Joy for Mourning

by Dorothy Clark

  Laina heaved a sigh of relief, threw down the towel and rushed to the door to give orders for broth for the boy if he awakened and a supper tray for Thad. Had Justin and Elizabeth guessed why she’d been so fidgety at supper? Heat flowed into her cheeks again. She stepped out into the hall, pulled the door closed behind her and leaned against it, ignoring the quickly veiled look of curiosity in her maid’s eyes.

  Fool! Letting your feelings show like that. Now look what you’ve done! Thad plowed his fingers through his hair, scowling as his cowlick popped free. He swiped the hair off his forehead and stared at the closed door. His right knee began to jiggle. Should he apologize? No. If he apologized Laina would know for certain how he felt about her. Better to act as if that look had never happened. Yes. Better to simply ignore it. And never let it happen again!

  Thad snorted. How did he do that? Every minute he spent in Laina’s company deepened his love for her. His desire to have her for his own strengthened every time he saw her, heard her speak or laugh.

  Thad glanced down to be sure the boy was still sleeping, then stormed to the window, tugged it open and looked up. “I need help, Lord. I’m trying my best, but I can’t squelch my love for Laina. You’ve called me to be a doctor and I’ve been faithful to that calling even though it’s meant a lonely, loveless life. But now, well, Laina’s a wealthy society woman, Lord, and You know I have nothing to offer her. Please help me overcome my love for her, my longing to make her my wife. Please help me not to show by word or deed how I feel about her and—”

  Thad broke off the furiously whispered prayer as the door opened. He gripped the window frame and stared at the night sky. You’ve never failed me in the past, Lord. I trust You. Have Your way in this situation. Amen.

  “He’s still sleeping.” There was a soft rustle of fabric, the pad of satin slippers and the whisper of skirt hems brushing over the Oriental rug as Laina walked back to the bed. He watched her reflection in the window, his heart pounding against his ribs like a blacksmith’s hammer against an anvil. “I wonder what color his eyes are?”

  Thad cleared his throat. “Black—for the next few days.” He gritted his teeth with determination. I can do this. I just have to focus on my patient. He sucked warm night air into his lungs, then turned and walked back to sit in the chair by the bed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Another child! Laina—”

  “I know, dearheart, I know.” Laina put her hand on Justin’s arm, silencing him. She gave a little tug. “Come with me.” She led the way to the bed.

  Justin’s face tightened as he looked down at the battered little boy.

  “It’s not only his face, Justin.” Laina’s voice quivered with anger. She pulled back the sheet covering the small body. “He has a broken arm and leg, bruised—if not broken—ribs and perhaps injuries we cannot see, including his head. Which is why he doesn’t wake up.”

  She looked up at her brother. “What would you have me do, dearheart? Turn him out?” Her eyes filled with tears. “Would you have me tell Thad not to bring any more of these starving, injured children to me?”

  Justin shook his head. “No, of course not. Not after seeing this boy.” His voice thickened. “It’s hard to believe anyone would treat a child this way.”

  The sound of Billy and Emma laughing and playing on the back lawn floated into the room. Justin glanced toward the open window, then walked over and leaned on the sill looking down. After a few moments he straightened and walked back to stand beside her. “Laina, forgive me for trying to discourage you from taking these children into your home, for balking at your starting an orphanage. I wasn’t thinking of their needs. I was thinking of you, and of myself. I was afraid you would be hurt, and that would hurt me. I hate to see you unhappy.” He stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. “I never realized what a big heart you have—or how small and selfish mine is—until now.”

  “Dearheart, you’re not—”

  He laid a finger across her lips to halt her protest, shook his head and pulled her close. “I’m glad you have opened my eyes to the true state of my heart and the needs of these children. I pray the Lord heals this young boy and opens his eyes on the better, happier world you desire to make for him. I pray, also, that He will give me wisdom and show me how I can help as an adviser in this endeavor.”

  Laina was too choked to speak. She squeezed Justin about the waist, then stepped back and pulled the sheet over the boy again. When she finished, she cleared the lump from her throat and looked up at Justin. It was time to change the subject, to clear the air of all the soft emotion before she started crying. “What brought you here today, dearheart? What did you want to see me about?”

  “Henry Rhodes.”

  That did it. Laina stiffened, any tendency toward tears gone.

  Justin held up a hand. “Hear me out. Pastor Brown had his meeting with Henry. Now Henry wants to speak with you.”

  Laina lifted her chin. “I want nothing to do with that man!”

  Justin placed his hands on her shoulders and looked down at her. “Laina, I know how you feel, but for the sake of these children it might be wise of you to curb that temper of yours and listen to what the man has to say. You need financial backing in order to start your orphanage and Henry Rhodes is a very wealthy—not to say influential—man. He could do the orphanage a great deal of good.”

  Her hands clenched. She shook her head. “No. I can’t abide him. The man has a heart the size of a pea!”

  “And a pocketbook the size of this room. Hear him out, Laina, for the sake of the children.”

  She stared at him, then looked down at the boy on the bed. A sigh rose from somewhere near her toes and exited her mouth. “Very well, but not until this boy wakes. I want to be here when he opens his eyes.” She lifted the cloth from the boy’s head, wrung it out in the bowl of cold water, then put it back on his forehead, being careful not to touch the stitched-up cut.

  Justin gave a little shake of his head. She dried her hands and looked up at him. “What was that for?”

  “I was thinking this isn’t exactly the future you planned for yourself when you moved into this house.” He grinned. “If I remember correctly, you were going to take Abigail’s place as the leader of Philadelphia society.” His grin widened. “You haven’t given one party, and now half the bedrooms on the third floor have been turned into a nursery and the formal gardens into a play area.”

  She gaped at him for a moment, then burst into laughter. “I’d forgotten all about my plans. I guess I’ve been too busy to remember them. Anyway—” she wrinkled her nose at him “—I think Abigail would approve.”

  “I’m sure she would. She always wanted a houseful of children.”

  Laina’s nerves tingled. Gooseflesh rose on her arms. “Abigail always wanted a houseful of children?” Justin’s answering nod sent excitement zinging through her. “Dearheart, that’s what an orphanage is.” Her eyes widened with shock. She began to laugh. “What was I thinking? I don’t have to buy another place. Twiggs Manor is the orphanage!”

  Justin stared at her. “But this is your home!” He glanced at the boy on the bed, then looked back at her, ran his hand through his hair and rubbed his neck.

  Laina giggled. “Poor Justin. You look as if you’ve been struck by lightning.”

  He shook his head. “No, only the hand of God, for the second time today.”

  That sobered her. Laina stopped laughing. She hated it when people said things like that. “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ll admit—I hate to say it, but I think you’re right, Laina. I think Twiggs Manor is to be the orphanage and you are meant to start it. I think it’s been the Lord’s plan all along. I simply didn’t recognize it.”

  Justin blew out a gust of air, rubbed the nape of his neck again and gave her a crooked grin. “That’s why I felt so strongly I was to give you this house.” His grin widened. “And that’s not all. I’m going to turn everything I inherited from Abigail in
to a trust to help keep the orphanage running. It’s enough for a good solid base we can build on.”

  Laina threw herself into his arms and hugged him so hard she thought her arms would break.

  “He’s sleepin’ like Billy.” Emma stared at the boy on the bed. “Did he get his head hurted, too?”

  Laina rested her hand on Emma’s shoulder to keep her from bouncing around. “Yes. He hurt his head. And his arm and leg, too. We have to be very careful not to bump him.”

  “I won’t.” Emma beamed up at her.

  Laina leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, precious.”

  “How come Tom ain’t got—I mean—”

  “Tom?” Laina jerked her head toward Billy. “Is that his name? Do you know him?”

  “I seen him sometimes.” He flushed. “I mean—saw. How come he ain’t—doesn’t have a bandage? I did.”

  Laina smiled and put one arm around Billy’s shoulders. She was so proud of him. He learned very quickly and was so eager to do the right thing. “He doesn’t have a bandage because his cuts are on his face. Your cut was here.” She touched the raised ridge on the back of his head.

  “He opened his eye, Mama! Like this!” Emma tipped her head up with one eye slitted and the other scrunched closed.

  “Truly!” Laina could see no change. Probably Emma had imagined it. She leaned closer. “Tom, can you open your eyes?” Nothing. She sighed her disappointment.

  Billy tugged her hand, motioned her close when she looked down at him. She leaned down and he cupped his hand around her ear. “He’s keepin’ his eyes closed ’cause he’s scared.” His face flushed. “I know, ’cause I did.”

  “Oh, Billy.” Laina hugged him tight, kissed his ear and whispered back. “What should I do?”

  “I could tell him it’s all right.” His cheeks turned a brighter red. “You know…that you’re nice and all.”

  Laina’s heart melted. She kissed his cheek. “That’s a wonderful idea, Billy. Here.” She lifted Emma off the bedside steps and pushed them closer to the head of the bed, then took Emma into her arms.

  Billy climbed the steps. “Tom, it’s me, Billy. You can open your eyes. The lady won’t hurt you none or chase you away.” He leaned closer to the boy. “She’s real nice. She’s our mama now. Ain’t she, Emma?”

  “Yeah, she is, Tom! An’ if you open your eyes she’ll give you a cookie!”

  Laina laughed at the memory and started down the stairs to the second floor. Billy’s plan had worked—Tom had opened his eyes. And she had given him a cookie. He’d been eating them in prodigious amounts ever since—as did the rest of the children. It was one of the things all the children—including the ones who had arrived after him—had in common when they first came to Twiggs Manor. They couldn’t seem to get enough food. Even Audrey.

  Laina paused a moment at the bottom of the steps, listening to the soft sound of violin music floating up from downstairs. Audrey was practicing again. She practiced every day without fail. And she never had to be reminded or coaxed, unlike Becky. Becky was such a social little person she hated to be alone long enough to practice, though she loved to play the piano.

  Laina smiled and stepped into the hall. Emma had solved that problem. She had appointed herself Becky’s helper and sat on the piano bench beside her, happily chatting while Becky practiced.

  Muted shouts and a faint stomping sound, followed by a burst of laughter, flowed down the stairwell from the third-floor nursery. Laina grinned. The tutor Justin had hired was playing a game with the younger children. He often taught them that way. It was very effective. Of course, her children were all bright and eager learners. Except for Michael.

  Laina frowned and started down the hall toward the back stairs to the first floor. Michael was the newest addition to her growing orphanage family, and he was still quiet and withdrawn—wary. But that would soon change. They were all like that when they arrived, except Emma.

  Laina’s frown lifted into another smile. She always smiled when she thought of Emma. Everyone did. Emma had such a sunny nature. Sunny. Sunshine. That’s what Thad called Emma.

  Laina’s smile faded once more. She saw him so seldom now—only when she summoned him because one of the children needed medical care. And he always left immediately after tending them. It had been that way ever since the night he had brought Tom to her and she had surprised that look in his eyes. The same look Justin’s eyes held when he looked at Elizabeth.

  Laina’s pulse quickened at the memory, then slowed as she started down the stairs. It had never happened again, and sometimes she thought she had imagined it. Thad had become coolly polite and professional around her after that moment. Even their budding friendship had ceased. It was for the best. She knew it was for the best. Thad deserved better than a barren widow, and so she treated him with the same cool politeness. But she couldn’t stop missing him. Couldn’t stop wishing things were different. That she was different. If she could only bear children, maybe he—

  Laina drew herself up short and cut off the hurtful thoughts. There was no point in torturing herself with longing for something that could never be. She was barren. That was fact. The rest was only a lovely fairy tale. At least she had the memory of that one moment. It was more than she’d ever had before. And she had her children. They were enough. She would make them enough.

  Laina drew a deep breath to try to rid herself of the hollow feeling that had become a part of her and crossed the hall to her study. She had to update Ellen’s medical record—the girl had lost her other front tooth. She smiled and lowered her desk front, opened one of the small drawers and took out a penny, putting it in her pocket. She would hide it under Ellen’s pillow after supper.

  The work was progressing nicely. Laina walked around a pile of lumber beside the door, eyeing the partition that had been built that day. That was the last one. There was now the framework of eight new bedrooms in what was once the elegant ballroom. At two beds to a room, that would give her space for sixteen more children. That should do until the new wing was constructed. “Do you approve, Abigail?”

  She smiled into the silence. Somehow she was sure Abigail was thrilled with every change that had been made to her home. That she was happy with the third-floor nursery, the library that was used as a schoolroom for the older children, the added bedrooms and the removal of the formal gardens to make way for play areas. She was positive Abigail smiled every time a child practiced in the music room or filed in to the elegant dining room to eat a meal amid chatter, giggles and laughter. How could she not be? Twiggs Manor was more alive than it had ever been as a gathering place for the social elite of Philadelphia.

  Laina glanced around the room again, feeling a rush of satisfaction. But beneath it was the emptiness, the hollow space nothing filled. Tears welled into her eyes. She wiped them away and left the room.

  She wasn’t alone in the Twiggs pew now. Laina smiled and swept her gaze over the children walking ahead of her.

  “You must be very proud of the children, Laina. They all sit so quiet and attentive through the church service. I never heard a peep out of any of them.”

  Laina laughed and shifted her gaze to Elizabeth. “Ah, but you couldn’t see them behind you. Becky spent the entire time looking around at the other people in church, but she was discreet about it.”

  “Which is more than I can say for you.” Justin grinned down at her. “You used to swivel your head around like an owl, trying to see what everyone else was doing.”

  “Me?” Laina tried to look offended, then gave up when her lips twitched. “Poor Father. I was a trial to him.”

  “You were the delight of his heart, and you know it.” Justin’s grin widened. “But Grandmother Davidson liked me best.”

  It was an old familiar childhood argument. Laina wrinkled her nose at him. “That’s because you were such a good little boy.”

  “True.”

  She stuck out her tongue at him.

  Elizabeth shook her head,
joining in their laughter. “It’s a good thing those children are in front of us and didn’t see that, Laina. You’re not supposed to teach them such things.”

  Laina laughed. “I don’t have to. They all know already. Even Emma. I saw her stick her tongue out at Billy yesterday when they were playing on the swings.”

  “Really? What did you do?”

  “Nothing. He stuck his tongue out back at her and she burst into tears. She adores him and it simply crushed her little heart to have him treat her that way. I figured that impressed her more strongly than any lecture I could give her.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “You’re probably right.” She gave a little tug at Justin’s arm, then dipped her head in Laina’s direction when he looked down at her.

  Laina lifted her eyebrows. “Must you two have these secret communications about me? What was that about?”

  Justin stopped walking as they reached the corner where they parted company to go their separate ways. “That’s about your preoccupation with the children, Laina. Do you realize you haven’t participated in any social events since you came to Philadelphia? It’s been months since you’ve even left your house, except for church.” He took a breath. “There’s a new dramatization at the Chestnut Street Theater. It’s based on James Fenimore Cooper’s novel The Spy. I’ve heard it’s very good. Elizabeth and I are attending Thursday evening, and we want you to go with us.”

  She drew breath to speak.

  Justin held up his hand and shook his head. “I can tell by the look on your face you’re about to refuse, but this is not debatable. We’ll come for you at eight o’clock.” He took Elizabeth by the elbow and walked off toward Randolph Court, leaving her no choice in the matter.