Tales from Grace Chapel Inn Page 2

  “Hello, Lloyd, Samuel. Jane and I are reporting for duty. Put us to work,” Alice said.

  The men looked up and smiled. “Great!” Samuel said. “You can brush the dirt off those old boards, then we'll have some painting to do.” He looked at Jane for a moment. “You know, you could really help with Caleb if you'd like, so Rose can come out for awhile.” Caleb was the Bellwoods' new baby, whom Jane had seen at church several times. “She wanted to come out, but he's sleeping.”

  “Oh yes, I'd love that. Thanks!” Jane ran to the car and got her school pack, then ran into the house. Jane loved babies. They were so cute and squishy. She tapped on the door, then opened it and walked in, knowing it would be all right. She almost let it slam shut, then remembered the baby was sleeping and put out her foot to keep it from banging. It was warm and moist inside, and she could smell the rich, yeasty scent of something good from the kitchen. She tiptoed in that direction and saw Rose by the sink.

  “Hi, Rose,” she said in a hushed voice. “I'm here to watch Caleb so you can go outside. Samuel sent me.”

  Rose turned, and a full smile broke out on her face. “Jane! I'm glad you could come. And that's sweet of you.” She took off her apron. “Your timing is perfect. I just took bread out of the oven. I bet you're hungry. Would you like a piece?”

  “Oh yes. Thank you.”

  Steam puffed out as Rose cut a generous slice. She slathered it with fresh churned butter that melted as she spread it and topped it with homemade strawberry jam. She poured a glass of milk to go with the slice and handed them to Jane.

  “Caleb is asleep, but he might wake up before too long. There's a diaper and powder on the table. Can you change him all right?”

  “Sure. I've done it in the nursery at church.” Jane didn't add that she'd had help. Surely she could handle it.

  “All right. Yell for me if you need me.” Rose put a log in the wood stove so Jane wouldn't need to tend it. She put on a coat and stocking hat and went out through the kitchen door.

  Jane gobbled down the bread, then pulled a Nancy Drew book out of her backpack and curled up in an overstuffed chair next to Caleb's cradle.

  She'd never noticed how a baby could snore. It was not a loud sound like her father made, but a soft, gentle sighing sound. It reminded Jane of their cat when she purred. Contented. A lovely sound. Distracting at first, but sweet.

  The story drew Jane in, and the baby's breathing faded until she didn't hear it anymore. Just as Nancy Drew was escaping out a window, Caleb let out a cry. Jane nearly jumped, then laughed at herself. She wasn't used to babies. She set the book down and leaned over the cradle.

  “What's the matter, Caleb?”

  He blinked and turned his head toward the sound. His little fist jerked in the air. He inhaled a shaky breath, then let out a wail.

  “Hey Caleb, don't cry. I'm here.” Jane picked him up and held him against her shoulder, patting him on the back. He let out a big, wet burp.

  “Oh my.” Jane grabbed the burp cloth that was draped over the end of the cradle and dabbed at his mouth and her shoulder, then tossed the cloth over her shoulder and tucked it under his chest. “There. That should take care of it,” she said, looking down at the baby. He looked back with big brown eyes like his mother's. Then he smiled. Jane smiled back. “You're such a pretty boy.” His head bobbed like he was agreeing, but Jane knew he was unsteady. After all, he was only three months old.

  She laid him on the top of a side dresser that Rose had covered with a blanket to make a changing table. A stack of neatly folded diapers was set on the side. Jane unsnapped the one-piece terry cloth footed pajamas and pulled his little feet out, tickling them and clapping them together to make him laugh. He cooed and let out a gurgling giggle that delighted her. Then his feet and hands started pumping the air and he made little grunting sounds.

  “Okay, hold still.” She pulled off the one-piece plastic diaper cover, then undid the large diaper pins. Getting it all off was easy. Getting it back on proved a bit harder. He kept wiggling. She put her fingers between the new diaper and his skin, like Mrs. Simpson had shown her in the church nursery. The pins didn't want to go through and she was afraid to push too hard. She didn't want to poke the baby. She worked the tip of the pin until it finally slid through the multiple layers of diaper. As she leaned over him, concentrating on pulling the diaper tight and sticking the other pin through, Caleb reached up and grabbed her hair.

  “Ouch. You're so strong,” she said. Just then the pin pushed through and jabbed her finger. “Ee-ouch!”

  At her yell, Caleb's face scrunched up and he started crying. “Oh no, don't cry. It's all right,” she said, but he didn't stop. She finished pinning and pulled her hand out. Her finger had a bright red spot on it. She dabbed it on the outside of the diaper, then hoped Rose wouldn't think it was the baby's blood. She managed to get his rubber pants on and tucked his feet back into his pajamas.

  “There, there,” she said, picking him up and lifting him to her shoulder, patting his back. He finally stopped crying.

  “Much better.” Jane carried him over to the window, where they could look out. It was darker now, but the light illuminated the workers by the barn. Samuel had built a fire in an old metal barrel. Sparks were dancing in the air. She could hear laughter.

  “You want to go see what your mommy and daddy are doing?” Jane asked Caleb. He gurgled. She laughed. “Sure you do. Let's see if we can find you something warm to wrap you up in.”

  In the dresser drawer, she found a knitted one-piece suit with a hood and feet and hand covers. She bundled Caleb into it. With the hood up, all she could see was his face. She wrapped him in a blanket and placed him in his buggy, which was parked on the enclosed back porch.

  “Okay, let's go see what the big people are doing.” Jane put on her coat and gloves, then pushed the buggy out the door and across the yard.

  “Well, look who we have here,” Samuel said. He came over to the buggy and peered in. Caleb started cooing. Samuel brushed off his hands and reached in, pulling his son out and lifting him up to his shoulder. His hands were so big they nearly encompassed the baby. “Hey buddy, did you come to help us build this contraption?” Samuel said in his deep voice. He chuckled when Caleb bobbed his head and drooled all over his father's shoulder.

  “I guess he isn't too keen on your idea,” Lloyd said, chuckling.

  “Guess not.” Samuel grinned and handed Caleb to Rose, who reached out for him.

  “I bet he's hungry. I'll go inside and feed him.”

  “I changed him, so he's dry,” Jane said.

  “Great. Thank you, Jane.” Rose took Caleb and carried him inside, leaving the buggy outside. Jane was struck by how large he looked on his mother's shoulder. When Samuel held him, he looked tiny. But Rose was petite and Samuel was a giant.

  Jane turned to Samuel. “Can I help?”

  “We're finishing up for the night. It's getting too dark to work. You can help us move everything into the barn. We'll work again Saturday afternoon.”

  “Can we come back, Alice?”

  “We'll see. I need to help with the flowers at the chapel. Then if Father doesn't need us, perhaps we can come.”

  “Okay.” Jane picked up a board and carried it into the barn and stacked it with the others Lloyd had stashed inside an empty stall. In the next stall, a litter of kittens made tiny mewling sounds. The mama cat was gone. “Can I go see the kittens?” Jane asked.

  “Yes. They're two weeks old. Their eyes are just opened. They can't really see, but you can pick them up if you're very gentle,” Samuel said.

  “I will be,” Jane said, opening the stall gate and going inside. Five kittens were in a box that was nestled in the hay. Jane picked up a tan and white kitten. Cradling it in the palm of her hand, she held it up close to her face. “Aren't you a cutie. So soft. You remind me of the fur muff that belonged to my grandma. I'm going to call you Muffy.” She nuzzled the tiny kitten. It stared at her. Samuel said it couldn't
see her, but it seemed to be looking right into her eyes.

  The mama cat jumped into the box and let out a meow, letting Jane know she missed her baby. “Hello, Bella,” Jane said, setting the kitten in the box and scratching the mama's head. She'd spent many afternoons holding and petting the gray and white cat.

  Bella blinked her eyes, then started bathing the kitten with her tongue, ignoring Jane.

  “Don't feel bad,” Samuel said. “She ignores all of us now that she has babies.”

  “Oh, it's all right. I don't blame her.” Jane looked around. Puddin', the black-and-white milk cow, was eating her dinner of hay and grain in one stall. Their yearling donkey was rubbing his head against the rails in another stall. Jane went over and climbed the rail gate and reached to scratch his head. He came over and nearly knocked her off her perch.

  Jane laughed. “Whoa. Easy, Pesky. There. Does that feel good?” she asked, rubbing around his ears. He kept pushing against her hands.

  Samuel dropped a couple of flakes of hay into his stall. Pesky turned away and started munching the hay.

  “Samuel, can I be a shepherd in the nativity?”

  “Well..” Samuel leaned on his pitchfork and scratched his chin. “You'd make a good shepherd, but I had something else in mind. Something only you could do.”

  Jane's shoulders slumped. She wanted to be with the animals. She was good with them. “Oh.” She peered up at him, her eyes imploring him to change his mind.

  “I was hoping you could be the angel who announces the baby Jesus. The angel is going to stand way up in the hayloft, so we need someone agile enough to go up in the barn loft, who isn't afraid of heights, and who can recite the angel's lines. I think you'd be perfect.”

  She could see that he thought she'd be pleased by the offer. And most of the girls her age probably would consider it the best part, since you probably got to wear a fancy costume. But it sounded boring to Jane. She would much rather be playing with the animals on the ground.

  Still, she couldn't turn down Samuel. He was always so nice to her. And when she thought about it, she couldn't imagine anyone else going up to the loft to be the angel. Alice always compared Jane to a monkey because of her tree-climbing skills. And Jane had to admit, she was pretty agile.

  “Sure. I'll be happy to be the angel,” she said, and gave Samuel a smile, although she was not thrilled. An angel. Alice would laugh about that.

  Samuel smiled and looked relieved. “Let's go inside and see if Rose has some hot chocolate made.”

  “Oh yeah!”

  Samuel carried the pitchfork to a peg by the big sliding barn door and hung it up. Jane followed him. They went out and Samuel slid the big door shut. He handled it like it was lightweight, but Jane knew better. It was a huge door with wheels at the top that ran along a rail. Jane could barely make it budge. Once it started rolling, it closed all right, though.

  Alice and Lloyd were already in the kitchen sipping big mugs of hot chocolate and eating oatmeal raisin cookies.

  “Rose is putting the baby down upstairs,” Alice said. “The cocoa should still be hot.”

  Samuel got two mugs and filled one for Jane. He went to the refrigerator and took out a bowl of whipped cream. “You do want cream on yours, don't you?”

  “Of course! Thanks.” Jane sat at the table and took a cookie. She took a big sip of the cocoa that Samuel set in front of her. She licked the whipped cream mustache from her upper lip. “Mmm. Good. Guess what, Alice? I'm going to be the angel in the nativity.”

  “That's wonderful.” She looked at Samuel, then back at her. “You're perfect for the part.”

  “Really? You think so?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Jane nodded and took a big sip of her cocoa. If Alice thought she could do it, then it would be all right.

  “Ouch!” Jane tried to jerk her head away. That was a mistake. It hurt even worse.

  “Sorry. But don't pull.” Alice eased her grip on Jane's hair. “I'm almost finished.” Alice wrapped a rubber band around Jane's pigtail. “There. Do you want ribbons?”

  “No. I'm too big for ribbons. And do I have to wear a skirt?”

  “Yes. I'm not wild about it either, but Florence—Mrs. Simpson—is very particular.”

  Jane scrunched her nose. “Do we have to go? I don't even like to do crafts.”

  “She's part of the church. As the pastor's daughters, we have a responsibility to support and encourage all the members.”

  “She doesn't–” Jane stopped short, remembering her father's reproach to her the day before when she complained about a teacher. “He that shutteth his lips is esteemed a man of understanding” (Proverbs 17:28, kjv). It was a verse their father quoted often. Alice had explained that verse to her many years ago. If you can't say something nice about someone, don't say anything at all. Their father would not allow gossip or unkind words. He rarely punished Jane, but his disapproval hurt her far more than if he would send her to her room or make her miss dessert.

  “Mrs. Simpson is doing this as a treat for the ladies of the church. And she specifically invited you to attend with me.”

  “But you don't do crafts either, Alice.”

  “I might make a gift for Aunt Ethel or Louise,” Alice said. “Maybe you can make one too. And I'm sure Florence will serve lots of Christmas cookies. She was busy baking last week.”

  Jane sighed. “All right. We don't have to stay very long, do we?”

  Alice pulled the brush through Jane's hair. “Not too long. Ready?”

  “I guess. What's that?”

  Alice had picked up a paper bag. “We're supposed to take craft supplies to share. I had no idea what to take. I ran into Clarissa Cottrell at the General Store. She does lots of crafts, and she helped me pick out some materials. We need to take scissors too.”

  “Oh. What can we make with this stuff?” Jane asked, peering into the bag.

  “I'm not sure.” Alice started toward the door, gesturing for Jane to follow her. “But Clarissa said she will be there, so she can show us. Put on your coat.”

  Jane did as she was told, though she moved slowly.

  “Good-bye, Father. We'll be back in time to prepare dinner,” Alice said as they passed their father's study. He was working on his sermon for Sunday.

  “Have a nice time,” he said, glancing at them over his glasses.

  Jane went into the study and gave him a hug and a kiss. He gave her a hug and a peck on her cheek. Jane adored her quiet, studious father. He never raised his voice at her, even though she knew she was sometimes overly enthusiastic. She'd overheard Florence Simpson tell several ladies at church that someone should tell Rev. Howard that his youngest daughter needed discipline and boundaries. The ladies didn't know she was outside the door, and she'd snuck away.

  That conversation had bothered her for days. She never told her sister or her father, but she had avoided Mrs. Simpson and the other ladies after that, afraid she would slip up. She never meant to cause trouble. But sometimes it just happened. The thought of going to the Simpson's house made her nervous. She supposed she'd have to face Mrs. Simpson eventually. She would try to be on her best behavior. After all, as one of the ladies had pointed out, her behavior reflected on her father and his ministry. She did not want to disappoint her father or cause anyone to think less of him because of her.

  “Jane.”

  Jane heard the loud whisper and looked over at the formal living room of the Simpson home. It was a grand home, larger than the Howard home, which was a substantial Victorian. The Simpsons lived in a brick mansion filled with beautiful paintings in heavy, gilded frames and delicate statues and china. Jane was almost afraid to move because she might accidentally bump into something and break it. Tables were set up in the room and Jane recognized the ladies who were chatting and drinking tea, but no one was looking at her.

  “Your coat, please.” Ronald Simpson, Florence's husband, was playing butler for his wife's party. He held a wooden hanger in one hand an
d reached out for her coat with the other.

  “Oh. Thank you.” As she removed her coat and handed it to him, she heard her name again.

  “Jane. Over here.”

  She turned and smiled with relief when she saw her school friend Doreen waving to her from a table in the parlor across from the living room. At least she wasn't the only girl there. And there was an empty seat next to her.

  “Alice, can we go in the parlor?”

  Alice looked in that direction. “I told Clarissa—oh, she's in there too. Certainly.” Alice gave Ronald her coat and they went into the parlor. Clarissa Cottrell was at the same table with Doreen and her mother. There were two empty chairs, so Alice sat next to Clarissa, and Jane sat next to her friend Doreen. The tables were neatly covered with butcher paper.

  “I was starting to worry,” Doreen whispered, leaning close to Jane. “I only came because I heard you were coming.”

  “I was afraid I'd be the only girl here,” Jane whispered back.

  “Welcome to my home, ladies,” Florence said from the hallway, facing the living room, then turning to the parlor. “I'm so glad you could come. I've arranged the dining room for all the craft supplies, so if you will bring your offerings, I'll explain more in that room. Leave your scissors and other tools at your place.” She turned and walked down the hall.

  They had just sat down, but everyone got up from their seats and followed her down the hall, as instructed. About twenty ladies crowded around the large dining room table. Jane and Doreen were at the back. They stood on tiptoes, trying to see, but they were just too short.