Authors: Gloria Repp
Strong? How did
giving up
equal
strong
?
The weight of grief pressed down upon her, painful as a sharp-edged block of steel.
Hey-You was wagging his tail and Timothy was saying, “About those decoys—remember to check with Paula Castell.”
She managed a coherent answer. “I went last week but didn’t get very far.”
“Her children like you,” he said. “She’ll talk eventually.”
His gaze was affectionate. “Come see me again,” he said, and all she could do was nod.
By the time she reached the Manor, the weight had settled so deeply into her chest that she could hardly breathe.
Groceries. She started inside with two small bags, stopped on the porch to fish out her key, and a scratching sound made her glance overhead.
The cat dropped from the tree onto the railing and arched his back into a stretch, looking proud of himself. He must have found her open window.
She stroked his head, wishing she could pick him up and cry into the soft fur, but she had long since run out of tears.
He trailed after her into the kitchen. She should feed him. And she had groceries to put away, meals to plan. Bria and Jude were coming to work.
Not now . . . the weight . . .
She dragged herself up the stairs and along the hall to the boy’s room. She leaned against the doorframe. How many times had his mother stood here, thinking about her child and aching to have him back?
Her own grief was crushing the air from her lungs. She dropped onto the bed and buried her face in her hands. “Lord, You did it. You took him away.” The words trembled in her mind, laden with pain.
“Lord, help?” Silence pooled around her, a waiting, compassionate silence.
She took a ragged breath. “Okay, I accept this from Your hand,” she whispered. “But I don’t understand why You did it. I don’t understand how it’s perfect. I don’t understand any of this . . . and that’s all right.”
She lingered in the silence, letting it enfold her.
The weight slipped off, the pain eased, and she understood one thing: He had heard.
Slowly, with a sense of wonder, she got to her feet and found that she could breathe more freely.
She left the room, closing the door behind her, and the cat’s inquiring face peered at her from the top of the staircase. “I’m coming,” she said.
He stopped, one ear flickering, and looked down the steps. She heard it too, someone knocking. Bria?
She ran downstairs with the cat bounding ahead of her. By the time she reached the hall, he was crouched on the Chippendale desk, looking like one of his wild ancestors. She gave him a pat on her way.
She pulled the door open, ready to smile at the whole world. “Hi, Bria! I’m glad to see you!”
Bria gave her a curious glance, but she smiled back. “What needs to be done?”
“A lot! Can you believe I’ve still got groceries in the car? I bought us a stepladder too.”
After everything was put away, she showed Bria the pottery vases she had found, and the girl examined them with interest. “These were painted by hand,” she said. “I think the artist signed them.”
She put a finger on a scrawl that seemed part of the design. Sure enough, it reappeared in the same place on each vase.
“All artists should sign their work.” Madeleine hesitated. “Why doesn’t your mother sign hers?”
Bria shrugged. “Doesn’t care.” She traced the curved lip of the vase. “But I do.”
“You sign the decoys? I looked for your signature but didn’t see it.”
Bria looked embarrassed. “I just paint a swirling sort of B on the wings.”
“Good for you,” Madeleine said. “Your work is excellent, and your name should be on it.”
“Thank you,” Bria said. “What should we do with this pottery?”
Madeleine surveyed the dining room. “Let’s pack all of this stuff into boxes and then we can clear off the table.”
Jude soon arrived, carrying a sheet of paper. “I made you a map, Mrs. Burke.”
“Mollie,” she said. “That’s my name from now on. We don’t have to be formal.”
“Mollie?”
“It’s what my father called me.” She could say his name more comfortably now.
“My dad used to call me Peanut,” Jude said. “Here, take a look at this.”
He spread out the map on the kitchen table and showed her the trails he’d marked. Then he wanted to see the cat. They found him on her windowsill, staring into the bushes.
Madeleine said, “Guess who went out that window and met me on the porch today?”
Jude stroked the thick fur, looking triumphant. “You’re getting stronger, boy!”
With Jude’s help, the packing went quickly. As he taped another box closed, he asked, “I was wondering, can you come to SING? It’s tonight.”
She didn’t feel like socializing. Besides, she’d planned to give the Challah braid another try.
He picked up a stack of plates and gave her an appealing glance.
“I guess I could,” she said. “If you’re there, I’ll know at least one person.”
He grinned. “You know Timothy,” he said. “And Remi, and Mr. and Mrs. Martinera. That’s a lot more than one.”
While they finished up, she remembered her decoy project and said to Bria, “My aunt wants me to research those decoys we found, for her magazine.”
They were both eyeing her. “I bought the mallard drake from Timothy’s store,” she said. “It’s beautiful.”
Conscious that she was chattering, circling around to get to her question, she said, “Timothy told me your mother is the best authority on decoys. Do you think she’d mind another visit?”
Bria and Jude exchanged a glance. Jude studied his sneakers.
“She’s sick right now,” Bria said. “Maybe next week.”
Aunt Lin arrived in time for supper, as promised, and asked about her day.
“I bought a decoy and plenty of groceries,” Madeleine said. “We can have a turkey on Friday, and there’ll be leftovers for sandwiches this weekend. I’ll make cranberry tarts for the supper. How’s that sound?”
“Wonderful.” Aunt Lin picked up her fork. “And look at this roast beef!”
While they finished dessert, she told her aunt about SING.
“Good for you,” she said. “Your father was musical. Didn’t he lead the singing in your church?”
“Yes,” Madeleine said. “And he was always singing around the house. Did he do that when you were growing up?”
“Definitely. I was a lot younger, but I used to follow him around, trying to copy him. I sounded awful, but he didn’t seem to mind.”
Madeleine smiled. That sounded like him.
“I’m glad to see you smiling again,” her aunt said. “What are you going to wear?”
“I don’t know.” Did it matter?
“Jeans are good on you. And how about that long-sleeved green top? It brings out the green in your eyes.”
Madeleine wanted to laugh. “The Dumont green, is that it?”
“Of course.” Her aunt’s eyes softened. “That Dumont blood is a gift, you know. The Dumont women are tough—and you are too, whether you realize it or not. Have some fun for a change. I’ll see you in the morning.”
As Madeleine walked up the steps into Timothy’s store, the Martineras joined her. Charlotte welcomed her to SING and introduced Howard, her husband, who hurried ahead into the office. He took down the long table, rotated the sofa, and set up folding chairs and an electronic keyboard.
“Sit with me,” Charlotte said. “I hope I can stay. I have a client who’s due to go into labor any moment. Oops, I’ll be right back. Forgot to pass out the song sheets.”
Madeleine wanted to ask about Charlotte’s midwifery, but half-a-dozen adults had arrived, including a pregnant woman who sat near Charlotte to talk.
Remi walked in with his guitar, sent her a dazzling smile, and pulled out a chair facing the group. Three girls clustered around him, and he kept them laughing as he tuned his guitar.
Jude arrived soon afterwards and introduced her to his teenaged friends, dark-haired Pumper and Fritz, who told her they wanted to start a band. They eyed Remi’s guitar longingly.
Timothy smiled at her and sat up near the front.
Nathan Parnell came in while Howard was welcoming everyone. He sat at the keyboard, looked the group over, and gave her a nod, which seemed to be his chosen method of communication.
Howard started them off with “I Sing the Mighty Power of God,” and they sang praise songs, hymns, and choruses with equal enthusiasm. Madeleine knew most of the songs, thanks to her father, and today she enjoyed them all.
Howard asked for favorites, and then he chose the last song: “As the Deer.” Madeleine leaned back and sang with her eyes closed.
He alone
—was her heart’s desire.
He alone
—had set her free today.
Was this what they called joy? Thank You, Lord.
After Timothy finished with prayer, most of the adults left, but the teens stayed, drinking lemonade and eating chocolate chip cookies that tasted as if they’d come from a box.
Jude, carrying a handful of cookies, grinned at her. “Mollie, wasn’t that great?”
She smiled at him and at Remi, who had joined them. “It was fun, just like you told me.”
Remi elbowed Jude. “How come you get to call her Mollie?”
Jude looked smug. “She said so. Her nickname.”
“Just for my friends,” she said to Remi. “Like you. Don’t tell your boss.”
He grinned, and Pumper and Fritz came up to talk to them.
Maybe she could leave now. She had planned to sit in the back, but here she was in the middle of everybody. No point hanging around any longer. Were these cookies stale, or was she getting picky?
The doctor appeared at her side, carrying his lemonade and cookies. He looked more rested, the gray eyes clear. He nudged one of the cookies on his plate. “Yours are better.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
“I have a name, remember?”
“Right again. Does it ever bore you?”
He eyed her. “My name?”
“Being right all the time.”
He grinned, looking as young as one of the teens. “I will not be vexed by you—it’s Mollie, isn’t it?—as long as there’s a chance for real cookies. I hope you caught the embedded request.”
She had to smile at that. He’d picked up on her nickname already. She should stop needling him.
One of the boys called him over to their group, and the Martinera sisters sidled up to her. Bonnie, tall and blonde, looked studious. Her sister, Connie, with frizzled brown hair, wasn’t much taller than Madeleine, and had already said at least a million words this evening.
Bonnie smiled at her. “I like the way you sing alto, Mrs. Burke. Would you teach me?”
“I’d be glad to,” she said. “Let’s sit together next time.”
Connie had been talking to a girl behind her, but she swung back, saying, “Did you ask her?”
Bonnie shook her head.
Connie put on a pleading face. “Can you swim, Mrs. Burke?”
“Yes.”
“And paddle a canoe?”
She nodded without enthusiasm. What was this about?
“Hoo-rah!” Connie turned pink. “Hey Doc! Doc! Come over here.”
He looked up from the boys gathered around him.
“Not so loud,” Bonnie said. “You always sound so rude. Can’t you grow up, just for once?”
“Sorry.” Connie didn’t look a bit sorry. “Here he comes.”
He was there a minute later, and Connie said, “I found her! She can swim and paddle!”
Madeleine looked at him with a shrug.
He grinned. “Well now, do you paddle when you swim?’
“Not usually.”
“Actually, it’s not a requirement. Are you wondering what they’re talking about?”
“I certainly am.”
“I often do, too. But this time I think they’re referring to a canoe trip I was planning.” He glanced at the two girls. “With the guys.”
Connie’s voice rose. “You promised! You promised!”.
He smiled at Madeleine. “Which I may regret.”
To Connie he said, “There’s one more important detail.”
“What?”
“Did you ask whether she wants to come?”
Two pairs of blue eyes fastened on her. “Do you?”
A canoe trip? She hadn’t been on one for years.
“When is it?”