Noble Pursuits

by Chautona Havig

  “Let’s ask your daddy what they’ve decided to name you.” Grace looked pointedly at her brother. She knew that they had considered many forms of Anna and Grace and had tentatively settled on Hannah as a compromise.

  Craig shrugged his shoulders in mock annoyance. “We haven’t come to an agreement yet. We’re still deciding.”

  “What are the options today?” Grace traced the baby’s features with her fingers as she listened to the great debate begin again, in earnest.

  “I want Hannah Grace, but Craig says that’s like naming someone Grace Grace since Hannah means grace.” Melanie, walking in with a towel wrapped head, sounded ready to cry. Grace rocked the baby with slight exaggeration to hint to her brother that the new mother might need a little more understanding.

  “What do you want, Craig?” Though hesitant to ask, Grace was curious.

  “Anna Grace. After Mom. I’d like to name her after both mothers, but I don’t like Adeline or Lynn with Grace or Anna.”

  “Doesn’t Anna mean grace too?” Grace winked at her sister in law.

  They tossed names about the room until the doctor came to sign the discharge papers. Melanie began to act a little panicked at the idea of leaving the hospital without a name for her child. With an air of resignation, Melanie took the baby from Grace and sat in a chair next to her husband. “Name her anything, Craig. I just want the birth certificate filled out before I walk out that door.”

  Grace stepped outside the room and pulled the door shut behind her. A nurse came with more papers for them to sign, but Grace waved her off. “They need a moment to discuss something; I’ll let you know when they are ready.”

  Ten minutes later, the door opened with a grand flourish. “Grace… May I formally introduce you to your first niece, Graceanna Lynn Buscher.”

  Grace took her niece from the little one’s proud papa. While Melanie signed papers, Craig gathered Melanie’s and the baby’s things and headed to their car. Walking down the hall, Craig listened to his sister crooning over his little daughter and was happy with his lot. God had given him a beautiful wife, a loving sister, and now the world’s sweetest baby. With a heart full of gratefulness, he thanked the Lord for His blessings and prayed for wisdom in the coming months and years. To a Buscher, family is a sacred trust and Craig was feeling a new weight of responsibility in that trust.

  ~*~*~*~

  Warm cookies cooled on a rack next to the oven as Cade and Amber burst into the house that afternoon. Grace welcomed the children, listened to their tales of their days, and sighed as they competed for her attention. In her no-nonsense manner, she settled several squabbles almost before they began. Once full of cookies, the two children worked on their homework, and Grace prepared supper for herself and Amber.

  “Oh, Amber…they named the baby today. Cade, would you like to see a picture of her?”

  Cade looked at the baby’s red, wrinkled face and laughed. “She looks like a chicken with no feathers.”

  “She does not!” Amber was indignant.

  “Enough you two. You are both being deliberately unpleasant, and I’ve had enough already. When you’re ready to behave, I’ll tell you the baby’s name.”

  Grace continued her food preparations and told the children to finish their homework. Several minutes later Cade came over and apologized. “I’m sorry. She just bugs me, and I let her. I should be better ‘cause I’m older.”

  “You owe her an apology too. You’ve been picking on her since you walked in the door, and I imagine all the way here.” Grace gave him a pointed look.

  Cade obviously hadn’t counted on women’s intuition to get him into trouble. He turned to Amber and hesitated a moment before squaring his shoulders and offering his apology. “I am sorry. I’ll be nicer.”

  Amber’s little chin shot up as if to reject his apology, but a glance at Grace stopped her short. “Me too. I tried to bug you. That was rude.”

  After Cade went home with his mother, Grace and Amber ate dinner, cleaned up, and then began packing Amber’s things in readiness for her mother’s arrival. “Amber? Why do you and Cade have such a hard time with each other?”

  “I don’t know. I try to be nice to him… I do! But…”

  Grace looked concerned. “What is it, Amber? I need to know.”

  Amber shrugged. “He’s just a boy and boys are mean to girls. I don’t like it, so I pick back. I’m sorry”

  Grace knew that there was more to the problem than Amber shared, but her little friend seemed bothered by the conversation. As Grace watched her carefully fill her little suitcase, Amber pretended to be very busy with her task and avoided looking into Grace’s eyes. Her silence was extremely surprising to Grace. Amber was known for being exuberantly talkative.

  ~*~*~*~

  Grace answered her phone cheerfully. “Good Evening!”

  “Feel up to a game of checkers?”

  “Sure! Your porch or mine? We have to enjoy it while we can. The weather is going to send us inside soon.” Grace began searching for her cardigan and knit cap.

  “Oh, let’s give Mr. Wirth a show. He has a better view from your porch. I’ll bring some nuts and a thermos of hot chocolate. Mom’s recipe.” Nolan grabbed his snacks as he hung up the phone and started across the street.

  Grace had warm blankets, gloves, and two cups arranged on the porch when Nolan arrived. While Nolan set up the playing board, Grace settled into one of two beanbag chairs that she dragged out onto the steps for a more comfortable game. When everything was arranged, Nolan took one black and one red checker and shuffled them in his hands. Holding out his fists, Grace chose.

  “Red. You go first.” Grace turned the board so that the red checkers were on her side and began to plan her strategy.

  For the next twenty minutes, they carefully plotted and executed moves. Grace made strategic moves to indicate that she ‘missed’ a good opportunity and tried to set up a surprise attack. Nolan countered and stopped her cold. Eventually, after whittling each other down to one king, the match was tied. To win, one or the other would have to deliberately put themselves in harm’s way, and neither would concede.

  “Good game. What do you think? One more, or is it too cold?” Nolan watched, concerned that his opponent was too chilled for another game.

  “We can’t quit without a winner! I want either to know I failed or to make you taste defeat. Ties are unacceptable!” Grace’s lighthearted tone gentled the fierce competitiveness of her words.

  The next game was fierce and swift. Much thought and deliberation dragged some moves out, while the next might be executed without hesitation. In the end, Nolan was victorious. “Rematch tomorrow night?”

  Grace’s smile was the only answer necessary, yet she assured him that she would be on her toes and there would be no chance of him beating her again. “I have to lose now and then so that winning is ‘worth’ it. Does that sound believable?”

  “That sounds like an excuse, Miss Buscher… and I don’t accept excuses.”

  ~*~*~*~

  Grace greeted her friends as she neared the retirement home. Couples walking to the center of town, elderly gentlemen shuffling to the park to feed the birds, and silver-haired ladies out for a bit of fresh air and gossip, waved and called out greetings as she passed. She never wondered if Aunt Fran would be inside. Aunt Fran never left. Her father’s sister’s hobby was languishing in misery in Brunswick’s finest, and only, retirement home.

  Tara Boyer shook her head and made a slicing motion across her neck as Grace entered. She squared her shoulders, held up a stack of photos of the baby, and made praying hands motions as she slipped past the reception area and headed toward Fran Bucher’s apartment. Obviously, this wasn’t a good day to visit Aunt Fran. She knew that no matter what choice she made, her aunt would be difficult. Came too soon, stayed away too long—it didn’t matter what anyone did; Aunt Fran just liked to complain.

  “Oh, it’s you. Weren’t you just here last week?” Fran whined as Grace
entered.

  “I love your new color. I wasn’t sure when you showed me the paint chip, but it’s a lovely green.”

  “You just never have had an eye for color. What are you doing here?”

  Grace settled herself next to Fran and pulled out the stack of photos. Before she could share them, Fran scooted to the side. “You really need to lose some of those pounds, Grace, I feel like I’m on a teeter-totter.”

  “Well, take a look at little Graceanna. She was born on Sunday.”

  “She’s been here for nearly a week, and I’m just seeing pictures? I tell you, you and Craig don’t have the basics of courtesy anymore.”

  This was normal. One minute she was attacked for coming too often, and in nearly the next breath, she heard the whine of being forgotten and unwanted. Nothing Grace could do or say would make a difference, so she smiled and pointed out the natural dimples in Graceanna’s cheeks and chin, and the wide-eyed look they’d already captured from her.

  “Have you gotten a job yet?”

  “I already have work to do, Aunt Fran. I don’t need a job. How do you like the new exercise room?” Her deflections always failed, but she never failed to try them.

  “Listen, Grace, you need to quit playing house and take charge of your life. You have a degree for G—”

  “I don’t want to hear it. I know what I can do. I can do what everyone else does. I want to do what I want to do, and I will for as long as I can afford to do it.”

  “You’re living like a pauper.”

  Her laughter made the attendants in the hall smile. Fran was always in a better mood after Grace left. “Aunt Fran, I am a pauper.”

  “Well, quit acting like it! You are being ridiculous. You could have everything—”

  Grace stood, setting the pictures on the coffee table. “I have everything I want. I need to go. I think I’m upsetting you.”

  She leaned in, kissed her aunt’s cheek, smiled into her eyes, and said genuinely. “I love you, Aunt Fran.”

  As the door shut behind Grace, Fran Buscher crossed her arms and legs and leaned back into the comfortable couch cushions with a self-satisfied smile on her face. “You have everything but a man, and with all that flab and stuck at home, you’ll never find one of those either.”

  Chapter Eight

  Grace awoke with renewed vigor. The last week had been physically exhausting, but Grace attributed it to the many quarts of fruit that she’d canned. Her friends paid handsomely for the jelly and fruit that Grace worked so hard to process. The proceeds would feed her through December and then some. Grace often wondered if her customers didn’t pay more for her cooking than it was worth. People always assured her that hand canned fruit and jelly were nearly impossible to buy and very expensive if you were so fortunate as to find a source.

  “Well, Missy, you have a full plate today. Mel and the baby are coming to stay while Craig is in Cleveland for that silly conference, and you need to get their room ready, get dinner started, and then pull out those catalogs to plan Gracie-Anna’s spring wardrobe.”

  Grace continued with her running dialog as she brushed her hair, made the bed, dressed, and moved from room to room readying the home for the day.

  Craig often insisted that Martha Stewart could take lessons from her. Grace always blushed as he talked but appreciated that her brother valued her contribution to the family. His most memorable assertion was, “Martha may love doing everything at home and being involved in the home, but Grace makes an art of it without a large expense account.”

  “Mom taught me well, didn’t she, Lord? I miss her. I miss Dad too. Life can be hard and lonely at times, but I love the work that You’ve given me to do and I thank you.” Grace’s prayer continued while she began mixing a triple batch of muffins.

  As she looked across the street, the loneliness of Nolan’s house prompted a new line of ramblings. “Nolan is home today, Grace. He’d probably appreciate some hot muffins. If you hurry, you can fix him a basket and get back before Melanie arrives.”

  Grace enjoyed the easy friendship that had grown between herself and her new neighbor. One of the things she appreciated most was not being perceived as less than a ‘real’ person for not having a traditional career. They discussed politics, the Word, and music over endless games of checkers on his porch or hers. As the evenings grew cooler, they held fewer matches outdoors, but with Melanie coming to stay for a few days, they had been looking forward to a three-way championship.

  ~*~*~*~

  “Howdy, neighbor! I made muffins for Melanie and thought you might like to have a few while they are hot.”

  Nolan smiled at the sight of the basket in Grace’s hand. This wasn’t the first time that Grace had shared her larder with him. Her generous nature was evident at every turn, but Nolan was quite aware of her lack of financial resources. Eventually, he would devise a way to contribute without it being obvious or insulting.

  “Morning, Grace. Thank you, I haven’t had breakfast yet. You know, I was thinking about inviting myself to dinner tonight, if you didn’t mind.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. “We’d love to have you. Anytime you want to come on over, feel free. Mel and Graci-Anna will be here through Friday evening.”

  Nolan stopped Grace as she turned to leave. Tugging on her sleeve, he said, “Well, I can’t invite myself to dinner without bringing something. I have these steaks in the freezer. Do you like steak?”

  “That’d be great. I—”

  Grace stopped mid-sentence as she noticed Melanie getting out of her van. Grace called a greeting to her sister-in-law, and with a quick wave at Nolan, jogged across the street. “Come when you can, Nolan!”

  He watched as Grace helped Melanie bring in her things, cooing to and casually holding the infant all the while. He felt a twinge of awe. Though he loved children, babies made him nervous. His fear of infants was so acute; he’d managed to avoid ever holding one. However, he also knew that tonight he might find himself unable to refuse. “Aaarrrgggh. What was I not thinking, inviting myself to dinner?”

  ~*~*~*~

  “Mel, what about this one?” Grace lingered over yet another picture of a delicately smocked dress and sighed at its beauty.

  “Grace, you don’t know how to smock. How do you expect to learn how and make that before spring?” Melanie laughed at Grace as she nursed her two-week-old daughter.

  “I just have to learn how to do this. These are too precious! I think I could do quite well if I made these for that upscale boutique we saw in Rockland last summer. You know, that one where we loved everything but the price tags?”

  Melanie was thoughtful. “Ok, let’s make a deal. You can make the dress if I buy the materials for three of them and the supplies to get you started.”

  Grace shook her head. “That’s no gift! I was supposed to get to give Graci-anna her first Easter dress, and if you pay for it all, what kind of gift is that?”

  “Grace…” Melanie’s tone was firm but gentle.

  “What? It’s like me buying you a birthday gift, but you insist on paying me for everything but the shipping?” Grace’s hands were on her hips, and her eyes were flashing. When it came to her financial ‘worth,’ Grace tended to become somewhat unreasonable.

  “Grace, listen to me. The hours that you will spend making this dress will be more than an incredible gift. You can even make more smocked dresses if you let me do this, but as hard as it is for me to say…” Melanie paused. It was almost an unwritten rule in the Buscher family not to mention Grace’s minimal income. She finally took a deep breath and continued. “Grace, you can’t afford the classes, books, or supplies to learn this, and you know it. I have stood behind your desire to make it on your own. I understand it, and I will back you up all the way, but you can’t afford to spend your hard earned money on things for my baby.”

  Grace looked at her feet a moment or two before starting to protest. “Melanie, I don’t think it’s—”

  “Grace.” Mela
nie’s tone grew stern. “This is your pride talking. I know you love to give. I understand that, I do. But we both know that desire doesn’t produce cash, and for you to insist will hurt you in the long run. What kind of gift is that for us? Can we appreciate and love something that you’ve given that costs you more than you can afford?”

  Tears stood in Grace’s eyes. Melanie was right, as usual. Her sister-in-law very seldom stood against anything that Grace or Craig wanted, but when she did, they wisely listened.

  “Ok, let’s find out where to buy the stuff. Who do we know that smocks?” Grace was eager to get started and to get her mind off her financial difficulties.

  “I don’t know… Paige seems to be here. We can ask her, but somehow I don’t think she’ll know.”

  Before Grace could get up to open the door, Paige knocked gently and entered. “Sorry for just coming in, but I didn’t want to wake the baby if she was sleeping.”

  “What brings you by at this time of the day?”“ Melanie transferred her little daughter to the arms of her aunt before adjusting her clothing and turning her attention to Paige.

  “Well, I drove by your house on my way over, and the kitchen floor is all over your driveway. The wind is picking some pieces up and tossing them in the street and the neighbor’s yards. I thought you might want to call the installer and have him take care of it before something gets damaged.”

  Melanie made a beeline for the phone. “Why didn’t you just call? I feel bad that you came all this way.”

  “Well, it was an excuse to see you and the baby—and Grace of course!”

  “I knew that I should insist on staying home while they did the work. Craig kept going on and on about how I needed my rest, and without someone to help if the baby wouldn’t sleep at night…”

  Melanie turned her attention to the contractor who finally answered the phone. Paige and Grace quickly began poring over the different catalogs and magazines. If the two women had been allowed free reign, they could have easily outfitted ten children with their ‘favorites’ alone.