The Silent Gift Page 7

  “But they don’t stop you from everyday tasks? No pain or anything like that?”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  Phillip spoke from the front seat. “Ma’am, this is the hotel I was thinking of.”

  The car pulled over to the curb and stopped in front of the Lamplight Hotel. Even though the sleet had all but stopped, the place looked cold—sad and forlorn.

  “I don’t know how to thank you,” Mary said, gently moving Jack. “For the money—the ride . . .”

  “You know, I don’t think you’ll want to stay here.” Olivia peered out at the hotel.

  “Oh, Mrs. Edmunds, this is more than fine,” Mary assured her. “I had no idea where we’d be sleeping tonight. This is—”

  “I’d like to offer you a position,” Olivia put in, turning back to face Mary. “I believe we have a place for you—and for Jack—at our house. Matilda might take some convincing. . . .” Her voice trailed off, but then she smiled. “But that’s not for you to worry about.”

  Olivia was still speaking, but Mary couldn’t think past the fact that she’d just been offered a job. She wanted to shout for joy—maybe even hug the woman. But she couldn’t move. Couldn’t comprehend how this day was turning out. The offer of money—a ride—and now a job! She focused on her new employer’s words.

  “You would work Monday through Saturday,” she heard Olivia say. “Some evenings and Sundays if necessary. Does this sound acceptable to you, Mary?”

  Mary tried to refrain from laughing hysterically, tried to hold in check the tremendous relief that rolled over her. “Yes. Yes, thank you. I’ll work anytime—all the time. Whatever you need.”

  “Room and board will be included in your wages,” Olivia added.

  Does that mean we live with her? A job and a place to live!

  “And you may leave your gloves on while you work,” Olivia said. “I’ll see to it that you have several pairs.”

  Olivia eyed the battered suitcase holding all of Mary’s and Jack’s worldly belongings. “Is that it, then?” she asked. “Nothing else we need to pick up? Someone to notify?”

  Mary shook her head. “That’s it. There’s nothing . . . no one.”

  “I assume you will be able to start immediately—well, I mean after you get settled in and all?”

  Mary smiled and felt a thousand worries slip from her shoulders. “It just so happens we can, Mrs. Edmunds. How can I ever—”

  “Good,” Olivia said briskly. “Phillip, let’s go home.”

  Chapter Eight

  THEY LEFT THE LIGHTS AND BUSTLE of downtown Chicago and headed northeast toward Lake Michigan. The traffic thinned out, and from what Mary could see through the darkness, the scenery grew more rural. In the backseat of the Rolls, Mary felt as if she were dreaming, as if she were gliding, soaring effortlessly out of one difficult, sad world and into another filled with light and hope. She didn’t let herself question the events of the last hour—her confidence in the future was too tenuous, based on an offer from a virtual stranger. Is this really happening? It must be, for here we are!

  Mary tried to concentrate on the small talk from Olivia. “Mary? Did you hear me?” Olivia asked.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Edmunds—what was it?”

  “I asked if you were from Illinois.”

  “I grew up in a small town in Minnesota,” she said.

  “Any family still in Minnesota?” Olivia wondered.

  Mary shook her head. “No. No family anywhere. It’s just Jack and me.”

  Olivia shifted in her seat, adjusted her necklace. “Then you and Jack are blessed to have each other.”

  Mary smiled. “Yes, we are.” And thank you for not asking about Jack’s father. . . .

  The estate of Richard and Olivia Edmunds was impressive by anyone’s standards, but to Mary, it looked like a palace lit from the inside. At a time when most people were doing their best just to get by, the Edmundses seemed to be doing extremely well. The weather had cleared, and the inviting glow of the light from the huge windows drew Mary toward the lovely, comforting sight of the sprawling redbrick three-story colonial. The vehicle had stopped in the circle drive, edged in jade green shrubbery and lit by tall lamps. Mary helped Jack from the car as she took in the massive rectangle at the center of the structure with solariumlike breezeways extending on either side to the smaller two-story wings. A white dormer, perched like a crown on the slate roof, drew Mary’s eyes to the starry sky above. People actually live like this. . . .

  “Follow me,” Olivia invited as she moved past Mary and Jack toward the wide steps that led to a columned portico framing the large front door. It opened as if on its own accord the moment Olivia placed her foot on the top step, and they followed her inside, Mary clutching Jack’s hand.

  The massive foyer opened up to a magnificent staircase from the middle of the intricate parquet wood flooring, widening as it fanned out onto the second floor. Brass sconces on the walls sent light in all directions, and Mary followed Jack’s gaze to a twinkling crystal chandelier high above in the center of the foyer.

  Olivia walked toward a round table not far from the door and placed her pocketbook beside a large, beautiful arrangement of fresh flowers in a crystal vase. A grandfather clock chimed eight times, and Mary’s only thought at the moment was It’s perfect.

  Olivia turned to face Mary and Jack. “It’s late, and I’m sure you both are tired. We’ll get you settled quickly.” She waved them toward the stairs, talking as they went. “We have two children. Douglas is fifteen and in his first year at the Lake Forest Academy—his father’s alma mater. He’ll be home on holidays, of course.”

  A voice from behind them said, “I didn’t hear you come in, ma’am.”

  Olivia paused at the bottom of the staircase and looked past Mary. She turned to follow Olivia’s gaze to an elderly woman in the foyer behind them, gray hair set in close pin curls all over her head. A starched white apron circled her ample waist, and a pink lace handkerchief formed a triangle to peek out of a pocket on the bodice of the gray dress.

  “Matilda—there you are. You’ll be glad to hear I’ve brought reinforcements,” Olivia said cheerfully.

  Matilda arched an appraising eyebrow, and Mary watched her take in their shabby clothes, their neglected appearance.

  “Reinforcements?” Matilda repeated, turning her attention back to her employer.

  Olivia nodded as she pulled off her satin gloves. “Yes, this is—”

  “Mother, you’re never going to guess what Susie said today!” A girl bounced into the foyer and stopped short when she saw Mary and Jack. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know we had company.”

  “Not quite, dear. Mary, this is our daughter, Anna. She’s ten. . . .” Olivia drew the girl into the circle of her arm.

  Mary could quickly see the mother in the daughter’s face. Anna’s brown hair was cut into a stylish bob. Eyes wide with curiosity, she looked at both of them frankly—especially at Jack, who stared back at her without expression.

  “Anna, Matilda—this is Mary and her son, Jack. Mary is going to be helping you with your duties, Matilda,” Olivia said.

  “As live-ins?” Matilda asked.

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  Mary offered a smile in Matilda’s direction, but the older woman looked anything but happy.

  Anna leaned closer to her mother. “He’s going to live here too?”

  “Yes, darling, with Mary in the servants’ wing,” Olivia said quietly. Then to Matilda, “I think the room across from yours will work well, don’t you think?”

  Anna looked at Jack. “What grade are you in?”

  Matilda sighed. “I’ll make up the bed, then.”

  “Hey there, hello?” Anna said to Jack. “I’m in fifth grade—how about you?”

  “I can make the bed,” Mary offered. “Just show me where the sheets are—”

  “They’re called linens,” Matilda said firmly.

  Anna stood on her toes and whispered loud
ly, “Mother, he’s being rude. He won’t answer my questions.”

  “Jack is not able to hear you”—Olivia laid a hand on the girl’s shoulder—“and he can’t answer you.”

  Mary explained quietly, “He’s called a deaf-mute.”

  Anna’s eyes grew wide and she looked at Jack with a new interest. “Mute—like muting sound?”

  “Yes, that’s right. Jack doesn’t speak,” Olivia explained. “He’s . . . special.”

  “Really? You mean like a mime?” she asked, taking a step toward Jack.

  Mary started, “No, not like—”

  “Like Charlie Chaplin!” Anna exclaimed. “I love Charlie Chaplin films. Modern Times is his latest. He’s so funny when he plays the Little Tramp. Have you seen it?”

  “Um, no . . . I haven’t.”

  “Anna,” Olivia said, sounding like she was trying to curb some impatience, “it’s different for Jack. He’s not like Charlie Chaplin.”

  Anna drew her gaze up and down Jack’s worn clothes. “He sure looks like he could be Charlie—”

  “Anna!” This time her irritation with her daughter was plain. “Please apologize immediately. That was uncalled for, and you must say you are sorry.”

  Anna’s eyes flickered between Mary and Jack. “But even if I apologize, he can’t hear me,” she muttered.

  “It’s okay,” Mary put in quickly. “We do look a little . . . ragged.”

  “I didn’t mean anything by it,” Anna argued. “And I was comparing him to a character I love in the film,” she finished defensively. She looked at Jack again. “Can—you—read—my—lips?”

  “No, he is not able to do that either,” Mary said.

  “Olivia?” a man called from the other room, then materialized on the opposite side of the foyer. He was the perfect complement to Olivia, Mary decided. Just a few inches taller than his wife, he was distinguished looking—probably late forties judging by the slight graying at the temples of his auburn hair.

  “Richard, this is Mary Godwin. I’ve hired her to help Matilda,” Olivia said.

  His brow creased as he looked at Mary and Jack—then turned an expectant look on his wife. “They’re from the agency?”

  “I didn’t hire her through the . . . the usual channels,” Olivia explained.

  Richard studied the two rather forlorn-looking figures in front of him.

  “Might I have a moment, Olivia?” Richard asked. He took her arm and moved across the foyer through double glass doors. Olivia held up a finger toward Mary. “I’ll be right back. Anna, upstairs with you and get ready for bed,” she said, then followed him into a book-lined study.

  Anna wrinkled up her face in obvious annoyance but must have decided her mother was in no mood for an argument. Mary watched the girl trudge upstairs while Olivia and Richard Edmunds closed the study door behind them.

  “You stay here,” Matilda instructed. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

  Mary kept her eyes on the person behind the glass door of the study who was probably holding her future in his hands. He was standing in the center of the room, arms crossed and head slightly tipped. Olivia, just a few feet in front of him, was nodding her head and using her hands as if she were telling a story. Mary couldn’t hear the words—could only surmise the passionate nature of the conversation by watching Olivia. She laid her hand on her son’s shoulder. This is just a glimpse into how you observe the world, Jack.

  Chapter Nine

  OLIVIA STEPPED OUT OF THE STUDY and glanced around.

  “Matilda?”

  “Right here, ma’am,” Matilda said as she returned to the foyer.

  “Please introduce Mary and Jack to Miss Bea. Make sure she gets them something to eat. While she’s getting that ready, you may show them to their room and acquaint Mary with the layout of the house,” she said with a smile for them all.

  Matilda sighed and gestured for Mary and Jack to follow her. “C’mon, then.”

  Mary held Jack’s hand and followed Matilda. Her relief was enormous, even though she couldn’t be sure Mr. Edmunds hadn’t just agreed to something temporary.

  “I’ve been with the Edmundses since Douglas was a toddler— before Anna was even born,” Matilda announced as they headed down the hall.

  “That’s a long time.”

  “I’m practically a member of the family.”

  “You’re awful lucky, then.”

  “Mrs. Edmunds gets me a real nice bathrobe every Christmas and chocolates for my birthdays,” Matilda continued.

  “She sounds like a generous employer.” Mary hurried to keep up with the older woman as she led them toward the back of the house. They entered a spacious room with floor-to-ceiling cabinets, state-of-the-art appliances, and an island in the center big enough to seat at least a dozen people. A delicious aroma, probably from dinner, still lingered and made her mouth water.

  “Guess you can figure out this is the kitchen.”

  “It’s . . . so big,” Mary commented, looking around.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Edmunds do a lot of entertaining,” Matilda said. “You and the boy will take your meals in here. The dining room— that’s for the family only. Understood?”

  “Yes—yes, I understand,” Mary answered quickly.

  A dark-skinned woman entered the kitchen from the side pantry. “That’s Miss Bea,” Matilda said with a wave of her hand. “She’s queen of this kitchen, and she won’t let you forget it, will you, Miss Bea?”

  “Who’ll I be remindin’?” the middle-aged woman asked. Mary noticed she was wearing the same uniform as Matilda—right down to the pink handkerchief. The gray dress was filled out even more amply than Matilda’s.

  “The new maid and her boy,” Matilda said abruptly.

  “I’m Mary and this is Jack,” Mary told the woman.

  “Now, how’s come you get help and I don’t?” Miss Bea groused. “Seems to me I’m the one on my feet all day. And now I’ll be cookin’ for two more.” Miss Bea shook her head and looked the two figures over. “Seems like ya could use some meat on them bones. The help eats on the half hour. Six-thirty for breakfast, eleven-thirty for lunch, and four-thirty for supper. And I don’t want—what’s his name?—Jack under my feet, hear?”

  Mary nodded and couldn’t help but smile. Regular meals—cooked in a kitchen—eaten with Jack. “That sounds fine.”

  “Mrs. Edmunds wants you to fix ’em something to eat,” Matilda said.

  “Does she, now? Well, come on back after Tildy shows you round, and I’ll have somethin’ ready to feed ya.”

  “Thanks,” Mary said.

  Matilda led them on a tour of the rest of the first floor—a library, Olivia’s office, the living room, dining room, two bathrooms, and a sunroom with floor-to-ceiling windows. Mary was admiring them when she heard Matilda at her elbow say in a low but intense voice, “Just don’t get any ideas ’bout stealing my job, you hear? I’ll make your life miserable if you so much as hint you can handle all the jobs in this house alone.”

  “I’m not looking to take away your job,” Mary protested. “Mrs. Edmunds is wanting help for you—”

  “ ’Cause when it comes right down to brass tacks, I’m the one who helped corral little Anna when she was toddling around, and I’m the one who served at their anniversary party, and I’m the one who’ll be staying if someone has to go.”

  Mary thought she heard just a tinge of doubt in the older woman’s tone. “I’m not after your job,” Mary repeated. “I’m just grateful to have one at all. Besides, you’re like part of the family.”

  Matilda nodded, then abruptly started moving again. “You make your way through this breezeway to the servants’ quarters,” the woman said as they passed through the interior door into a long room with an end wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. Mary looked out through the glass to the back of the house—and stared. It was dark, but the full moon illuminated an astonishing view. Stars glittered over a lawn that seemed to disappear over a black body of water reflecting th
e moonlight.

  She felt the world stop for just a moment, felt her heart tumble with gratitude. Tears of joy filled her eyes, and she stiffened with the effort of holding back sobs. Thank you, God . . . thank you, thank you, thank you. . . .

  Matilda cleared her throat, and Mary realized the woman was watching her. “I’m guessing you’ve been living somewhere a little less . . . grand?”

  Mary swallowed the lump in her throat. “You might say that.” Her smile was wobbly and she felt a bit self-conscious. “And with the cold weather, I was pretty worried about Jack and where . . . you know . . . how . . .”

  For a moment Matilda’s face softened. “I don’t know, and I guess I don’t wanna know ’bout that kind of worry,” she said as she started moving again. “Tomorrow I’ll show you where the carpet sweeper is and the rest of the cleaning supplies. Mrs. Edmunds is real particular about the woodwork in the house, and the mister won’t tolerate a speck of dust in his study. . . .”

  Mary nodded as Matilda talked on, trying to focus on the instructions she was being given, but mostly giddy with the thought that her luck seemed to have finally changed.

  Chapter Ten

  THE SUN WAS HIGH in an unclouded sky, and Mary could actually feel the heat of it through the transparent wall in the breezeway as she polished the glass. Jack, sitting at her feet, had his eyes fixed on the lake, which looked as if it rose up to meet the bluff at the end of the yard.

  She moved her hand back and forth with the window chamois, creating a kind of metronome as she hummed. The tune reflected her mood. She was happy, and for the first time in a very long time, she felt as though she belonged. She even loved the gray uniform she was wearing. It was the newest thing she owned. Or at least she owned as long as she worked for the Edmundses, she amended.

  The job was such a gift—something she thought of every time she woke up in the comfortable room she shared with Jack. She vowed she would never take any of it for granted. She worked hard, finishing each task as thoroughly as she knew how, so Olivia Edmunds would never have a reason to regret having invited her into her car, then offering her this job that was so perfect in so many ways.