Not My Will and The Light in My Window (40 page)

“I feel like a slacker not to have been out in the fight with you.”

“You were. Even when you were ill you were praying. I can feel your prayers all day long. How I do need them! Tonight’s session at Hagan’s almost got me down. I can still hear Mary’s sobs. Len, how can you women put up with us? Men can be, and so often are, such beasts!”

“Not all of them. Life
is
ugly and depressing here on Sherman Street. But I wouldn’t live any place else if I could. And not all men are bad either. I know one that lives so cleanly and labors so unselfishly that I always think of him as a man after God’s own heart.”

“He’s a fortunate man to have you think so highly of him.”

“I’m a fortunate woman to be married to him. Phil, if I had all the money that the Warwick family threw away in their efforts to find happiness I couldn’t feel half so rich as I do right now.”

She smoothed his forehead until the tense nerves relaxed, and the perplexities of the day faded away. As the whistle at the factory nearby blew to summon the midnight shift to work, Phil stirred.

“It’s time to go in. And just in case you’ve forgotten, Len, I love you.”

I
n the tower room Hope lay on the cot by the window and listened to the creak of the swing and the low murmur of voices as the Kings talked in the dark. This had been a tumultuous day, and she reviewed its happenings with thankfulness for the turn of events which had kept her from the dreaded eventuality of going home. This was a queer place, but it was a safe place, she was sure. It would provide a refuge from which she could work out and locate a satisfactory permanent position. Her few hours here had been interesting, and she liked all the people. Chad was an attractive youngster, and she anticipated getting better acquainted with him. Billy, who seemed to flash in and out at will, was more wholesome and lovable than any girl Hope had met since coming to the city. Mrs. King was gracious and kind, and Hope felt much attracted to her. She was not as lively and jolly as Billy, but she had about her, even in her hour of illness, a calm joy which made Hope long to know her better. It must be wonderful to be so situated in life, among those you loved and who loved you, that you could be really joyful. Hope had not seen enough of Mr. King—or Dr. King, as Billy called him when speaking of him—to judge him, but she knew he was courteous and thoughtful, and she was not afraid of him.

She was curious as to the Institute and hoped she might learn more of it soon. It sounded more interesting than cooking and housework. No wonder that Mrs. King preferred to work there and hire someone to keep house for her. She, Hope
Thompson, had certainly never expected to find herself in the position of an ordinary maid. Why, she didn’t even like cooking, though she had always thought it would be fun if she could do it just as she pleased instead of following the orders of Grandma or Mother Bess. Maybe Mrs. King would let her have full control here, and she could prove herself not just an “ordinary maid.” What would Daddy think about it? Was it for this he had sent her through school? He probably would not like it if he knew about it. But he need never know, for it was just temporary, and she would soon find something better. In the meantime she would not mention it. She had become an expert at saying nothing in her letters. After all, who cared? Even if this were permanent and she never went back to office work, she would rather do this than go home. Whatever happened, she would
never
do that—better to scrub floors all her life. She had said she would take care of herself and would do it with help from no one.

More than ten years ago Hope had made that resolution, and she could still remember the day. She was only ten years old but on that day had felt that she had left her childhood behind her forever. As she thought of it now, lying in the dark with the varied sounds of Sherman Street coming in through the windows, she wondered that she should ever have been happy, for all during her childhood these circumstances were in the making. Even when she and Mother and Daddy used to have good times together in the bungalow on Lockwood Street, all this sadness was on the way. In fact, some of it was already accomplished although she had not known it and had been quite happy. But surely Mother was not
really
happy, though she and Daddy always seemed so. When Mother was taken away from them forever Daddy had acted as if he could not bear it for a while. Hope was seven when that happened, and life, which had been bright and carefree, suddenly became confused and upset. She went to stay at Grandma Thompson’s house and, except for the separation from Daddy, she might have been happy. But he was always sad, and when he came to visit them Hope had a queer feeling that Mother would be there too in a few minutes, though she really knew that Mother would never come again. Gradually that feeling faded, and Mother became a picture on Grandma’s parlor mantel, pretty but not real.

Hope liked to help Grandpa in the barnyard and the orchard and garden. She became a good little housekeeper under Grandma’s guidance. But she never got used to being away from Daddy, and the brightest days of her life were the ones that brought him for a few hours. Even the joy of playing with Lucille on the next farm faded into insignificance when Daddy appeared. Then one day he asked her if she would like to have him get a new mother for her so that she could live with him again. On that day her joy was beyond words, especially when she learned that the new mother would be Miss Elizabeth, her favorite teacher. She remembered now how happily she worked as she and Grandma prepared her clothes so that she could go home with Daddy and “Mother Bess” when they should return from what Grandma called a honeymoon.

She remembered, too, how all that happiness had departed like a burst bubble after her trip over to tell Lucille good-bye. For Lucille had told her that a stepmother was not something to be happy about. All stepmothers were bad. They just married daddies purposely to get a chance to be mean to the children. Folks could not truly love more than once, and if Hope’s daddy loved Miss Elizabeth it was a sign he had never loved Hope’s mother. Lucille was
terribly
sorry for Hope, for she had read in several books of
terrible
things that had happened to stepchildren.

“She’ll pretend to like you,” said Lucille, “but all the time she’ll be making your daddy not like you. If you don’t mind exactly like she says, she’ll beat you and lock you up in the closet and forget you almost forever!”

Looking back at it now Hope realized that she had been foolish to listen to Lucille. If she could have gone on believing that it was a good thing to have a “new mother” maybe she would never have realized how little she meant in the home in the years that followed. But Lucille was older and had read “grown-up” books, and it had not occurred to Hope to doubt her. She could not tell Grandma how she felt, for it would make her feel bad, and her arthritis was bothering her anyway so she did not need any more troubles.

When Daddy and Mother Bess came, it was a very sober little girl who climbed into the backseat of the car and watched the
farmhouse disappear through a mist of tears. In the days and weeks that followed she never forgot that she did not really belong. She watched Daddy and Mother Bess together, and she knew they loved each other. So Lucille was right, and Daddy had not loved Mother at all. Even when Mother Bess planned all sorts of nice things to please her, she knew it was only to cover up the plan to make Daddy dislike Hope. Sometimes things seemed so pleasant that she almost forgot, but when she remembered she could see many things to confirm her fears. Daddy’s impatience, for instance. He had never been impatient with her. But now he would exclaim, “Hope, what
is
the matter with you? You aren’t at all like my little sunshine girl anymore.” He would get cross when she did not like to sit with them but would go into her own room and play alone with the door closed. Yet perhaps things might have been smoothed out and she would have grown used to being a stepchild if another blow had not come.

When school was out she was sent to the farm for the summer. Life became lovely and bright again. She poured the sad story of her unhappiness and mistreatment into Lucille’s ears. Lucille gave her the sympathy she wanted. Grandpa and Grandma were glad to have her back, and there was so much to see and do on the farm that the weeks flew by. Lucille went away on a visit, and Hope and Grandma were busy with canning. As they peeled tomatoes or prepared fruit for the kettles they talked together as they used to do. Grandma told stories of Daddy’s boyhood, and they laughed over his escapades. They canned many jars of fruit and vegetables to take back to town when Hope should go, and as they worked at these the shadows of unhappiness receded and Hope began to look forward to going home almost eagerly.

On a hot August Sunday Hope lay on her bed reading as Grandma and Mrs. Wilkins from across the creek sat on the front porch and talked. Hope heard them, but it was very uninteresting until she heard her name. Then she sat up and shamelessly listened. It did not occur to her to do otherwise.

“Yes, Hope’s a smart child. She’s been good help to me this summer. With my feet so bad, I’ve been mighty thankful for her. I don’t know what I’ll do when she goes back to town.”

“Maybe Min Gilpin can come. She got back from Harrison’s last week. She’s not much good though. Needs too much watchin’.”

“Well, I might get along alone, seein’ harvest is over, and my cannin’ most done. Will and Bess will need Hope.”

“Guess they will. She is sure a smart young’un. I’ll bet Will has been glad many a time that he adopted her when he married her mother, so that there’s no chance of that shiftless Gilpin gang gettin’ her.”

“Yes, he has. Joe Gilpin was the only one of the family that ever had any gumption. If he hadn’t died so young he might have amounted to something.”

“How old was Hope when her daddy died?”

“Just three weeks. Susie was all alone in the world. She had worked for me, you know, before she married Joe, so I took her and the baby back. She was like a daughter to me and I was real glad to have her and Will marry later.”

“Hope was such a young’un when they was married that she probably never remembered that Will wasn’t her own daddy.”

“She has never known it.”

“Well, she owes him a lot for savin’ her from the Gilpin family. She ought to be mighty grateful to him.”

“It’s not a question of gratitude between them. Have you seen my kitchen since I got the new window cut? Let me show you.”

The women passed out of hearing, and the child at the window above sat in petrified silence. The entire edifice of her life had tumbled about her ears. Daddy wasn’t her daddy at all—and Mother Bess wasn’t her stepmother. She was her step-stepmother! Oh, how could anything so awful happen to anyone? If it were disgraceful to be a stepchild, as Lucille has taught her, how much worse was the state of a step-stepchild! She could not stand it! She would have to hunt up her own father’s folks and live with them where she belonged. Then she remembered who they were. The Gilpin family! Ugh, she couldn’t! She thought of the run-down farm back in the hills, of the slovenly Link Gilpin, and the silly Min. Were they her cousins? She shuddered. No, she could not live with them. She would stay here with Grandpa
and Grandma. But Grandpa and Grandma were not hers either, and Grandma had said that Daddy and Mother Bess needed her. And Mrs. Wilkins had said she owed Daddy a lot for saving her from the Gilpins. Well, she would pay it! She would work as hard as she could for them until she was grown. Then she wouldn’t owe anybody anything!

When she went back to town and found a baby brother, Jack, she kept her resolution and became a very dependable little helper. When Judy came two years later she proved herself, as Daddy expressed it, “the indispensable woman.” She never told anyone what her thoughts or plans were. She worked and studied and looked forward to the time when she would have paid her debt and would be free to make a life for herself away from those who only loved her because they needed her.

Sometimes she would forget that she was different from other girls. Daddy was so jolly and kind that she had a hard time remembering that he was only her stepfather. Mother Bess was so comfortably “mothery” that Hope would pretend that she really was her mother and would imagine what it would be like to snuggle up to her and rest against her shoulder as Judy did. But that line of thought would bring remembrance of her own mother who had been inexpressibly dear to her. Maybe the reason Mother was taken away was because she realized that Daddy didn’t love her. She was sure that Mother loved Daddy even though she had been married to Joe Gilpin. How could anyone love a Gilpin, even one that had “gumption”? Of one thing Hope was sure: that was Mother’s love for her. The memory of it became a precious comfort that she hugged to her lonely heart on many a night when her pillow was wet with tears and when she envied Jack and Judy because of the love their parents lavished so freely on them. Then she would remind herself again that a step-stepmother could not possibly have any real love for her and would turn her thoughts resolutely to her distant goal of a life away from them all.

When she was sixteen, her dreams began to shape into a picture of the home she intended to make for herself in that distant time, “some day.” Later, she dreamed of the one who would share that home with her. Then one day she awoke to the realization that Jerry Parnell, who last year had been the bane of
her existence, was the prince of whom she had been dreaming. Jerry had apparently awakened to her charms at about the same time, and life, which had been drab and uninteresting, became a thing of rainbow hue. They realized that they were too young to be married, but it was a lovely thing to talk and dream about, and they started a bank account into which each of them put money in anticipation of the day when the dreams would come true.

Tonight in a distant city Hope reviewed those years of planning and dreaming while they had waited to grow up. She thought of last January (Was it not even a year ago? It seemed a lifetime away.) when they decided that they had waited long enough and had set the wedding date in June. She had told her plans at a meeting of the Guild. Now, months later, she grew hot and tense as she heard again, in fancy, the exclamations of the girls and the excited giggle of the newcomer, Grace Sharp.