The House on Malcolm Street (35 page)

Beyond walking Eliza to school that day, it was difficult to get anything done. Marigold wanted me to work with her in the kitchen, but every time we started, she would stop and exclaim her thankfulness, or just sit down and cry. Happy tears. Of course. I expected her to be happy. But I’d had no idea that her reaction would be this profound. No question that Saul Abraham was deeply entwined in her heart.

Finally she motioned me to sit beside her. We were silent for a moment, then she took my hand. “They said the money was at my discretion. I want to use some of it to send you to see your father.”

“But that wouldn’t be right,” I protested. “He said it should be for God’s glory.”

“You don’t think there’s glory to God in relationships being restored that the devil has taken? Tell that man you love him. Tell him God loves him, and that will be glory to him. Believe me.”

I couldn’t argue. I knew she wouldn’t hear it. But the idea gave me a dreadful pinched feeling inside.

“There’s enough here to do more good besides. Don’t you worry over a piece of it being put to use on your behalf. It’s an answer to prayer.”

“Would you like me to make the scones?” I asked her, hoping to busy my hands and keep my mind from racing frantically about the details of a trip. “You said you’d like some fresh for the tea.” I gave her a smile.

She returned one. And I hurried into the baking with a will. But when it came time for Saul’s visit, I grabbed my shawl and started for the front door. “I need to visit Mrs. Humphrey.”

“All right, dear,” Marigold answered with a sparkle in her eye. “Tell her I said hello.”

I ended up crying at the Humphreys’ dining table, dreadfully embarrassed and yet unable to hide my apprehension at going to see my father.

“It’s something you need to do,” Dorothy agreed with Marigold. “But you’re right. If he’s this difficult to face, it’s better that he told you not to take your daughter. It wouldn’t be wise to have her there. At least not yet. Perhaps the two of you can come to peace, and then she could go on a later visit.”

I found it nearly impossible to imagine that happening, but I tried to get hold of myself and talk to her about details. She was happy to see Eliza back and forth to school, and even let her sleep over some of the nights. I wished I could tell her how long I’d be gone, but I had no idea what my father’s need might be. Finally I decided that I’d have to determine a time frame, for my daughter’s sake, whether it suited my father or not.

“I’ll be gone from here one week, including travel time. No more. He’ll just have to accept that. Of course, he might not be able to tolerate me in his house for more than a day.”

“Surely he’ll not be that bad.”

“I have no idea what to expect.”

Dorothy said she’d pray for me, both before the trip and after I’d gone. And then I felt I should share with her our good news.

“Mr. Abraham received the Lord last night.”

I did not expect the strange look on her face. “But he’s a Jew.”

“He’s a child of God. It’s a wonderful thing.”

She nodded her head, but her expression didn’t change. She glanced quickly at the wall clock. “It’s time to get the children.”

We walked together quietly. She’d become a good friend in a short time, but I’d seen something I didn’t really understand. Did she mistrust Mr. Abraham? Or simply the idea of his conversion? Neither made much sense to me.

Eliza was joyous on the way home from school. Marigold was equally joyous, if not more so, when we came into her house. But in the midst of that joy, I felt a heavy weight of dread. I was going to see my father.

I prepared Eliza carefully, scared that she would be far more apprehensive about this trip because it would be longer. But she didn’t seem to be bothered much at all.

“It’s going to be okay, Mommy. I miss you at night, but I know you need to see Grandpa, and you’ll come back just like you did when you were helping all those sick people.”

“I really wish I didn’t need to go.”

“But Grandpa’s sick too, so he needs your help now. And I gotta stay here in school. That’s the way it is for big kids. If I was little, then I’d have to go where you go.”

That thought made me smile. She was only six, and one of the smallest in her first grade class. But in her mind’s eye, she was “big.”

She took my hand. “Do you want me to teach you the moon song so we can both sing it if we miss each other?”

“The moon song?”

“Yeah. Marigold taught me. When I couldn’t sleep so good. She gave me that cot beside her window, remember? And we looked out at the moon and she said that same moon was looking at you.”

I wasn’t sure I quite understood.

Then she taught me the song, just a cute little ditty about the moon seeing the person we miss. “Isn’t that pretty, Mommy? Isn’t that a good song?”

It certainly was pretty, especially with her angel voice. I wasn’t so sure of all that about the moon, but I supposed there was no harm in it, especially if it gave a child peace. “It’s pretty. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

“I’ll be used to things this time,” she said. “So I won’t be scared at all now. Can I make Grandpa a picture?”

I nodded my head. The admission that she must have been a little frightened last time made me reluctant to proceed with my plans to leave again. Yet I knew if I didn’t, regret for not making the effort would follow me for the rest of my life.

With so many of the other details beginning to be resolved in my mind, a familiar dread jumped in with everything else. I’d have to take the train. Alone. I’d have to ride that belching, murderous monster again.

The nightmares jumped at me with a renewed vengeance. And even in the waking hours, thoughts of the train plagued me worse than before. What if I couldn’t go through with it?

It wasn’t hard to prepare everything else that needed to be prepared that week. Marigold had plenty of groceries in, and Josiah and Saul would be checking every day anyway to see if she needed anything. Dorothy would come to the door and escort Eliza to school and bring her back to the door again. Except for two of the nights, when Eliza would get to sleep over with Betty.

We even had an arrangement for seeing me off. Josiah had finally gotten Mr. Abraham’s car in good repair, so Saul planned to drive Marigold and Eliza to the station with me so they could wave me on my way.

But before then, I wanted to make sure I didn’t leave anything undone. So I washed up all the laundry, for myself and Eliza, as well as for Marigold and the men next door. That way, Marigold would only need to cook while I was gone to fulfill her agreement with them. And she loved doing that anyway.

But it was not so easy to prepare my mind. Over and over I went through the trip mentally, telling myself that I’d ridden the train once and I could certainly do it again. But somehow this time seemed so different. Whether it was because I was going home, or because I’d be without Eliza’s childlike faith, I didn’t know. But I could feel my heart swirling in near panic.

The night before I was to leave, I’d put Eliza to bed early as I’d been doing whenever possible since school began. I’d been shaking rugs and sweeping and mopping floors nearly all day so Marigold could be caught up and not have to think about such things while I was gone. Now I had only the kitchen floor left to scrub because I’d planned to leave it for last. But my wash bucket and brush blurred before my eyes several times, and finally I just crumpled to my knees and wept.

Unfortunately, Marigold caught me at it. I tried to brush it off, pretend that there wasn’t any problem, but of course she knew better.

“Talk to me, Leah. Are you so afraid of your father? Has he hurt you?”

I almost couldn’t answer. Of course, he’d hurt me, probably more than even he could realize. But not physically. Not like she meant. “It’s the train . . .”

“What? What about the train?”

In all this time, I’d not confessed the immense fear that haunted me so. Of course my parents had known. There was no hiding it from them when I was a child. And John had known. He knew I had nightmares, and I’d told him trains made me nervous. But many things did, so he’d lumped that fear along with the others into one bundle to carry before the Lord in prayer. And it’d been better as long as I had him and his prayers to lean on.

But after his death, the terror of my childhood had rushed back with an overwhelming power. Now I was nearly paralyzed. And though Marigold didn’t understand, she could plainly see the depth of my dismay.

“Please, Leah. Try to explain. I want to help.”

“Th-the train. I . . . I can’t face the train.”

“But you rode a train to get here, child. Was it that bad?”

I shook my head.

“You’re just in a tizzy over facing your father after all this time. But I assure you he’ll be so glad you’ve come. You’ll be glad too. And that’s all it is. Just fear over how he’ll receive you. But it’s nothing to worry about. He needs you. It’s the right thing to do.”

I shook my head again. “The train . . .”

“What about the train?”

I struggled to catch my breath away from the tears trying to take hold. “Father scares me,” I managed to admit. “I – I don’t know what to expect. But he doesn’t scare me as badly as the train . . .”

I started shaking, and though it was surely going to be hard for her to get back up, Marigold sank to the floor beside me and held me in her arms. Then everything came pouring out. The nightmares, the panic of my childhood, the depth of my terror that seemed to be gripping me with new vigor.

She held me and let me cry and bare my soul of this pain. And then she prayed. She didn’t try to tell me my fear was foolish. That I was an adult and I should lay this nonsense aside and act like one. She only prayed, until I grew calm again. And then we sat for a long time in each other’s arms.

I don’t know how long. Finally, she said, “You need to conquer this, you understand, don’t you? You must not let this keep you from your trip.”

I nodded my head.

“I know you don’t understand the source of this fear, and I don’t either, except that it’s a weapon of the devil to torment you and keep you from doing what you need to do.” She smoothed my hair back from my face. “You had one safe train ride, and you’re about to have another. There’ll be no difficulty in it. And a blessing of God at your destination for the renewed relationship you need with your father. It’ll be all right.”

“Yes,” I managed to agree.

“Leave the floor the way it is. You need to get your rest.”

I sniffed. “All right.”

“Go on,” she prodded. “Get up.”

So I got up. And then I helped her up. I wiped my eyes and hugged her, and thought I was all right. So we both went to bed.

But the terror of my dreams was back, chasing me down, tearing in pieces all that I knew and everyone I knew. It was the longest, cruelest, bloodiest train dream I could ever remember. And I woke before light, trembling.

This was a Saturday, and I’d be getting on the early train. I’d planned this on purpose so Eliza could sew with Marigold and then go and play at the Humphreys’ instead of having to concentrate on her studies as she thought about me going far away. I’d thought it would be better for her to have Marigold at her side, or Dorothy Humphrey, so one of them could give her a hug and a listening ear if it was necessary.

I’d also thought it would be better to leave on a day when Josiah would not be on a train, lest people get the erroneous idea that we always traveled together.

But I could not seem to stop shaking. I tried to push the awful dream from my mind, but that only served to remind me of previous ones. So many of them. Of John. Or my parents. Myself, or the brother I couldn’t remember, being chased by trains. I made myself get dressed, and then I walked to the kitchen, feeling almost too weak to stand.

Marigold was already up, and when she saw me, it was immediately plain how awful I looked. “Oh, child. Sit down.”

Immediately I burst into tears and almost fell. She hurried to my side, not letting her still-pronounced limp slow her, and helped me to a chair.

“Did you sleep?”

I nodded.

“But there were dreams again.”

I didn’t have to answer. She knew.

“Let me get you a cup of tea. You need to relax.”

“I can’t do it,” I told her. “I’ll write to my father. He won’t understand, but it won’t matter. He probably doesn’t expect me anyway. I – I can’t go, Mari – I just can’t.”

She poured my tea and set it in front of me. “I see you’re all dressed. That’s good. Is your bag packed?”

“I – I did that yesterday. But I can’t go – ”

“You will not let fear stop you, do you understand?”

I sat like a stone.

“You are stronger than that, Leah. I want you to say it. ‘I’m strong.’ ”

“But I’m not – ”

“I don’t care if you think you are. Saying it will help. ‘I’m strong.’ ”

I heard a stirring upstairs, and in a moment’s time, Eliza came jaunting down in her pajamas. She looked utterly stunned to see me in tears.

“Mommy?”

I took a deep breath.

“She’s all right, child,” Marigold assured her. “Just a little worried. Run and get dressed and we can all sit down for oatmeal.”

I was surprised that she would push Eliza away so quickly, and Eliza seemed to be too. But she trusted Marigold and hurried away in obedience.

“You have a very bright and very speedy daughter, Leah Breckenridge,” she told me. “You may have less than five minutes to get hold of yourself before she’s right back down here.”

I tried. I thought I’d managed, sitting calmly and receiving a steaming bowl of cinnamon raisin porridge, just the way I liked it. But I couldn’t eat. I could barely drink my tea. Silence filled the air around the table. Finally Marigold took Eliza’s hand carefully. “Your mother’s worried some about the trip, of course, dear. You’ll miss each other. But it’ll be so good when she’s back, and so good for her to help your grandpa while she can. Please be a dear and go next door to fetch Josiah for me. It’s almost time for your mother to be leaving for that train.”

I lowered my head and put my hands in my lap, hoping to hide the renewed shaking from my daughter’s sight.
Lord. Lord, I don’t want to scare her! Please help me to calm down. Oh, please don’t make me go today!