The Fragrance of Geraniums (A Time of Grace Book 1) (22 page)

G
race woke early
the next morning. The house sat silent, draped under a newly-fallen blanket of
snow.
First Baptist’s Christmas service is today.
The thought popped
immediately into her brain as soon as Grace’s gaze landed on the pot of
geraniums.

Shivering in the
winter dawn’s chill, she pushed back her blankets, getting her fingernail stuck
on the top one’s ragged edge. Her toes curled on the ice-cold floorboards,
despite the double layer of socks she wore. She pulled one of the blankets
around her shoulders as a makeshift robe.

The quiet of the
room still unnerved her a bit; her sisters had long since taken leave, but they
had shared the bedroom with Grace for so long that it was difficult to become
accustomed to life without their presence.
Nancy hardly comes around
anymore.
And Lou had moved into a Providence apartment with two other girls
just a week ago.

Turning the knob
slowly, Grace avoided making the hinges squeak. Her quiet steps took her down
the stair and into the dimly-lit kitchen. She could hear Mama’s soft snoring
escaping through her half-open bedroom door. As usual, Cliff hadn’t woken up
yet. He’d probably sleep in for as long as Mama let him.

Grace filled the
coffee pot with water and coffee grinds, anticipating the rich scent of the
brewed beverage filling the stale house. Cozying up the blanket around her
shoulders so that she’d be warm as she waited, Grace peered out the kitchen
window just in time to see Papa and Gertrude dash toward his already-running
car.
Probably going to Uncle Jack’s.
On weekends, Uncle Jack often had a
house full of rowdy guests, sweet Italian cookies, singing, and homemade wine.
Likely, Papa would stay there all day, having done his duty by God last night.

Through the
panes of glass, Grace heard the happy gurgle of a robin issue from the pine
trees. The bird chirruped once more and then flew from the trees down to the
frozen ground just in front of the window. His bright black eyes peeped up at Grace,
and she couldn’t help but smile at the little creature in his crimson vest. His
chest feathers could compete with geraniums for ruddiness…

Why shouldn’t I
go to First Baptist today if I want to?
Grace glanced toward Mama’s bedroom.
The sound of sleep hadn’t abated at all. And First Baptist’s service started
early.
If I come back before I’m missed, what harm could it do?

D
etermination
lifted Grace’s chin, though her heart skittered, playing dodgeball with her
lungs. She straightened her dress one last time and hoped that it would be warm
enough in the church to remove her ratty jacket quickly.

How fortunate
that Lou had left a couple of grown-out dresses in the very back of their
closet! Grace hadn’t thought of looking for anything salvageable belonging to
her departed sisters before this morning, but she’d thanked the Sweet Mother
several times in the last hour for this boon: a slightly-worn dress of dark
green cotton with a white lace collar. Its lowered waist attested to its age,
and Grace knew that the material didn’t really match the cold weather.
But
it’s green for Christmas, at least,
Grace tried to reassure herself,
and
it fits.

She’d hurried to
get ready, pushing all doubts from her mind. Now, however, standing before First
Baptist, Grace wondered if she’d been too hasty.

The light gray
stone church rose before her, intimidating her with its soaring arches and
steeple. The other churchgoers milling around her didn’t seem to notice First
Baptist’s imposing demeanor; they hustled into the building, calling out
greetings and tossing smiles here and there. Looking at them, Grace knew that
she’d been correct last night in her thoughts: even in this green hand-me-down,
she would stick out like a sore thumb. Many of the ladies and girls Grace’s age
wore fur-trimmed coats and sophisticated hats.
A rich church, just like I
thought. I don’t fit in here.

She hovered just
before the stone steps, trying to decide whether or not she should plunge
through the dark doorway.

Perhaps I should
go home.

“Grace?”
Paulie’s voice sounded as welcome in her ear as the rattle of the feed bucket did
for old Bessie. “Grace!”

She turned
around, eager to see Paulie’s familiar face. But hesitancy rose when she saw
that a tall older man accompanied him.
Must be his papa.
Acutely aware
of the pilling fabric of her jacket as well as the ugliness of her hat, Grace
avoided the man’s eyes. She hoped that Paulie would quickly move by her and go
inside the church with his father.

But apparently, Paulie
would have none of that. “Grace,” he said, eagerness dancing across his face,
“I’m so glad that you came!” His smile attested to the sincerity of his
statement. “Oh, let me introduce you to my dad. Dad, this is Grace.”

Well, Paulie’s
smile certainly came from his papa. The older man – Grace guessed that he was
no more than forty-five – gave her a kind nod. “My son has told me about you, Grace.
I hear that you’re very talented in mathematics.”

Unable to make
her tongue work, Grace just shook her head. Oh, how foolish she must appear to
Paulie’s papa! Her fingers played with the edge of her coat buttons, and she
wished hard that Paulie and his father would go inside the church.

The bells pealed
just then, signifying that the service would begin soon. Grace found her voice
and croaked, “I have to find the Kinners.”

Without waiting
for a response, she bounded up the steps as quickly as her dignity would permit
and escaped into the church.

T
he Mass – er,
worship service – was nice. Grace had to admit that. She enjoyed the music very
much, but she’d expected to. Seeing the choir singing those beautiful Christmas
hymns made her envious. Grace could picture herself standing up there on that
platform, performing the soprano solo to the awe of the listeners. Though she
didn’t know all of the hymns, she tried her best to sing along with the
congregation.

Mrs. Kinner had
saved a seat for her, and Grace proudly sat beside her friend on the curved
wooden pew. Bible open on his knees, Mr. Kinner sat on Mrs. Kinner’s other
side, focused on the men who led the service. A smile crept onto Grace’s face.
It’s
almost as if they’re my family…
The thought lightened her heart.

During the
sermon and prayers, Grace let her attention wander. She knew that Father
Frederick would not be pleased if she participated in the rituals of the
Protestants. So Grace spent the hour or so watching the congregants, guessing
at their personalities and names. Paulie and his father must have found a place
in the back of the church because Grace’s roving eyes didn’t spot them.

Suddenly, during
the hymn sung after the sermon, a notion popped into Grace’s mind.
Is
attending this church a very serious sin? Will I have to confess it and do
penance?

She felt the
blood drain from her face at the idea of confessing this to Father Frederick.
Hastily, Grace reviewed the Ten Commandments in her mind. No, she didn’t think
merely
attending
this service could be considered a sin.

S
he came!
Paulie could
hardly keep still in his seat.
Grace came!

He’d been
praying – praying hard – all weekend that Grace would come to First Baptist
today. He’d even asked Dad if they could delay travelling to New York until
Sunday afternoon. And this, this was God’s answer to his prayer!

I wonder if the
sermon meant anything to her. Or did she just come to see the Kinners?
Paulie’s mind
whirred even as his voice joined in the singing of those around him.
Did…
Did she come to see me, too?

Paulie glanced
up at Dad, standing there beside him as they sang the final hymn. His father’s
mouth curved into a smile. Dad had prayed, too.

And now Dad had
met Grace.
What does he think of her?
She acts so shy, but that doesn’t
usually put Dad off.

Well, his father
and he would have a lot to discuss on the way up to New York this afternoon.
That much was certain!

“Y
ou know,”
Emmeline tried to keep the excitement from her voice while at the same time
remaining friendly, “we would love to have you come over for Christmas dinner.”
The service had finished, and she, Geoff, and Grace lingered in the foyer.

Was she urging
too much? Should she just let Grace make her own decision without any prodding?
Emmeline bit the inside of her cheek as she waited for a response.

The petite girl
hesitated, thin arms hugging her jacket closed. “I’m not sure what my family
has planned.”

Emmeline forbade
disappointment to show on her face. “Well,” she encouraged, “if you find you
have time, feel free to come over. Bring your family, if you wish. We always
have plenty of food.”

Beside her,
Geoff patted his stomach, winking at Grace. “Yes, indeed. I usually gain
several pounds on Christmas Day alone.”

“Speaking of
which,” Emmeline added, “I have a roast in the oven that I have to take out.
But if you do decide to come,” she said to Grace, hoping she wasn’t trying too
hard, “we’ll have dinner around three or so. And we’d love to have you.”

Grace nodded in
a noncommittal way and wouldn’t meet Emmeline’s eyes. Emmeline’s heart sank.
She’s
not coming. Why, Lord? Why, when I so long to reach out to her?

Geoff spoke up,
turning his friendly smile to Grace. “Do you have a ride home, Grace? We could
bring you if-”

“No,” Grace
interrupted him, then explained, “I walked here. It’s only a short way to my
house. But thanks. I should get going.”

Emmeline noticed
that Grace’s serious eyes turned here and there, as if looking for someone.
Paulie,
Emmeline knew.

And who should
come trotting down the church steps, nudging the crowds aside, but the young
man himself? Emmeline held back a grin as Paulie bounded up to them. “Grace!”
he exclaimed. “Am I glad that I caught you!”

Grace looked
quizzically at him.

“I have a
Christmas gift for you,” Paulie stated. “Hang on a second. It’s in Dad’s car.
I’ll be right back.” He jogged away a few steps, then turned. “Stay right
there, huh?”

Grace nodded,
and Emmeline watched the red creep up her neck and the anticipation build in
her eyes.

Less than a
minute passed before Paulie ran up again, his scarf flying in the light wind.
He clutched a small square package, only a couple of inches high and wide. A
jewelry box; Emmeline was almost certain of that. Good.

“Merry
Christmas, Grace,” Paulie declared, his breath puffing out like steam rising
off hot cocoa. “This is for you.” He offered her the present wrapped in silver
paper; a neat red bow crowned the top.

Grace seemed
unsure about whether to take it or not. Several seconds passed before she opened
her hands to receive the package, and even then, she didn’t unwrap it.
“Thanks,” she said at last. “I… I didn’t get you anything,” she added.

Paulie laughed
outright. “I don’t care about that, Grace. I hope you have a really nice
Christmas.”

In one of his
flashes of impetuosity, Paulie pulled Grace into a quick hug. Emmeline
thought
that she heard him say softly in Grace’s ear, “You look swell in that green
dress, too, Grace.”

She was
certain
that she’d heard it when she saw the girl’s embarrassed, happy face after
Paulie dashed away.

I
’ll wait until
Christmas morning to open it.
Grace bit her lip in anticipation. She
gave one more stroke of her finger to the silver wrapping paper and whisked out
of her bedroom.

A hymn she’d
heard at First Baptist’s service hummed in her throat as Grace tripped gaily
down the stairs.
I haven’t felt so happy in years.
It wasn’t just
receiving the Christmas present from Paulie – though, of course, that was grand
– but also the feeling of acceptance the Kinners offered her… as if they really
believed that she was worth something, as if they really wanted her company.
As
if they really care.

She’d decided to
make sugar cookies, like Mrs. Kinner did. Surely, on Christmas Eve, they could
spare a little butter and sugar for cookies! Especially if Aunt Mary brought
Evelyn to visit Mama.

Maybe I could
make icing, too!

Grace had just
begun measuring out her ingredients – sugar, flour, butter, eggs, baking soda,
vanilla – when she heard the back door open behind her. A cringe spread up her
spine.

Papa.

She stiffened
but kept measuring her ingredients out. Most likely, he would simply ignore her;
he usually operated like that now.
Who knows where he’ll go for Christmas?
Or if he’ll suddenly expect Mama to throw a big Christmas dinner and act like
we’re a happy family?

She jumped when
a rough hand clapped over her eyes. “Guess who?” asked a familiar deep voice.

It couldn’t be…
“Ben!” Grace gasped, wrenching away from the hand and swirling around to meet
her brother’s teasing gaze. “You came home for Christmas!”

She fell into
his fierce bear-hug, breathing in the well-loved scent of horses, sweat, and
cheap cologne. “I can’t believe it!” The tears rose to her eyes, bubbling over
and obscuring her vision. She wiped them away with hasty fingers; she wanted to
see as much of Ben as she could while he was home.

“Hey, canary,
why’re you crying?” Ben held Grace back to look into her eyes. “Things that bad
here?” He hugged her to himself again without waiting for her answer. “Where’s
Evelyn?”

Grace gripped
Ben in one final embrace, gathering strength from his solid muscular frame.
Then she pushed back. “A lot has happened since you’ve been gone, Ben,” she
started. “Here, sit down. Mama’s napping. I’m baking cookies.”

Ben whistled
softly. “Cookies? My little canary-bird’s baking cookies?” He gave her a wink.
“Guess I
will
sit down then.”

S
arah could
hardly believe it.
Benny… My darling, sweet Benny!

Wiping the blur
of sleep from her eyes, Sarah rushed across the floor toward her firstborn. Ben
met her halfway, taking her into his strong, grown-man arms.
So like Charlie
when he was young…

She felt Ben’s
tough, thick fingers run over her graying hair as she rested her head again her
son’s hard chest. He stank of that rotten racing-stable, but what did Sarah
care? Her son was home for Christmas!

“You can’t stay
here,” Sarah said after a long moment of silent joy. “Your papa, he hasn’t
forgotten.”

She glanced up
to see Ben clench his jaw but give her a smile, too. “Yeah, I know, Mama. I’m
sleeping at Red’s house. They got a spare bed. Don’t worry about it. Okay?”

“Okay,” Sarah
agreed. “How’d you get here?”

“Hitched a ride
with a guy going to Providence,” Ben replied, shrugging. “I’ll get back the
same way.”

“Still working
at the track?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah, Mama.”

Watching Grace as
she cut out the sugar cookies with a clean empty can, Sarah bit her lip. “We
ain’t got no tree this year, Benny,” she said apologetically. “I… I just didn’t
feel up to it.”

The slight
sadness that crossed Ben’s face brought a pang to Sarah’s heart. “Don’t worry
about it, Mama,” he assured her. “Who needs a tree when we got sugar cookies?”

“And hot cocoa,”
Grace added, her face beaming as she placed the dough rounds on the rectangular
cookie sheet.

“And,” said Ben,
getting up from where he’d sat down at the table, “we’ve got the best little
mama in all of Chetham, right, Grace?”

Sarah rolled her
eyes, and before she knew what was happening, Ben had swept her into his arms
and began jigging around the kitchen with her, loudly humming a jazzy tune.
Their shoes clomped on the wooden floor as Ben swung her around.

For the first
time in months, Sarah felt laughter pulse from her heart and out of her throat.
Feebly, she pulled away, but Ben would have none of it. They passed the radio,
where he paused, keeping a firm grip on her, lest she escape from his arms.

“Let’s have a
little
real
music,” Ben proposed, switching on the knob.

The radio
crackled and poured out a rendition of “Jingle Bells.” No wonder; it was
Christmas Eve. Ben swiveled round and round the kitchen in time to the music,
dragging Sarah along with him.

At last, the
song finished, Ben allowed Sarah to drop breathlessly into a seat at the table.
She looked up and saw Grace’s delighted yet shocked eyes on her.
We haven’t
danced in this house for years,
Sarah realized as the next song streamed
through the radio and filled the room:

O Little Town of
Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie!

Above thy deep
and dreamless sleep, the silent stars go by.

Something about
the Christmas hymn’s simple melody struck a deep place in Sarah’s heart. The
radio minister’s words from a few days ago reverberated through her mind:
This
peace is found in the manger of Bethlehem where the little child lies asleep…

Resting her hand
on her own growing belly, Sarah looked at Grace and Ben, curious to see if the
song had affected them in a similar fashion. But no, it seemed not; Ben sat
teasing Grace and sipping a mug of cocoa, while flushed Grace pushed pans of
cookies into the hot oven.

Suddenly, an
idea nudged its way into Sarah’s thinking. Without a word, she went to her
bedroom and gathered her coat and pocketbook, checking to make sure that she
had a little change.

“Where you
going, Mama?” Ben asked when she returned to the kitchen.

Feeling a bit
shy – whoever knew why – Sarah just shook her head. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

She would let it
be a surprise.

H
arold Quincy was
ready to close up the shop. Sarah could tell from his loud sigh when she
stepped into his tiny five-and-dime store on the corner of Main Street and
Trellis Avenue. The doorbell rang above her head, announcing her entrance,
though Harold had already seen her.

“Evening, Mrs.
Picoletti,” Harold greeted her in his crisp baritone. He didn’t smile.

He knows a cheap
customer when he sees one.

“Evening,
Harold,” Sarah answered. She could remember Harold from back when, as a kid, he
went frogging with her brothers. “You don’t close ‘til five o’clock, right?”
She glanced up at the prominently-displayed clock ticking above the cash
register. The hands read quarter-to-four.

“Usually, no.
But it’s Christmas Eve. Gotta get home early tonight, you know,” Harold
replied, scratching with a pencil on some receipts.

“I’ll just be a
minute. I already know what I want.” Hoping that no one had bought her intended
purchase, Sarah traveled down the tightly-stocked aisles full of trinkets,
necessities, and little gifts of every kind, from miniature china dolls to
pocketknives.

There it was.
Just where she had seen it on her shopping trip last week. Carefully, she
picked it up and brought it to the front of the store. She laid it down on the
heavily-nicked wooden counter.

Harold looked up
from his receipts. “Done already?” he said, raising his bushy black eyebrows in
surprise.

Sarah couldn’t
keep the small smile from her lips. “Yes.”

Removing the
ticket, Harold held out his hand. “That will be one dollar and five cents,
please.”

The extravagance
of such a purchase nearly stopped her, but Sarah refused to give way to
prudence this once. She placed the five dimes, seven nickels, and twenty
pennies into Harold’s hand and snapped her purse shut. “Wrap it up good for me,
please. Don’t want it to break or nothing.”

A few minutes
later, Sarah stepped onto the curb just as the street lights began to glow. Her
chest lifted in a happy sigh, and she clutched her small package close to her plump
body, trudging through the snow toward home with a lightened heart.