Her Patchwork Family

“Maybe I should come over and impress on him why he shouldn’t run away.”

Looking at him sideways, she glimpsed his face, which had turned a dull red. Perhaps he was regretting causing her embarrassment.

Felicity pulled together her composure. “I thank thee but I think that he has decided to stay with me for the duration.”

“I hope so.”

“I do, too.” Felicity withdrew her hand. “Thank thee, Tyrone Hawkins. I am glad I met thy mother and thy sweet daughter. Thee has been blessed.”

His face contorted with some unspoken pain, then he bowed. “Good evening.”

Felicity started off toward home, feeling his gaze on her back. Behind her, Camie cried out with shrill panic from an open window in the judge’s house. Felicity halted in midstep, her heart fluttering wildly. She forced herself to go forward. She had come here suspecting that there was a need, but she’d had no idea how deep, how grave a need. Heavenly Father, what is amiss in that house?

Ty walked back into the house. Dread settled over him again like a shroud. The Quaker’s visit had been equally beneficial and upsetting. It had done Camie good yet highlighted how cruelly broken his family remained. His mother must have taken Camie upstairs to get ready for bed. The nightly ordeal had begun. Now Camie’s cries were most likely heard all down the block. The Quaker had heard them—as she walked away. He’d noted her stiffening. What did the neighbors think? Did they think that he was abusing his little girl?

He stopped beside the stairs in the foyer and clutched the finial on the bottom railing. His emotions churned, threatening to spill over. He pressed his mouth to his fist. He’d go up if that would help, but his presence only made it worse.

He recalled his amazement when watching Camie go to Felicity and ask to sit in her lap. What did this Quaker have that drew hurt children to her?

Drew him to her?

He shook off this thought. Nonsense.

Now he regretted letting Felicity know that he had seen her outside in nightdress, no doubt chasing Tucker Stout. She was quite an unusual woman, willing to be caught in dishabille in order to help a child. And she was able to draw Camie in a way no other person had in his memory. Maybe it would do Camie good to pay a visit to the little girl at Miss Gabriel’s children’s home. Camie screamed again, a serrated blade through his soul. Something had to be done. The situation had become unbearable—for all of them.

After putting Katy and Donnie to bed with a story and a prayer for the night, Felicity walked out to the back porch. She couldn’t go to sleep with her nerves tangled and snared by unanswered questions about all she had observed and felt at the Hawkins’ home. In any event, she couldn’t stay within walls in the heavy summery heat. Barefoot, gloveless and hatless at last, she enjoyed the feel of the smooth hardwood under her soles and the air on her skin. She found Vista watching the sun, a molten ball of gold, lowering behind the maple trees along the alley. Vista sat fanning herself and holding a locket that hung around her neck.

Felicity hadn’t noticed the locket before. She hesitated to intrude on Vista’s privacy. Finally, she murmured, “May I speak with thee?”

Vista looked up, startled, and slipped the locket back out of sight. She studied Felicity and then nodded.

Felicity sat down on the wooden loveseat, leaning forward with her hands planted just behind her. She stared out at the sunset and wondered about the locket Vista felt the need to hide.

Felicity took herself fully in hand. “Of all things, I abhor gossip. But sometimes information is necessary. I would not want to say or do anything out of ignorance that might cause hurt or harm. Will thee give me some information?”

Vista made no response. Felicity waited, images of the sad little girl niggling her. Finally, Vista said, “Go ahead.”

“This evening I went to thank Tyrone Hawkins—”

“You mean Judge Hawkins?”

“Yes, the judge. Friends don’t use titles. We think they separate people and feed pride.”

“More than titles separate people around here.”

Felicity thought this over, Mrs. Thornton Crandall’s anger-twisted face coming to mind. “I was disturbed by my visit at the judge’s home.” More than disturbed. She pursed her lips. “Something is very wrong there. The little girl…”

Felicity couldn’t go on, couldn’t divulge the distress she’d witnessed. Her throat dammed up. Cicadas and a carriage going down the street alone broke the silence of evening.

“There is trouble in that house.” Vista’s voice was solemn. “That stuck-up Mrs. Crandall is Camie’s grandmother. Camie lost her mother and Mrs. Crandall took care of that child till the judge came home from war.”

Felicity waited for more, but none came. “I thank thee.” She certainly would not have to worry about Vista gossiping about matters at the children’s home.

Felicity rose and went into the house. Poor Camie had fallen into the hands of Mrs. Crandall. And had Camie’s mother taken after her own mother? Poor Camie. Lord, show me if Thee wants me to help this child and show me how. Please.

In midmorning two days later, even though her feet itched to walk off her lingering restlessness, Felicity ventured into town in the old carriage. In an act of faith, she had purchased new clothing for more orphans. Now she set out to find more children to wear those clothes. Flashes of memory—Camie’s wan face, her alarming outcries, the judge’s grim expression—circled in her mind like a train on a track.

With his drooping gray mustache and matching eyes, the groom let her down near the hectic wharf. “Miss Gabriel, you shouldn’t be down here by yourself. I should stay with you.”

This restriction of her freedom of movement chafed Felicity. Still, she smiled up at the man’s lined face. “I will not be alone. I always try to tread as close as I can to the Lord. Thee need not come back. I will walk home—”

“No, you won’t,” the man said, huffing. “Mrs. Barney wouldn’t like that at all, miss. Not at all. In an hour, I will drive back into town and wait for you by the post office over yonder.”

Felicity shook her head. “Very well, Abel Yawkey. I will do as thee wishes.” For now. “At the post office in an hour.” She consulted the watch pendant that was pinned to her collar.

She turned and headed down the less than clean streets near the wharf. The Mississippi River was the major trade route, transporting goods from the center of the nation down to the Gulf and thence to the world. She threaded her way through the steady stream of people going to and from the barges, but the loud voices and sounds of river traffic did nothing to cheer her. Camie’s cries for help echoed in her mind.

And the judge’s pain-lined face would not leave her.

Felicity walked and walked but did not see any children like the ones she had already taken home. Wondering if she should have come in the afternoon, she halted near where she had met Katy and Donnie on her first day in town.

“You in trouble, miss?” a deep voice asked.

She turned her head and looked into an older black man’s deeply lined face, lifted in a kind smile. “I am looking for needy children.”

“I’m Jack Toomey, Miss Gabriel. I saw you arrive in town a few days ago.”

“And thee already knows my name?” Felicity offered him her hand. She wasn’t pleased to hear that gossip had spread this far. But that wasn’t this man’s fault.

Shaking her hand, Jack matched her grin and raised it a few notches. “Yes, miss. This town isn’t as little as it was when I was a boy. But it’s still small enough that information spreads pretty quick.”

Felicity drew in a deep breath. “And what do the people of Altoona say of me?” From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the policeman who had nabbed Tucker watching her talk to Jack Toomey. What was his name?

Jack rubbed his clean-shaven chin and ignored her question. His gaze was assessing. “You be a Quaker, right?”

“Yes, I am a member of the Society of Friends.” Hogan, that was the man’s name.

“The Quakers were friends to black people who were in bondage for a long time.”

“Yes, we voted against slavery in our Pennsylvania Friend’s Assembly in 1758.” Hogan was watching her closely. Did he resent her actions to help Tucker?

“Did you know that Altoona was a stop on the Underground Railroad?”

“Yes, in fact, the house I inherited from Mildred Barney was one of those stops. There is a concealed room in the attic.”

Jack laughed. “No doubt Sister Vista told you about that. She made use of it herself.”

Felicity nodded. She filed away that bit of Vista’s history and returned to her object for the day. She gazed at the foot and horse traffic.