Part 9 (2/2)

I frowned at him.

”I meant it as a compliment. Do you remember the first time I took you and William to the copper pit and you called the tailings of the copper process 'redemptive'?”

”Yes. I also recall that you looked at me as if you thought I was peculiar.”

”It was a peculiar comment, but I did find it intriguing. I've thought about it since.”

”Now you're teasing me.”

”I mean it. Not many could find something theological about copper waste.”

”I just think it's interesting that in G.o.d's economy, nothing is wasted. Sometimes, I think my life is like copper tailings. I hope it is, anyway.”

Robert seemed pensive after that. We finished our meal and as we walked back out to the car, I asked what I'd been wis.h.i.+ng for all afternoon. ”Let me drive on the way home?”

He looked apprehensive but held the keys out to me. ”But I just love this car,” he said.

”Oh, Robert, you of all people know you shouldn't love inanimate objects. For heaven's sake, you're a minister,” I scolded, as I pried the keys out of his tightly gripped hand. With a twinge of horror, I realized I just sounded exactly like Miss Gordon.

He still looked worried. ”Please remember that they don't make Hudsons any more.”

”Why not?” I jumped in to the driver's seat before he could object.

He helped William climb in the back. Then he slid into the pa.s.senger seat next to me. ”Because of the war. Every resource has been diverted to support the war effort. They're not making any new cars.” He turned back at William, pointed to me, made a steering motion with his hands, and then grimaced. ”Hold on tight, William. Louisa is behind the wheel.”

William laughed out loud.

I scowled at him. ”That is not a message of confidence building. And stop looking so worried. You're making me nervous, too.”

After I had trouble s.h.i.+fting the car from first to second gear, he only let me drive the highway section in fourth gear. He even made me put it in neutral rather than downs.h.i.+ft as I pulled over on the highway to switch seats. And he held on to the door handle the entire time, as if gripping it for dear life.

After we switched places, he said, ”Not too bad, Louisa, but remind me to get my gears checked out this week in case you stripped them.”

That evening, Miss Gordon had one of her headaches and retired to her room early, so I tucked William in to bed and went downstairs to clean up the dinner dishes in the kitchen. I turned on the radio to hear the latest news at the top of the hour.

I was happily humming to myself as I rinsed the last dish, until I heard the a reporter say, with enthusiasm, ”Today, November 18, 1943, the British Royal Air Force conducted a successful air raid over the city of Berlin.”

Suddenly, in my mind, sprang up images of that beautiful city being bombed, a city I had grown up in and knew intimately. I thought of the house in which I had been raised, the school I attended, the practice room in University where I had played the piano hour after hour. I thought of my friends and neighbors-Deidre, my best friend from school, the Bonhoeffers. Then I thought of my parents' bodies, buried next to each other in the cemetery near our Lutheran church.

The images actually caused a physical reaction and made me feel as if I might faint. I grasped the sides of the counter for support.

Robert had been reading in the parlor and heard the news report on the radio. He came in to the kitchen, clicked off the radio, and held me close to him, wordlessly.

Chapter Seven.

As the months pa.s.sed, I felt more comfortable living in the Gordon household, except for one topic that was verboten. Off-limits. A topic I had b.u.mped into a couple of times and had stepped quickly back as if I touched a hot stove.

William's mother.

I knew she had been raised in Copper Springs, but no one ever mentioned her name. I couldn't find out who her parents might have been; I didn't even know her maiden name. If Mrs. Drummond had lived longer, I think she would have told me the full story about the mystifying Mrs. Gordon. Robert and his aunt certainly had no plans to inform me. Even Rosita, who kept nothing to herself, was close-mouthed. I tried to hint to her once about William's mother, but she only shook her head and said, ”oh, such a pity.”

What? What was such a pity? What had happened to this woman?

One afternoon, I crawled up in the tree house to find William. Miss Gordon wanted him to come inside to clean up for dinner. ”I hope you appreciate this, William, because I'm afraid of heights.” I swung my legs over the ladder and sat down beside him.

William had a box of his mother's belongings from the tool shed. He was looking through the box and held up a wedding picture of his parents. They looked young and happy and hopeful. Even Robert's eyes looked different. Now, his eyes carried a trace of pain.

”Dad? Box?” I asked, trying to keep my words as simple as possible, patting on the box so he would know to what I was referring.

He nodded.

Robert impressed me. I knew it was not easy for him to share this box with William.

Then came a shock. William said, in sounds that I was starting to comprehend but doubted anyone else could have, ”go. Man.”

'Go. Man.' What could that mean?

I asked William to repeat himself. Patiently, he did. Again and again.

'Go. Man.' Could that mean what it sounded like? Was it possible that she had left with another man? I hoped it wasn't true. What kind of a woman could abandon her husband and child? William deserved better. And Robert? He was so proud; I knew he would never want anyone to pity him, but I felt so sorry for him. It was a horrifying thought-a minister whose wife ran away.

Later that evening, Robert asked me to play a game of chess. ”Tonight, Louisa, I think I am going to beat you.” Indeed, it was taking me longer to checkmate him. I was reluctant to break the lighthearted mood he was in, but it was seldom that we had time alone together without Miss Gordon, who was now at choir practice, hovering nearby.

”William told me two words about his mother today.” I waited to see his reaction. ”I didn't ask him; he just volunteered it,” I rushed to add. I expected to see the familiar stiffening of his back to let me know I had crossed an invisible line.

Tonight, though, he surprised me, looking at me with keen interest. ”What did he say?”

I told him the two words William had said to me.

He leaned back in the davenport and crossed his arms against his chest. ”I wasn't sure how much William remembered about her. He was such a little guy when she left.” He was quiet for a long moment.

There was so much I wanted to ask him, but I knew I had to go slow. He would shut down if I asked too many questions. I watched him select his words with care. Then he took a deep breath and looked up at me.

”Her name was Ruth. She grew up in Copper Springs, as did I. But she had big dreams and wanted a more exciting life than being the wife of a country parson. I believed my life belonged here. I still do. I knew she was unhappy; I thought after William was born she would feel more settled, but motherhood made her feel even more trapped. Especially with William's handicap.”

I remembered reading a magazine article once that described how some animals would reject their young, most common among caged animals. Scientists could not explain why; it seemed appalling and unnatural. Just like Ruth.

”She left one day. I got home from work and found William asleep in the tree house. Her wedding ring was on my pillow. No note. William and I, well, we were both in pretty bad shape. After that, I invited Aunt Martha to come live with us. I really needed her help, caring for William, keeping the household intact.”

I listened carefully, hoping he might say more. He didn't, so I finally asked a question I had wondered about for months. ”Robert, did William make any sounds before his mother left?”

”Yes, some. As a baby and a toddler, he cried. Cried quite a lot, actually. He laughed some. After she left, though, not a sound. Until Dog showed up, anyway,” he said with a half-smile.

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