She stepped into the parlor to fetch her pencils that were stored in the small writing desk. Dovie was there, darning a pair of stockings.
When she answered the older woman’s question about what she was doing, Dovie looked at her thoughtfully. “You do know that it isn’t good for kids to be cooped up in the house all day, don’t you?”
Eileen frowned. That wasn’t the way she’d been raised. In fact the headmistress at her boarding school had taken great pains to let her young ladies know how unseemly it was to get too much sun.
Then again, she wouldn’t necessarily call her upbringing ideal. And she trusted Dovie.
“But I can’t just let them go outside without supervision.”
“Of course not. But I believe there are a few late carrots still in the ground and some turnip tops that are ready to harvest.”
Eileen nodded. Gardening could be educational. And if she could instill her love of the activity into one or both of these children, it would be something altogether satisfying.
Smiling, she set the pencils back in the desk and went to tell the children about the change of plans, already anticipating the things she could teach them.
Later, Eileen sat in the kitchen watching Dovie teach Joey and Molly how to shell pecans for the pie she intended to make. The carrots and turnip greens they had harvested had been washed and were ready to go into the soup for tonight’s supper.
Their gardening session had met with mixed success. Joey had been more interested in trying to get a look at the dog he could hear barking from another house down the block. He’d ended up pulling up an entire turnip plant rather than just the top and then had accidentally stomped on another.
Molly, on the other hand, had listened closely and asked the kind of questions that told Eileen she was truly interested in getting it right.
The current lesson on shelling pecans seemed more like playtime as Dovie showed them different techniques, made silly faces when shells went flying and pretended not to notice when they sneaked a few bites every now and then.
Eileen envied the older woman’s ease around the children. She knew she would never be able to duplicate it.
The sound of the door chime brought her back to the present, and she stood. “I’ll get that. The three of you look like you have your hands full.”
It was probably one of the members of the Ladies Auxiliary with something for their supper meal. Simon hadn’t followed through on his decision not to accept more food from the community yet.
The buzzer sounded again before she got to the door, and she frowned at the unseemly show of impatience.
When she opened the door, a breathless youth—Leo Dawson, she thought—stood there. Before she could ask him his business he blurted out, “Harry fell off a swing in the school yard and hurt himself. Miss Whitman asked me to come and tell you she sent for Doc Pratt.”
Chapter Eighteen
Eileen’s heart fluttered painfully for a moment as she stepped out on the porch. “You’ll find Miss Jacobs in the kitchen straight down that hall.” Eileen was already halfway down the stairs. “Tell her I’ve gone to the school and will be back as soon as I can.”
With that she was off, not even bothering to fetch a hat. How badly was he hurt? Simon had trusted her to look after his charges. He hadn’t been gone two hours yet, and already one of the children was hurt. Please God, let the boy be okay.
She didn’t stop to exchange greetings, didn’t see anyone—the streets and sidewalks could have been empty for all she knew. When she at last reached the school yard it was to see a group of children standing outside peeking in the windows and doorway.
They parted for her, and she rushed inside to find Miss Whitman and Dr. Pratt bent over a white-faced Harry.
“What’s wrong? Is he going to be okay?”
“I hear he was testing the limits of the swing when he fell off,” Dr. Pratt said drily. “But he’ll be just fine.”
Eileen’s pulse slowed slightly. “Where is he hurt?”
“He bumped his forehead and sprained his wrist. We’ll need to keep a brace on his wrist for the next week, but it should heal without any permanent damage.”
“He’s been very brave,” Miss Whitman said solemnly. “He hasn’t cried a bit.”
Harry’s chest puffed out at the praise. “I’m no crybaby.” But she could tell he was in pain.
Eileen nodded, careful not to let him see how shaken she’d been. “I can see that. But I think it best if you also try to be a little less of a daredevil.”
Harry’s grin made no promise on that score.
Dr. Pratt closed his medical bag and looked down at his patient. “There will be no more roughhousing for you, young man, at least for the next couple of weeks. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Then the physician turned to Eileen. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”
Her worry returned. Was Henry more seriously injured than he appeared? She followed Dr. Pratt across the room while Miss Whitman fussed over Henry.
“I think it would be best if he goes on home now and gets some rest,” Dr. Pratt said, “but he should be fine to return to school tomorrow.”
“So he really is going to be okay?”
“Of course. Most boys get scrapes and sprains from time to time—it’s all part of them wanting to test their own limits. Just keep an eye on him today, and keep him awake until suppertime if you can. If he appears dizzy, queasy or overly confused, send for me. Otherwise just make sure he doesn’t do anything strenuous or use that left hand of his and he should recover in no time.”
He gave her a searching look. “How are you doing? It can’t be easy having all these children thrust on you so suddenly.”
Eileen, realizing she’d been wringing her hands, straightened and gathered herself together. “I’m managing just fine, thank you, Doctor. Is there anything else I should look out for?”
“If his hand or head start hurting too much you can give him a cup of willow bark tea. You can get the powder at the apothecary shop if you don’t have any yourself.”
“Very well. If you’ll put the fee for your services on my tab I’ll settle up with you at the end of the month.”
Dr. Pratt nodded, and, with another warning for Harry to take it easy, he took his leave.
Eileen escorted Harry out of the schoolroom. As soon as they stepped outside, the other children tried to press closer to get details.
Miss Whitman clapped her hands loudly. “Give them some room, children. Harry is going to be just fine, but we don’t want to jostle him, now, do we.”
Most of the children obeyed and parted for them to pass. But Fern stepped forward, blocking their way. “Are you okay, Harry?”
“I’m fine,” Harry boasted. “It’ll take more than a little fall like that to keep me down.”
Eileen placed her hand on his back. “I am taking him home now so he can get some rest. You can check in on him after school.”
Fern held her ground. “Maybe I should come, too, so I can help take care of him. You’re not used to taking care of hurt kids.”
“I think I can handle this and you need to focus on your studies.”
Fern didn’t seem at all happy with that response. She lifted her head with an expression that bordered on a challenge. “I suppose with Nana Dovie there, Harry will be okay.”
They stared at each other for a few minutes, but Miss Whitman and Mr. Parker called the children back to their studies so Fern finally turned and headed back to the schoolhouse.
Eileen’s walk back to the house was much more dignified than her earlier rush to get to the schoolhouse had been. Not only did she adjust her steps to match Harry’s, but she kept her back straight and her head high. But her thoughts were less dignified. Why did Fern dislike her so? Now that she knew a little of the girl’s story, it was easier to understand why she felt she had something to prove. And as the oldest of the children, it was only natural that she would feel protecti
ve of the others.
But understanding the girl didn’t make her belligerence any easier to deal with. She had to find a way to show Fern that she would not try to take her place in this family, or even that of her beloved Gee-Gee.
But that was something to ponder later. Right now she had more immediate problems. Like making sure Harry was properly cared for.
And figuring out how she would face Simon tomorrow with the news that she’d failed so spectacularly in meeting his trust to keep the children safe in his absence.
*
When the children returned home from school, it was as if a swarm of frisky puppies had descended on the place again. They were full of talk about the new friends they’d made, what sort of lessons they’d worked on and the games they played at recess. Eileen found herself actually enjoying the ruckus. It was too bad Simon wasn’t here to see how much they’d enjoyed their first day of school.
The others made a big fuss over Harry, who was not above milking the attention for whatever he could get out of it.
At supper that night, once everyone had been served and the blessing had been said, Audrey started the conversation. “I heard some of the other kids talking about a Thanksgiving Festival. What’s that?”
Eileen paused a heartbeat before responding. “Every year on Thanksgiving Day, everyone gets together to celebrate the day as a community.” She used to look forward to the event, taking great pleasure in the festivities. Right up until everything changed two years ago.
“You mean like a big party?” Audrey asked.
Eileen smiled. “In a way. But it’s an outdoor party.”
“What all do you do there?” Harry asked. “Is there stuff to eat?”
“More food than you’d believe the schoolhouse could hold.” Eileen saw she had everyone’s attention and set her fork down. “Everyone brings lots of food—meats, vegetables, desserts—and it’s all shared. Reverend Harper starts us off with an outdoor prayer service. Then we all eat our noon meal together. There are games and competitions for the children and some for the grown-ups, too. Lots of visiting with each other, of course. And in the afternoon there’s a dance.”
“Ooooh, that sounds like fun.” Rose had a faraway look as if trying to picture it. “Can we go, even if we don’t really live here?”
“Yes, can we?” echoed across the room.
“Everyone is welcome. Besides, you live here now, even if it’s only temporary.”
“I can’t hardly wait,” Audrey said. “When is Thanksgiving?”
“A week from tomorrow.”
That brought more chatter and grins.
But not from Fern. “Do you really think it’s proper for us to be thinking about going to a party when we just buried Gee-Gee yesterday?” the girl asked.
The room grew quiet as each of the other children cast guilty looks Fern’s way.
“Gee-Gee was like a mother to us and we should show some respect by mourning her proper.” The older girl’s expression had the tight look of someone who thought they were right and everyone else was wrong.
Dovie reached over and placed a hand lightly on Fern’s arm. “It’s very understandable that you would think of your Gee-Gee that way, Fern. But just because we lose someone we love, doesn’t mean we can’t ever allow ourselves to be happy again. I’m sure your Gee-Gee wouldn’t want you to miss a chance to celebrate God’s blessings amongst friends and neighbors just because you miss her.”
“She did encourage us to always find ways to show we were thankful,” Russell said.
“I suppose.” Fern stirred her soup listlessly. “But we should think about her while we’re celebrating,” she said defensively.
The other children nodded solemn agreement and then the talk turned to other topics.
What sort of food would she bring to the gathering this year? Back when Thomas had still been alive and she’d been an admired member of the community, she’d taken great pride in furnishing exotic and elegantly prepared dishes. That first Thanksgiving after Thomas’s death, she’d made do with a couple of pies made from pumpkins harvested from her own garden and a ham that had cost her more than she could afford, but her reception had been lukewarm. Last year, coward that she was, she hadn’t even attempted to go.
But that wouldn’t do for this year. There would be twelve members of her household present and that called for a much larger contribution to the meal. Could she make her funds stretch to purchase something from the butcher?
The children obviously wanted to go, and she wouldn’t let her cowardice stand in their way. Besides, she knew that the folks in Turnabout would make them welcome, regardless of how they felt about her.
That evening, when she rocked the younger children on the porch swing, she missed having Simon’s quiet presence nearby. How was he faring in Hatcherville? Had he found a will? If so, given how much the woman had cared for the children, surely she would have left her estate in a manner to benefit the children. Having the Hatcherville property available for the children to move into would solve most of Simon’s problems.
And it would mean they would move on from here fairly quickly.
Well, she would insist they remain here through Thanksgiving at the very least. After all, the children were so excited about the upcoming community festival that it would be a shame to make them miss it.
How empty this large house would feel once they left was something she refused to contemplate.
*
Simon stepped off the train at the Turnabout station and felt as if he’d returned home. Strange how attached he’d gotten to the place in just a few days’ time.
Though not so strange, he supposed, given how much drama had occurred since their arrival.
He made arrangements to have the trunks he’d brought back with him delivered to Mrs. Pierce’s home, then headed off at a brisk walk. He was anxious to see how Eileen had fared with the children since he’d been gone. She was a capable woman, of course, and goodness knows she was up to the task of planning for just about any contingency. Still, when one had ten youngsters under one roof, it was hard to anticipate everything that could go wrong.
The older kids would still be at school so he’d be able to speak to her without having them all underfoot.
When he passed by the bank, he hesitated a moment. He ought to stop in and let Adam know that his search for a will had been fruitless. But he decided that could wait a little longer. The urge to check in with Eileen was too strong to ignore.
When he arrived at her house, he climbed the porch steps two at a time and entered the house without knocking.
The first person he saw was Molly.
“Hi, Uncle Simon. Did you bring our things back with you?”
“That I did, sweet pea. The man at the train depot is going to send them over just as soon as they get unloaded from the train.”
“Good, ’cause I want to wear my blue dress to the Thanksgiving Festival.”
“Thanksgiving Festival?” What was she talking about?
“Yes. It’s like a great big party that the whoooole town goes to. And they even have dancing. And Mrs. Pierce is gonna teach me how to dance so I can dance, too.”
He pictured Eileen gliding across a dance floor with his arms around her and found it a very pleasing image indeed. “Well, now, I’ll bet you’ll be the prettiest little sweet pea on the dance floor.”
Molly giggled. Then she grabbed Flossie and began twirling about to her own humming.
Still in search of Eileen, Simon checked in the parlor and found her there with her sewing basket. It looked like one of the boys’ shirts in her lap.
She glanced up and he was pleased to see a smile blossom on her pretty face. “Hello.”
A heartbeat later, though, the smile was replaced by an expression he couldn’t quite read. What was wrong?
“Did you have any luck?” she asked him.
“If you’re asking if I found a will, I’m afraid not. I did get the children’s things collected
and shipped back with me, though. They’ll be delivered here shortly.”
The smile she gave him this time was her old reserved smile. “I know the children will be glad to have the rest of their clothing and their other belongings.”
“So how did things go with the children while I was gone?” he asked, still fishing for what had put that uneasiness in her manner. “They behaved themselves, I trust.”
Her hesitation told him he’d hit on the source of her discomfort. Had one of the children done something to make her uncomfortable?
“I’m afraid there was a little accident yesterday.”
He stiffened, suddenly shifting his focus from worry about her to concern for the children. “What happened? Is everyone okay?”
“Harry fell off of a swing in the school yard.” Her words were rushed, her expression full of self-recrimination. “He has a cut on his forehead and a sprained wrist. Dr. Pratt says he should be fine as long as he doesn’t try to do too much with that hand for the next week or so.”
Was that all? “So it’s nothing serious.”
“Nothing serious.” There was a touch of outrage in her voice. “Didn’t you hear me say he had a sprained wrist?”
She obviously didn’t have much experience with active boys. “It’ll mend.”
“But you left him in my care and I didn’t keep him safe.”
Her feeling of responsibility was both sweet and misplaced. He crossed the room and sat on the sofa beside her, glad of the excuse to take her hand. “Eileen, this would have happened even if I had still been in town. You can’t watch them all the time. Kids will take spills and have accidents. That’s all part of growing up.”
But her lips were set in a stubborn line. “Nevertheless, you shouldn’t leave them in my care like that again.”
He gave her hand a squeeze and was pleased to see a touch of pink grace her cheeks. “Come now, you’re being much too hard on yourself.”
Before he could say more on the subject, the door chimes sounded. No doubt it was Lionel with the trunks.
He rose to take care of the delivery, but not before he gave her hand another squeeze. “We’ll speak more about this later, but know this—I would trust you with these children at any time, under any circumstances, without any reservation whatsoever.”
Love Inspired Historical November 2014 Page 16
