Heaven Sent (26 page)

“
I don’t know, but I wish
they still did.”

“
What’s a ‘gossipmonger’?”
Becky asked.

So much for her not following the
adult conversation, Callie thought glumly.

She and Aubrey exchanged a glance, and
Callie opted to answer the question. “A gossipmonger is a person
who spreads gossip and tells tales on other people?”

“
Oh. Miss Oakes says people
like that are bad.”

“
She’s right,” Aubrey said
firmly. “Your teacher seems to have a good head on her shoulders,
Becky.”

“
She’s real nice.” Becky
winced as Callie plied her soapy rag.

“
I’m sorry, Becky. I’m
almost through here. Then we’ll put some nice ointment on your poor
knee and tie a bandage around it. Maybe I can find a colored ribbon
to decorate it, and then you’ll have a birthday knee!”

Becky offered a tiny laugh, although
Callie knew she was in pain.

“
A birthday knee,” said
Aubrey. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“
It’s better than a plain
old bandaged knee,” Callie said in defense of her idea.

“
Oh, much better,” he
agreed, and Callie could tell he was amused rather than
annoyed.

She felt slightly cheerier.

Ten minutes later, when the three of
them emerged from the house, Becky’s leg sported a pristine white
bandage and two pink ribbons that went nicely with her new
pink-and-white checked gingham birthday dress and ruffled white
pinafore.

Alta had done a good job in organizing
skating races among the children, but they all stopped skating when
they spotted Becky. Several of the children broke ranks and began
wobbling toward the porch. Becky bounded down the stairs as if
nothing of a painful nature had ever happened to her.

“
Looky! I got a birthday
knee!” She bent her knee and lifted her leg to show off her
bandage. Callie thought that if Old Bilgewater—as Aubrey called
her—was watching, she was undoubtedly scandalized at such a brazen
display of frilly drawers.

The other children swarmed around
Becky, desiring to see the knee. Callie turned to look at Aubrey
and discovered he’d turned to look at her. Their gazes held for a
moment before Callie wrenched hers away. “I guess she’ll
live.”

“
Looks like it,” he said.
“You did a good job. Your birthday knee was a brilliant
stroke.”

Unused to having compliments bestowed
upon her from this source, Callie felt her neck get hot. She hoped
like thunder she wouldn’t blush. “It was, wasn’t it?”

He chuckled.

Oh, but Callie wished he wouldn’t do
that. Every time he chuckled, dark, trembly feelings tumbled
through her. It really wasn’t fair that Becky had showed her those
letters, she decided unhappily. If she’d only known the Aubrey
Lockhart who lived in this house now, a year after his wife had
died, she’d probably not even like him much, mainly because she
considered he’d been beastly to his daughter, whom she
loved.

But Becky
had
showed her those
letters, and Callie had read them, and, horror of horrors, she’d
now managed to fall in love with Aubrey the letter writer. Life
could get tangled up at the drop of a hat, blast it, and Callie
didn’t approve.

*****

Shortly after the knee incident, Mrs.
Granger and Delilah brought out a delicious luncheon for the
children and their mothers. And, of course, Mrs. Bridgewater, who
seemed to have lost some of her starch. Watching her, Callie wished
she could lose even more of it. In fact, if she’d go somewhere and
lose her whole self, the world would be a better place.

However, that was nothing to the
purpose, and Callie didn’t dwell on it. She tried not to dwell on
Aubrey, too, but was less successful.

Fried chicken, biscuits, potato salad,
and Mrs. Granger’s famous coleslaw were served up to the throng of
children, all of whom had worked up voracious appetites as they
skated. Their mothers also dined well, although a couple of them
tried to pretend they weren’t hungry. Callie knew better. Nobody
could be not hungry in the face of one of Mrs. Granger’s
feasts.

After the luncheon had been consumed,
Becky’s favorite white cake with coconut frosting was brought out
in style by Aubrey, who carried it as if he were carrying a crown
to a queen. Callie followed with a tub of ice cream that two of the
stable boys had spent the morning churning. The oohing and aahing
that went on at the prospect of cake and ice cream made Callie’s
heart glow.

The afternoon’s festivities came to a
conclusion shortly after luncheon, and Callie found herself
standing next to Aubrey and Becky and thanking the guests for their
attendance at Becky’s party. She felt not unlike a matron herself
under the circumstances, and she experienced a yearning in her soul
that it should be so.

Which was nonsensical. It was also
dangerous, as she learned when she glanced around to find Mrs.
Bridgewater giving her a glacial stare. Because she couldn’t stand
the woman and, even more, couldn’t bear the notion of gossip being
spread about herself and Aubrey, Callie smiled at her. Mr.
Bridgewater sniffed and turned her face away. Callie rolled her
eyes.

“
I’m going upstairs to rest,
Aubrey,” Becky’s great-aunt said during the departure of the other
guests. “I’m sure I’ve never been to a more unruly children’s
party.”

Callie had to bite her tongue in order
to prevent herself from asking exactly how many children’s parties
the old hag had attended. Fortunately, Aubrey did it for
her,

“
Oh?” he said, his own eyes
glittering ominously. “And how many children’s parties have you
attended, Mrs. Bridgewater?”

The woman sniffed.
“Several.”

“
I see. Well, since most
seven-year-olds have much more energy than adults of your years, I
should advise you not to attend any more than you can avoid in the
future.”

Callie’s mouth fell open in surprise
at that smart thrust. She expected Mrs. Bridgewater to launch a
counter-attack, but she didn’t. She said only, “I believe that
children should be disciplined,” and marched into the
house.

Becky reached up and tapped Callie’s
hand to get her attention, which was just as well, since Gallic was
wasting time watching Bilgewater and wondering how a person could
get to be that way. She smiled at Becky. “Yes, lovie?”

“
What’s ‘dis’plin,’ and is
it bad not to have it?”

Aubrey choked. “Ha!”

“
Discipline is manners,
sweetheart, and you have wonderful manners for a girl your
age,”

“
Don’t pay any attention to
Great-Aunt Evelyn,” Aubrey advised his daughter dryly. “She doesn’t
believe in having fun herself, and she wants the whole rest of the
world to be miserable along with her.”

Becky still looked puzzled. “But is it
bad to have fun?” she asked in a small voice.

Callie fielded that one, “Good
heavens, no! Having fun is the whole purpose of a
party.”

“
Then I don’t
understand.”

“
Don’t fret about it,
Becky,” Aubrey said. “Nobody understands your great-aunt. Your mama
didn’t understand why she’s so grumpy all the time, I don’t
understand it, and I’m sure Miss Prophet doesn’t understand it,
either.”

“
True,” Callie said, this
warm feeling of inclusion she’d begun to harbor beginning to worry
her. She didn’t dare let herself get used to feeling as if she were
part of the family; such a path was dangerous and might lead to
sorrow and heartbreak should she have to leave this job for any
reason.

Adopting her no-nonsense-nanny manner,
as soon as the last carriage rolled away, she swooped down and
picked Becky up. “I imagine you, young lady, could use a rest right
about now.”

“
I’m not tired,” Becky
cried, appalled at the prospect of being made to take a nap.
“Besides, I’m seven now!”

Aubrey laughed softly and chucked her
under the chin. “You are, indeed, Becky. You’re a big
girl.”

“
Yes, you are,” Callie
agreed, severely lecturing her heart to stop pretending she
belonged to this family. “But even big girls need to rest after
exciting parties. I’m older than you are, and I’m exhausted.
Although you may not need to rest, I do.”

“
Do I have to go to
sleep?”

“
No. I think we ought to go
up to the nursery and read and draw for a little while. That’s rest
enough for a seven-year-old, I think.”

This news cheered Becky considerably.
“Oh, good! I can draw with those new colored pencils you gave
me.”

“
Brilliant idea,” said
Callie.

Aubrey smiled at the two of them.
Callie felt as if she’d been purposely included in one of his
smiles. The sensation threatened to knock her cockeyed for a second
before she regained her composure.

He left them at the foot of the,
staircase and went in the direction of his office. Callie breathed
a small sigh and put Becky down so that she could walk upstairs
under her own steam. “You’re getting too big for me to carry around
much longer, Becky. You’re as heavy as a sack of flour.”

The little girl laughed and ran up the
stairs, birthday knee and all. Worn out after the day’s
festivities—not to mention the planning that had gone into carrying
them off—Callie followed more slowly.

Becky had already fetched some paper
and her new colored pencils by the time Callie got to the nursery
door. Personally, Callie could use a nap, but she’d had sufficient
experience with young children to know it would be better not to
force Becky to lie down. Better that she play quietly for a while
and allow her mind to catch up with her body enough to realize it
craved a nap, too. “Are you going to draw a picture of your party,
Becky?”

The little girl nodded. “I want to
send a picture to Mama. I think she’d like it that we went roller
skating at the party.”

Callie’s heart squeezed. “I’m sure she
would.”

Nodding, Becky settled into a low
chair and opened up the box containing her pencils. “I’m gonna draw
a picture of my birthday knee, too.”

“
I’d forgotten all about
your knee, sweetheart. How does it feel?”

“
It’s fine.”

Callie saw that Becky was
concentrating hard on drawing a picture, so she didn’t press the
issue of her knee. She was pleased that Becky didn’t seem inclined
to use her injury for sympathy as might have been expected of a
child who’d been left to flounder without attention for an entire
year.

She tried to drum up some indignation
against Aubrey on Becky’s behalf, but didn’t have enough energy
left after Becky’s party. Besides, she’s seen something today that
made her wonder yet again if she’d been too hard on
Aubrey.

He’d actually enjoyed himself once or
twice during the party. Callie realized that for the first time his
customary austere, haunted look had vanished and had been replaced
by one of friendliness and interest—several times, in fact. She
supposed he’d been used to looking friendly and interested before
Anne took sick.

Perhaps he was beginning to put his
grief behind him. Maybe he’d even turn human again, one of these
days.

Which would be good for Becky. And
perhaps for Callie, too.

*****

Aubrey had intended to get some work
done after Becky’s party, but he found himself brooding over
several other issues instead. He sat at his desk, drumming his
fingers and frowning out the window, watching in a desultory way as
the household staff dismantled the tent and removed the other
vestiges of the day’s festivities.

He wished the idea of remarriage would
go away and leave him in peace. For some reason, once he’d allowed
the notion to enter, it seemed to want to take over all of his
thought processes. Dash it, what was the matter with
him?

Then again, he thought, he oughtn’t to
he too hard on himself. After all, there probably wasn’t a man
alive who wasn’t occasionally troubled by carnal impulses. Aubrey,
neither religious scholar nor psychologist, had a sneaking feeling
that men’s carnal impulses were one of the reasons the institution
of marriage had been invented in the first place. The good Lord had
known what He was doing. Aubrey’s own experience with sexual
matters had led him to believe that if it were left to women to
initiate such contact, far fewer children would be born into this
sorry world. Heaven forefend that the race should die
out.

He passed a hand over his eyes and
railed at himself for becoming cynical. Hell, he wasn’t even old
yet, and already he was thinking like an ancient, embittered
man.

With the exception of Anne’s death, if
anything could be excepted from that, his life had been remarkably
lucky. He had money, a successful business, two lovely houses, a
beautiful daughter, and . . . and . . . and what?

And nothing.

“
Dash it, man, stop
wallowing. You’ve been wallowing for two years now, and it’s
unbecoming.”