Loving Beth Book One, page 11
“Yeah!” Tommy handed the squalling Sissy to Beth. He ran to get dressed.
“Tommy,” Beth called after him. “I laid out your new clothes on the bed. Put those on.” She planned to wash their dirty clothes today. She turned to Sissy in her arms. “And you need changed, don’t you?” She kissed Sissy on the cheek and carried her back to her bedroom.
A few minutes later, she emerged from her bedroom with Sissy at the same time Tommy emerged from her mother’s room wearing his brand new britches and flannel shirt. Beth noticed he wore his old shoes, and he hadn’t buttoned them up.
“Tommy, I think those shoes are getting too small for your feet. Why don’t you put your new ones on? Better yet, put on your rubber boots. They have a wool lining to keep your feet warm.”
“Oh, yeah!” Tommy grinned. “I forgot I got new rubber boots.”
“They’re sitting by the door.” Beth sat Sissy down on the carpet and went to the stove to start breakfast. “When you get back, we’ll eat.”
Tommy sat by the door to put on his boots. “Can we have pancakes again?”
Beth chuckled at the boy. “Yes, we can.”
A few minutes after Tommy left, she heard someone yelling. She ran to the door, her heart pounding, and opened it.
“Toby! Toby!” Tommy called.
Beth put her hand over her chest. The poor kid was just calling for his cat. She couldn’t help but smile. Cats weren’t known for coming when called.
A short while later, Tommy returned. He reached into his coat pocket. “We got five today.” He held them out proudly.
“Good! We’ll each have one to go with our pancakes and save the other two for tomorrow.” Beth flipped a pancake in the skillet. “It will be ready in a few minutes.” Tommy removed his coat and boots and went over and sat down next to his sister. Beth cracked the eggs into a frying pan and set the table as she listened to Tommy making noises that caused Sissy to giggle. She couldn’t think of a sweeter sound in the entire world. And to think, before yesterday, the cabin had been such a lonely place. She set a platter of pancakes on the table and noticed Tommy whispering to his sister. He pointed to the rocking chair that had Lydia engraved on it. Her ears strained to hear.
“That’s your mama!” Tommy smiled at his baby sister.
Beth froze. Time stopped, but only for a brief few seconds. So Lydia wasn’t their grandmother? And Delilah wasn’t their mother? Now she was really confused. She walked over to the children and knelt beside them.
“Tommy.” Beth pointed to the rocking chair. “Is Lydia your mother?”
“Not anymore.” Tommy’s chin quivered. “She’s dead!”
“Oh, Tommy! I’m so sorry!” Sissy had been babbling and giggling, but now her lower lip stuck out as she looked from Tommy to Beth, confused.
“How? I mean, what happened?” Beth had so many questions, but didn’t want to overwhelm the young boy.
Tommy nodded toward Sissy. “Mama died when Sissy was born.” He swiped a tear from his eye.
“Then who is Delilah?” Beth didn’t mean to blurt the question out in such a brusque tone.
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Tommy stood and clenched his fists.
Beth lifted Sissy off the rug before she started crying. “That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it. Let’s eat.”
Beth stayed busy throughout the day. She washed the clothes the children had worn the night they ended up at her house. The night they were abandoned! Then she cut the diaper fabric into twelve more diapers. While sewing them at the treadle, her mind raced with questions about the children. Who was their father, and where was he? Was he dead as well?
And why were the children in the care of people who obviously didn’t love them? Perhaps their father married Delilah after Lydia died and then he died as well and Delilah remarried?
Or perhaps their father abandoned them and these horrid people took them in. But why?
She did need to get word to the sheriff about the children being abandoned. But in all honesty, that was the last thing she wanted to do. She loved these kids and wanted the best for them. As far as she was concerned, they were better off with her than anywhere else—especially an orphanage. But would they allow a single woman to adopt the children?
Beth paused with her foot still on the treadle. Tommy was outside and was making snowballs and throwing them across the yard. She smiled. She had an idea. She set her sewing aside and checked on Sissy. She was still napping soundly. Beth put on her boots and coat, mittens and hat and slipped quietly out the door.
Tommy waved and smiled when he saw her.
Beth started to walk toward him, then stopped and stooped down to make a snowball. “Watch out, here it comes,” she shouted.” She threw the ball in his direction. Tommy tried to dodge, but the snowball struck his shoulder. He burst out laughing, and then quickly made his own snowball, and threw it at Beth. It got her right in the arm. “Oh, no, you didn’t!”
“Yes, I did!” Tommy’s belly laughter was contagious, and Beth laughed too. Now they both raced to get the next snowball thrown at their component. Snowballs flew until they were both exhausted and covered in snow. Beth hadn’t had that much fun and laughed that hard for a very long time. She guessed the same was true for Tommy too.
“I got you more than you got me,” Tommy said with a laugh.
“I can’t argue with that!” Beth rubbed her arms in an attempt to warm up. “Well, come on, let’s go home before we freeze to death,” she said through chattering teeth.
Tommy followed her but stopped short of stepping up onto the porch. Beth swung around. “Tommy?”
“It’s not home!” He pressed his lips tight together and didn’t budge.
“I know that, Tommy! I just— ”
“It’s not my home!” he yelled. “And you’re not my mother!” He turned and ran toward the barn.
Beth watched until he disappeared into the barn. Where did that come from? But, of course, he was correct. Perhaps she was just fooling herself, thinking she could keep these children. After all, they weren’t hers to keep. Not only that, but she may not have a home herself much longer.
Her heart dropped into her gut. That was a realization she kept ignoring. She needed to quit pretending that all was secure on the home front, because it wasn’t. She needed to face up to the fact that this may not be her home for much longer, and then these children would definitely end up in an orphanage.
Beth poked her head in the door to see if she could hear Sissy stir. Just silence. Good, she was still sleeping. She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and headed to the barn.
Tommy sat in the corner at the back of one of the stalls. He was rocking with his arms clutched around his knees. His eyes were red and swollen from crying.
She approached him cautiously. She stopped a few feet away and chewed her lower lip, not sure how to comfort him, or even what to say.
“Tommy.” Beth said his name ever so gently. “I’m—I’m really sorry. I know I’m not your mother. And I know how much you must have loved her, and you still must miss her terribly.”
Tommy quit rocking and glanced at Beth.
Encouraged, Beth continued. “Your mother must have loved you so much. She’d be proud of you for the way you take care of your baby sister.” She moved a step closer. “She was blessed to have a son like you.”
Tommy jumped up so suddenly, it almost startled Beth. Before she could react, he flew to her and threw himself into her arms, almost knocking her down. He buried his head into her abdomen and sobbed.
“I want you to be my mother now! I don’t ever want to leave!”
Beth held him close and looked down at him.
His shoulders shook with his sobs. He looked up into Beth’s face. “But I want my daddy back. I miss him real bad!” He buried his head into Beth’s stomach again, his fists clinging to her shirt, and cried harder.
Beth’s heart broke for the young boy. Tears stung her eyes. She clasped his shoulders in her hands and stepped back. “Tommy, who is your father?”
“Huh?” Tommy wiped his eyes and gave Beth a confused look.
“Who is he, Tommy?” Beth brushed the hair out of Tommy’s eyes. “What is his name?”
Tommy blinked and swallowed hard. “Jacob.”
CHAPTER 19
Jacob sagged wearily into a chair and pressed his face into his hands and rubbed vigorously. If only I could wake from this nightmare. He raked his fingers through his hair and clasped them behind his head. He sighed deeply and stared at the frail woman sleeping in the bed next to him. For a month and a half, he had sat by his mother’s side every day, hoping and praying she would recover from what the doctors diagnosed as apoplexy. They didn’t know much about it, other than it was an attack of the brain that had left his mother paralyzed on one side of her body. When he’d first arrived at his home city of Baltimore, he was devastated to see his mother in her weakened condition. He was even more sickened that her health had only declined since he’d arrived. She slept most of the time now.
He sighed. His mother had always been so full of life and vigor—independent and exuberant, the backbone of the Wallace family. To see her like this was almost more than Jacob could bear. Besides his aunt Margaret, he was all she had, and he would do whatever he could to help her.
Jacob’s jaw clenched when he thought of his cousin. Why didn’t Horace tell me how bad off my mother was? It was a thought that repeatedly nagged at him. His mother had paid Horace and his wife to travel to Jacob’s homestead in West Virginia and send Jacob home to Baltimore, while they remained behind to take care of his children. “It was an emergency,” Horace had said. “She needs you there as soon as you can get there.”
Jacob never liked his cousin Horace, and it bothered him immensely to leave his children in his care. He would have never done so, except the request to get home to his mother seemed urgent. And she obviously trusted Horace enough to send him and his wife to care for the children while Jacob was gone. The only thing that made it easier to leave his children was watching Delilah fuss over and care for them like they were her own. She wasn’t exactly what you would call genteel—rough looking, to be honest—but as long as she was good to his children and they seemed to like her, he felt it safe to leave them. But he hadn’t planned to be gone this long.
Horace was his only cousin on his father’s side of the family. His father never liked Horace’s father, the man his sister married. He was no good; Jacob heard it often growing up. He wasn’t a good provider. He lay drunk half the time, and his wife went from having nice things and wearing the latest dresses to living in a dingy cabin and wearing tattered homespun clothes. Horace obviously took after his father, as he was always in and out of trouble growing up. He left home when he was seventeen and drifted from town to town. When Horace’s father ended up in jail for theft, Jacob’s father welcomed his sister home with open arms, but sadly her hard life had taken a toll on her health, and she passed away six months later.
Jacob’s head jerked up at the sound of Aunt Margaret poking her head in the door. She looked over at her sister, and then at Jacob, a sad smile flitting across her lips. “Jacob, come and get a bite to eat. You need your nourishment.”
A few minutes later, Jacob sat at his aunt’s kitchen table, laden with sliced bread and cold cuts of meats, and watched her pour coffee into their cups. Aunt Margaret was getting up in years—a few years older than his mother. “I can’t thank you enough, Aunt Margaret, for all you have done for my mother and me.”
She waved dismissively and sat down at the table next to Jacob. “She would have done the same for me.”
Jacob admired his aunt. She was a well-kept woman who wore her pure white hair like a crown on her head. Her husband died five years ago. It had been a union that never culminated in children. As far back as Jacob could remember, Aunt Margaret had always loved him like he was her own.
Jacob squeezed his aunt’s hand. “I don’t know what she or I would have done without you. Saying thank you just isn’t enough. I want to give you—”
“Nephew!” Margaret interrupted sharply. “You don’t owe me anything. We are family, and that’s what family does for each other.”
“Thank you, Aunt Margaret.” Jacob smiled.
“Now, let’s eat!” Margaret shook the folded napkin next to her plate and placed it in her lap.
“Yes, ma’am!” Jacob spooned sugar into his cup of coffee and stirred, watching the black liquid swirl inside, as dark thoughts once again returned. He missed his children so much he felt the pain physically.
Margaret pointed at Jacob’s cup and chuckled. “I’m sure the sugar has dissolved by now.”
Jacob removed the spoon, setting it down in the saucer, and looked at his aunt with a weak grin.
“What’s troubling you, son?” Margaret said softly, her brows puckered with concern.
Jacob let out a long slow breath. “I’m just worried about my children.” He looked at his aunt, his fists clenching. “Why didn’t Horace tell me how bad my mother’s condition was?”
Before answering, Margaret set her sandwich down on her plate, dabbed at her mouth with her napkin, and placed it back in her lap. “Horace wasn’t given many brains at birth. Poor soul.”
“Aunt Margaret,” Jacob said, “I need you to tell me everything again.”
Margaret took a deep breath. “You’re mother wasn’t feeling well during church and asked if she could come home with me. When we returned to the house, she collapsed right on the floor in the foyer. I ran to the neighbors’ for help, and we got her into bed.” She nodded toward the bedroom where his mother lay sleeping. “The neighbor fetched the doctor, but by the time he arrived, your mother was feeling better. She was weak, but sitting up in bed and talking. I thought she was going to be fine.” She sighed.
Margaret shuddered. “I thank God she was here and not at home when her house burned.” She swiped a tear that spilled from her eye. “A day after I told her about her home being gone, she told me she needed you to come home as soon as you could. The only person she could think who could help with your young’uns was your cousin. So I sent for him.” Margaret pursed her lips and shook her head. “I was against it, but your mother paid your cousin and his wife a hundred dollars and told them how to find you and to send you home. They were to take good care of your children in your absence—she even gave them another twenty-five dollars to make sure the kids had food and clothes and everything they needed.”
“She didn’t need to do that.”
Margaret paused and patted Jacob’s hand, her eyes boring into his. “She also left another fifty dollars here for you to give to them when you return.”
“I can pay them.”
“I think she just wanted them to know they’d have more money waiting.” She took in a deep breath. “Jacob, I believe your mother thought her time left on this earth was limited, and she wanted you to get here quickly to get things in order.”
Jacob scowled as his fingers drummed the table. He’d promised Horace an extra dollar a day for every day he was gone over a month. He didn’t know his mother had also promised his derelict cousin another fifty dollars—and Horace certainly hadn’t offered that information.
Margaret stood and started clearing the table. She stopped and turned toward him, holding dishes in her hands. “I’m surprised we haven’t heard from Horace.”
Jacob shrugged. “I’m not. I don’t think the man can write.”
A knock sounded at the door.
A puzzled look crossed Margaret’s face. “I wonder who that could be.”
“I don’t know.” Jacob shrugged. “But I’ll get it.”
He opened the door to a portly, middle-aged man carrying a leather satchel. “I’m Mr. Baker from the Baltimore Equitable Society. I’m here to see a Mrs. Wallace.”
Aunt Margaret had told him about the fire at his mother’s house the first day he’d arrived. He’d even gone over and sifted through the ashes, but there was nothing salvageable. Worrying about something he could do nothing about seemed like a waste of good energy, especially when his capacity for worry was filled by his mother and his children. “My mother is not doing well. I’m her son, Jacob. May I help you?”
“Yes. I’m sure you can.”
“Then, please, come in.” Jacob returned to the kitchen with the genial gentleman sporting a salt and pepper mustache. He introduced him to Aunt Margaret. She held out her hand. “How do you do, Mr. Baker?”
“I’m fine, thank you.” Mr. Baker took her hand as though it were made of fine crystal and gently held it like he didn’t want to let go. “And you, my dear?” His eyes sparkled.
Jacob cleared his throat behind his hand to hide the grin on his face. The sparks between his aunt and Mr. Baker didn’t go unnoticed. His aunt must have been at least ten years the man’s senior, but Jacob had to admit she was still an attractive woman. “Mr. Baker is here to discuss the fire.”
“Oh!” Margaret looked at both men. “Please make yourselves comfortable. Can I get you a cup of tea or coffee, Mr. Baker?”
“No, ma’am.” Mr. Baker held his hat to his chest and smiled at Jacob’s aunt as though she were the first woman he’d seen in ages.
Margaret returned his smile, then turned to Jacob. “I’m going to take some soup to your mother and see if I can wake her long enough to get some nourishment in her. I’ll leave you men be.” She bustled to the bedroom, turning once to wave to Mr. Baker.
Mr. Baker’s face reddened as his eyes remained on the disappearing aunt.
Jacob tried not to smile. His aunt deserved any attention she received. “And what was the purpose of your visit?”
“I’m sorry.” Mr. Baker forced his eyes to Jacob. “We’ve been investigating the grounds around your mother’s home.” He stroked his mustache a couple times with the knuckle of his index finger. “We’ve had the local authorities helping. The fire didn’t start anywhere near the hearth or the cookstove.” He looked at the hat in his lap and flicked something from the rim, as though stalling.
