Belonging (19 page)

“Well, the placement came up rather suddenly, and they don’t have many of the kinds of things I’m sure they could use. You know, extra bedding, clothes for growing boys, balls and bats, and whatnot.” Kathleen gave a little shrug. “I want to organize the women of our community to do something for them that might help with their new family.”

“I’d be happy to participate.”

“I knew you would. Could you come to my … to our home on Saturday morning at nine?”

“Yes, I can.”

“Good. We’ll see you then.” Kathleen turned around. “All right, Mother Summerville. We can go home now. I told you it wouldn’t take long.” As they moved toward the exit, she glanced over her shoulder. “See you Saturday.”

Kathleen’s parting smile was a balm on Felicia’s rattled nerves. God was good to have given her the friend she’d hoped and prayed for. It strengthened her knowing she had someone she could confide in, a friendship she was sure would grow even stronger with time.

But what would Kathleen think of Felicia’s odd reactions to Colin?

She inhaled deeply. What rubbish! She was imagining the look in his eyes and her breathless response. Neither were of any importance and certainly nothing she would share with a friend.

The supper dishes had been washed, dried, and put away before Felicia arrived for her tutoring session with Charity. When the familiar knock sounded at the back door, Charity went at once to answer it.

Colin had been surprised by his daughter’s eagerness to spend extra time studying with her teacher. Knowing that she struggled with reading, he’d expected her to resent the evening sessions, time taken away from more pleasurable activities. Instead, she seemed glad for them.

Not that he expected the tutoring to bear much fruit. As far as he could tell, listening from the parlor each evening, teacher and student weren’t accomplishing much. Nothing that sounded like schoolwork, at any rate.

As Charity returned to the kitchen, her teacher right behind her, she said, “Papa says the new maps came today.”

“Yes. He hung them on the wall so they’ll be ready to use tomorrow.” Felicia stopped just inside the doorway and her eyes lifted to meet his. “Good evening, Mr. Murphy.”

“Evening.”

“Am I too early?” A touch of pink colored the apple of her cheeks.

He shook his head. “Nope. Right on time. So I’ll leave you two alone.” He turned on his heel and strode into the small parlor, where he sat in a comfortable wing-backed chair that Margaret had brought with them from Ohio. He took the weekly newspaper from the side table near his left elbow and placed it on his lap. But he didn’t look at it. Instead, he listened to the voices drifting to him from the kitchen.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star,” Felicia said. “How I wonder what you are! Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky!”

Silence, and then his daughter repeated the words, slower, with less confidence, sometimes stumbling, finally stopping before she’d reached the end.

“Sound it out, Charity.”

“Di-”

He strained with her.

“-a-”

He tried to picture the word in his head but couldn’t.

“-mond.”

“Very good.
Diamond.
And where is that diamond?”

“In the sky!”

Laughter—the deeper tones of a woman, the lighter tones of a child—mingled together. He wished he could see their faces. He wished he could laugh with them.

“Now once more, together this time. ‘Twinkle, twinkle, little star. How I wonder what you are …’”

Colin put the newspaper back on the table and rose from the chair, making his way to the front entrance of their living quarters. He opened the door and moved to stand near the porch steps, leaning his shoulder against the post.

Frenchman’s Bluff was quiet this time of evening. With the exception of the saloon on the west end of town and the restaurant to the east of the mercantile, the businesses that lined Main Street were closed, the workers gone home to be with their families. Already the shadows had grown long.

He shook his head. How quickly the seasons came and went. It didn’t seem all that many years ago since he and Margaret had come to Idaho as newlyweds. How could he have foreseen that in little more than a decade he would be a widowed father, managing the mercantile on his own?

He heard another burst of laughter from inside the house.

Maybe he shouldn’t be doing it on his own. Not managing the mercantile. Not raising his daughter. Maybe trying to protect both himself and Charity from pain, loss, or disaster wasn’t the best way to live. For either of them.

But what was the best way?

His eyes lifted to the sky, where cotton-ball clouds on the eastern horizon had been brushed with shades of peach and lavender. He remembered Felicia’s prayer beside the river, and he found himself wishing he could pray like that. He wished he could ask the Almighty what plans He had for Charity’s future, for his future. Other people seemed to pray so easily. They seemed to trust in a good God without question.

I’d like to trust You again, Lord. I’d like to find my way back. Is that possible? Or is it already too late?

He almost laughed aloud, realizing that he’d just wished he could pray easily and then had found himself, indeed, praying.

Maybe it wasn’t too late after all.

SEVENTEEN

Felicia adored hats. Straw hats with ribbons to match a dress. Velvet bonnets with ostrich plumes that fluttered in the breeze. Felt hats sporting a cluster of roses. Surely a woman could never own enough hats.

And that belief was one reason Felicia had stayed away from Jane Carpenter’s millinery shop in the weeks since she arrived in Frenchman’s Bluff. With her funds in short supply, she shouldn’t go where she would be tempted.

But there was no avoiding the shop or the temptation today.

At 4:15 on Thursday afternoon, Keith Watkins ran on ahead of Felicia and his older brother, opening the door into his new mother’s shop and shouting, “Ma! Miss K’s here to see you.”

By the time Felicia and Daniel stepped into the store, Jane had emerged from the back room, a half-decorated bonnet in her left hand, a concerned expression on her face. “Is something wrong, Miss Kristoffersen?”

“I’d like to speak with you. Alone, if I may.”

“Of course.” Jane looked at the boys. “You two get along home. Your pa will be waiting for you to help with the chores. Tell him I’ll be home directly.”

Before he turned to leave, Daniel cast a sullen glance in Felicia’s
direction. She made certain not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

As the door closed behind the brothers, Jane said, “Daniel’s giving you trouble in class, isn’t he?” She motioned toward the workroom. “There’s a couple of chairs in the back. Let’s go sit down. Would you like some tea? It wouldn’t take long to heat the water.”

“No, thank you. I’m fine.”

Jane held aside the curtain that separated the front shop from the workroom and motioned for Felicia to go first. What met her eyes was not what she’d expected. While the front of the long, narrow building was tidy as a pin and sparsely furnished—two small tables with mirrors on them, two padded stools for the customers, a half dozen hats on display—the back room was an explosion of colorful disarray. Every table and shelf was covered with ribbons, feathers, buttons, and all kinds of other decorations, as well as several hats in varying stages of completion.

Jane quickly cleared off the seat of one of the chairs. “Please, sit down here.”

“How long have you been making hats?” Felicia asked, her gaze continuing to roam about the room.

“I’ve had my shop nigh onto five years now. Lewis thought it a good idea … when it seemed certain we wouldn’t be blessed with children.”

Felicia looked at the other woman then and saw the lingering sadness in her eyes. “I’m sorry for your losses.”

“Well,”—Jane revealed a quivering smile—“we have our boys now.”

Felicia wasn’t fooled by the forced cheer. It couldn’t be an easy thing, burying five babies. That kind of pain must always remain in a mother’s heart.

Jane sobered. “You’ve come about Daniel.”

“Yes.”

“He’s in trouble?”

Felicia nodded. “Yes.”

“What did he do?”

“He got into a fistfight with another boy. There was some name-calling and cursing first, and the next thing we knew, the boys were rolling on the classroom floor.”

“Oh dear.” Tears welled in Jane’s eyes. “He doesn’t want to be here. I think he hates us, my husband and me.”

“He doesn’t hate you, Mrs. Carpenter. He’s afraid, and he’s trying to work up his courage the only way he knows how.”

Jane dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

Felicia leaned forward on her chair. “I know something about this.” She reached out and took Jane’s hand in hers. “After my mother died, I was placed out, just like your boys. I was Keith’s age when I was taken from the only home I’d ever known and sent across the country and separated from my brother and sister. I was a girl who’d been raised in the tenements of Chicago, and suddenly I found myself living on a farm in the middle of nowhere. Everything seemed strange and vast and empty. I was terribly afraid, terribly lonely.”

“I didn’t know that about you.”

“I don’t talk about it much. Not that I’m ashamed to have been orphaned or placed out. I’m not. It simply doesn’t seem very important to me now. But it does give me a unique understanding of what Daniel and Keith are going through.”

Jane’s shoulders sagged. “I’m sure you didn’t get into fistfights with other girls at school, did you?”

She gave a brief smile. “No. I coped with my fear in a different way.” She thought of Hugh as she released Jane’s hand and straightened again. “I believe my brother was more like Daniel.”

Jane used her handkerchief to blow her nose.

“Do you love these boys?” Felicia asked softly. “Does your husband love them?”

The answer came swift and strong. “Yes. We both do. Very much. From the first moment we saw them.”

“Then just keep doing so. Keith already accepts it. I know he does. He calls you Ma and your husband Pa, and he’s a happy child. It will take more time with Daniel. He’s older, and he’s used to taking care of himself and his brother. No one’s wanted to look out for him in a long while. But if you’re patient, he’ll begin to trust you.”

“Lewis will insist he be disciplined for fighting in school.”

“Of course. But I hope he’ll temper the discipline with love. As will I as his teacher.” Giving Jane another squeeze of the hand, Felicia rose. “I must be going.”

Jane stood too. “Thank you, Miss Kristoffersen. For telling me about your own placement. I don’t know why, but it gives me hope.”

“I’m praying for you and your boys, Mrs. Carpenter.”

“Thank you,” Jane said again.

Felicia walked out of the back room and across the shop to the entrance, Jane following right behind her. They bid each other a good day, and then Felicia left, walking toward home, a mixture of feelings swirling in her chest. Perhaps chief among those feelings was a touch of envy. Daniel might not accept it yet, but he’d been placed with a woman who wanted to love him as only a mother could. He had no idea how blessed he was, and she hoped he would realize it soon.

EIGHTEEN

Strong winds blew in from the northwest on Saturday morning, bending trees sideways and snapping branches. As Felicia made her way across town to the Summerville home, the sky grew dark with storm clouds. To keep her straw hat from being swept away, she placed the flat of her hand on its crown and hurried toward her destination, made easier by the wind at her back.

“Gracious, look at the weather,” Kathleen said when she opened the door a short while later. “Come in. Come in before you blow away.”

“Thank you.” Felicia prayed she didn’t look as disheveled as she felt.

“You’re the first to arrive.”

“I’m not too early, am I?”

Kathleen took her by the arm, a warm smile in place. “Not at all.” She drew Felicia with her into the front parlor. “Mother Summerville is in the kitchen, speaking to Mrs. Hasting. Please sit down, and I’ll pour you some tea. Or would you prefer coffee?”

“Tea would be lovely.” Felicia removed her hat and sat on the upholstered settee.

“Milk?”

“Please.”

A blast of wind and rain rattled the windows.

“Oh no.” Kathleen twisted in her chair, looking toward the parlor window. Water ran down the glass in a thick sheet. “I hope the others don’t stay home because of the foul weather.”

“Maybe the storm won’t last long.” Judging from the darkness outside, Felicia didn’t hold out a lot of hope for that.

Kathleen turned toward her again. “At least you made it here before you got a thorough drenching.” She lifted the delicate cup and saucer and held them toward Felicia. “And you and I can have a nice visit, no matter what else happens.”

Felicia nodded as she took the cup and saucer into her own hands.

“If I haven’t already told you,” Kathleen said as she poured tea into a second cup, “Suzanne and Phoebe have nothing but praise for their new teacher.”