Leave a Candle Burning (22 page)

“Things look nice,” the older woman commented, following Reese to the big parlor.

“Thank you. Have a seat.”

“We don’t have to talk in here, Reese.”

“Of course we do,” Reese teased her. “You don’t visit often enough to treat this casually.”

“Oh, go on, Reese. You don’t want me hanging about the place.”

“That’s not likely to happen,” Reese said dryly. “Now, tell me, Mrs. Greenlowe, what’s in your basket?”

“Just things I picked up from Doyle,” she said with a nonchalant air that didn’t work on Reese.

Reese’s brows rose, and Mrs. Greenlowe gave in.

“Look at these fabrics!” She leaned toward Reese in excitement. “Do you like them?”

“They’re beautiful,” Reese exclaimed, touching the top two.

“They’re for a baby quilt! I’m going to start it this afternoon.”

Reese smiled, her eyes full of teasing, and asked, “Whose baby?”

“Oh, go on with you, Reese. Stop teasing me or I’m going to leave.”

“You can’t do that before you see what I’ve been doing.”

“What?”

Reese stood, and this time she led the way upstairs to a room she was preparing for the baby.

“Reese,” Mrs. Greenlowe almost whispered as she crossed the threshold and stood very still. “It’s beautiful.”

Reese Kingsley had been busy. She was painting a scenic meadow on two walls of the smallest room upstairs. A few evergreens stretched to the ceiling, but most of the painting was full of leafy bushes and vivid bunches of wildflowers. Prairie grasses fell away almost like a path, and had it been a little more true to size, one would have been tempted to step through the wall.

“Conner thinks we’re having a girl, but I still think it might be a boy. I didn’t want it to be all flowers. If it is a boy, I might add a little water over here,” she pointed to the edge on the right. “That way he can picture himself fishing when he can’t really go to the pond.”

Mrs. Greenlowe suddenly rounded on her.

“Why did you never tell me you could paint?”

Reese shrugged. “It never came up, and I hadn’t done it in years, so I didn’t know if I still could. And,” Reese put in before Mrs. Greenlowe could go on, “the colors you chose for the quilt will be perfect in here.”

The older woman couldn’t say a word. It was impossible to complain, scold, or grumble when she was this pleased, and right now her heart was overflowing with contentment.

“I’ve got to get home,” she announced, turning from the room and starting down the stairs. “This quilt isn’t going to sew itself.”

Reese trailed after her, not pressing her to stay. Not until they were at the front door did Mrs. Greenlowe stop and face her.

“You’re doing a good job, Reese,” she said swiftly, and she would have rushed out the door, but Reese was too fast. She gave Mrs. Greenlowe a hug, which was quickly reciprocated, and then stood at the door and watched her walk all the way down the green. At the moment, Reese was so excited to tell Conner about her visit she wondered how she would wait for him to come home for dinner.

At times, Lord, I can see every face,
Scottie prayed, kneeling by her bed, her heart in agony.
I can see Marie’s face and Sandra’s. In my mind they’re still little girls in the home, but it can’t be true now.

Scottie had to force herself not to imagine the worst. She desperately wanted to trust God for the past and for where these women would be now.

Wherever they are, Lord, whatever has become of them, touch their hearts and bless them, Father. Forgive them and save them, and let them find You. Thank You that you died for each heart there, even Matron and the other workers. Thank You for bringing me here and showing me Yourself.

Scottie couldn’t manage another word. Tears poured onto the quilt where her face rested, trying to get past the pain of all those little girls who stayed behind on that day she went to the Peterson home.

It took some doing. She felt so heavy with the memories that she didn’t climb into bed for a long time. When she did, it was to lie awake and stare into the darkness, her prayers continuing. There was no comfort in knowledge about the home because she had no answers, but comfort came from remembering who God was and how much He longed for hearts to turn to Him.

Scottie could think of nothing else to pray. Until she fell into a heavy sleep that lasted all night, she asked God to reach out in His saving way and bring those hearts to Him. And she didn’t forget those under her own roof but prayed that Iris and Finn would believe and that she and Eli would be ever diligent in their example before them.

Thursday was as cool and rainy as Tuesday had been hot and sunny. Garden and field work were suspended all over Tucker Mills, and children, longing to run outside, lingered at windows and doorways wondering when the skies would clear.

Scottie was in the same state. Assuming she was going to have time in the garden, she stood at the doorway to the kitchen and listened to the rain, thinking that even if it cleared, the mud would be impossible.

The fall of rain made a relaxing sound, and Scottie was in no hurry to move. A noise behind her made her turn. Iris and Corina were just coming in from the parlor.

“Hello,” Scottie greeted, knowing that she could avoid this no longer. Indeed, she’d been keeping scarce all week. “I think you must be Corina.”

“Yes, indeed,” Iris spoke up. “Corina, this is Mr. Peterson’s wife. This is Scottie. Can you say Scottie?”

“Sottie,” Corina tried.

“That’s right,” Scottie praised her and smiled.

Liking this woman, Corina smiled back and stepped forward to show Scottie her doll. It was a doll that Scottie had made, but she admired it as though she’d never seen it before.

“Does she have a name?” Scottie asked.

“Porina Joy.”

“That’s your name. Is it your doll’s name too?”

Corina nodded, and Scottie smiled at her. Corina moved a little closer and touched the fabric on Scottie’s sleeve. Scottie glanced up at Iris, their gaze sharing in the surprise.

“You might remind her of her m-o-t-h-e-r,” Iris said quietly.

“That would make sense,” Scottie agreed just as softly, keeping still while Corina touched her sleeve. It was one of her old dresses, but the fabric was bright and fun, and Corina must have thought she could pull the flowers off. She fingered it a moment longer before looking into Scottie’s face, her own a bit uncertain.

“Do you like flowers?”

“In my room,” Corina said.

Scottie nodded, remembering the small patches of flowers on the wallpaper. Scottie now understood her fascination with the dress. There was some resemblance.

“Your dress is pretty,” Scottie complimented, watching as Corina’s hand went down her front, smoothing the yellow pinafore that covered her blue and yellow dress.

“Can you say thank you?” Iris urged.

“San you.” Corina looked into Scottie’s face to speak and didn’t look away. Scottie was so taken with the child’s small face that she couldn’t look away either. She had forgotten how clear and perfect a child’s eyes could be. Corina’s were a deep hazel, the white of her eyes so bright and perfect that Scottie felt lost in them.

“Did you want to take her up to see Eli?” Iris put in.

“I could do that,” Scottie agreed, thinking she needed the distraction. “Would you like to go up and see Mr. Peterson, Corina?”

Corina nodded, but Scottie wasn’t sure she understood. She half-expected her to change her mind somewhere on the stairway, but Scottie was wrong. The little girl held her hand and accompanied her as if climbing the steps was the most normal occurrence.

“Well good morning,” Eli greeted when he spotted them. “How are you today, Corina?”

“I have flowers,” Corina said, but her voice had dropped some, and she looked at Scottie, who had taken a seat on the bedside. That little girl moved to Scottie’s side and stayed very close, even going so far as to lean against Scottie’s leg.

“If the rain stops, you’ll have to ask Scottie to show you the flowers in our yard,” Eli said, trying to study his wife and talk to the little girl all at the same time. To the best of his knowledge, this was the first time Scottie had interacted with Corina.

“We’ll plan on that,” Scottie said to Corina. She then looked to her husband. “How was your night?”

“It was fine. Yours?”

“I think the rain woke me, but I went right back to sleep.”

It was then that Scottie noticed something in Eli’s eyes. Her brow lowered in question, but a small shake of Eli’s head told her it would have to wait. Both adults looked down to see that Corina had spotted Eli’s bookshelves. She hadn’t moved from Scottie’s side just yet, but her head was turned to study the full shelves.

“I have children’s books,” Eli told his wife.

“In here?”

“No. Try my mother’s room. There should be quite a few.” Eli then turned his attention back to Corina. “Do you like books, Corina?”

But that little girl didn’t hear him. She was still studying the shelves and had even walked to the end of the bed, her doll hugged under one arm. She stood, a hand to the bedpost, and continued to stare toward the shelves.

“We’ll head that way,” Scottie suggested.

“But at some point you’ll come back alone?” her husband asked.

“Certainly,” Scottie told him, their eyes meeting as she tried to guess what was on his mind.

Eli didn’t say anymore. He deliberated about giving her a hint, but the very person they needed to talk about was still in the room.

Ten

“Shall we read a book?” Scottie offered when they had found a fat stack of children’s books in the late Mrs. Peterson’s room.

Corina was swift to nod over this request, and Scottie, accompanied by Corina and all the books, went to the parlor to get comfortable. Both Finn and Iris came through at different times, but Scottie and Corina didn’t budge from their spot in one corner of the sofa. They read through two books and were started on a third when Iris came to see if Corina needed to be excused.

Corina obediently accompanied her, and Scottie went to the window to see if the skies were clearing. Even in the rain she could see that the flowers in the yard were brilliant and knew that whenever she could venture forth with Corina, it would be worth the effort.