Tidings of Comfort and Joy (10 page)
Her offhand attitude startled me as much as Annique had. I described what I had found. It was the vicar who replied, "It happens quite a lot, I'm afraid. Goodness only knows what living nightmares these children have endured."
I shifted the boy to my other side. He loosened his grasp only long enough to become resettled, then curled his arms back tightly around me. "But what are we supposed to do?"
"Precisely what you are doing right now," Rachel replied.She waited as the two helpers set yet another huge pot upon the stove and ladled in water. "Give them love."
"They may not understand our words," Reverend Albright agreed. "But they pay the utmost attention to our actions."
He left while I was still mulling that over, and returned with another heavily laden crate. "I think that's the lot," he huffed. "The shipment was short today by half. Snows kept the produce man from making his deliveries, and the village grocers are almost empty."
Rachel was already busy dicing carrots and dropping the segments into the big pot. "And what, may I ask, are these children supposed to eat?"
"The local shops are doing more than their share, and you know it," Colin Albright chided. "Everything we'vebought for the past two months has been on account. It's almost enough to break the butcher. I can only hope the Ministry finally comes through with something more than words." He wrapped the scarf back around his neck. "And now I'm off to get the doctor."
Rachel turned to him, a stricken look on her face. "Not another child."
"Two, I'm afraid."
"Still no idea what it is?"
"No, but thankfully he's leaning away from calling it meningitis. It doesn't seem to be as serious as he first thought."
The vicar turned toward me, and in that instant the sun finally managed to break through the clouds. Sunlight lanced through the grimy kitchen window, and fell full force upon Colin Albright's brow. He winced, tightening his face into well-worn lines. He was probably still in his late twenties, but his features were drawn like those of a much older person. He had the grayish pallor of a man limping along the brink of exhaustion. "It is nice to see you again, Miss Robbins."
I nodded as much as the child in my arms would allow, still unsure what to think of this overly tired vicar. When the door had closed behind him, I observed, "If he doesn't sit down, he's going to fall down."
"Colin Albright is the reason we have managed at all," Rachel agreed. "I'm head of the day crew in name only. Colin is director, general, and full-time handyman. He is everywhere, doing everything no one else seems to have time for. I have yet to discover when that man sleeps."
The boy was beginning to grow heavy. I walked over and settled him onto the corner of the long central table. He did not seem to mind, so long as he could keep his arms wrapped around my neck. "I don't understand," I said, and stroked the downy hairs at the nape of his neck. "They just dumped these children on you?"
"Not intentionally, no. We are supposed to be receiving all sorts of assistance. But until they sort things out, we are forced to do the best we can with what we have." She lifted the ladle and tasted the soup she was making. "Mind you, this whole thing has done the village a world of good, if you'd like the opinion of one old woman."
"You're not old," I said automatically. I felt the little arms begin to slacken, and watched as the child unleashed me. The face turned up long enough for me to look into eyes that held the depths of one ten times his age. He gave me a tiny smile, then slipped from the table and was gone.
I stared at the space where he had been. Somehow my heart ached with this sudden passage. I could still feel his arms around me.
When I turned around, I found Rachel staring at me, a tender smile playing upon her face. "Annique was right,"she said. "You were exactly what the child needed."
For some reason, Rachel's words left me feeling exposed and uncomfortably vulnerable. I changed the subject."What did you mean when you said this has been good for the village?"
"Ah," Rachel said, turning back to her steaming pot."That you will have to discover for yourself."
Marissa awoke to sunlight and a ringing telephone. She knew instantly it was her mother. She opened her eyes to see Gran roll over and reach for the portable phone. Marissa pleaded, "Don't tell them about last night."
Her eyes on her granddaughter, Gran punched the connection button and said, "Hello?" A moment's pause, then, "Good morning, yes, I'm afraid you did. Marissa—"
"Please," she said, her voice rising an octave.
"Marissa and I got to talking and stayed up half the night," Gran went on. "No, no, she's doing as well as can be expected. Yes, of course I will, just as soon as she's up and about. Of course, Carol. How is everyone? Lovely. And you're having a good time? Good. That's very good. Well, give one and all our love."
She set down the phone, and asked, "Mind if I ask what that was all about?"
"I don't want them to worry," Marissa said, sinking back to her pillow.
Gran rose and crossed the floor. "How are you feeling today?"
"About the same, I guess. Maybe a little better."
"You don't look as pale as last night." Gran brushed the hair from her forehead. "But maybe we should take our breakfast up here today, what do you think?"
"Okay." It took a genuine effort to raise herself up, stage by stage, until she was standing by the bed. Her grandmother stood ready to assist, but did not reach out, letting her take it as far as she could on her own. Proud that she had managed by herself, Marissa said, "It was hepatitis that they had, wasn't it? The children."
"Ah, now you're getting ahead of the story." Gran walked alongside her as she headed toward the bathroom."Let me go prepare our breakfast, then I'll come back and tell you what happened next."
That evening I walked down the lane and turned up the river road. Light splashed out of centuries-old cottages, making the snow shimmer gold. The wind was brisk, and the cold air burned my face. Overhead a few stars managed to shine through clouds chasing across the night sky. The loudest noises were the wind and my scrunching footsteps.
I hesitated a long moment outside the pub's entrance.Once inside, I had no idea what I was going to do. But I could feel the night's icy tendrils creep into my chest, and knew I could stand there no longer.
I pushed through the door, and entered the smoky warmth. There was laughter and the cheerful talk of old friends. I had heard how pubs were a part of English country life, how locals used them as extensions of their own living rooms. At first glance, I understood why lonely airmen might risk life and limb on icy roads to come here.
A roaring fire crackled in a grand stone fireplace, casting a ruddy glow upon the two rooms. Tables darkened by age and hard use were ringed by padded benches and highbacked chairs. The ceilings were beamed and low, the windows tiny blades of leaded glass.
About half the crowd were locals, probably farmers, their faces chapped and roughened by the elements. The others wore uniforms and talked in loud American twangs.
A head at the bar turned my way. I saw eyes widen in genuine apprehension, and recognized the pilot's wings on his shoulders. His gaze grew even wider as I walked straight toward him. My heart was thundering with fear, but seeing how nervous he had become gave me the strength to smile and say, "What's your name?"
"B-Bob Mclntyre," he stammered.
I nodded, as though the name meant something to me. I did not introduce myself. Instead, I simply said, "You recognized me from my photo, I suppose."
"Y-yes, ma'am." By this time, all his buddies were staring openly. "I'm real sorry about . . . "
I struggled to force away another bloom of pain in my heart. The bartender chose that moment to walk over and ask if I wanted something. I gave my head a little shake, more of a shudder. He shared a glance with someone behind me, and I knew that all the pub was watching and listening.
I straightened with a determined effort and forced my voice to remain steady. "You know what Grant has done."
He showed the decency to blush. "Yes, ma'am."
And suddenly he was just a young lad, far from home and dumped into a situation that was not of his making. I reached over and patted his arm. "It's all right. Well, not all right, but it's certainly not your fault."
"Grant flew in my squadron for a while," Bob said. He was slender, with red hair and freckles to match. His face was untouched by age or the stress of battle, and he could have easily passed for a teenager except for his uniform. "I never figured him for a guy that'd just cut and run like this."
"No, neither did I. But he did, and I'm trapped here."I explained the difficulty I was facing, trying to find a ship's berth. "I was just wondering if maybe you could help me find a place on one of your flights."
He brightened immensely at the thought of being able to do more than apologize for a vanished friend. "Say, now that you mention it, I might be able to at that. Won'tbe easy though."
"Sure." A taller soldier with airman's wings shouldered his way up alongside Bob. He spoke with a strong midwestern twang. "We've got air convoys coming through here a couple of times a week. They're chock full to the brim with guys headed home from Europe. And there's a long waiting list of fellows around here, just looking for the empty berth." He gave me a friendly nod. "Name'sBradley Atwater, ma'am. The commander stuck me with these bozos, hopin' I'd be able to keep 'em straight."
"Don't believe a word of it. Brad's the worst of a bad . . . "Bob's flush spread once more, and he swiftly changed the subject. "I bet we could squeeze you in somewhere. That is, if you don't mind waiting around awhile."
"It sounds like I don't have any choice." I smiled my gratitude. "My name is Emily Robbins. I live in Grant'sold place. Do you know where that is?"
"Sure, just down there around the corner. We've all been there for . . . " Again he realized where he was headed.Blushing came easy to him and his natural redheaded complexion. He finished lamely, "I know where you live."
"I'm ready to go at any time," I said.
Yet the instant I spoke the words, I felt the strangest tug at my heart. I could not explain it, but there was a sense of the words being utterly untrue. I had no idea what was going on. I was four thousand miles from home, and had absolutely nothing holding me here. But I had the clearest sense that I was not going anywhere.
Bob did not notice this hesitation. He grinned and looked even younger than before. "Don't you worry, ma'am, I mean, Emily. We'll keep an eye peeled for a spot.
"We'll get the paperwork all ready too," offered his buddy. "Least we can do."
"And say, the PX out there at the base is chock full of gear. Anything you need, just give us the word."
"Got all kindsa food and stuff coming out of our ears,"confirmed Bradley.
"Thank you, but I'm doing just fine for the moment,"I said. Yet again there was the sense of my voice going one way, and my heart another. It was certainly a confusing night. I turned toward the door, giving them a final smile."I'll be ready to go at the drop of a hat."
I DREAMED OF Grant that night. He was strong and handsome and cheerful as he came back to sweep me up and carry me away. I laughed as I ran toward him, and as I ran I realized that everything I thought had happened to me since my arrival in England had been my imagination. Just a horrible, appalling nightmare. Now he was back, and everything was going to be fine.
My heart seemed to awaken, lifting up with such joy that it threatened to soar out of my chest. I ran toward him, calling his name, singing it out. Grant, oh my Grant. I was running so fast that all the world became a blur, just colors melting together and sweeping along on both sides. My feet truly had wings. I rushed up and leaped into his embrace.
Then I woke up. One moment he was there before me, laughing and holding his arms out to embrace me, and the next I was awake.
The shock was so harsh, so cold and sudden, that I screamed out loud. I rolled from the bed, searching the room not for Grant, but for the dream. Seeing only the dark waiting shadows, the big empty bed, and the snow falling outside my window, I collapsed to the floor. My strength was gone. My heart was broken anew. I just lay in a heap and sobbed.
The only thing that got me up and moving was the prospect of having to spend a day there alone, with nothing to do but weep. I dressed with numb fingers and went next door. When Rachel answered my knock, I asked, "Are you going to the orphanage this morning?"
"I go every morning," she said, inspecting my face. She seemed to read there everything that had happened. Even the dream. She took hold of my arm and drew me inside."Come along, my dear. Let me fix you a nice cup of tea."
I did not object. Anything was better than sitting over there alone, surrounded by what would never be. She led me to the kitchen and into a high-backed chair by the little corner table. Her back to me, she said quietly, "A man like Grant will find his own punishment, my dear. Perhaps he already has, you know, in choosing a life without you.What is important is that you must find it in your heart to forgive him."
"Forgive Grant?" I felt as though she had reached over and slapped me. "I couldn't. Not ever."
"Well, until you do, you will not find peace." When I did not respond, she continued in a voice that was very low, very soft. "I did not go back to church for a very long time after Samuel's funeral. I couldn't. Well, I did once, about three weeks after we laid him to rest. As I entered, I heard a voice speak directly to my heart, commanding me to forgive. But I couldn't forgive. Not God, and certainly not the people who were responsible for my boy's . . . "
Rachel fell silent. She finished preparing my tea, and set the cup down in front of me. She seated herself in the other chair, folded her hands determinedly in her lap, and continued quietly, "Finally I went back because I had to. My heart was a vacuum, a void just waiting to be filled.A lifetime of grief and hatred was a temptation I could not keep away, not on my own. It would have been so easy, so utterly agreeable, to enter the Grim Brigade. But of course, once I did I would have been lost forever."