The Patron

by Tess Thompson

  My mother rolled her eyes. “It’s embarrassing next to Crystal’s gourmet meal.”

  “But I love this stuff,” Dad said.

  “So do I,” Jack said. “My mom always made it too. Just looking at it makes me think of her and all the happy times we had together around a table such as this.”

  “That’s sweet, Jack,” Jennie said.

  For the next thirty minutes, we all shared favorite Christmas memories and favorite holiday traditions. My mother was quiet for the most part until Jennie asked her if she had a favorite memory.

  “It’s of my boys on Christmas morning when they were five and seven,” Mom said. “I’d never understood the meaning of the line ‘sugarplums danced in their heads’ until that time in my life. They came tearing down the stairs that morning and the looks on their faces when they saw what Santa had brought.”

  “Big Wheels,” Dad said softly. “Do you remember, Garth?”

  I nodded, recalling the way we had torn around the cement patio on those three-wheeled pieces of plastic day after day as if we were racing in the Indy 500. I ached for that time and my brother. Yet the memory gave me joy. “I always wanted to race. Christopher preferred to pretend he was out for a country drive.”

  “That seems like yesterday,” Mom said in a trembling voice. “I used to keep one eye on you from the kitchen as I cooked or cleaned. If only I’d known then what I know now, I would have put the dishcloth down and gone outside to watch you boys. Soak it all in.”

  The rest of us had gone quite still, forgetting for a moment that we were supposed to lift our forks to our mouths or drink from our champagne glasses.

  “Time is such a whisper, isn’t it?” Jennie asked. “Gone by way of the wind.”

  “Yes,” Mom said. “And no one knows that to be true more than a mother.”

  “Except maybe a father,” Jack said.

  Under the table, Crystal slipped her hand onto my lap. I covered it with mine.

  “Here’s to this moment.” Brandi’s eyes were glassy with unshed tears as she picked up her glass. “And making more memories together as a family.”

  “Here’s to sisters and parents and children,” Crystal said. “And babies yet to be born.”

  “To all who came before us,” Brandi said. “May the memories of those we’ve loved and lost be always close to our hearts and minds. They are still here because we love them.” She raised her glass. “To my little bird who I lost on the day of her birth.”

  “To Ava Elizabeth.” Trapper’s voice caught as he gazed back at his wife.

  “To my Nan and Pop,” Crystal said.

  “To Christopher,” Mom said. “My baby.”

  “To Christopher,” my dad and I said at the same time.

  “To Patrick,” Jennie said. “May he rest in peace knowing how much good his fortune is doing in the world.”

  Crystal leaned her head against my shoulder. I squeezed her hand.

  “To my mom and dad, Sunny and David.” Jack smiled. “And to all of us sitting around this table, blessed to be reunited.”

  “To miracles,” Dad said. “For bringing my family back together.”

  And then, in a miraculous fashion, each of us around that table echoed the exact same phrase. “To miracles.”

  “Everyone, eat.” Trapper waved a fork at us. “We have presents to open.”

  I brought Crystal’s hand to my mouth for a kiss. She leaned more heavily against my shoulder. A sense of great peace came to me. The years to come would unfold as they should. Trust and faith would guide us through good times and bad. Love, too. Always love.

  The end.

  The Letters

  A week after Christmas, I sat next to Brandi on her bed. I was still supposed to be taking it easy, but Brandi was bored out of her mind, so we’d compromised by spending the day together reading through the letters in Lizzie’s hatbox. Brandi liked me to read them to her so she could close her eyes.

  “Read the first one,” Brandi said.

  Dearest Florence,

  It's hard to believe you've been gone for two weeks already. The summer flew by, didn’t it? Here you are in your fourth year of college. I don’t know how it is I have a young lady for a daughter.

  I’m happy to hear you and the other girls have settled back into the boardinghouse. Mrs. Reed sounds like a true terror. As much as you might not like her, I’m glad she’s such a stickler for the rules. That’s just what you girls need to keep you out of trouble. I’m sure Sally was mortified to get locked out, but good for Mrs. Reed for keeping to the rules. Your father approved. He did not approve of you and Gwen rescuing her by lowering a sheet out the window. I’m going to have to edit out certain passages from your letters or I fear his heart won’t take it. Letting you go to university was a big leap for him.

  Your father and I miss you very much. However, hearing about your adventures and your studies makes us both smile. We are so proud that you were able to go to college. Where we came from, someone of our class would never have been able to do so. No matter how smart you were. Your father would have enjoyed school. I, on the other hand, prefer to do things with my hands.

  With all of you children off to your own lives, Quinn, Merry, and I have been busy with what we hope are good deeds for the community. The dance we put on at the community center was very successful. We were able to raise a lot of funds for the new school. It's hard to believe how quickly Emerson Pass has grown in the last five years. Sometimes I don't like it. However, this is what Lord Barnes has wanted and worked for all these years. A thriving community!

  I should probably close. I have dinner yet to make for Quinn and Alexander. They are throwing a small dinner party tonight for the newly elected mayor and his wife. He's a little slick for my taste. A wee bit full of himself, as my mother used to say.

  Anyway, my darling girl, I miss you terribly but I'm so very, very proud of you. Write when you can. Stay out of trouble.

  Much love,

  Mum

  * * *

  Dear Mum,

  Thank you much for your latest letter with all the news from home. I look forward to getting one in the post every Friday. I’m still homesick, but your newsy letters make me feel like I’m home. Please tell all the others hello from me and that I’m counting the days until Christmas.

  I've met someone, Mum! He's utterly charming and very handsome. Dark brown hair that curls slightly around his ears. Which he hates. Isn’t that funny? His eyes are dark brown, almost black. He has the most terribly long eyelashes. I met him at the football game. He was sitting right below us and kept turning around pretending like he was looking for someone. I knew it was really to catch glimpses of me. He’s from Maine and studying to be a doctor. He says he’s always wanted to visit Colorado. I told him if he’s patient he might get an invitation.

  He’s called Robert Vargas and I’m completely smitten. Enough to actually contemplate introducing him to Father. Or maybe not. Thinking of that day makes me cringe. I can’t imagine what Father will say to him, other than to threaten him slightly. Father’s so very English still, and worried about rules. (Don’t show Father this part of the letter.)

  Sally and Gwen both approve even though he’s from a poor family. He’s at college because a rich man named Wesley Ford sent him to university. It’s a long story but I’ll try and summarize. When Robert was only a baby, his father died. All alone with an infant, his mother found a group home in Castaway Maine that helped widows or unwed mothers to find work and a new life. Mr. Ford and his wife Luci run this home. Without them and their organization, who knows what might have happened to them? When Robert’s mother died a few years back, this same Mr. Ford paid for Robert to attend school. He’s studying to be a doctor and wants to help people like Mr. Ford helped him.

  He works at the soda and coffee shop across from school to help with his rent and food. The girls and I have started studying there in the afternoons. It’s the kind of place where all the kids come and go all d
ay long. The owner won’t let us stay unless we order something. Sally and Gwen always order a coffee. I keep to my afternoon tea like at home.

  There are more and more people in line at the soup kitchens. I feel so terribly sorry for the men. They’re downtrodden and hopeless. I can see it in the slump of their shoulders. Every night I pray that President Roosevelt will lead us out of this soon.

  Must run. Meeting Robert at the library this afternoon. He likes to study there because it’s quiet. He says he can’t understand how the girls and I can study at the soda shop.

  I’m all about Robert, aren’t I?

  Love,

  Florence

  * * *

  Dear Mum,

  I can hardly wait to see you and Father and all the rest of them. Robert’s nervous to meet Father, of course, but determined that he ask for my hand in person.

  Robert’s been offered a job in the small town of Castaway, Maine, working at the facility for unwed mothers where his own mother went when she was pregnant with him. Can you believe such a thing could happen? They need a doctor to deliver the babies. A doctor who won’t snatch the child away unless the mother wants to put them up for adoption. A couple called Wesley and Luci Ford run the operation, along with some other helpers. If you recall, Phillip was Robert’s benefactor. Anyway, they offer rooms to any young woman in trouble and while they’re waiting for the babies to come, they’re trained for different jobs, including seamstress, cook, teachers, even nurses. It’s not exactly what I thought of when Robert said he wanted to be a small-town doctor. I thought he’d be like Theo, but it’s admirable that he wants to help women who have such similarities to his own mother.

  There’s one thing I haven’t told you about Robert. He’s of Italian descent. His mother and father came from Italy to Ellis Island before he was born. My dearest hope is that you and Father will welcome him even though he might not be what you imagined for me. I know you had your heart set on me marrying a local boy, but this man is the one I want.

  Love,

  Florence

  Dearest Florence,

  I’ve never missed you as much as I do now. It was such a wonderful time, having you and Robert here. I hope it didn’t feel too rushed, having the wedding in such a spontaneous fashion. However, as you said, with Robert’s mother no longer alive, there was really no reason to wait after your father gave Robert his permission. I was secretly hoping Robert would fall in love with Emerson Pass and decide to stay here. Theo was quite serious about offering him a job. He told me to tell you once again that any time you want to move back here, the job offer is open to Robert.

  You looked absolutely stunning on your wedding day. How serendipitous it was that Annabelle had a bride cancel at the last minute, leaving a dress almost perfectly sized to you. I suppose God had a hand in all of it.

  You’ll all be getting married one after another now. I only have to close my eyes to conjure the long days of summer when you were all small and playing in the water. Merry and Harley’s Henry has his eye on a young lady in town called Lillian. She’s taken a spot teaching the younger grades and comes from somewhere back east. With Jack in the army, who knows when he’ll come back to us. It seems all of you have grown up so fast.

  The only things that stay the same are the love between us all. Quinn and Lord Barnes are as smitten as they ever were. I suppose the same is true for your father and me, though you’d never know to look at us. It appears that English training will never leave him. I don’t mind, and I hope you don’t think his lack of demonstrative showing of affection means he doesn’t love you. He’s just the stiff upper lip and all that.

  I’ll count the moments until you come visit again. Your father said Robert hinted about bringing you back to Emerson Pass when the time is right. Robert wants to pay Phillip back for all he’s done for him first. I can’t blame him for that.

  * * *

  Dear Mum,

  Thank you for sending the extra money. I hate to admit it but we needed a few items to set up a proper house. We’re renting a cottage with walls so thin I can hear the waves crashing on the shore. It seems I can never get warm no matter how much I stoke the fire.

  Robert is settling in at work with Wesley Ford. He likes it very much and says looking after the pregnant women and delivering their babies suits him just fine. We had a long talk the other night about coming home. He knows how homesick I am. But it’s not time yet. He’s promised me that after a baby or two come we’ll head home. Until then, he feels he owes Mr. Ford.

  I’ve learned since coming here that Robert’s mother was pregnant with him when she lost her husband. She found her way to Castaway and was taken in by the staff. She had him and was apprenticed to a baker in town. Robert has no memory of this, obviously, as he was an infant. They moved to a town farther south where she worked at a bakery shop until her death when Robert was sixteen. Phillip’s wife Luci told me the story. She keeps track of all the infants born under the care of the Castaway Home.

  Luci asked if I’d like to work with her at the home. She says I have a gift with people and that she’d like me to help train the girls who would like to find domestic positions like cooks, maids, and housekeepers. I guess I do know a bit about those positions. Poor Father. I know he would hate the lack of formality in our training. I’m afraid I’m an American, quite sure that everyone should be counted as important as the next despite being poor.

  The longer I’m here, the more impressed I am by the work they’re doing. How many women have they saved? I can’t count that high. Phillip’s mother’s plight was the impetus for the entire organization. She passed just a few years before we arrived. I’d have liked to hear her tell her story of being an unwed mother and having her children taken from her against her will. At least there was a happy ending. But that’s a story for another day.

  I love you, Mum, and miss you terribly. Kisses until we meet again.

  Florence

  * * *

  Dear Mum,

  I’m writing to you as I’m grinning like a child in a candy shop. Robert and I are expecting! I didn’t imagine it would happen this soon in our marriage. We’re both delighted, of course, but nervous too. Were you that way? All I do is daydream these days and wander about the house in a daze, so happy but forgetful.

  Robert is hoping for a son. I secretly want a daughter. Either way will be fine, of course. I only hope that he or she will be healthy. Robert says it’s absolutely heart-wrenching when they lose a baby. It’s the only time he’s regretted being a doctor. I won’t even allow myself to think of such a tragedy.

  I do hope you’ll be able to come and stay when the baby is born. I know Maine is far away, but maybe you and Father could take the train here and then stay for a few weeks. Surely Lord Barnes would allow you a month off? I long for home but Robert’s work is of such importance here in Castaway. No one else will deliver these poor women’s children. I’ve been working closely with Luci to get the mothers and babies off to the right start. Just this week I’m working with a young woman name Maddie. I’m training her to be a cook, using all your old recipes that I know like I know the back of my hand. After she’s ready, we’ll find her a job in a house like the one Lord Barnes provided for us.

  I’ve gotten letters from several of the girls we’ve helped. One apprenticed under a tailor here in town and by the grace of God, they’ve fallen in love. He’s adopted her child and they’re all very happy.

  I’ve already written Quinn to thank her for the paints. I’ve been using them like mad trying to capture the sea in all its varying shades of gray and blue. Phillip and Luci gave me an easel for a birthday gift. You can imagine me standing on the cliff with my hair blowing about as I paint. Robert says he could watch me out there all day, but who has time for that when your Castaway’s only baby doctor?

  I love you, Mum, and miss you bunches.

  Florence

  * * *

  Dearest Mum,

  It’s with a heavy heart that
I write to tell you I lost the baby. It was too early to know the gender. I simply started to bleed. Poor Robert had to rush me to the office where he delivers all the babies. At only sixteen weeks along, there was no chance of a baby surviving. There was nothing for me to see or hold. Robert said it was best I didn’t see.

  What he doesn’t know is that I’d already imagined my son or daughter a thousand times in my mind. I wish I could come home. I’d just like to see my mummy.

  Love,

  Florence

  * * *

  Dearest Florence,

  My heart is breaking for you. I’ve never talked about it much, but I lost a baby when you were around three. I know how hard it is and wish I were with you to put my arms around you and hold you close. There’s no greater sorrow than losing a child. Even our husbands, as much as they love us, can’t know what it was like to have a baby inside you and how you fall in love the moment you know you’re expecting. After I lost the baby (he was a boy born too early) I felt like I wanted to die with him. However, you were there, needing me, and I couldn’t lie around sobbing forever.

  Now you’re all grown and yet you need me. I can’t be there with you and I hate it. I’m sorry, darling girl. Perhaps it’s time that Robert does what you need and brings you home for good?

  Come home, darling. We’re all here for you.

  Love,

  Mum

  * * *

  Dearest Mum,

  I have much news. I’m pregnant! This time I’ve gotten past the eighteen-week mark and Robert thinks it’s safe to plan for a baby. He knows how much I want to move back to Emerson Pass, and he’s given his notice to Phillip.

  Luci and Phillip understood perfectly that we needed to come home and be with our family, especially since a baby’s coming. I’ve learned so much since being here. Practicing kindness and compassion even during my own periods of sadness have made me stronger. I suppose giving to others is really the only way to heal ourselves. Haven’t you and Quinn taught me that all my life?