Rainbow Cottage (26 page)

“Not tonight, child. We’ll go over them all one at a time, and you shall tell me all you will about them, but that will have to wait until another time. I’ve too recently got you back to run any risks with your health. Now, this pretty box. It is sandalwood, isn’t it? I used to have a fan of sandalwood that I loved. See, I’ll put the letters in the box. And the ring? Or do you want to wear it?”

Sheila took the ring off.

“I’ll put it in its box tonight,” she said. “Perhaps Jacqueline might notice it and ask questions. I wonder if she saw it. I wonder if the things were all in the box or pulled out.”

“Well, never mind now. We’ll ask Janet all about that later. We’ll just put them away now out of sight, and probably Jacqueline won’t even know we have found them. Not right away, anyway.”

“But the penholder, Grandmother. Let us open that, please!”

Grandmother’s hand was trembling as she held the little tarnished silver rod in her hand. She wanted terribly to open it at once, but Sheila should not be excited.

“Yes, please, Grandmother! I shall think about it all night if I can’t find out what is in it. I’ve been wondering a great deal about it. I’ve been fancying all sorts of dreadful things; and out there on the rock I thought of it and worried a great deal that I had not opened it before. I don’t want to run any more risks, Grandmother; I want to know what is in it!”

“Will you promise to put it right out of your head, no matter if it is really disturbing?”

“Yes, Grandmother. I have
you
now, and nothing can be quite so bad as it was when I was all alone.”

“Well then, we’ll open it,” said Grandmother, her voice as eager as Sheila’s.

They had quite a time unscrewing the case, which had been closed so long that it had formed verdigris around the edges and stuck tightly. Grandmother tried, then Sheila tried, and at last they pulled together. Then the top came off, and a small yellowed paper fell out on the bed.

Sheila reached for it, unfolded it carefully with trembling fingers, and spread it out. Grandmother put on her spectacles and bent over to read.

It bore a date a little over four years before, and the ink was poor and fading, turned a bit brown. Neither was the paper of good quality. It was written in a bold, scrawling hand, and not easy to read, but they made it out, their two heads close together.

Sheila read the paper over twice, puzzling to know what it could mean, but Grandmother was softly crying. She had caught only the one idea, and that was enough for her. Her Andrew was not guilty!

“Why, Grandmother, dear! You are crying!” said Sheila, suddenly looking up. “Isn’t it good news? Why should you cry?”

“Yes, dear child, it is good news,” said Grandmother, “but I’m just such an old fool that I can’t help it.”

“But what does it mean, Grandmother?”

“I’ll have to think it out, child. I can’t understand it all yet, nor why he did it. There must be something crooked behind it yet. But it means, if it is proved to be Buck’s handwriting, that my Andrew can safely come home sometime I hope, if it be that he is still living to come. But even if he is dead, it means that his name can be cleared of a great crime. For it was not just robbery, Sheila; it was the killing of two good men who were guarding the bank. Oh, Sheila, my dear. I am so glad.”

She stopped and kissed Sheila, and with their arms around one another, they seemed to come closer than ever before.

“And now, dear,” said Grandmother, “this paper is very important. It should be guarded carefully. Would you like me to take it into my room and put it in my little safe? Your grandfather made me have a safe built in when we first built this cottage. It is in my room. Do you want me to put it away for you, or do you think you would rather keep it yourself? It is yours, you know.”

“You take it, Grandmother. I know you will guard it better than I could possibly do. You are his mother!”

So Grandmother carried the precious paper away with her, after having put Sheila’s things carefully under lock and key in her new trunk, and Sheila lay back and fell into a sweet sleep.

Rainbow Cottage was very quiet that night. The evening meal was eaten in shifts. Sheila was fed first, delicately, with strong, nourishing food, and put to sleep again, though she declared she was fully able to get up.

Grandmother ate simply and sparingly at her table alone, hovered over by Janet, lovingly.

Jacqueline came in late after Janet had gone out for a little while to a small cottage up above the road where her sister lived, married to an officer of the state police. Grandmother called down to her that her supper was keeping hot on the back of the stove and she would have to serve herself as Grandmother was getting ready for bed.

Jacqueline sulkily ate her supper, banged out some popular modern music on the piano for a while, smoked numerous cigarettes, exulting in the fact that she was doing it in Aunt Myra’s sacred living room without rebuke, and finally went unhappily to bed. Things had not gone at all to please Jacqueline that day, and she was glad to have it over, hoping for better results tomorrow. It went terribly against the grain with Jacqueline to have a young man rebuke her, and that was what she knew Angus Galbraith had done. She tried to be very angry with him, to plan a fine revenge upon him, but somehow his attitude had only intrigued her, and she felt that she
must
find some way to conquer him. She lay awake scheming a campaign that would have done credit to one Lucifer, had he been sufficiently interested, and arose blithely in the morning to start a new line entirely.

Grandmother had not slept a great deal during the night and had spent the time laying plans for a new order of things.

The storm was still raging. A gray, forbidding ocean was lashing madly at a shrunken shore and dashing its futile fury against the rocks. Not a ship was in sight offshore. It seemed as one looked out from Sheila’s window that morning that the world was all water—awful green and brown and gray water. She shuddered and turned her eyes away from the sight. Perhaps someday she would be able to face a storm like that at sea again and call it majestic and beautiful. But she was not yet far enough from her awful experience upon the rock to even think of it calmly.

The only thing that kept her from losing her self-control when she remembered it all was the thought of that strong arm that had reached her and lifted her and held her during that last terrible wave.

She knew now that it had been Angus Galbraith’s arm, but she had thought in her delirium of fright that it was the arm of an angel. And somehow now as she thought of it, the two were blended in one, and she was glad it was so. For Angus Galbraith did not belong to her except as a rescuer. He would probably never be in her life even as a friend, although she felt sure he would always be friendly. For had not Jacqueline made it plain that he belonged to her? And Jacqueline would never share even the simplest kind of friendship with her, she was sure of that. She would make even bare acquaintance impossible.

But it was nice to think there was a strong, fine, courageous man in the world who was willing to brave and dare what he had done for her. So it was better that she should think of him as having been sent to her by the Lord God and that there was nothing personal whatever about his act of courage.

But that first morning after her rescue, she lay quietly thanking God for her safety and trying to think of all the wonderful things she had to be glad for this morning.

The rain was still beating across her windowpanes, and the storm might be dashing just as madly over that rock where she had lain a few short hours before, but she was here, safe and warm like a bird in her nest, with Grandmother’s love around her and the sure knowledge that Grandmother wanted her and that her Lord God loved her and had sent Angus Galbraith to rescue her.

She hadn’t told about what had driven her away. Grandmother hadn’t asked her yet. She had said they would talk about all that later when Sheila was up and stronger and they had time alone. But the touch of Grandmother’s lips on her face and the feel of Grandmother’s little, warm, soft, rose-leaf hands as she took her face in them, the hug of her frail little arms around her, had all made her know that Grandmother loved her and wanted her and that she must never,
never
run away again. Not even if she did a thousand things that she knew Grandmother wouldn’t like. She belonged there. Grandmother would forgive her always. Ah, that made it so very sweet to try not to do things that Grandmother wouldn’t like. So very happy a thing to try and do what would please Grandmother.

Why! That was like being saved, wasn’t it? Once you were born again, you were in God’s family and would never be turned out even if you sinned many times!

Look at Grandmother with her son! Her Andrew was always to her her baby, her dear son, though he had sinned many times and wandered very far away from home.

And that was how God was with His children. She was God’s and Grandmother’s and need not be afraid anymore anywhere.

Jacqueline slept late that morning and then happily took herself away in her red car to The Cliffs, seeking a more congenial atmosphere.

As soon as she was gone, Grandmother went softly to the telephone and called up The Cliffs, asking for Angus.

She inquired most solicitously for his health after his Herculean struggle in the water yesterday, and then when he said he felt no ill effects, she asked him if he would do her the favor to come down and see her a few minutes alone; that she would like to ask his advice about a matter, and would he please not tell anyone where he was going.

Angus came promptly and was closeted with Grandmother for a couple of hours in the little room off the living room.

Janet was sent up to Sheila to request her to remain in bed till lunchtime and try to sleep, and there was no one to interrupt.

At noon Janet came up to tell Sheila that Grandmother would like her to dress and come downstairs for lunch if she felt able, and when Sheila came down, lovely in one of her new knitted frocks of a soft blue with white trimming, she found Angus sitting by the fire in the living room and rising to draw up another chair for herself. It all seemed so pleasant and cozy. It was like the home her mother had told her about where Mother had lived when she was a girl.

While they talked for a few minutes and waited to be summoned to lunch, Grandmother slipped away to the telephone, and when she came back she wore a look of relief.

“It’s all right,” she nodded to the young man. “He’ll be at home this afternoon and is very eager to see you.”

“By the way,” said Angus Galbraith to Sheila as they rose to go into the dining room, “I’m probably going west on a business trip. I wonder if there is anything that I can do for you. I may go quite near your former home.”

He watched the girl as he spoke. She seemed to shrink into herself and to lose her brightness.

“Oh, no,” she said sadly, “there’s nothing there now anymore but a grave. But thank you for thinking of it.”

Grandmother looked at her thoughtfully as they sat down, and said, “That reminds me, Sheila, is your mother’s grave marked? Had you put up a stone with her name yet?”

“No, Grandmother, I couldn’t—yet.”

“Well, perhaps Mr. Galbraith would attend to that for us while he is out there. When it’s so far away it’s rather nice to have the stone placed at once. Don’t you think so, dear? You want just something very simple for the present, I should think.”

“That would be wonderful, Grandmother, but—”

“That’s all right, child. No buts. You would do that for us, wouldn’t you, Mr. Galbraith?”

“I should be most happy to serve in any way whatever,” said the young man.