and
hugged me. I swallowed hard. How wonderful to be able to
hold a child, to love unreservedly and have the love returned.
Sarah called, and Kathleen released her hold.
"She's probl'y gonna say, `Kathleen, wash for lunch,' and
I've already washed!" She took great pleasure in the fact that
she would be able to side-step the command. She started a
lopsided skip as she left the room, not yet old enough to do it
properly. At the door she stopped and turned back. "Thank
you, Aunt Beth," she called. She threw me a kiss, which I returned, and was gone.
A few minutes later we were indeed gathered for lunch.
William held us up because he was off climbing trees with a
neighbor; it took Sarah several minutes to locate him. He was
scolded gently and sent to wash and change his shirt, which
had a ragged tear on one sleeve. He reappeared a few minutes
later, fresh shirt properly buttoned but not so properly tucked
in, and his face and hands scrubbed, though one could easily
see the water line at his chin. Mary's rueful smile accepted
him as he was, and the meal was served.
"After lunch I want you children to play outside-in the
yard," said Mary, looking pointedly at William. "Aunt Beth
may want to nap."
"Oh, no," I hurried to explain, "I still haven't finished caring for my clothes."
Even as I said the words I realized just how much I would
love to take time for a little rest.
"Baby Lis'beth still naps," Kathleen said seriously, and I
could tell that she felt very proud about being allowed to go
without an afternoon sleep.
"Baby Elizabeth is lucky," declared Mary. I guessed that
there were many days when she gladly would have curled up
for a nap herself if she had been given the opportunity.
Kathleen did not argue, though it was evident from the
look in her eyes that she did not agree with her mother.
The next. morning, Sunday, the house was filled with
activity as we prepared to attend the church service. Kathleen
tapped timidly on my door while I was fixing my hair. She
came in to show me her dress and ribbons. She looked like she
should have been on a calendar. Her pretty clothes and careful
grooming accented her pixie-like quality. Her eyes sparkled as
she caressed the lace on her pinafore.
"Do you like it?"
"It's lovely."
"Mama made it."
"She did?"
"She did," she nodded.
"It's beautiful. Your mama is a very fine seamstress."
"That's what Papa says."
She then studied me. "You look nice, too. Did you make
your dress?" I shook my head, thinking of the shop in Toronto
where the dress had been purchased.
"No," I said slowly, "Madame Tamer made it."
"She's good, too," Kathleen said solemnly.
I smiled, thinking of the madame and her prices. Yes, she
was good, too.
The church building was new, though not as large as the
one I had been used to attending. The people were friendly,
and it was easy to feel at home, especially because I came as
Jon's sister. It was plain to see that they regarded Jon and
Mary with a great deal of respect.
I sat between William and Sarah. It was difficult for William not to squirm. He shifted this way, then that, swung this
foot, then the other, made fists, then relaxed them. I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Kathleen did not fare much better
than William. Sarah, on the other hand, sat quietly. At one
point, when we stood to sing a hymn, she slipped a little hand
into mine. I gave it a squeeze and smiled at her. She cuddled
up to me like a little puppy.
After the service was over I was introduced to a number of
the people. The congregation was made up mostly of young
couples, though I did see several men who seemed to be unattached. I appreciated the fact that Jon did not steer me in
their direction. He left me with Marv and a few of her friends
and went over to greet the men by himself.
The minister, his wife and four children were invited to
join us at Jon and Mary's for Sunday dinner. The Reverend
Dickson had come west three years
Learning to Kill: Stories