Winter Is Past

by Ruth Axtell Morren

  The man could only stare at the neat stacks on his table.

  Simon rose. “Well, I must be going.”

  The man stood up hastily. “Uh…could I offer you a drop?”

  “No, thank you. Another time, perhaps,” he added. “Mind you don’t spend your money on the bottle.” He indicated the children behind him. “You have a lovely family. Take care of them.”

  “Oh, yes, sir,” he said quickly.

  Simon walked toward the door. Arnold was there before him, holding it open for him.

  Arnold sniffed again. “Thank y’, sir.”

  “Don’t mention it.” Simon turned back for an instant. “If you would be so good, I would prefer you didn’t mention my visit to anyone at the mission, least of all to Miss Breton. Is that understood?”

  “Oh, no, sir. Mum’s the word. My lip’s buttoned tight,” he said, indicating it with a gesture.

  “Very good. Well, so long. I wish you the best. I’ll check on you in a month to see how you made out.”

  When he returned to the street, the urchin was waiting for him.

  He smiled at the boy, feeling suddenly very good inside. “Ready to show me the way back?”

  The boy saluted. “Right ’way, guv’nor.”

  The two sauntered back. “What’s your name?”

  “Tim.”

  “Timothy.”

  “That’s what my mum named me.”

  “Where’s your mum now?”

  “Oh, she died a while back.”

  “I see.” Simon looked down at the boy, who seemed about Rebecca’s age. The boy didn’t seem affected by his loss. It must have been some time ago.

  “What have you been doing since then?”

  The boy shrugged, his hands shoved into the pockets of his corduroy trousers. “Oh, this ’n’ that. Worked for the rat catcher for a while, but he beat me too bad every time he was drunk. So I decided to go off on me own. I was a crossing sweeper for a time. That was a good occupation, ’specially when I stationed myself down at Aldgate. Lots o’ people crossin’ there. But then I ’ad an accident and couldn’t do that no more.”

  “What kind of an accident?”

  He shrugged again. “Barrel fell off a dray and got me ’ere.” He pointed to his shoulder and ribs. “Couple o’ broken bones.” He smiled up at Simon confidentially. “Would’a died right there in the street, but that’s where Miss Thea found me.”

  “She found you?”

  “Yes, sir. She picked me right up. ’Ailed an ’ack and brought me right ’ere. Doc mended me right up. They would ’ave me live there with them all the time, but I prefer the independent life.” He gave Simon another sly smile.

  “So, where do you live?”

  “Oh, around. But you can usually find me at the mission. Things are always goin’ on there.”

  “Yes, I begin to see that.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Althea didn’t get a chance to visit Arnold and his family because two days later he came himself. The transformation in him was astonishing.

  “Miss Breton, forgive me for ever doubtin’ your word. You was right. It was Satan tryin’ to steal from me, not God. God ’eard your prayer.”

  “Oh, thank the Lord,” she said, clapping her hands together. “Tell me what happened.”

  “Well, I got a new job.”

  She smiled in delight. “God be praised.”

  “Not only that, but I got better pay. Everything’s better at this factory. And I got a little—” he hesitated as if searching for the right word “—a little advance, you might say—enough to buy coal, pay the rent, get us some vittles, and still have some coin left over.”

  Althea sighed in delight. “Oh, praise our wonderful God!”

  “Mary ’n’ me’ll be in chapel come Sunday, you can be sure o’ that.”

  “Why don’t you come Friday night, instead of going to the ale-house?”

  He looked at her as if considering. Then he slowly nodded. “Well, per’aps we will at that.”

  It was another two days before Althea could find a moment to go by and visit them. She wanted to hear more about Arnold’s blessing. He was at work, but his wife was there with the children. She insisted on preparing Althea a cup of tea.

  “Been so long since we ’ad any tea,” she said with a smile.

  Althea drank from the chipped cup. “It’s looking quite cozy in here,” she commented with a glance around. Things looked cleaner and neater, and the glowing coals in the grate filled the room with warmth.

  “Miss, Arnold promised not to say a thing, but bein’ as I didn’t promise, I think I can safely tell you.”

  “Tell me what?” Althea frowned, wondering whether Arnold had involved himself in something illegal to suddenly better his fortune.

  “Well, ’is new job and all the rent money…it all come from that gent.”

  “Gentleman? Which gentleman?”

  “The one what knows you. From the mission. Arnold told me ’e was there that day. ’E was visitin’ you, then ’e came by ’ere and gave Arnold all the money to pay the rent, buy us some coal, and ’e told my Arnold where to go to get that job.”

  Althea’s thoughts were in a tumult. Gentleman? That day? Simon! Of course! Her mind went back to the day he’d visited and replayed all that happened when Arnold had burst in on them.

  She questioned Arnold’s wife further, but could discover little else. But when she returned to the mission she ran into Tim, who seemed inclined to linger with her. She noticed he had seemed mighty pleased with himself for the past few days.

  “Did you happen to notice that gentleman who was here the other day?”

  He began whistling nonchalantly, and she was certain he knew something. After a bit of cajoling, she finally got the story out of him. He bragged how he and the fine gent were swell friends now. He showed her the half-crown he’d received from him. “I ain’t gonna spend this. This is my lucky coin,” he said, spitting on it and polishing it with the corner of his jacket before putting it away in a secret pocket.

  “But don’t tell ’im I told you anything. I promised I wouldn’t. It was between us men, ’e told me. ’E’d be awfully disappointed if ’e knew I’d gone and spilled the beans to some female.”

  She smiled and tousled his hair. “Don’t worry. If it comes up at all, I shall tell him I got it out of you. You weren’t to blame.”

  Later that afternoon, she put on her bonnet and warmest cloak. She walked a few blocks to a busy intersection where she could hail a hackney.

  She arrived at Green Street with great anticipation, only to find Simon out. She had to hide her disappointment from Giles and Harry, who greeted her warmly and wanted to know how she was getting on.

  After chatting with them, she asked permission to pass into the library to leave Simon a note, and promised to go down to the kitchen afterward to greet the other servants.

  The library was dim and quiet. Althea walked to Simon’s desk. She breathed in the scent of the room and a wave of nostalgia washed over her. She thought she had successfully left that world behind, but it all came back to her in a rush. She sat on the edge of Simon’s chair and grasped the leather-bound arms. Earlier when she had discovered Simon’s role in Arnold’s situation, Althea had wanted nothing more than to find Simon and hug him.

  Now, in the stillness of Simon’s abode, she felt a longing to gaze once again into those deep brown eyes which could look so mocking one moment and so tender the next. She brought her fist up to her mouth, fighting the sudden urge to cry. When he had appeared so suddenly the other day at the mission, it had been as if she were seeing someone who had died, so completely had she convinced herself she would never see him again.

  Her gaze roamed over the usual stacks of books and papers across the surface of the desk. “Oh, Simon, Simon,” she whispered, her eyes blurring as her fingers riffled through a stack of papers with his writing, “why do I love you so?”

  She brought her lips together, knowin
g she must leave. It would do her no good to pine over something she couldn’t have. She wiped her eyes and looked around until she found a sheet of notepaper. Dipping Simon’s quill into the ink, she composed her thoughts.

  Since it was clear he had wanted to keep his generosity a secret, it was also clear he probably would not be back to the mission. A simple, straightforward thank-you. Nothing to embarrass him, but she had to let him know how happy he had made her, and what a good deed he had done.

  Dear Simon,

  Oh, dear, what was she doing, addressing him like that? She hurriedly crumpled up the paper and tossed it into the wastebasket and took another.

  Dear Mr. Aguilar,

  She rubbed the feather against her chin, mentally composing the note. I am deeply grateful? Thank you so much? God will bless you?

  When she brought the pen back down to the paper she wrote none of these things. Instead she found herself writing:

  I join my brother Tertius and his wife in wishing to invite you to Pembroke Park for the Christmas holidays. I shall be leaving for Bishop’s Green, Hertfordshire, at the end of next week. We would all very much like to have you in our midst during this time.

  Your servant,

  Althea Breton

  On a sudden inspiration, she added, “P.S. Bring your Hanukkah candelabra,” unable to remember what Rebecca had called the branch of candles used in the Jewish holiday.

  There. She had written something she had had no notion of a few minutes earlier. Her brother didn’t even know it, although she knew he would immediately second the invitation when she told him.

  Father, help me. Let Pembroke Park be a place of solace for Simon. I ask nothing for myself. Only let him find You. Oh, he needs You so much now.

  She knew he must be suffering terribly. First, Rebecca and now his seat in Parliament. He had looked awfully thin and tired when he’d come to the mission. What he must be going through! All that he’d worked for all these years. The shame, as well, of how he’d been made to resign. Would this cause him to scorn Christians more than ever?

  “‘A bruised reed shall he not break, and the smoking flax shall he not quench…’” she repeated to herself for the countless time. The Lord would not break this tender, bruised reed, nor quench that tiny ember deep inside Simon’s soul.

  Althea had been at Pembroke Park three days, and each day she’d been keyed up, listening for the sound of coach wheels on gravel. She’d heard nothing from Simon when she’d left London. Tertius had heartily approved her invitation and followed up with one of his own, but neither had he heard anything from him.

  Althea tried to hide her disappointment, telling herself to let God’s will be done. She busied herself helping Gillian decorate the house with holly boughs and tried not to jump at the sound of anyone at the door. But there were lots of people coming and going at this time of year in preparation for the holidays.

  It was half-past seven when Althea was sitting in the drawing room with her brother and Gillian, waiting for dinner to be announced, when they heard the sound of a carriage drive up. Althea kept herself from jumping to the window, but Tertius had heard the sound as well.

  “Perhaps Simon has decided to accept our invitation and is arriving at last,” he said as he rose and went toward the hallway.

  Althea waited, her ears straining to hear the sounds from the entryway.

  “Oh, I do hope it is Simon. I have heard so much about him by now, that I am finding myself anxious to meet him,” Gillian said, putting down the book she’d been reading.

  They didn’t have to wait long. Tertius was soon back, bringing Simon with him.

  Althea’s gaze went to Simon. She kept her seat, afraid suddenly of her eagerness. He looked so good, his dark hair windblown, his color high from the cold night air. Her heart beat faster and she prayed silently that God would help her to do His will.

  Tertius was already introducing Gillian to Simon. Gillian was making a remark and laughing. Simon bowed over her extended hand. Then they came to Althea.

  “I am so glad my sister convinced you to join us for the holidays. I hope you can stay a good fortnight at least. It’s a miracle we managed to drag Althea away from the mission.”

  “Hello, Miss Breton.” Simon’s dark gaze penetrated hers for an instant, then he too was bending over her hand. His hand and lips felt cold against her skin.

  “Hello, Mr. Aguilar. I am pleased you could join us.” She longed to tell him so much. Her heart felt as if it would burst with gratitude.

  He rubbed his face. “I wanted to thank you for your kind invitation.”

  She could feel her face warming.

  “I didn’t want to intrude on your family festivities.”

  “Nonsense,” put in Tertius immediately. “Thank heaven my sister had the sense to invite you. I’ve been a laggard with all my holiday preparations.” Her brother slapped Simon on the back. “It is good to see you. I hope you haven’t eaten yet. We were just going in to dinner, but we have time, if you’d like to freshen up.”

  Tertius escorted him back out of the room, talking with him the whole way.

  “You must have come to know Mr. Aguilar quite well when you were nurse to his daughter,” Gillian commented.

  Althea met her gaze, hoping she didn’t reveal too much. “Somewhat. He was busy with his work much of the time, but he would spend some part of each day with his daughter.”

  “Tertius thinks the world of him.”

  “Yes, it was he who wanted me to nurse Rebecca.”

  “Does he know the Savior?” asked Gillian.

  Althea swallowed. “I don’t believe so.”

  “Let’s hope we can show him the light of Christ during his stay here.”

  Althea smiled. “Yes, that is my prayer.”

  The four of them had a lively meal. Althea was so thankful to her brother and sister-in-law for their good humor and warmth. They kept the conversation going, not dwelling on the terrible things that had happened to Simon over the past year. Instead, they talked of things in the country, of the work at the mission, and Tertius spoke of many things he remembered from their schooldays.

  “You were close at Eton?” Gillian asked.

  Tertius gave a wry smile. “Not at first.”

  “That is an understatement if I ever heard one,” said Simon.

  Tertius chuckled. “What Simon means is that I despised him in my naturally arrogant fashion, as I despised most of my classmates back then. But then his sharp wit and keen intellect caught my attention.”

  “When did that happen?”

  “Some of the boys from the upper form were teasing him. I think I must have been particularly bored that day to stop and see what they were about. Certainly they had tormented him unmercifully since the beginning of term—burning up his assignments, stealing his books, blaming him for things that went on in the classroom. I don’t think there was a boy flogged more than he in all the time I was there—oh, and much worse, things unfit for a lady’s ears.”

  Althea listened, horrified. She had a vague conception of the things that went on in public school but had never heard firsthand, since a boy was expected to take such things like a man and keep silent.

  Tertius continued his story. “For some reason I decided to come to Simon’s rescue that day. I think it was his wit that caught my attention most. There he was, outnumbered and outflanked by a group of boys older and bigger than himself, but his tongue was sharper than the whole group’s put together.”

  “What did you do?” Gillian asked eagerly.

  “Oh, I outranked his tormentors on several counts, not least of which was my own inflated opinion of myself. So, I very deliberately began exposing each one’s weaknesses—they all had their secrets—until before I had reached them all, they had skulked away.”

  Althea smiled. “Like the accusers of the woman taken in adultery?”

  “Except I was no Savior, nor was Simon a grateful penitent. There he stood, battered but not cowed.”


  “Is that when you became friends?”

  He smiled. “Not right away. I still considered him beneath my notice. He was in the lower form, and I in the upper, for one thing. But then I reconsidered. I thought he’d make a useful fag. Oh, I don’t mean in the usual way—having a boy to black one’s boots and toast one’s bread. No, he would be much more useful for his brain.” Tertius shook his head in recollection of the past. “Many an assignment did you complete for me, Simon. Before you look so disapproving, Gillian, he was just as calculating as I.”

  Simon shrugged, taking up the tale. “The prestige of being admitted into your husband’s circle. No one dared touch me there. We eventually did become close friends, despite our self-serving beginning. I don’t know exactly why.”

  “Oh, I know why, on my part. I appreciated your brilliance. I don’t know what you were able to see beyond my egotism.”

  Simon smiled, and Althea could see the genuine affection he had for her brother.

  “Oh, I don’t know, there were one or two qualities to admire in you, I suppose,” he said.

  “Well, when you remember them, please let me in on them,” put in Gillian, straight-faced.

  Simon chuckled. “Certainly. It may take a while, though, I warn you.”

  “Althea, you must help me here. I am being besieged.”

  Althea wiped her mouth with her napkin. “I don’t know, Tertius, you always were well able to stand on your own.”

  They laughed and had a merry evening.

  The next afternoon, Simon found Althea in the library. He looked at what she was reading. “A Practical Treatise upon Christian Perfection. Perfection. Can such a thing be achieved?”

  She looked at his face, but detecting no mockery in his tone, only simple curiosity in his dark eyes, she answered, “It is that which every Christian strives for, but which can only be achieved in Christ.”