A Hope Undaunted (28 page)

“What happens if you don’t?” Katie’s voice was quiet.

Miss Lillian sighed again. “At the age of eighteen, our young women, whether serving an apprenticeship in a family or living here as Alli does now, must move on. Some marry, others continue their associations with families they’ve apprenticed with, and many others utilize the skills they’ve learned here to earn a living and fend for themselves.” Miss Lillian focused on the fruit in her hand, but not before Katie saw a glimmer of moisture in her eyes. “But with Alli,” she whispered, “there’s not only the ravages of polio that hinder her ability to work, but . . .” A knot shifted in the old woman’s throat as her eyes lighted on the back of the girl with soft, brown curls edging her shoulders. “She was also recently diagnosed with epilepsy, which manifested itself along with a speech impediment.”

“Seizures?”

Unbidden tears sprang to Katie’s eyes at the quiver of Miss Lillian’s chin, which now elevated as she reached for another peach. “Yes, from the age of sixteen. Alli has struggled with slow speech and a terrible stutter ever since, especially when she gets nervous. That, along with the stigma of epilepsy, has made it difficult to place her, I’m afraid, whether in an apprenticeship like most of the older girls . . . or in a job. People think she’s slow, but as anyone here will tell you, Alli’s speech and mobility may be impaired, but the size of her intellect is not . . . nor her heart. She’s excellent at numbers.”

Katie blinked to diffuse the tears in her eyes while her hand stilled on the peach. “What will happen to her?” she whispered. “She won’t be alone, will she? Or out on the streets?”

“Oh, no, no, we won’t let that happen.” Miss Lillian swiped the side of her eye with the sleeve of her blouse and managed a smile. “If the board won’t allow Alli to stay on here, we’ll simply find a home for her elsewhere, even if it’s with an old, crabby woman like me.”

The pretty brunette named Virginia turned and wiped her hands on a towel. “Miss Lillian, I need to run downstairs for more vegetables, but Alli said she’d finish the cobbler, if you like.” Virginia smiled and disappeared through a door at the back of the kitchen while Alli hobbled toward their table.

“Miss Lillian, please . . . may I do the peaches?”

Katie’s heart squeezed in her chest. The handicapped girl looked all of fourteen and as petite and delicate as Miss Lillian herself. There was nothing particularly eyecatching about her, eyes and hair a nondescript brown and a tiny pug nose that seemed out of place in her narrow face. But there was something strong in her gentle manner despite a frail frame as wispy as a butterfly’s wing and a voice as soft as a whisper. She wasn’t pretty . . . until she smiled. Katie’s breath caught as the girl’s face took on the glow of an angel. Hope seemed to shine forth like a beam from heaven, transforming not only the homely girl before them, but all those graced by her presence. “I j-just l-love p-peaches,” she said with a lilt in her tone, eyes lighting on Katie with a sweetness that caused Katie’s throat to ache. “D-don’t you?”

Katie nodded, overcome with such a rush of emotion that she found it difficult to speak. She extended a shaky hand. “I most certainly do, Alli. My name is Katie, and I’ll be working with you and Virginia today.”

The brown eyes blinked, and then if possible, outshone her beautiful smile. She took Katie’s hand and shook it slowly, the slightest hint of mischief lighting on her lips. She attempted a wink, which came off comical due to the faint pull of a palsy on the right side of her face. She leaned in close. “Hi ya, K-Katie. Who knows? After Miss B-Betty and Miss Lillian leave for their m-meeting, m-maybe some of the p-peaches won’t make it into the b-bowl.”

Miss Lillian chuckled and rose to her feet. “A small price to pay for cobbler that melts in your mouth. Do you know how to bake, Katie?”

“Cookies, yes. Cobbler? Uh, no. But I’m willing to learn.”

“Good.” Miss Lillian rose to her feet with a small grunt and swiveled her neck, obviously working out some kinks. “Alli can teach you. She’s a wonder with cobbler.” She patted Alli’s cheek with a weathered hand that lingered in a tender caress. “As long as she doesn’t eat all the peaches, that is. Nice to meet you, Katie. Come, Miss Galetti . . . I believe we have placements to discuss.”

Betty turned and wriggled her brows as she followed Miss Lillian to the door. “Hey, Alli, after you teach her to make cobbler, can ya teach her to be sweet and gentle like you?”

Katie grinned. “Sweet and gentle, eh? Wouldn’t that throw our Mr. Priss for a curve?”

“Not just Mr. Priss,” Betty said with a chuckle, giving a jaunty wave as she left.

Katie rubbed her hands together. “Okay, Alli, I’m hungry. Let’s start peeling.”

A grin as bright as the summer sun transformed the mousy girl into a radiant being, prompting another threat of tears in Katie’s eyes. “P-peaches are my favorite,” Alli said with an innocent smile that made her almost beautiful. “How ’b-bout you?”

“Yeah,” Katie said with a catch in her throat. She plopped into the chair with a silly grin and picked up a piece of fruit. “They are now.”

Everything was perfect! With a skitter of excitement, Marcy glanced at the clock on the parlor mantel. It chimed ten, and her gaze flicked to the face of her husband as he lounged in his favorite chair with a newspaper in his lap. Katie had gone to bed early, and Steven was in his room, affording Patrick and her a rare evening to themselves. Marcy gnawed on her lip and secretly observed him for clues to his mood. He was relaxed, she knew, because his feet were propped up on the ottoman, shoes off and legs casually crossed. A late-summer breeze fluttered the window sheers, bringing cool relief to a sticky day. His handsome face was smooth and free from the worry lines so often etched in his brow after a trying day at the
Herald
, and his short dark hair – salted liberally with silver at the temples – rested against a small corduroy pillow tucked neatly behind his neck.

Marcy set her sewing aside and rose to her feet, careful to temper the smile that tugged at her lips. Yes, tonight was the perfect night to broach the subject, she concluded with anticipation bubbling in her chest. She had fixed his favorite dinner – chicken and dumplings topped off with coconut cream pie – winning her a warm smile and a kiss of gratitude. She had even taken the time to dab a touch of perfume to her neck, an effort that had paid off handsomely with a second lingering kiss. Marcy bit back a grin and moved toward his chair. No, Patrick O’Connor was definitely ripe for the picking tonight, and somehow she didn’t feel the least bit guilty. This was far too important, and she wanted it far too badly.

Easing down on the arm of his chair, she leaned in to press a kiss to his temple, the heady scent of his musk aftershave warming her senses. “Patrick?”

“Mmm?” He glanced up from his paper, and suddenly his distracted look melted into a smile. He hooked an arm to her waist and tugged her close. His breath was warm against her neck as his mouth wandered in to a kiss. “You smell good tonight, darlin’,” he whispered. A low chuckle vibrated against her cheek. “That’s dangerous, you know, if you’re looking to sleep.”

Marcy turned to face him, her breath quivering with elation. She clutched his hand between hers. “Oh, Patrick, I couldn’t possibly sleep – at least not until we talk . . .”

He squinted and gave her a curious smile. One brow slanted up. “About what?”

She felt like a little girl at Christmas, flushed with excitement. “Patrick, you know how much I love being a mother, and how awful it’s been for me since, well, since the change of life – ”

“Marcy, you’ll always be a mother – ”

She placed a palm to his face. “I know, but I won’t always have children to raise.”

He shifted, his smile diminishing somewhat. “You have grandchildren – ”

“But they aren’t mine to keep. And I can’t nurture them day in and day out.”

“For pity’s sake, you have Katie and Steven to nurture, and they sorely need it.”

Marcy released an anxious breath and gripped his arms, her eyes pleading with his. “But in a few short years, they’ll be gone, and I’ll be alone.”

“We have each other,” he whispered, a shade of hurt in his tone.

She quickly pressed her mouth to his in gentle coercion, deepening her kiss before pulling away. “I know, Patrick, and I love you with everything in me.” She searched his eyes with her own. “But please believe me – I’m not ready to stop being a mother.”

He stroked her cheek slowly, his eyes pools of sympathy steeped in love. “Darlin’, your periods have ceased – you know there can be no more babies.”

“Not babies, Patrick,
children
! I can still have children.”

He blinked while confusion furrowed his brow. “What are you saying?”

She clutched his shirt with her fingers, desperate to convey the desire of her heart. “Foster parents, Patrick, for children who have no family of their own. Lost children who have no one to love them, to nurture them. I can do that – I
have
to do that!”

His shock was apparent in the drop of his jaw. Marcy wasted no time in driving her cause home. “Katie told me about a seven-year-old girl named Gabriella Dawn Smith, almost eight, a sprite of a girl whose parents abandoned her as an infant.”

He pushed her away and jolted to his feet. “No, absolutely not – ”

She jumped up, her heart hammering in her chest as she seized his vest with bloodless fingers. “Please, Patrick, I’ve never begged you for anything before, but I’m begging you now.” Tears streamed down her face as she pressed on. “She lives at the Boston Society for the Care of Girls, but Katie says the director wants to send her away on one of those dreadful orphan trains – ”

“She’s trouble, Marcy, I guarantee you – and that’s why they’re shipping her out – ”

“Patrick –
please
! I need this girl, and this girl needs us, if only for a season.” Her voice cracked on a sob, and she knew the shock in his eyes had stolen his tongue. She forged on. “Katie says she has no place to go, except on a train to the Midwest with total strangers. And there’s no assurance she’ll arrive safely as she’s known to run away.”

Patrick remained silent, a hand to his eyes. His shoulders slumped as she hurried on, not sparing a chance to refute.

“She’s Luke’s charge, Patrick, and he’s worried sick about her, and Katie and she are friends . . .” Her voice quavered into a soft heave. “Please . . .”

She heard his heavy sigh, and hope flickered in her heart like a dying flame awaiting a gentle breeze. His hand dropped to his side as he stared at her through weary eyes, tempering his gaze with caution. “I will pray about it, Marcy – ”

She circled his waist with her arms and peered up, tears of hope glimmering in her eyes. Her tone was a fragile plea. “I’ve already prayed about it, my love, from the moment Katie told me about this little girl, and I know it’s the right thing to do. Please, Patrick – whatever you ask, I will do. Only don’t deny me this.”

She watched as he stared, his face a painful study of a man in love with his wife – tenderness and hope, mingling with worry and fear. The questions were there in his eyes. Should he go against his gut just to keep peace with his wife? Was this the right thing for this woman he loved? Seconds passed like hours while she imagined him pondering the thoughts that pulled at his mind.

He finally drew her close with a loud exhale of air. “All right, Marcy,” he said quietly, “since this is so all-fire important to you, we’ll do this your way . . . for now. But – ” he wagged a threatening finger in her face – “at the first sign of trouble, Miss Gabriella Dawn Smith goes, do you hear? And you
will
back me in my discipline, do you understand?”

She lunged into his arms with a joyful cry, almost toppling them both into the chair. “Oh, Patrick, I love you so much! And I mean it – anything, I’ll do anything.”

He chuckled and planted a kiss in her hair, steadying her with a firm grip to her arms. “Don’t think I won’t be taking you up on that, darlin’.” His eyes twinkled as he cupped a hand to her waist. “In fact, I’ve a mind to collect right no – ”

The clomp of heavy footsteps clambered down the stairs, drawing their gazes to the foyer. Marcy froze at the sight of Steven heading for the front door.
Lord, no, not now!

Patrick dropped his hold on her waist and strode toward the hall, shooting a quick glance at the clock on the mantel. “And where do you think you’re going?”

Steven turned, brows arched and a stiff smile on his lips. “Out. With Maggie.”

“At this late hour?” Patrick’s tone hardened considerably. Steven strolled to where Marcy stood. He kissed her cheek and gave her a quick hug. “Good night, Mother.”

“Steven, please don’t be too late,” she whispered against his neck, her stomach in knots at what this could do to Patrick’s good mood.

Steven gave her a gentle smile, the only reminder of the shy and introspective boy he used to be. Her heart squeezed with love for this once small and gangly son, who’d possessed a gentle heart and quiet manner. He stood before her now, a handsome young man who had discovered the wild ways of an unfettered generation, craving adventure along with a college education.