Unyielding Hope

by Janette Oke

“I don’t know.”

  Lillian rose from her chair in the dining room and walked through the foyer. She could already hear shuffling on the other side of the door. Hoping it had nothing to do with the children, she reached for the handle. Outside stood an older couple and two young boys. In a glance Lillian could tell the children were identical twins, like bookends with their parents between them.

  Loudly the man announced, “Name’s Szweda. Jack and Katrin Szweda. We hear you’re the adoption people. We live in Kedderton. It ain’t far.” He was tall though stooped, dressed in old overalls, a little frightening. His wife was short and thin, a cross expression on her face.

  Are they looking for a child to adopt? Surely not! Grace appeared at Lillian’s side before she’d gathered her wits to answer them.

  Mr. Szweda began again. “Jack and Katrin Szweda. You the adoption people?”

  “Good day, Mr. and Mrs. Szweda, I’m Grace Bennett. To be honest, I’m not sure exactly what you’re asking. Can you please try to explain it to me?”

  “We’re lookin’ for them adoption people. We was told thet was you. See, they give us these boys. We took ’em on ’bout four months back. One of ’em, he don’t hear too good. Can’t really talk neither. We want to see somebody ’bout givin’ him back.”

  Grace managed to keep her voice controlled. “Mr. Szweda, when you adopt a child there’s a contract involved. And he becomes a member of your family. You wouldn’t want to give up a member of your family, would you? But I’d be so pleased to help you understand his medical condition. You say he doesn’t hear well? Has he been tested?”

  “We ain’t got money fer fancy doctors. Took ’im to our doc in town, and he says the boy don’t hear too good. That’s why he can’t talk. Don’t say words, just kinda grunts and groans.”

  Lillian had not invited the small family into the house. However, Mr. Szweda was moving forward, a little at a time, gaining ground in the foyer step by step. His wife crowded in just behind, drawing the boys by their hands in her wake.

  “Listen, them adoption people said the boys were both healthy. But that ain’t so.” She lifted the hand of the child on her right. “This one’s ailin’ and poorly. Won’t outgrow it. So we gotta give ’im back.”

  Lillian found her voice. “What do you mean, give him back? What is your intention with the other boy?”

  “Milt? He’s all right. We’ll keep ’im. Just Matty we don’t want.”

  Grace turned her face away. “Miss Tilly? Miss Tilly, would you please give us a hand for a moment?”

  The woman appeared immediately. Her clouded eyes revealed how much of the conversation she’d overheard. “Why don’t I jest take the boys to the kitchen fer a snack, Miss Grace? Come along, boys. How ’bout a nice slice’a bread an’ jam?”

  Milton took a step forward. Matty followed suit immediately, just a shadow behind his brother. Grace motioned the couple into the parlor, and Lillian pulled the doors closed behind them.

  “Mr. Szweda,” she tried again, “our town has a fine doctor. He’ll be back tomorrow, I believe.”

  “Said we ain’t got no money fer no more doctors. Nor fer to spend the night. We’re headin’ home now. Gotta get back to the stock ’fore it’s dark.”

  “I’m sure we can help with . . .”

  “She ain’t hearin’ ya, Jack. My husband, he said we don’t wanna keep Matty. That young’un ain’t nary gonna amount to much. Troubles—we got them already. What we asked fer was a couple’a boys ta help around the farm. An’ that ain’t what they gived us. So we don’t got no more reason to keep our word after them adoption people lied—contract or no. Now, we’re gonna do right by Milton, but . . .”

  Over my dead body! Lillian cast a last look at Grace and found her voice again. “I’m terribly sorry, but there’s no possible way these twins can be separated. It cannot happen. They must stay together. . . .”

  Grace cut short her rising tirade. “What Lillian means is that the government won’t allow the boys to be separated. They’re brothers—twins. And we have no authority to take one without the other.”

  Lillian knew it was a lie—at the very least it was a vast overstatement intended to deceive. The government routinely separated siblings. And the sisters had no authority in this matter at all. But she moved in closer, placed a hand behind Grace’s shoulder, willing her to continue.

  “I’m more than happy to help you find aid if you choose. Though, of course, I can’t require you to seek medical help. The one thing I can’t do is accept Matty without accepting Milton at the same time.”

  “Bosh, Jack. They ain’t listenin’!” The small woman came closer, tipped back her head, looking up at them, and let loose. “We ain’t keepin’ Matty. He ain’t gonna be no help—he’ll be nothin’ but trouble. If ya gotta take ’em both, so be it. But Matty ain’t gettin’ back in our rig. One way or t’other, we’re leavin’ here without that good-fer-nothin’ boy.”

  A deep breath. Lillian knew exactly what her words would cost. It didn’t matter. “That will be fine, Mrs. Szweda. Do they have any belongings you’d like to leave with the boys?”

  “Go git the bag, Jack.”

  Mr. Szweda walked away. They heard the door open, his footsteps on the porch stairs. His wife continued to glower at them. “Ya think ya beat us, don’tcha? But this ain’t the end of it. We’ll just get a couple more boys later. An’ we’ll tell ’em what ya done here. Them orphan trains come by once a year. Maybe this time we’ll get what we wanted from the first—two healthy young’uns.”

  Words formed in Lillian’s mind. She bit her lip and averted her eyes. Grace would keep her temper. Grace would know what to say.

  “They’re not farmhands, ma’am. They’re children. They’ve already lived a wretched life, and their reward for being forced to leave their country should be to arrive at a safe and loving home.”

  “An’ we ain’t that?”

  “No, ma’am. You are not.”

  Lillian stared at her sister in utter shock. She’d never seen a trace of this before. Grace had lied, and now Grace was accusing, with Lillian as an accomplice. What on earth is happening?

  Mrs. Szweda spun on a heel and strutted toward the front door. Grace and Lillian followed silently. Her husband met the small woman on the porch, a burlap sack in his hand. She wrenched it from him and threw it at the foyer floor.

  “Good luck. Them clothes are Matty’s. Got Milt’s back home still. Good-bye and good riddance.”

  Grace closed the door a little too hard. Then turned and leaned against it, shaking badly. Hot, angry tears had filled her eyes.

  You’re the steady one, Lillian thought. She could feel a strange palpitation in her chest. Is it anger? Or rising fear?

  At last Grace whispered, “Well, sis, we’re in deep this time, aren’t we?”

  After school, five children stood in the doorway to the kitchen with wide eyes. There were two new boys at the table, mirror images of one another.

  “Who are they?”

  “Come closer, everyone. Miss Tilly has a snack ready for you. Miss Grace and I would like to introduce you to the boys and talk a little, even before you go up to change out of your school clothes.”

  “Miss Lillian, where they gonna sleep?” Hazel made a leap to the practical implications.

  Bryony whispered, “How come they look the same?”

  A platter of cookies and cups of milk helped to calm their questions. Milton was all smiles, pleased to see the flood of playmates enter the room. Matty kept to himself, four little wooden soldiers and a little carved horse on the table in front of him. All eyes noticed the dribble of saliva at the corner of his mouth.

  Grace held one arm around the back of Matty’s chair protectively as she explained. “These boys are Matthew and Milton Baines. Yes, they’re twins, and they’re six years old. They’ll be here with us for a while. I’m going to write a letter to the people back in Lethbridge to see if the boys can stay with us too. I know we’re crowded
already, but we can make this work because we want to be loving, don’t we?”

  Harrison set down his cookie and rubbed crumbs from his fingertips. “Miss Grace, how’d they get ’ere?”

  “They were staying with a family who decided it wasn’t working out. So they brought them here in hopes we’d take care of them instead.”

  “Oh.” He exhaled. “I remember.”

  Lillian was certain that Harrison knew exactly how it felt to be “returned.”

  “Then they can stay with us, right, Georgie? I can be on the floor, and they can both share the bed with you. It’s big enough for three.” George seemed less than enthused.

  “That’s kind of you, Harrison. I’m so proud of you for your generous offer. I think we’ve worked out something that will suit us better though. Miss Lillian is going to move into the big bedroom. We’ve agreed that it doesn’t make sense not to use all of our rooms. Then Milton and Matty can stay in her current room.”

  Hazel nodded as if everything had been settled. She dipped her cookie into her milk and sucked at the softened corner.

  “Would anyone like to say hello to Milton?”

  The response rippled around the table. “Hello, Milton.”

  “What’s wrong with that other kid?” George’s expression made it clear that he’d already perceived some oddity about the quiet twin.

  “This is Matty. But I’m afraid Matty might not hear very well. He also doesn’t speak much. But we’re going to take him to see Doc Shepherd tomorrow. Maybe there’s something that can be done for him.”

  “Hi, Matty,” Bryony greeted softly. The boy didn’t look up. He failed to respond in any way. With a flat hand, Bryony thumped twice on the table in front of her, causing everyone to jolt and turn in her direction. Matty, too, responded to the unexpected tremor. His eyes met Bryony’s and he grinned back.

  “Hello,” she greeted him again, then explained to the others, “My cousin, he didn’t hear good neither.”

  Lillian wondered again about Bryony’s lost kin. Clearly, they were all still assembled there in the child’s memory.

  “Miss Grace, are they gonna do chores too? ’Cause I can teach Milton how to wash dishes, if ya want.”

  “Thank you, Hazel. We’ll take our time getting to know them first.”

  “They can meet the kitten! Hey, Milt, wanna meet our kitten, Miss Puss?”

  He nodded vigorously.

  “The kitten may come in for half an hour, and then you need to be sure to take her back outside.”

  “Yes, Miss Lillian.” The remains of the cookies were forgotten. Three pairs of scampering feet hurried outside on a hunt for the increasingly elusive cat.

  Lemuel lingered over his milk. “Miss Lillian?”

  “Yes?”

  “I just wanna say thanks. What you did, it was right to do it. Even if we’re crowded now. It was the right thing.”

  “Oh, Lemuel, there was nothing else we could do. They needed a home. And we have one. It was rather simple, actually.”

  “I know. But I’m glad that’s how you think about it. Most folks don’t.” He looked down at the table for a moment, picked at a spot on the tablecloth. “And thank you for letting me be here too. I know I didn’t ever say thank you before. It’s just that, just that it was too hard ta believe you at first. But I do now.” He shook his head. “And I’ll work hard for you, I promise. I’ll do the chores and get the best grades I can so you can be proud of me when I graduate.”

  As Lillian forced a smile, breathed in deeply in an effort to inflate it, her mind whirled. She appreciated his words. And yet, it would be almost four years until Lemuel graduated from high school. Was he truly thinking he would live with them until he did? And Father—he was expected home again in less than a year.

  It felt as if a mountain had descended onto Lillian’s shoulders. She’d chosen it, had been the one to convince Grace. And yet, it was only increasing in size and weight. However, Lillian was all too aware that she wasn’t like Atlas—was not a hero who could carry the weight of the heavens. She was weak and worried and often afraid. She looked across at Matty again. Who is this boy? Is he beyond our help? Will anyone want to adopt him?

  Lillian reached for the doorknob slowly, held it for a moment before turning. Her parents’ bedroom had been left vacant, untouched by the chaos of the past few weeks. Entering it felt like desecrating a tomb. With determination, Lillian forced herself to advance farther, moved quietly to the nearby oil lamp and lit it.

  One by one she carefully pulled the dust covers off the furniture. Her eyes fell on a photograph of Mother beside the bed. Tears came immediately, slipping in streaks down her face like rain on a windowpane. She lifted the picture, walked heedlessly around the bed to the far side—to Mother’s side—then collapsed onto it, tucking herself around the picture as if enveloping its subject by doing so. She gave in to a flood of tears. For Mother. For Father. For Matty and Milton. For all the others. And for the growing fear that it was all too much. She put out the lamp, and in utter darkness, she pulled the coverlet around her.

  Morning finally arrived. Lillian stood woodenly and tucked in the covers properly on Mother’s side of the bed. Father’s half had been left undisturbed. She slipped out of yesterday’s clothing and pulled one of her own dresses from the small pile someone had temporarily laid across the back of a chair, brought silently from the smaller bedroom so that Lillian could dress in the morning, so that the boys could be moved into their new space. She knew that Grace was fully aware that this morning would be a difficult first. For a fleeting moment she recalled the more extensive wardrobe that had been shipped to Wales.

  Lillian straightened her hair with Mother’s hairbrush and drew a strand of her beads from the pearl-inlaid box on her dressing table. Today especially, Lillian wanted to carry with her a reminder of Mother.

  Miss Tilly hustled around the kitchen, preparing breakfast. Lemuel and George worked in and out of the house, carefully transporting fresh water and ashes and bedpans. Soon the younger children rose, wiping sleepy eyes, dropping onto chairs at the table. Grace went upstairs to wake their new charges. When Matty and Milton appeared, they seemed cheerful and at ease. Milton smiled and chatted with the others. Matty kept his eyes on his own food, though his gaze flitted up frequently, regularly watching his brother for cues about when and how to react.

  What would Matty be like this morning if Milton had been taken away? Even though Lillian was sitting at the busy breakfast table, her face contorted at the thought. She shook her head to rid herself of the awful image. Still her conscience was wrestling. Heavenly Father, I’m sorry we lied. I truly am. And yet, how could we have . . . ? Sometimes it was so difficult to do the right thing. She wondered . . .

  They walked into town together—Grace and Lillian, Milton and Matty, and the others. Stopping first at the post office to drop off Grace’s carefully worded letter to Lethbridge and pick up their own mail, Grace and Lillian waved the older children off to school and continued to Dr. Shepherd’s office with Milton and Matty. They were welcomed in, the first patients of the day. Grace spoke briefly with the nurse, who disappeared into the next room. In a moment she was back to lead them to the examination room.

  “Well, well, I see we have some brand-new friends. What’s your name, young man?”

  “I’m Milt. An’ this is my brother, Matty.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Milt. I’m Dr. Shepherd. How old are you boys?”

  Milton answered, “We’re six.”

  “Do you see my table, Milt? It’s a special kind of table—meant to sit on. I’m going to have you boys hop up here so I can see you both better.”

  “Yes, sir.” The boy allowed himself to be assisted onto the examination table. Matty hurried to clamber up after him.

  “Whup!” Dr. Shepherd caught the second child by the elbow, settling him beside his brother. “And you’re Matty, right? Is that short for Matthew?”

  No answer. No sign of recognitio
n at all on his face.

  “Yes,” Milton chimed in. “But we don’t call ’im that. Just Matty.”

  “I see. Hey, Milton, does Matty talk to you—when you’re alone?”

  “’Course he does. He don’t speak good to other people. But we can talk.”

  “I see.” He paused. “Can you ask him some things for me? Can you be my interpreter today?”

  “Yup.”

  “Can you please tell Matty that I’m a doctor and I want to help him?”

  The boy blinked in confusion. “He can hear ya. He just don’t speak too good. And so most of the time he don’t like to talk at all.”

  Glancing toward the sisters, Dr. Shepherd crouched lower in order to make eye contact with Matty. “Hi, Matty. Milton says you can hear me. So I’d like to ask you some questions. You can tell Milton your answers, if it’s easier for you.”

  A flicker of a look.

  “Does your throat hurt?”

  Silence for a moment.

  “Tell ’im, Matty. He’s gonna help ya.”

  Then a quiet guttural sound. He had clearly answered no, though the word was rounded and unformed, as if his mouth were filled with marbles.

  “Good. That’s very good. Can you . . . clap your hands?”

  Milton giggled. And in the next moment Matty joined in his laughter. The erupting smile on his face transformed him. He raised his head, looked at his brother from the corner of his eye, and clapped once, quickly lowering his hands again, tucking them under his legs. Milton poked him with an elbow. Matty returned the jab.

  Lillian felt her mouth fall open. Grace slid an arm around her waist and they leaned against one another.

  “Can you . . . touch your nose?”

  The hand went immediately to the tip of his nose and back again to its hiding place.

  Rising, Dr. Shepherd reached for a scope. “I’d like to look in your mouth, Matty. May I do that?”

  Milton shook his head vigorously. “He don’t like to be touched.”

  “Fine. That’s fine. I’ll put my scope down for now. But let’s do this, boys, can you both . . . open your mouths wide?”