Patchwork christmas, p.26
Patchwork Christmas, page 26
“Where are their parents?” Carrie asked. “And shouldn’t they be in school?”
“I’m not sure they have parents,” Ada said. “Or a school to go to.”
Thomas Fairfield removed a piece of lint from his trousers and let it fall to its death on the carpet. “Then they should get jobs. The garment industry employs children. Let them earn their keep.” He dismissed the subject of the children with a flip of his hand. “Enough of them. When can you be rid of the man?”
Ada hated their attitude. Surely they wouldn’t have left an injured man on the street.
“I think it’s marvelous you took him in,” Owen said, with a hand on her arm. “We are to give generously to the poor and help the helpless. You and John are Good Samaritans.”
Maribelle wasn’t satisfied. “But a stranger in your house …”
It was time for the whole truth. “Actually … the man is not a stranger.”
Oscar laughed. “You know someone in Five Points?”
“I know Samuel Alcott.” She turned to Owen, offering him her full attention. “Samuel is recuperating in our house.”
It took them a moment to react. “The man who was hurt is Samuel? Your Samuel?” Carrie asked.
Owen’s eyes locked on Ada’s, obviously needing reassurance. “But he’s not her Samuel anymore.”
“No, he’s not,” she told him quietly.
“No, of course he’s not,” Carrie said. “Silly me. But it is Samuel?”
“One and the same.” She was glad to break her gaze with Owen. He did care that it was Samuel. Oh dear.
Maribelle fanned herself, as if wanting the whole notion to flutter far, far away. “But Samuel hurt you so horribly, Ada. How can you bring him into your home?”
The respect she’d yearned for was obviously not going to be offered.
“How the mighty have fallen,” David said, shaking his head.
“He hasn’t fallen,” Ada said. “Samuel is a good man who simply chose a way of life that’s beyond our understanding.”
“But he hurt you,” Carrie said. “Surely you haven’t forgiven him?”
Ada felt her heart start to race. Had she forgiven him?
Her own doubt caused her ire to rise even more. “Instead of focusing on the past, I thought you’d focus on the present, on the needs of a friend. I guess I was mistaken.”
“Come now, Ada,” Thomas said. “You must admit the entire situation is rather odd and a bit …”
“Scandalous,” Maribelle said. When no one responded, she scanned the group, ending with Thomas. “Don’t look at me like that. Isn’t that what you were going to say?”
“I was going to say ‘unfortunate.’”
Maribelle’s fan fluttered furiously. “My statement stands. Not that Samuel Alcott would care whether he caused a scandal or not. He’s already shown a total disregard for society and propriety by abandoning his birthright, disregarding his grandfather’s wishes, and breaking the heart of my friend. What goes around comes around.”
Ada was fuming inside. “Are you implying he deserved to get hurt?”
Maribelle reddened. “I … I’m just saying he put himself in that horrible neighborhood, so what did he expect?”
“He did not expect my family’s carriage to detour onto a busy street and cause congestion, upheaval, and injury.” She handed her champagne glass to a nearby footman. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go home to see if there is some way I can repair the damage I’ve caused.”
With that, she moved to the front door with Owen rushing after her.
“I’m sorry for cutting our evening short,” Ada told Owen when they were in the carriage.
“No apologies necessary. But in our friends’ defense … they were simply surprised at your news.” He paused a moment, then added, “As was I.”
She took his gloved hand in hers. “I should have told you in private. Forgive me.”
He shrugged. “So what does Samuel have to say for himself? Where has he been this past year? What has he been doing?”
“I don’t know. We haven’t spoken. He’s sleeping most of the time, and when he awakens, he’s delirious.”
“Oh. That’s too bad.”
But by the tone of Owen’s voice, Ada could tell he was relieved.
Once home, Ada went to Samuel’s room, knocked gently, and, receiving no answer, went inside. The lamp was still burning beside the bed, and John was asleep in a chair.
She stood over Samuel and watched his chest rise and fall. If only he would awaken and know her.
But what would she say to him? How would she greet him?
As a friend?
Or … as something more?
She kissed her fingers and pressed them to his hair, leaving the answer to another day.
Chapter 9
But why doesn’t he know us?” Ada asked her brother.
Nana stood beside her and nodded, making it her question, too.
John took hold of Samuel’s wrist, then looked at his pocket watch.
Ada remained quiet while John checked his pulse.
His mission complete, he set Samuel’s hand on the covers. “His heart rate is strong, and it’s good he is waking on occasion and is cognizant enough to take broth and medicine and tend to other functions.” He nodded at the footman Patrick, who helped with Samuel’s more personal needs. “His realization of where he is and who we are will come.”
“What can we do to help?” Ada asked.
He nodded toward the door. “I’ll ask a maid to sit with him when either you or I can’t be here, but—”
Nana raised a hand. “I can sit with him, too.”
Nana rarely got out of bed, and if she did, she was the one attended.
“Well, I can,” she said. “I can sit in here just as well as I can sit in my room. I always liked Samuel. Let me help.”
Moved by her offer, Ada kissed her cheek.
“Your help is accepted,” John said. “But I’d feel better if he has a real nurse on hand full-time. At least for these first critical days.”
Critical days. Ada didn’t like the sound of that. She’d fully expected Samuel to awaken and know her, and be pleased to see her. Was there a chance that he’d never be completely with them?
Nana must have sensed her fear, for she took her hand. “And to do our part, we will increase the intensity of our prayers for his full recovery.”
Tenfold. One hundredfold. “Can you arrange for a nurse?” Ada asked.
“I can and will. But I’m sure it will be afternoon before one can come. Can you handle it until then?”
“Of course.”
“Me, too,” Nana said.
John kissed his grandmother on her other cheek. “You are a constant surprise, Nana. I’ve never seen you so strong.”
“Perhaps the presence of someone who needs more help than myself has been the shoe to boot me out of bed.”
Mother came in as John was leaving, and they exchanged pleasantries. Then she joined Nana and Ada bedside, though she kept her distance as though Samuel were contagious.
“I hear John’s sending over a nurse,” Mother said. “Your father will not appreciate the expense.”
Nana threw up her hands. “Gracious sakes, daughter, if Horace won’t pay the money, I will. Sometimes you two act as cheap as a chicken.”
“Shouldn’t you be back in your own bed, Mother?”
Nana firmed her grip on Ada’s hand. “I’m doing fine right here, thank you.”
Then Ada brought up something that had been on her mind. “I wish we could contact the foundling home where Samuel’s been living, to tell them where he is—that he’s being cared for.”
“Do you really think that’s necessary?” Mother said.
“Winifred Grace!” Nana said. “Not only are your purse strings tied in a knot, but your heartstrings, too? Think of those worrying. They need to know what’s happened.”
Even though Ada appreciated Nana’s defense, she intervened on her mother’s behalf. “I wish we could contact them, but I don’t know the name of the home. Samuel only sent the one letter and didn’t say.”
“He probably didn’t want to be found,” Mother said. “So that’s that, then.”
Ada had another task to suggest. “This afternoon I plan to go to Mr. Alcott’s to tell him Samuel is here, and he’s hurt—before he hears it from someone else.” She thought of Carrie Astor, David, Maribelle, and all the rest at the party last night. The speed of the society gossip mill was unparalleled—especially when bad news was involved.
Mother turned up her nose. “If Alcott’s even around anymore. I haven’t heard hide nor hair of him since Samuel ruined his life.”
Ada closed her eyes against her mother’s barbs. “I must try. You’d want to know if I was hurt, wouldn’t you?”
“Don’t be silly.” Mother turned to leave. “John said you volunteered to sit with Samuel until the nurse arrives?”
“I did.”
She nodded, then said, “Perhaps you should get out your bridal quilt and work on it again. It’s been a year, Ada. You’ve always called it a map of your life. You must catch up and create the squares to commemorate your happy times with Owen.”
Ada had not even allowed herself to look at the quilt since she’d put it away on the evening Samuel left her. Adding any new square with fabrics and embroidery symbolizing her relationship with Owen would force her to create and stitch a new route to her life’s map—one that detoured and traveled down roads she hadn’t fully accepted. And if she allowed herself to be honest, roads she wasn’t sure she wanted to travel.
She shook her head. “When I’m here I want to give Samuel my full attention.”
Mother was persistent. “But when you and Owen become engaged, don’t you want to take the quilt into your marriage as you planned?”
Nothing was as she’d planned. “Mother, I said no.”
Mother shuffled her shoulders. “It was just a suggestion. The quilt is your prized possession, and it doesn’t seem right you’ve abandoned it because of a little heartache. Things are finally back to normal. Life goes on.”
A little heartache? Life goes on? It wasn’t that simple. Surely Mother knew it wasn’t that simple.
To avoid an argument, Ada moved toward the door. “I think it’s best if Samuel rests in silence right now. If you don’t mind.”
Mother walked into the hallway but offered one last barb. “Watch yourself, Ada.”
It took all of Ada’s restraint not to slam the door. “Argghhh!”
“Now, now,” Nana said. “As much as my daughter and I don’t agree, she does have a point about the quilt—your life quilt. In spite of what you believe, your life did not end when Samuel left.”
There it was again: Life goes on.
Nana slipped her hand around Ada’s arm. “Besides, he’s back, isn’t he?”
“What do you mean by that?”
But Nana only put a finger to her lips and smiled.
Ada sent a note to Samuel’s grandfather, asking if she might visit him that evening after he got home from work. Soon after the hired nurse arrived, she received word she should come at three. The early hour surprised her, but she was also grateful, for it would prevent her from being out after dark.
A gentle snow was falling—a Christmas snow as Ada liked to call it, for it fell gently, as if covering the city in a heavenly mantle.
The Alcott butler greeted her and took her coat and bonnet, the snowflakes already melted on the warm fabric. “Nice to see you again, Miss Wallace,” Briggs said. “We’ve missed you.”
How very kind of him. “I’ve missed you, too, Briggs. Is Mr. Alcott ready to see me?”
There was a moment of hesitation, and Briggs looked nervously to the floor.
“What’s wrong?”
“He’s much changed, miss.”
“How so?”
“You’ll see.” The butler led her back to a room she had never entered. “He’s in there, miss. He’s always in there.” Briggs knocked, then opened the door and let her in, closing it behind her.
The room was a study with dark paneling and floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books. A fire was in the grate, but other than its light and two gas wall sconces turned low, the room was dark. It smelled of lemon oil, leather—and grief.
Ada looked toward the massive desk, expecting to find Mr. Alcott there. But the desk chair was empty. Perhaps he was going to join her in a few minutes. She moved to wait in one of the chairs facing the fireplace, but pulled up short when she saw one was occupied.
“Oh. Sir. Mr. Alcott. I didn’t see you there.”
He didn’t rise, but looked up at her over his spectacles. “That’s because I’m not here. Not anywhere.” He pointed to the other chair, but it seemed the effort to raise his arm was nearly too much. “There. Sit there.”
She sat in the other wing chair, adjusting her bustle against the cushions. “I’m so glad you agreed to see me,” she said. “And that you were home from work so the meeting could be early.”
He snickered. “Work. What does work matter? What does anything matter without my grandson?”
Ada sucked in a breath. Briggs was right. Mr. Alcott had changed much. Gone was the vibrant—if not domineering—man who ran a banking empire as well as his grandson’s life. In his place was this lump of a man with tousled hair, an unruly beard, and rumpled clothes.
She spotted a pillow and blanket on the couch nearby. Was he sleeping in here, too? Had this room become his world?
He looked at her with rheumy eyes. “I always liked you, Ada. I wanted you as my granddaughter, I really did. Since Emma died … this family needs a woman’s touch.”
“Thank you, sir. I wanted to be a part of this family.”
“Until Samuel rejected you. And rejected me,” he said. “All my life’s work was not enough for him. And what is any of it worth without him? When I lost my son in the fire, Samuel became my everything. I may not have shown it well, but that truth remains. And I never thought he’d turn his back on all this—on me. I didn’t mean it when I gave him the ultimatum.” His voice cracked with emotion. “I didn’t mean it.”
Her heart went out to him. To feel like such a failure. Please, God, give me the right words to help him. Ada reached out to touch his knee. “Mr. Alcott, Samuel’s choice had nothing to do with your life’s work, or your success, or the legacy you worked so hard to build.”
“Then why?”
She searched for a mingling of truth and discretion. “Samuel has a heart unlike any other. He sees when others look away; he feels what others wish to ignore. God called him to do special work, work that demanded sacrifice. You and I are a part of that sacrifice.” She took a cleansing breath, then continued. “I, for one, don’t like that role. And sometimes I sit and think and pray that I would hear such a call. Yet I fear that even if God called, I wouldn’t have the strength to go. Samuel had that strength.”
“But he left us behind.”
Ada realized that in answering the question for Mr. Alcott, she had answered an unasked question in herself. She fumbled in her pocket for a handkerchief. “I’m sorry. As you see, it still affects me, too.”
He plucked his own handkerchief from a pocket, removed his spectacles, and dabbed at his eyes. “We are quite a pair, Miss Wallace, for we have both lost our Samuel.”
Suddenly Ada remembered why she had come. “But he’s not lost, Mr. Alcott. I found him. And he’s at our house.”
She filled in the blanks, telling him the complete story.
His eyes cleared, and his face became animated. When she was finished, he surprised her by rising to his feet. “We must go. Now! I must see Samuel!” He hobbled to the door and thrust it open.
“Briggs! Come help me. I have to go out!”
Samuel’s grandfather entered the Wallace household like a hurricane. Not two steps into the foyer, he called out, “Where’s Samuel? Where’s my grandson?”
Mother rushed out from the parlor, her hand to her chest, clearly concerned about the barbarian who’d invaded her house.
Ada didn’t know who to calm first. She chose Mr. Alcott, because it was clear he was unrestrainable. She led him up the stairs, calling down to her mother. “Forgive him. He’s just excited.”
Mother fumbled some reply, which thankfully Ada couldn’t hear.
“Down this way, Mr. Alcott.”
But before he could fling the door to Samuel’s room open, Ada barred the door. “Now stop. You must contain yourself.”
The old man’s breathing was labored from the stairs and his zeal. He put a hand to his chest and forced himself to calm down.
“That’s better,” Ada said.
He nodded, and when he’d fully gotten himself under control, he took Ada’s hand and kissed it. “How can I ever thank you, dear girl?”
Get Samuel to fully awaken.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
“I am.”
She opened the door. The hired nurse stood near the door, clearly alerted to the uproar outside. Ada tried to reassure her. “This is Mr. Alcott’s grandfather. He’s very eager to see him.”
The nurse raised an eyebrow. “There will be no agitation, no dramatics. Is that understood?”
Mr. Alcott lifted his right hand as if taking an oath.
“Very well then.” The nurse stepped aside.
Ada let Mr. Alcott proceed to the bedside alone. She whispered to the nurse, “Any change?”
“None.”
Ada had warned Mr. Alcott of Samuel’s condition, but seeing his grandson immobile and bandaged … He put a hand to his mouth, and Ada heard a moan escape.
She moved to his side to provide support. “See?” she said, trying to sound positive. “He’s really here.”
Mr. Alcott nodded, and Ada heard him sniff. He was crying.
She linked her arm through his, and together they watched Samuel sleep.
Ada left Mr. Alcott sitting at Samuel’s bedside and headed to her room to change from her suit to a day dress.
