The Gift of a Child (7 page)

Ezra sidled up to Lavinia. “Alf is a foundling. Rose has been good enough to take him in and care for him. We are all quite fond—”

Before the doctor could continue, Rose took a step forward. “Aunt Lavinia, this boy needed a family. Now, we are his family. We love him and hope you will be able to love him just as you love the rest of us. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I will set out the refreshments.” She and Alf circled the group and disappeared into the house.

Seth felt like applauding. Despite her apprehensions about her formidable aunt, Rose had openly expressed her love for Alf. What Rose couldn’t have known was that he would also see to it that Alf would never experience rejection or judgment. Not if he could help it.

Over the lemonade and shortbread, it was all he could do to keep from staring at Rose. In her defense of Alf, her cheeks had bloomed and her eyes sparkled. She had never looked lovelier nor had he ever been prouder of her. Because of Alf, of course.

* * *

Rose took her time pouring the lemonade, dawdled passing around the tray of shortbread and all the while prayed she would not be faced with further conversation with her aunt. Just as she had feared, Lavinia had wasted no time conveying her disapproval of Alf’s presence among them.

She was finding it hard to squelch her anger and maintain a facade of good manners. She glanced at Alf, sitting at Seth’s feet where he quietly played with his marbles. Both he and her father had counseled her to give Lavinia a chance, but it was hard. Sighing, Rose picked up Ulysses, dragged a chair from the kitchen and sat just inside the parlor door listening to Lily’s lilting voice. “Aunt Lavinia, we will be so pleased to introduce you around, and we’re hoping you’ll participate in some of our local activities.”

“And what might those be?” their aunt asked.

When Lily outlined some of the possibilities, all Lavinia said was “How charming,” her words suggesting ill-concealed boredom.

When Ezra asked about the train trip. Lavinia proceeded to compare the railroad line unfavorably with those she had taken with her husband to the East. “Why, the heat and cinders were not to be borne.”

Caleb tried to placate her with the fact that the West had only very recently been opened to rail travel. Seth kept his head down, a hand on Alf’s shoulder. Hannah cowered next to Lavinia on the settee. Only Lily and Ezra seemed remotely at ease. Finally her father asked the question on all their minds. “Lavinia, I’m curious. Cottonwood Falls is a far different environment from what you are accustomed to. We are pleased you are here, but wonder how we came to have you.”

Lavinia hesitated, then looked around the room as if trying to formulate a sensible response. A brief frown crossed her face, replaced almost immediately by her usual unruffled expression, but in that instant, Rose perceived a slight gap in the woman’s confidence. “Family, of course,” she said with an encompassing wave of her arm, “but something more. An interest in seeing for myself the frontier so captivatingly described by gazetteers. Henry and I had always hoped to make this trip. After his death, I realized I needed a change of scene. What better place?”

“I see,” Ezra said.

Then, to Rose’s amazement, Seth turned to look her aunt in the eye. “So what is your impression thus far?”

For once, her aunt seemed at a loss for words. Then, drawing herself up, she said, “I am reserving judgment. I will have more to say on the subject after I get settled in my house. For now, it all seems very...open. The town itself is, well, quaint.”

At that last word, Rose noticed Seth’s jaw working.
Quaint?
Well, no doubt it was, especially compared with St. Louis.

Then Lily saved the day. “Aunt Lavinia, I’m sure with time you will come to find the town enchanting and the countryside a place where nature beautifully expresses her many moods.” Then she stood and nodded to Caleb. “Our travelers are no doubt tired and eager to go to their house and get settled for the evening.”

Taking those words as dismissal, everyone stood and gathered their belongings. As she moved toward the door, Lavinia paused in front of Rose. “Thank you for the refreshments. They were most welcome.”

From her words, Rose gleaned at least a modicum of approval. “Lily and Father will follow you with a chicken potpie and some greens I prepared for your dinner.”

Her aunt arched her eyebrows. “Greens? Surely you don’t mean dandelions.” Then she swept past, leaving Rose feeling foolish for ever having assumed a shred of affirmation.

Nearly everyone was loaded into the buggies, including Ezra’s, for the short ride to Lavinia’s house. Only Rose and Alf remained behind. Just before the caravan started off, Alf broke away from her and ran across the lawn to the buggies. Rose scurried after him, worried for his safety. Before she could reach him, he called out to the first buggy, “’Vinia, ’Vinia.”

Rose looked on with astonishment as Alf approached her aunt, who stared down at him as if confounded by his presence. Rose caught up to him and gathered him in her arms. Squirming mightily, he said, as if in explanation, “I give it to ’Vinia.” He held out one fisted hand toward the woman. Looking questioningly first from Rose and then to Caleb, Aunt Lavinia finally extended her open hand to the boy.

“’Vinia. Play with me one day, right?” Then he deposited an emerald-green marble in her palm.

Lavinia turned it over and over, then held it up to her eye. Finally she slipped it into her pocket. “It is a very fine marble, boy. Thank you.”

Then she nodded to Caleb, who flapped the reins for the horse to walk on.

Rose was left sputtering on the street.
Boy?
Hadn’t the woman even remembered Alf’s name? And
a very fine marble?
Indeed, the boy never let others remove a marble from his sight. What on earth had compelled him to give one of his precious possessions to the very woman who found him so lacking? For some reason, in his innocence and goodness, her boy had reached out to Aunt Lavinia in a way she herself had been unable to do.

The psalmist spoke of the spontaneous insight of children.
Out of the mouths of babes
. Today she had witnessed it in Alf’s loving act. Perhaps it was a beginning.

Chapter Seven

A
collective gasp followed by shocked silence fell over the congregation on Sunday when Lavinia Dupree, swathed in rustling royal purple taffeta, walked down the aisle of the church. Her gaze steadfastly fixed on the altar, she ignored the stir she was causing. Pausing to bow to the cross, not a custom of this community church, she settled in a pew beside Lily, Caleb and Mattie and withdrew her silk fan from her bag.

Rose gave a mental shake of her head. Aunt Lavinia’s regal bearing would do nothing to endear herself to the residents of Cottonwood Falls. Yet even as she wanted to feel insulted on behalf of her friends seated in the church, she succumbed to a moment of doubt. Was there any possibility that Lavinia felt out of place? That her frosty demeanor might signal defensiveness? When the organ started wheezing out “There’s a Wideness in God’s Mercy,” Rose had no more time to ponder the questions.

Throughout the sermon, Alf squirmed beside her, his attention alternately fixed on the circling bird that had flown in through the open window and the bushy hair of the man sitting in front of him. Mattie, on the other hand, sat quietly on her mother’s lap, only occasionally sneaking a peak at her great-aunt. At one point, Aunt Lavinia handed Mattie her fan and helped her open it. Meanwhile, Alf began kicking the pew in front of them until Rose stilled his leg. Surely Aunt Lavinia would have little tolerance for a restless, curious little boy.

Displaced by Lavinia from their regular pew, Sophie, Seth and Andrew sat across the aisle from Rose. When the congregation stood for another hymn following the sermon, Seth reached across the aisle and pressed something into Rose’s hand. Opening her fist, she saw a small wooden carving of a horse’s head. She glanced up at Seth, who winked and nodded toward Alf. When the congregation sat again, Rose pressed the gift into Alf’s tiny hand. He examined it, then looked up, his eyes wide with pleasure. “You?” he whispered.

She laid a finger to her mouth and mouthed, “Seth.”

Ignoring her caution to silence, Alf erupted with a joyous, “Sett, thank you!”

Heads turned, and when Seth, red-faced, hushed Alf, his eyes were full of affectionate mischief. Rose heard little else of the service, her emotions churning as she reflected on Seth’s devotion to Alf and his kindness in coming prepared with the carving. It was as if he was born to be someone’s father. Rose’s breath stopped, and for the first time ever, she wondered what it would be like to be married to such a man.

Rattled, she forced herself to focus on the closing prayer, but in vain. She couldn’t look across the aisle. In the past few moments, Seth had become someone new to her. Could her father be right? In some way, did Seth’s attentions to Alf have something to do with her? Breathless, she identified the strange feelings in the pit of her stomach—feelings she had not experienced since her early encounters with the handsome Fort Larned sergeant.

Panic and joy suffused her, rendering her oblivious to her surroundings until the final hymn erupted and folks around her stood. She noticed her father lingering in the pew to speak with Bess Stanton, who had been seated behind them. The words “diphtheria” and “new treatments” were all she could make out of their conversation.

Alf had jumped into Seth’s arms, holding the carving aloft as if it were a laurel wreath. “My horse?”

“Your horse, little man.” Shifting Alf onto one arm, Seth stepped aside to let Ezra and Rose precede him toward the door.

“Thank you,” Rose murmured as she slipped by him.

“Anything for our boy,” he said.

Our boy
. For one crazy minute, Rose let herself contemplate what it would mean if Alf were, in truth, theirs. So wild were her thoughts, she decided she must be suffering from the heat. She was grateful to be pulled into the present by Aunt Lavinia’s commanding voice. “Your minister delivers a surprisingly passable sermon.”

Turning, Rose embraced her sister, then stood awkwardly before her aunt. “Pastor Dooley is a blessing to us all.”

Caleb encircled the ladies with his outspread arms and suggested they move outside where the churchwomen had set up a refreshment table. The glare of the sun caused Rose to blink momentarily. “Where’s Alf?” Lily asked, as Mattie tore from her grasp.

“There.” Rose had spotted Seth standing a few yards away, laughing as he tossed Alf into the air. As they watched, Mattie captured Seth’s legs in her arms. “Me, too,” they heard her squeal.

“My brother-in-law seems to have quite a way with children.”

“Alf adores him.”

“As does Mattie. If Caleb didn’t love his brother so much, he has said he might even be jealous.” Lily smiled winsomely at her handsome husband.

“Seth needs a good woman,” Caleb said, turning to Rose. “Know any, by chance?”

Rose willed the ground to swallow her lest her discombobulated state betray her. “Perhaps the Widow Spencer?” When laughter erupted, Rose reminded herself that what Seth claimed to need was a housekeeper, not a wife.

Lavinia wrinkled her nose. “What is the cause of this levity?” Lily tried tactfully to explain the widow’s need for a husband and provider. Lavinia turned to Caleb. “Prudence, young man, prudence.” The idea of Lavinia charging forth on Seth’s behalf caused Rose a soundless giggle, and she felt her breath returning.

Lavinia scanned the crowd. “Now where is Mattie?”

In that moment, Rose’s spirits deflated. Her aunt cared only for Mattie’s whereabouts, not Alf’s.

Lavinia would need time to embrace a boy not of her heritage, and Rose herself would need time to sort her ever more complicated feelings for Seth.

Just then the two children ran toward them, trailed by Seth. “Brudder got horse,” Mattie shouted as she approached. “And me got a posy,” she said, holding forth a carved daisy.

“Sett did it,” Alf explained in an admiring voice.

Rose barely heard Lavinia’s “How nice” before her eyes teared up when Alf put his arm around Mattie’s shoulder and said matter-of-factly, “We love Sett.”

The sun bore down, causing Rose to feel faint.
No, I can’t let myself think about love. Not with Seth, not with any man. I couldn’t bear the hurt again.

* * *

Perspiration dripped from Rose’s forehead and she wished nothing more than to step out of her stifling dress and sink into a cool bath. Laundry day in the Kansas summer came too often. Elbow deep in the steaming water, she scrubbed their clothes along the corrugated surface of the washboard, knowing, as she did so, that her roughened knuckles would tell the tale. She glanced up to check on Alf, who sat in the shade of the backyard elm tree playing with his blocks, which had lately become a stable for his new horse carving. Nearly finished, she wrung out the clothes and piled them in a basket.

“Alf, would you help me hang the wash?”

Trailed by Ulysses, he joined her where she stood beneath the clothesline, the laundry basket at her feet. “Your job is to give me these clothespins,” she said, handing him a drawstring bag.

He extracted a handful, studied them, and said, “Sojers.”

“Soldiers?” Rose laughed, already picturing him commandeering her clothespins to populate the fort he now would undoubtedly construct from his blocks. Then another thought came to her. “Alf,” she asked cautiously, “where did you see soldiers?”

He shrugged, then handed her a clothespin. “E-nah and me.”

Such a tiny clue. That and his “cage.” What else did he hold in his little head that had no means of expression and how closely dared she question him? “Did you know a soldier?”

“Bad man.” Alf sucked on the end of a clothespin.

“Here, give that to me.” She took the damp pin and began hanging shirts on the line. “Is your horse lonesome?” she asked, knowing she couldn’t delve any more deeply into his past at this moment and hoping to divert him.

The boy looked up at her, as if questioning her abrupt change of subject. “Lonesome? He’s sleeping.” He reached again into the clothespin bag, handing one to her. “Another sojer for you.”

As they continued hanging the laundry, Rose wondered for the hundredth time where Alf had come from, who his parents were and why someone had so cruelly abandoned him. With the chore finally completed, Rose went to the pump and plunged her hands into the cold water, wiping her face and neck with a cool cloth. “Alf? Are you hot?”

Shaking his head, the boy gathered up his toys and followed her inside. She had just recombed her hair and gathered it into a bun when she heard a knock on the door. “A man is here,” Alf called from the parlor. Straightening the collar of her plain dress, Rose hurried to the door, dismayed to see Sheriff Jensen standing there, his hat in his hand.

“Come in, please,” Rose said, her mouth dry. “Let’s go to the kitchen. Perhaps you could use a glass of lemonade.”

Glancing in Alf’s direction, the lawman took the hint. “That would be welcome.” The boy looked up briefly, but then turned back to his marbles.

Rose poured two glasses of lemonade, not permitting her mind to go to the reason for the sheriff’s visit. “You have news?” she finally mumbled.

He cupped the glass in his large, freckled hands. “Nothing but a clue. I thought you needed to know.”

She sat, her lemonade untouched, as he told her of a report from a small town south of Fort Riley, home of the U.S. Cavalry, concerning an army deserter and the Pawnee woman he had been seen dragging about four years earlier. When the man left her to go into hiding, she scrabbled for work, performing the most menial of chores. Then as it became obvious she was pregnant, she, too, disappeared. Whether there was any possibility these were Alf’s parents remained unclear, but at least it put the Indian woman in the Flint Hills territory.

Swigging down the last of his lemonade, the sheriff leaned forward. “Since we have identifications of these two, if either shows up nearby, the law will take them in. Of course, time has passed, and it’s possible they’ve vamoosed. Or that they have nothing to do with this case.” The man picked up his hat and stood. “I wish I had more definite news for you, but meanwhile, you are doing a splendid job with that boy.”

Meanwhile? Alf was not a temporary charity project.
She got to her feet and ushered Jensen out. “Thank you for coming,” she managed before closing the door and sinking to the floor. In that moment, she had realized how desperately she didn’t want to know Alf’s history or have a parent reappear. He was hers.

As if sensing her distress, Alf left his playthings and settled in her lap. “Don’t cry,” he said, lifting his hand to her face.

Until then, she had been unaware that tears were standing on her cheeks. She sniffled and then gathered him even closer. “I’m crying because I love you so much.”

As if that weren’t enough for one day, later while Rose was taking the clothes off the line, she heard an unfamiliar female voice calling from the front porch. “Miss Kellogg, are you home?”

Sighing, Rose placed the folded trousers in the laundry basket, and stepped to the side fence gate. “We’re in the backyard.”

Hannah Foster, her face flushed, rounded the house and stood before Rose. “I knocked, but there was no answer.”

Embarrassed to be found in her workaday gown by one who undoubtedly dressed her mistress in the finest of silks and satins, Rose folded her arms across her chest. “It’s wash day,” she said by way of explanation.

“In this heat?”

When else?
Rose wondered. “We can’t delay. The only relief from the heat is rain, and that won’t do for laundering.”

“Oh. I suppose not.”

Rose figured Hannah would discover that sooner than later, unless, of course, Aunt Lavinia hired a washerwoman. “Would you like to come in?”

Hannah shook her head. “Thank you, but no. I merely came to give you this.” She reached in her pocket and extended a note. “It’s from Mrs. Dupree.” Then she bobbed a hint of a curtsy. “I’ll be leaving now.”

With the envelope in her hand, Rose watched the young woman walk away, and was loath to open the message. Finally she slit the envelope flap and withdrew the creamy notepaper embossed with the initials
LD
.

I should like to invite you to call upon me Friday at eleven.

If you wish, you may also bring the child.

Your loving Aunt Lavinia

Rose looked down at her shabby dress, contrasting it to what fine ladies undoubtedly wore when making social calls. Not only did Rose feel inferior, she resented being summoned.
Friday at eleven
. No room for accommodation there. And
If you wish, you may also bring the child
. The
child
had a name, for mercy’s sake. Furthermore, how could the woman possibly presume she would leave Alf behind? Even as she raged, she knew she was being uncharitable. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself,
There’s a wideness in God’s mercy, like the wideness of the sea.

She couldn’t wait for Papa to get home. She longed for the reassurance of his embrace and his soft voice soothing away the events of this troubling day.

“Rose?” Alf tugged at her skirt. “I’m hungry.”

That, at least, was something she could address.

* * *

On Thursday, Rose prepared a blackberry cobbler with fresh cream to serve after Lily and Bess Stanton finished discussing midwifery procedures. Ezra had prevailed upon the nurse to assist him in the care of expectant mothers, and Bess had welcomed the opportunity. Now, while the two women bent over the books spread on the kitchen table, Rose sat quietly on the back porch with her darning, minding Alf’s play. Overhearing occasional words like “afterbirth” and “breech presentation,” she was vividly reminded of the time at Fort Larned when she was pressed into service to help with a delivery. Sadly the mother had died. The travail of childbirth was not to be taken lightly, yet it was an ordeal she would gladly have undergone if only... Disgusted with the direction of her thoughts, she picked up her papa’s stocking and attacked a hole with fingers flying.

Watching Alf set his “sojers” on the blocks, Rose couldn’t help recalling Sheriff Jensen’s words. Could it be that Alf was the child of a former soldier and an Indian woman? Yet the trail was cold. Perhaps no more information would be forthcoming and she could formally adopt the boy. She prayed it would be so.