by Bonnie Leon
“He’s such a dear. And he seems big for his age,” Mildred said. “What does the doctor say about his progress?”
“That he’s strong and healthy,” Rebecca said with a smile. She patted Joseph’s back. He pressed a fist into his mouth and closed his eyes. Dark lashes rested against his cheeks. “One difficulty about his being so healthy—he’s quite heavy. After holding him for a while, my arms and back ache.”
She walked to the cradle that always sat on the porch. After looking through the bedding to make certain there were no poisonous creatures hiding inside, she settled him in it. Straightening, she remained there a moment, looking at him. What did the future hold?
Joseph jerked his hand out of his mouth and let out a small cry, and then replaced the fist and settled down again. He is beautiful, Rebecca thought, feeling a swell of love.
Callie stepped out of the house. “Can I put ’im ta bed for ya, mum?”
“No. He’s fine.” Rebecca felt a twinge of hurt as she watched Callie return indoors. “I sometimes think Joseph prefers Callie over me,” she said.
“Oh, nonsense. No one can replace a mother.”
“Auntie, that may be true, but he always quiets when Callie holds him, and she’s there for him in a moment when he lets out the slightest whimper.”
“If it bothers you, perhaps you ought to speak to her.”
Rebecca walked to a chair and dropped onto it. “I know I’m being foolish. It would be silly of me to say anything about it. Callie is such a dear, always helping and never complaining. If not for her, I don’t know what would have happened while I was ill. She took care of him as if he were her own.”
“She was a great help.” Joseph squirmed and let out a soft cry. “Is he still getting you up at night?”
“Yes. But only once. Callie’s actually taken to sleeping in the room next to his. Sometimes she gets up with him. If he’s hungry, she brings him to me. But I must admit, I wish she wouldn’t help so much.”
“Rebecca, speak to her.”
“She’s simply trying to make life easier for me, and it is nice to sleep when I can.”
Joseph slept, and silence settled over the porch. Rebecca thought back to her childhood. Mildred had stepped into the role of mother when her real mother died. Mildred couldn’t have been better to her, but when she explored her memories, she still felt the ache of her mother’s absence.
“Although I was only five when Mother died, I still remember. I missed her so much.”
“Yes, you did. I tried to help, but you needed her. I always felt I’d shortchanged you.”
“No. That’s not true. You were a wonderful help to me and always loving. I remember in the beginning when I’d have those bad dreams, you were always there to console me.”
“I think your father helped more often than I did. But I was glad to do what I could.” Mildred’s eyes were suddenly awash with tears. “Since I never had children of my own, you felt like mine.”
Rebecca reached over and squeezed her aunt’s hand. “And you were like a mother to me. I cherish you.”
Mildred smiled softly. “I love you, but no one can fully replace a mother.”
Rebecca nodded. “I remember her quite vividly.”
“She was a lovely person. And you’ve always been very much like Audrey, not just your appearance but your personality as well. She was brave and adventurous, just as you are.”
“I don’t feel very brave or adventurous.” She glanced at Joseph and wondered if he would one day feel the bond that should exist between mother and child. She feared she wouldn’t be enough—wouldn’t love enough or be intelligent enough. “Auntie, I feel so inept at mothering. I love Joseph, but I’m not sure I’m doing a proper job. Much of the time I simply feel tired and overwhelmed.”
Mildred offered a sympathetic smile. “No one is a perfect mother, Rebecca. Especially in the beginning. It takes time to become proficient and to gain confidence. And what new mother isn’t tired?”
“I suppose you’re right,” Rebecca said, but she wasn’t certain she believed her aunt. More than likely, Mildred was just trying to make her feel better. She caught a movement out of her left eye and turned to see what it was. A huge, black spider moved along the top of the railing at the far end of the porch. A funnel-web! She suppressed a gasp.
“Oh my,” Mildred said, standing and pressing a hand against her throat. She took a step backward. “I’ve never seen a spider quite like that. It’s big as a man’s thumb. Is it dangerous?”
“Yes. Very. I’ll have Woodman get it.” Rebecca stood. “Auntie, don’t worry. He’s no danger where he is.” She glanced about. “Now, where did Woodman get off to?” The spider moved along the railing.
“He’s coming this way!” Mildred squealed and moved backward until she stood against the front railing. The contact startled her and she jumped. “Is that one of those horrid spiders you were telling me about?”
“Yes. A funnel-web,” Rebecca said, walking down the front steps and looking about. When she didn’t see Woodman, she glanced back at the spider and said, “Well, I suppose I’ll just have to take care of it myself.”
Trying to get hold of her courage, she returned to the porch. Keeping an eye on the nasty creature, she crossed to a broom leaning against the front door frame. Her heart hammered and her mouth had gone dry. It’s nothing more than a bug, she told herself. Cautiously she moved toward the spider, broom raised.
“Do be careful,” Mildred said, moving to the cradle and lifting out the baby. She held him close as if to protect him. “Oh dear. Didn’t you say just one bite could kill a person?”
“Yes . . .”
“Maybe you ought to get Woodman.”
“This one won’t be biting me or anyone else.” Rebecca lifted the broom higher. Seeming to sense danger, the spider darted toward the outside of the rail. Rebecca took a step closer. All of a sudden it moved toward her, lifted its body, and raised its two front legs in an aggressive stance.
She felt a surge of revulsion and alarm, and for a moment reconsidered finding Woodman. No, she told herself. It’s an insect. I can certainly kill a bug. She raised the broom. “You don’t scare me. I’m bigger than you.” Teeth clenched, she swung the broom down hard, directly on top of the spider. Rebecca pressed firmly to make certain it was dead, then carefully lifted the broom. All that was left of the ghastly thing was a black smear across the broom’s fibers. Rebecca knocked the remains loose and they dropped to the ground. With a feeling of confidence, she returned the broom to its place at the door.
“How dreadful.” Mildred shuddered.
Wearing a smug expression, Rebecca lifted Joseph out of Mildred’s arms and returned to her chair. “It’s nothing to worry about, Auntie.” Joseph put his feet on his mother’s lap and pushed himself upright. He grinned, and his cheek dimpled just like his father’s. Rebecca dropped kisses on his face.
“I don’t know what I would do if I were to find one of those things in my room.”
“No worries, Auntie. I’ve never seen one in the house. Although, I did hear that Lily came across one in the kitchen once. But that’s extremely rare. Woodman’s careful to watch for them.”
“I’m careful ta watch for what?” Woodman asked, approaching the steps and then leaning on the handrail.
“Funnel-webs. I just killed one. It was there on the railing.”
Woodman grinned. “Ya mean ta say ya got up the courage? Ya might be an Aussie after all, eh?”
Rebecca folded her arms over her chest and smiled. “I just might be.”
“Proud of ya, mum,” Woodman said, tipping his hat before walking away.
Joseph let out a small cry. “You can’t be hungry already.” Rebecca moved him to her shoulder and patted his back, but whimpers turned into wails. She bounced him gently, but he threw himself away from her and cried more fervently. She tried to cuddle him, but he only became more agitated.
Callie stepped out of the front door. “Let me give
’im a try.” She reached for the infant. “’Ere, mum, let me ’ave ’im.” She took Joseph and held him against her chest. His cries quieted, and he rested his head against her cotton dress. “There ya are. Yer fine now, eh?” Callie said, rocking gently.
Feeling a pang of jealousy, Rebecca turned to her aunt. “See what I mean. It’s always that way. When I can’t do a thing with him, she comes along and he quiets right away.” Rebecca tried to make her voice light, but she wondered why her son preferred Callie.
“I’m sure it’s not you,” Willa said, walking up the front steps, carrying a basket of eggs.
“What, then?”
“You can never tell what will soothe a child.” Willa knit her brows. “Perhaps you’re feeling tense? He might sense it.”
“I’ve heard of that,” Mildred said. “And you did just kill that dreadful spider.”
“Yes, but all mothers feel anxious now and then. You would think he’d feel how much I love him.”
Creases of concern lined Callie’s forehead. “Would ya like ’im back, mum?”
“No. He’s content now.”
“Well, then would ya like me ta take ’im upstairs ta bed?”
“Yes, that would be fine,” Rebecca said without looking at the servant.
Callie took the baby indoors, and Rebecca rested her head against the back of her chair and wondered what she could do to be a better mother.
Willa sat beside Rebecca. “So you killed a funnel-web, eh?”
“I did. And I was just beginning to feel a bit of confidence, but my own son prefers someone other than me.”
“Don’t be silly. You’re a fine mother. He’s always glad to be with you.”
Rebecca pushed out of her chair and walked to the railing. “I’m simply not very good at it.”
“Rebecca Thornton, you’re an excellent mother,” Willa said adamantly. She moved to Rebecca’s side and rested a hand on her daughter-in-law’s arm. “I see how much you love him. And how his eyes light up when he looks at you.”
“Oh, that look is the one he uses when he’s hungry,” Rebecca said with a crooked smile.
“It’s more than that and you know it.”
Rebecca rested a hand over Willa’s. “Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I’d become a lawyer. I would probably have been better at that than I am at mothering.”
“Rebecca Thornton, stop this nonsense!” Mildred’s light blue eyes looked angry. “Thank the Lord you’ve been blessed with a child.”
Willa added in a gentler tone, “Being a mother is one of the most important tasks God gives. The man Joseph will become has quite a lot to do with you and what you teach him. I dare say, God never created a more significant job than that of being a mother.”
Rebecca could feel the sting of tears. “Yes. I agree, but sometimes I feel like I’m doing a poor job.”
“I don’t want to hear another word. You’re doing just fine.”
Not knowing what else to say, Rebecca stared at her mother-in-law. She couldn’t possibly understand how inadequate she felt. Willa was the perfect mother. “And I feel I could be doing something more than just helping around the house.”
“You underestimate yourself, Rebecca,” Willa said. “You’ve been a great help to me. I’m getting on in years, and with Bertram gone, your assistance is of immense value.”
Rebecca took in a deep breath and blinked back her tears. “Thank you for your confidence, but I sometimes think of the days I spent in my father’s office and at the courthouse—they were satisfying, filled with anticipation and a sense of achievement. After searching through a case and then deciding an angle of attack, my father would step into the courtroom and bring justice. I was part of something significant.”
Sadness touched Willa’s eyes. “And now you feel insignificant?”
Rebecca thought for a moment, then said honestly, “Sometimes. Never in my life did I envision that I would one day live in the midst of a great plain and have a son and husband who depended upon me. Life was much different in Boston.” She looked beyond the dirt yard. “I love Daniel and Joseph, but there are times when I miss my old life and wish Daniel would take me back to Boston.”
Willa’s expression turned serious. “God will show you why you’re here at Douloo and what you’re to do with your life. I’m extremely grateful for your presence.”
Rebecca nodded. Her thoughts returned to the funnel-web she’d killed, and the sense of self-assurance crept back. I can do whatever I set my mind to.
Joseph’s crying dragged Rebecca from sleep. She rolled onto her side and stared at the empty space beside her. Daniel was gone. With a heavy sigh, she sat up and ran her hands through tangled hair. If I just let him cry, Callie will get him, she thought. The idea of more sleep was tempting. However, she could feel her milk letting down, and her arms longed to hold her son.
“I’m coming,” she said, dropping her legs over the side of the bed and hurrying to the nursery. “It’s all right. Mummy’s here.” She lifted the red-faced infant from his crib and held him against her. He quieted and gazed at her. Rebecca wiped tears from his cheeks and kissed him.
All of a sudden he smiled and his face lit up as he chanted, “Dada, da . . . da . . . da . . . da.”
“Oh my! You said dada.”
“Dadadada . . . ,” he prattled.
Rebecca kissed his cheek again. “What a bright boy you are.” She held him up in front of her. “Now, how about mama . . . mama.”
Joseph planted pudgy hands on her cheeks, then reached and grabbed a handful of dark hair.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Rebecca said, gently loosening his hold and then pushing her hair back out of his reach. She carried him to the rocker and sat. “One day you’ll say mama.”
By the time Rebecca had fed and changed Joseph and dressed and coifed herself, Mildred and Thomas had already finished breakfast. When she walked into the kitchen, they sat at the table drinking coffee. Willa carried a cup and saucer to the sink.
“Mmm, coffee smells good. I think I’ll have some rather than tea this morning,” Rebecca said.
Thomas stood and pulled out a chair for her. “I’m afraid I brought my coffee habit with me. Gwenn always made the best coffee. I’m afraid she spoiled me.”
Rebecca glanced across the table and caught the wince of pain in Mildred’s eyes.
She sat and settled Joseph in her lap. “Although I do enjoy my tea, coffee is nice for a change. It’s rather fortifying.”
“You look rested,” Willa said.
“I am. Joseph actually slept through the night.” Rebecca kissed the top of his head. “And this morning when I went to get him from his crib, he asked for his dada.”
“Why, he’s only a little more than four months old!” Mildred reached across the table and took Joseph’s hand. “He’s very bright.”
“Would you like somethin’ ta eat, mum?” Lily asked.
“I’m famished. In fact, it seems that since Joseph was born I’ve developed a man’s appetite. Sometimes it’s embarrassing.”
“It ’as ta do with yer feedin’ the bybie,” Lily said. “Mothers need more food if they’re ta ’ave enough for themselves and the bybies.” She smiled. “I made scones, but if ya’d like eggs it wouldn’t be nothin’ for me ta cook some.”
“A scone will be fine.” Rebecca settled her eyes on Mildred and Thomas. “So what do you have planned today?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Mildred turned to Thomas. “Since you decided to spend the day with me rather than work with Daniel, it seems the choice should be yours.”
“I was thinking a picnic and fishing down at the billabong.”
“Sounds lovely.” Mildred glanced at Rebecca and Willa. “Would either of you like to join us?”
“No. Actually, I’ve some paperwork waiting for me—documents and such to sort out in Bertram’s desk.” Willa’s voice sounded leaden. “I hate the thought.” Swiping at a single tear, she added, “Silly of me, hanging on
to his outdated papers.”
Those in the room quieted, reminded of the man who had once ruled Douloo.
“I’d be more than happy to help. I used to do that sort of thing for my father when I worked in his law practice,” Rebecca said.
“Thank you for offering, but no. This is a task I must see to myself.” Willa’s blue eyes glistened with tears, but she managed a smile. “I think you ought to picnic with Mildred and Thomas. It’s a lovely day.”
“I was hoping to take Chavive out for a ride.” Lily set a hot scone spread with jam on the table in front of Rebecca. A sweet aroma rose from the breakfast pastry.
“Where were you planning to ride?” Willa asked.
“I’m not sure, but you needn’t worry about me. I know my way around quite well these days.”
“Yes, of course. I was just curious.”
“I might go into town or to Cambria’s. And I suppose I could stop at the billabong for a bite and the opportunity to watch Thomas catch a fish.” Rebecca smiled.
“Oh yes, do,” Mildred said.
Rebecca thought she detected disenchantment on Thomas’s face. “However, I wouldn’t want to barge in on you two.”
“Don’t be silly. Of course you wouldn’t be barging in.” Mildred glanced at Thomas.
“We’d enjoy your company,” he said.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
Rebecca thought a moment. “I have an idea. Why don’t you two join me?”
“You mean ride horses?” Mildred asked with disbelief.
“Yes. You used to ride all the time, Auntie. And I’m ashamed to say that my horse Rena has been neglected since Chavive’s arrival. She’s long overdue for a ride. She’s quite gentle.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly. It’s been years.”
“Father told me that you were once a fine rider,” Rebecca challenged.
“I think it’s a splendid idea,” Thomas said. “It would be great fun. What do you think, Willa?”
Willa stood in the doorway, arms folded over her chest. “I think it’s not up to me. I’m not getting into the middle of this one.” She grinned.
