A Place Called Home (6 page)

“Will you buy some here?”

“Well, not right now, not until I have some money.” (As Christine had been gazing out the window, she had decided to find work as soon as possible.)

“But if you have no money, how will you pay my daddy for making you all better?”

“Emily!” A deep, masculine voice spoke sharply from the edge of the room. Emily spun around to face her father, her small hand going to her mouth as she realized who had heard her.

Mark advanced slowly and spoke quietly to Emily when he stopped before her. “You will apologize immediately and then you will go to the kitchen and help your mother with lunch.” Emily turned slowly back to Christine and spoke quietly. “I'm sorry, very much.”

Christine reached out a hand and gently touched the top of Emily's shiny blonde head. Unsure of what to say, she simply smiled her kindest smile so Emily would know all was forgiven.

Emily smiled back with a hesitant look at her father to see if she had done all right. His nod was her reward, and she walked quickly from the room.

Mark took a chair near Christine, intending to make his own apologies, but Christine spoke first.

“Emily is right, you know. I haven't a dime to my name. I was, as a matter of fact, just sitting here thinking about a place to live and a job, hoping there would be something right here in town.” She smiled a small smile. “I really feel I have traveled enough for the time being.”

Mark listened to her speak. As he had half expected, she was calm, self-assured, proud. Gone was the crying girl from last night. She did not take easily to a handout, he was sure of that. She was in a fix and planned to work her way out. Mark could easily pay her way home, but he felt this morning that God was leading him to keep her near for the moment. Christine's own words confirmed this thought. “I thought you might feel that way, Christine. Why don't I tell you of an idea I have during lunch?”

“Oh, thank you, Dr. Cameron, that's very kind of you,” Christine replied as she stood and moved toward the kitchen.
She turned back to say she was going to lend a hand with lunch, but Mark stood also and Christine found herself staring speechlessly into his chin. Mark watched her eyes drop to his shoes and then her head tilt back as her eyes met his. He had to fight to keep from laughing as he watched her mouth drop open. She stared this way for some moments before Mark spoke.

“My sister Julia is your height. Outside of her husband and her brothers, there are not many men she has to look up to. From the look on your face, it must be the same for you.” His voice was full of amusement and Christine's mouth shut with a snap. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment as she realized how she had been staring, her mouth hanging open like a codfish on a hook.

Not knowing what to say, she mumbled something about helping with lunch and made a hasty exit, thinking as she did so that Baxter had held more embarrassing moments in less than a week's time than Spooner had in 19 years!

Lunch went fine, Mark felt, as he walked toward his grandmother's house. Christine had been very receptive to his job idea. She was a sweet young woman who seemed to get along well with everyone. Now if he could convince Grandma Em that she and Christine needed each other, everything would be fine. He found himself wishing Luke were here. Luke had a certain way with Grandma Em. Maybe he would try a bit of Luke's firmness with her if it came to that.

He knocked on the front door and entered. “Hello, anyone home?” His footsteps echoed loudly on the polished wood floor of the parlor before hitting the rug. He passed through the parlor and into the kitchen, spying his grandmother through a window as he walked. She was out by her flower garden in the backyard. Her neighbor, Mr. Turley, was by her side. After kissing his grandmother, he turned to shake Mr. Turley's hand.

“Hello, Mr. Turley, how are you today?”

“Well, I'll tell you, Mark, if I were any better I wouldn't be able to stand myself.”

Mark laughed and Mr. Turley spoke again.

“I saw that little Emmy of yours this morning.” Emmy was his name for both the old and young Emily Camerons. “You've got yourself a real gem there.”

“Thank you, Mr. Turley. We think she's pretty special.”

“Well, Emmy, I've got work to do. I'll see you later. You too, Mark.” He turned to go home.

“So, what brings my favorite grandson over?” Mark smiled at his grandmother's familiar line.

“I'm here on business today.”

“Sounds serious. I best put on a pot of coffee.”

Mark walked back to the house at his grandmother's side and then watched her move around the kitchen preparing coffee and setting out cookies. He prayed again about her response to his idea. She could be very stubborn if she chose to be. For an instant he thought about the sparks that might fly if he put these two strong-willed women together. If his guess about Christine was right, she was more than a little independent.

The tinkling sound of china cups broke into his thoughts as Grandma Em brought a tray laden with coffee, cups, and cookies to the table.

They poured their coffee in silence. When Mark felt his grandmother watching him, he looked up and met her eyes squarely.

“I'll start by telling you we have a young woman staying with us.”

“Emily said there was a sick lady in the room next to hers and you were going to make her all better.”

Mark smiled at his daughter's vote of confidence. “Her name is Christine Bennett, and healthwise she's doing fine. But there
has been some trouble involving her, and I'm afraid I can't share it with you. I will tell you that she's not from around here and she has no one to call on for help. Christine told me she wants to find work. I could offer to pay her way home, but I'm sure I would be turned down. I doubt Christine takes kindly to a handout.”

Mark took a breath and decided to jump in with both feet. “I'd like her to come and work for you.”

Emily Cameron stiffened and opened her mouth to tell her grandson exactly what she thought of the idea, but his raised hand stopped the words in her throat.

“You will hear me out.” His voice was so stern and commanding she could do nothing but comply.

Over an hour later Mark was walking back to his office. Grandma Em had balked at the idea of a strange young woman coming not only to work for her but to live with her as well. Mark reminded her of hauling wood in November when her arthritis was giving her fits, of going out in the snow to feed the handful of livestock she stubbornly refused to sell, of a horse that was older than Mark was, of a useless goat who needed his vocal chords removed, of four laying hens now too tough to eat, and of two huge white pigs.

Before the conversation ended she had admitted she was feeling a bit tired. Grandma Em even went so far as to confess that when she had dusted the parlor yesterday, she had knocked the portrait of the grandchildren onto the floor and shattered the glass. She had then put the picture away in the closet until she could order more glass.

As Mark entered his office, he felt sure the job would work out between the two. Christine, having lived with her grandfather, would certainly know how to be helpful in a tactful way.

Two days later Mark walked beside a silent Christine toward his grandmother's house. He carried a small case belonging to Susanne that held the dresses and such that Julia had sent over for Christine. Mark looked down at Christine's face and saw a mixture of determination and fear. He was on the verge of reassuring her when she spoke.

“Did you talk to the sheriff about my being stabbed?”

“Yes, and I also told him briefly of your situation.” Christine looked troubled at this, so Mark spoke again. “He had to know, Christine. If there should be any stranger asking around, the sheriff would need to know why.”

“But no one knows I'm in Baxter.”

“That's true, but the fact still remains that someone did stab you, and although the sheriff agreed with me that it was probably not related to your home situation, there is no reason we should take chances.”

The feelings of safety which Christine had harbored at being so far from Spooner and Vince Jeffers now evaporated. But Mark and Christine were already walking up the wide steps to the large porch and front door of Grandma Em's house. The fact that this house was going to be Christine's new home for an indefinite period of time banished all other thoughts from her mind.

Christine followed Mark into a lovely parlor and sat as he directed. Mark disappeared but returned shortly, preceded by a woman of medium height whose steps belied her 70 years. Her hair was a silvery white and in close curls around her head. Her face was liberally seamed and the expression in her light blue eyes was hesitant. It occurred to Christine at this moment the woman was not very happy about the idea of her working here. This thought put Christine on the defensive, and her eyes went to Mark's face.

After Grandma Em had seated herself across from Christine, Mark made introductions. “Gram, this is Christine Bennett. Christine, this is Emily Cameron—”Grandma Em” to her friends, old and new alike.”

The women exchanged hesitant smiles and nods. Each measured the other with different thoughts flying through her head.

Emily knew she was fighting God's will as she sat there hating herself for getting old and hoping to find something about this girl she didn't like to ease her conscience when she told Mark that it would not work out. She feared this girl would come in and take over. Life as she had always known it would be changed forever and she had always struggled with change.

Christine, with her own thoughts, wondered if this woman was kind or unreasonably set in her ways—ways that did not include another woman in the house. Needing this job desperately if she were going to get her life back in control, Christine decided to be sweet and congenial.

Grandma Em broke the silence. “How old are you, Christine?”

“Nineteen, ma'am.”

“And you're familiar with work around the home and yard?”

“Yes, ma'am. Mrs. Hall, my grandfather's housekeeper, taught me everything she knew about running a home.”

“Well, you understand, of course, that I will be running
this
house and you would be helping me.” Emily's voice was sharper than she had intended.

Christine only nodded, afraid to say more lest it be the wrong thing.

“Have you ever stolen anything?” Emily asked abruptly.

All ideas of sweetness and congeniality flew out the window. Christine stood up so quickly that the chair nearly tipped over. Her eyes flashing with anger and pain, she turned accusingly to Mark. “I don't have to sit here and take this. How dare she ask me such a thing!” Too upset to say more, she turned and nearly ran out of the room. Mark caught her at the front door.

Emily sat frozen in the front room, her hand pressed tightly to her mouth, listening to the furious whispers at the front door. She prayed fervently that Mark would bring Christine back so she could ask her forgiveness. Why had she said such a thing? A woman her age should be beyond such foolishness.

Mark escorted a sober-faced Christine back to her chair, eyes wide and suspiciously wet. Mark sat near his grandmother, knowing she would do the right thing.

“Christine,” Emily hesitated, but Christine caught the different tone in her voice—gentle, subdued. “Christine, please forgive me. I don't know why I said such a thing.” Again she hesitated. “Well, the truth is, I
do
know. I didn't want it to work between us. You see, I'm old and set in my ways and very afraid of change. Mark tells me you're alone, and I think maybe we need each other.” Emily's voice became quieter as she spoke, showing Christine that in this area she was as vulnerable as she was. Emily's voice was just above a whisper when she asked, “Will you stay, Christine?” This woman's honesty went straight to Christine's heart. She felt a sting behind her eyes and a tightness in her throat, enabling her to only nod and smile.

Mark's laugh of relief brought all three to their feet. He hugged Grandma Em and then surprised Christine by hugging her also. She had also felt surprised that morning when, after thanking Susanne and Maggie for everything, they had grabbed her and hugged her too. Spontaneous displays of affection were foreign to Christine, but she was beginning to like it.

Mark took his leave after Grandma Em served coffee. The two women spent the remainder of the day working in the garden, sharing companionable conversation, listening and learning with no doubt in either heart that they had found something special.

Christine snuggled down into the covers of the big oak bed. Her bed! The thought felt wonderful. She realized as she lay there that she and Grandma Em had spent so much time outdoors that the only rooms she had really seen were the parlor and kitchen and her own room. Her own bedroom! A feeling of contentment washed over her. Drifting off to sleep with her mind becoming foggy, she would have been hard-pressed to tell you if she had a single care in the world.