Julia’s heart constricted. She didn’t want to split up the family either. The thought of it frightened her. Yet she had been about to propose the same thing. Julia forced her thoughts back to what John had been saying.
“Have you heard from him?” she asked as evenly as she could manage.
“Not yet, but I just sent the letter a few days ago.”
Julia reached for John’s arm in the darkness. She needed an anchor.
“I was thinking,” she said slowly, “that maybe we should send the girls away for a year of school.”
“But that would cost a fortune,” John began. “Even with me working and money from the guests—how could we afford—?”
“By sending them to Papa,” Julia interrupted.
“To your father? Way back East?”
“He would love to have them, and it wouldn’t cost us much. Papa would insist on having them as family, and they could attend the same finishing school I did. It’s nearby and it’s a good school.”
“Have you talked to the girls about this?”
“Oh no. No. I’d never do that without talking to you first,” said Julia, a bit offended.
John relaxed somewhat, but Julia could still feel the tension in his body.
“It means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” he asked at last.
Julia thought a moment. “Well, yes and no,” she said finally. “If you mean ‘it is important to me that the girls go to the same school I attended,’ then no. No, that doesn’t matter. In fact, I had never even considered it before there was a need to find schooling—somewhere. But if you mean ‘it is important to me to have them educated,’ then yes, it is. And Papa is the only answer I can come up with.”
John lay in the darkness thinking. “Do we have to decide right now?” he asked softly.
“No. Not tonight. But it is time for the first term to start. They will already be late—even if we send them now. We shouldn’t delay if—”
“Let’s try to have an answer about this by the weekend.”
“Besides,” said Julia slowly, “Papa always coaxes in his letters for some of us to come.”
“But what about their clothes?” John asked. “They are hardly fit to attend a fashionable school in the East.”
“I’ve thought of that,” Julia admitted. “We could send the money from the candlesticks with them, and Papa could see that they are properly dressed.”
“They need so many things. Would that be enough?”
“If it isn’t, Papa will see to the rest.”
“Julia, you know I don’t want your father to have to dress my family.”
“Oh, John!” exclaimed Julia. “He has so few pleasures. Would you deny him that as well? After all, they are his family too.”
John reached out in the darkness and drew his wife against his side. “Of course they are,” he murmured into her hair. “Of course.”
Mr. and Mrs. Blakeney left on the morning train. According to Hettie, Miss Priscilla carried on “something awful.” Miss Constance took their leaving in stride, though she didn’t look happy about the situation.
“Whatever will I do without Mama?” wailed Miss Priscilla.
“I will be here,” said Miss Constance.
“But you always have your nose in a book,” accused Miss Priscilla.
“Perhaps you would do well do stick your nose in one occasionally,” said Miss Constance without sympathy. And Miss Priscilla cried more loudly.
The community gathered for a potluck dinner on the Harrigan lawn to say farewell to the Adams family. Mrs. Adams wept as she bid her friends goodbye.
“I will miss you all so much,” she sniffed.
“You must write,” said Julia. “We will want to know all about your new home—Victor’s job. The church you find. We are going to miss you too.”
The neighbors helped load the Adams’ belongings onto the outgoing train, and the family climbed aboard. Mrs. Adams clutched her small valise and the hand of one child. Mr. Adams carried the bulging suitcase and gripped the hand of the second child. And then the train was hissing and straining, ready to be off. Mr. and Mrs. Adams waved through the window to those who had been part of their lives for so many years.
With Mr. and Mrs. Blakeney gone, the Harrigan household soon settled into a new routine.
Miss Priscilla kept more and more to her room, and Miss Constance continued to insist upon waiting on her. As Miss Priscilla became more recluse, Miss Constance became more friendly. She even came to the kitchen when it wasn’t time to pick up a tray for her sister. At Julia’s invitation, she also joined them for tea. On one of those occasions she had begged them all, “Please don’t call me Miss. Just call me Constance.”
“I like her,” Julia remarked later to Hettie and the girls. “We must be especially kind to her. I have a feeling she has not had an easy life. Though she has never indicated…” Julia let her remaining thoughts go unspoken and turned her attention to the other sister.
“We must watch out for Miss Priscilla too. It would be unthinkable for
us to let her lie in her room and fade away if she is ill. I wish we saw more of her so we might judge her condition a bit more accurately.” Julia decided to find some reason to call on Miss Priscilla often enough to keep an eye on the situation.
When Julia made her first visit she found Miss Priscilla sitting up in bed, nibbling cookies, and filing her nails.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” asked Julia politely.
The young woman sighed, “Just make the weeks go faster.”
“I’m afraid I can do little about time,” Julia smiled. “Though I have found that keeping oneself occupied makes time seem to pass more quickly.”
Miss Priscilla scowled. “And how is one to be ‘occupied’ in this forsaken town?”
“Well, there are some nice paths to walk. There are little shops along Main Street. We still have one mercantile in town. And handwork can be interesting.”
Miss Priscilla rolled her eyes.
Later in the day, however, Julia saw the young woman go for a walk down a forest path.
Chapter Twenty-two
Discoveries
“But we don’t even know Grandfather!” Felicity wailed.
“I know,” said Julia, tears in her eyes. “But he is a very gentle man. You will learn to love him just as I do.”
“Couldn’t you come with us, Mama?” pleaded Jennifer. “It’s been ages since you have seen him.”
“No,” replied Julia. “Perhaps someday, but not just now.”
“Do you think they will take us at that school?”
“I am sure they will. You are both good students—and fine young ladies.”
“But what about—our dresses?” asked Jennifer, looking down at her ill-fitting, unstylish gown.
“We have money for shopping,” replied Julia.
“What do you think, Papa?” asked Jennifer, turning her eyes to John.
“I think your mama is right. You deserve a good education—your grandfather has been yearning to get acquainted with you. He lives all alone in that big house. This seems like a perfect opportunity.”
