Her Patchwork Family. Lyn Cote

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СКАЧАТЬ to the front door. She paid him and tipped him generously for his trouble.

      He looked down at his palm. “Unlock the door,” he ordered gruffly, “and I’ll carry that trunk upstairs for you.”

      As Felicity turned the large key in the keyhole, she hid her smile. She stepped inside, drawing the children after her. “Please just leave it here in the entryway. I don’t know which room I will take as yet.”

      The drayman did as asked, pulled the brim of his hat politely and left.

      Felicity stood a moment, turning on the spot, drinking in the graceful staircase, the gleaming dark oak woodwork, the obviously expensive wallpaper with its lavish design of pink cabbage roses and greenery. Her parents’ parlor could have fit into this foyer. In this grand setting, she felt smaller, somehow overwhelmed and humbled. When God blessed one, He didn’t stint.

      “Miss?” The little girl tugged her skirt. “You said you’d give us food and a place to sleep tonight.”

      “I did indeed. Come let us find the kitchen.” Felicity picked up the covered oak basket that she’d carried on her arm since leaving Gettysburg. In it were the last remnants of her provisions for the trip. She hoped it would be enough for the children.

      “Hello,” a woman hailed them from the shadowy end of the hall that must lead to the kitchen in the rear. “Who are you, please?”

      When the woman came into the light, her appearance reduced Felicity to gawking. She was a tall, slender woman in a blue calico dress with a full white apron and red kerchief tied over her hair. Neat as a brand-new pin. She looked to be in her late twenties and had skin the color of coffee with much cream. Her smooth oval face reminded Felicity of drawings she’d seen of Egyptian queens. And her thick, black eyelashes were perfection. Felicity had been told that a housekeeper would stay until she came. But was this the housekeeper? She’d never seen a beautiful housekeeper before.

      Felicity held out her hand, hoping the woman hadn’t noticed her momentary preoccupation. “I am Felicity Gabriel. I’ve inherited this house.”

      The woman shook Felicity’s hand, firm and quick. “I been expecting you, miss. Mrs. Barney’s lawyer told me you would be coming any time now. I been keeping things ready for you. I’m the housekeeper, Vista.”

      Felicity listened to the woman’s low musical voice with pleasure. Beautiful to both the eye and ear.

      “Miss?” the little girl prompted, tugging on Felicity’s skirt again.

      “Vista, we have company for lunch.” How would this very neatly starched and pressed woman deal with unkempt, ragged children in this elegant house? This was something she must be able to handle or there would have to be a change. Would she understand how to handle this situation?

      The woman considered the children, tapping one finger to her cheek. “Why don’t I bring lunch out onto the back porch? There be a shaded table there. Mrs. Barney liked to eat outside in the summer. And it’s such a lovely September day.” Then Vista nodded toward the door behind Felicity.

      Felicity got the message. She was to take the children outside and around to the back porch. And so she did.

      Vista met them in the back and greeted them beside the pump. “I don’t allow anyone with dirty hands or a dirty face to eat at my table.” Vista pointed to a white bar of soap and a white flour-sack towel, sitting on an overturned wooden box nearby. Then she began to pump water.

      As the water splashed, Felicity slipped off her bonnet and gloves and tossed them onto the nearby back-porch steps. Setting an example, she lathered her hands with the soap, then handed the bar to the little girl. “Be sure to keep your eyes shut so the soap doesn’t sting them,” Felicity cautioned. After scrubbing her face and hands, she rinsed off in the cold water Vista was still pumping. And then, since she’d taken her own advice and shut her eyes, Vista put the towel into her hands.

      When Felicity opened her eyes, she looked over to find that the girl was teaching the boy how to lather his hands and face. When they were done, she passed the towel to the children, who left dirty prints on it. The girl said, “I ’member washing up. He doesn’t.”

      “Does thee?” Felicity resonated with the impact of that simple but telling sentence.

      The girl nodded. “Can we eat now?”

      Felicity wondered how she could persuade these waifs to stay. She sensed a deep caution in the girl, wise for her years. Father, guide me.

      “Right now, chil’run.” Vista led them to the small round table on the trellised porch, shaded by lavish, bright purple clematis. She went into the kitchen and returned with a cup of coffee, a plate piled high with slices of buttered bread and cheese and two glasses of milk on a tray. The minute she set the plate on the table, the little boy grabbed two slices of bread and shoved one into his mouth as deep as he could.

      “Donnie, that’s not good manners,” the girl scolded. “Sorry, miss, but he don’t ’member eating at a table.”

      Felicity choked down her reaction. Was eating at a table another privilege she took for granted? “That’s all right. I’m sure he will get used to it. What are thy names?”

      “I’m Katy and he’s Donnie.”

      Felicity gave them a smile. “Happy to meet thee, Katy. Now I will thank God for this food.” She bowed her head. “Thank Thee, God, for food and friends.”

      After that, Vista was kept busy bringing out more bread and cheese. Finally, she murmured to Felicity that she didn’t want the children to eat themselves sick.

      After her last swallow of milk, Katy stood up. “Thanks for the eats, miss. We’ll be back later to sleep.”

      “Where is thee going?” Felicity asked, rising to stop them.

      “We got to go beg. Donnie’s going to need shoes before the snow.” The child glanced down at the little boy’s bare, dirty feet.

      “Does that mean thee doesn’t have a home?” Felicity asked.

      “No, miss, but I take care of Donnie.” Katy took the boy’s hand and began edging away.

      “Would thee like a home?” Felicity blurted out.

      Katy stopped and eyed her with suspicion. “What’s the catch?”

      “Catch?” Felicity echoed.

      Vista spoke up. “The catch is that you got to be scrubbed clean to come inside. I know you chil’run can’t help it, but you have to be scrubbed head to toe before you come in. No vermin allowed in any house I’m living in or cleaning up.”

      Vista’s calm but firm pronouncement slightly embarrassed Felicity. But better to start as one plans to go. Katy glanced at Felicity, who nodded her agreement with Vista.

      Katy glanced around and then pointed to the door mat. “What about out here? Could we sleep here on the porch?”

      Felicity turned to Vista. After all, she was the one who would be cleaning and she was the one who’d brought up the issue of cleanliness.

      “You can,” Vista replied, “as СКАЧАТЬ