The Brickmaker's Bride (5 page)

Laura leaned forward and brushed a kiss on her mother’s cheek. “Please don’t worry about me, Mother. I’m merely doing what you’ve taught me: helping those in need.” Laura assumed a carefree air as she took up her reticule and strode toward the door.

Mrs. Woodfield followed close on her heels. “I hope Mrs. Tremble hasn’t convinced you to take over her position when she retires. I know she thinks you’d be the perfect replacement. Volunteering to help with the children is one thing, but taking over as the administrator of the orphanage is quite another.
You’re a young woman who needs to be looking toward marriage and—”

“I really must be on my way, Mother. Your worries are completely unfounded.”

Laura hurried out the door and down the front steps, thankful Zeke was waiting with the buggy. Though her mother meant well, Laura didn’t need to be cautioned every time she departed for the Bartlett Orphanage. With her bag of supplies tucked beside her, she flicked the reins. Rather than the toddlers, she’d be helping with the older children today, and she hoped they would enjoy what she had planned for them.

Though the bleak wooden structure was a depressing sight, Laura’s spirits soared when she entered the building. The interior wasn’t lovely, but Mrs. Tremble had done her best to enlist help painting the walls, and she’d hung colorful curtains at the windows in an effort to create a homelike setting. But it was the children who created the genuine joy in this place. In spite of all they’d suffered in the past, most of these children remained happy and carefree.

Eddie Logan barreled toward her the minute she crossed the threshold. “What did you bring for us to do today, Miss Woodfield?” His pug nose and cheeks were layered with freckles that made him the brunt of occasional teasing, but he’d learned to ignore the remarks—most of the time. On occasion young Eddie would raise his fists in warning, but thus far he’d refrained from striking anyone. He pointed to the bag. “Do you have something special in there?”

She bent close to his ear. “I do. But let’s wait until all of the children have gathered, so I can tell all of you at once. Why don’t you tell the group I’ve arrived?”

A flash of disappointment crossed his face before he mumbled
his consent and called the other children to the room designated for them.

While they took their places around the table, Laura withdrew drawing supplies, string, and paperboard from her bag. “Today we’re going to make thaumatropes. Does anyone know what a thaumatrope is?”

The children shook their heads as they eyed the supplies Laura had placed on the table.

“I don’t think this sounds like fun. You promised you’d bring something we’d like.” Lucy Wilson folded her arms in a defiant gesture.

Once more, Laura reached into her bag. This time she withdrew a thaumatrope she’d made to demonstrate to the children. “Look at the picture on each side of the cardboard disc.” Laura showed them the picture of a bird on one side and then turned it over to reveal a birdcage on the other. A piece of string had been drawn through the small holes on each side of the disc. The children looked on as Laura tightly wound the circle disc and then released the circle. Their eyes grew wide as they watched the disc spin.

“It looks like the bird is inside the cage.” Lucy pointed at the flying disc. “I want to do that. Can I, Miss Woodfield? Can I?”

“You may each give it a try, but then you’re going to make your own.”

Jumping up and down, they looked at each other with wide-eyed excitement, clapped their hands, and shrieked their enthusiasm.

Laura touched her pursed lips with her index finger. “Shh. I’m pleased you’re happy, but we don’t want to disturb the other class.” The children circled around her. “You can decide on your pictures and then draw them on the cardboard discs. When you’ve finished, we’ll poke holes in the cardboard and insert the string.”

Lucy curled her lip. “I don’t know what to draw. The older kids can draw better than me.”

Laura pulled her chair to an empty spot beside Lucy. “Then let’s think of something that isn’t so difficult. What about drawing a spider on one side and a web on the other? I think you could do that very well, don’t you?”

Lucy shrugged her shoulders. “It won’t be as good as your bird.”

“It will be wonderful. When you spin the disc, it will look like your spider is in its web.” Laura handed her a disc. “You’ll see. You’re going to do a wonderful job.”

As the children worked on their projects, Laura circled the table, offering help and a dose of affection where needed. The boys were slow to reveal any desire for love, but they beamed when she offered words of praise or when she gave them an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

She leaned over Kenneth’s shoulder to look at his drawings. On one side he’d drawn a horse’s head. On the other side he’d drawn a stall. “I think the horse will look like he’s in the stall when the disc flies around, don’t you?” he asked.

“Yes, Kenneth. I believe your design will work very well. That’s a fine horse you’ve drawn. Let’s make holes on either side and insert the string so you can try it.”

One by one the children completed their thaumatropes, most revealing a little about themselves in the pictures. Margaret Reed, a somewhat melancholy little girl, had drawn an empty grave on one side of her disc and a woman on the other. Laura’s breath caught as the girl spun the thaumatrope and the woman dropped in and out of the grave.

“That’s my mother. She died when I was a baby. I just drew what I imagined she looked like since I don’t remember her. Is that okay, Miss Woodfield?” Margaret didn’t appear distraught. She’d seemingly accepted her lot in life, yet Laura couldn’t imag
ine what it must be like to grow up without loving parents. Margaret nudged Laura’s hand. “Did you hear me, Miss Woodfield? Is my picture all right?”

“Yes, of course. You’re an excellent artist, Margaret.”

Johnny Rutherford, a twelve-year-old, drew closer. “Why didn’t you draw your mother in heaven instead of in the ground, Margaret? Mrs. Tremble says if we believe in Jesus, our spirit goes to heaven when we die. Didn’t your mother go to heaven?”

Margaret’s lip trembled. “He’s right. I should have drawn a picture of the sky with sunshine and fluffy clouds. I think my mama’s in heaven, don’t you, Miss Woodfield?”

Laura couldn’t say for sure if Margaret’s mother had gone to heaven. She hadn’t known the woman or her beliefs. But one thing was certain: Laura wouldn’t cause the child more worry. “I think your mother would be pleased if you drew a picture of heaven rather than a grave, and there’s time to make changes to your thaumatrope, if you’d like.” Laura handed the girl her handkerchief. “There’s no reason for tears. With a few swishes of paint, you can easily adjust what you’ve already made.”

After helping Margaret recreate her picture, Laura escorted the group into the adjacent classroom, where they presented their creations to the younger children. The older youngsters beamed as the little ones oohed and aahed over the spinning discs.

Mrs. Tremble stepped to her side. “You have such a way with children, Laura. I do hope you’re giving my suggestion a great deal of thought and prayer. You have a gift, and I’d like to see it put to good use here at the orphanage—at least until you marry and have some little ones of your own.”

Laura fixed her gaze on the young students. “I can’t deny I find true pleasure coming here to spend time with the children, but I don’t know what the future holds, Mrs. Tremble. Mother is selling the brickworks, and right now I couldn’t possibly accept
the position. However, you can continue to count on me as one of your volunteers.” She turned and smiled at the older woman. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

“Once things are settled with the sale of your father’s business, you may change your mind. If so, the position will be available to you.”

Laura snapped open the watch pinned to her bodice and startled. “Dear me, I didn’t realize it was so close to twelve o’clock. I promised Mother I’d be home in time for the noonday meal. I’d best gather my things and be on my way.”

Kenneth rushed after her as she strode into the other room. “I’ll help you clean up, Miss Woodfield.”

“Why, thank you, Kenneth.”

“Could you leave some extra pieces of cardboard? I told some of the little kids I’d make a thaumatrope for them if you’d leave some supplies.”

“That’s very kind of you, Kenneth. I’ll leave all of these things, and once you’ve finished, you can put any remaining items into the bag for me. I’ll pick it up the next time I come.” She ruffled the boy’s blond hair.

“What you gonna bring next time?”

She chuckled. “I’m not sure, but I’ll try to think of something you’ll enjoy.”

As she headed toward home, Mrs. Tremble’s words resounded like a clanging bell:
“. . . at least until you marry and have children of your
own.”

Catherine was clearing the dishes after the noonday meal when a knock sounded at the front door. “You expecting more company, Miss Laura?”

“No, but you continue with your work. I’ll go to the door.
Maybe there was some problem with the papers and Mr. Hawkins has returned. Or perhaps it’s Mr. McKay.” She quickened her step and pulled open the front door. “Mr. Crothers, Mr. McKay, ladies. Good afternoon.”

“I know we shouldn’t have appeared unannounced, but I wanted a tour of the house,” one of the women told her. “Hugh said it might take a while for you to get your things packed up and moved, but I couldn’t wait any longer before seeing it.”

Laura’s mouth gaped open as she stared at the group. Whatever was this woman talking about? “I assume you are Mrs. Crothers?” She turned her gaze to Kathleen. “And you are Mrs. McKay?”

Kathleen shook her head. “Nay. I’m Mrs. Crothers’s sister, Kathleen. I’m not married.”

“And neither is Ewan,” Mr. Crothers added. “Sorry we are to barge in on you, Miss Woodfield, but my wife insisted on touring the house. She wants to measure for carpets and drapes.”

“I think there’s some misunderstanding, but please come in so we can discuss the house.” Laura’s head buzzed like a nest of irritated hornets. She directed the foursome into the parlor. “Please be seated and I’ll have Catherine bring tea. My mother is resting, but I’m sure she’ll be down before you depart. She’ll want to make your acquaintance.”

Mrs. Crothers took a seat on the divan. “So you and your mother plan to remain in the area?”

Laura frowned. “Of course. This is our home. Mother would never leave.”

“Will you be moving into town, then?” Mrs. Crothers’s gaze drifted toward the parlor windows. “Any chance you’ll leave the draperies? I like them, and it would be easier if I didn’t have to replace them first thing.”

“There’s been some misunderstanding, Mrs. Crothers.”
Laura glanced at Mr. McKay. “This house was not included in the sale.”

Mrs. Crothers jumped to her feet. “What’s that you’re saying?” She turned to her husband. “Did you hear what she’s telling us, Hugh? Pull out those papers and show her we’re the rightful owners of this house.”

Laura shook her head. “There’s no need. I know the contents of the contract, Mrs. Crothers, and this house is not included as a part of the sale.”

Mrs. Crothers snatched the papers from her husband’s hand and began tracing her finger down the first page. She turned to the second page and tapped her finger on the second paragraph. “There. See here? All those legal words describe the acreage and say a house is located on the property and is included in the sale.”

“You’re correct, it is, but—”

“You’re talking out both sides of your mouth, lass.” Mr. Crothers took the contract from his wife. “One minute you say the house is not part of the sale, and then you agree with me wife.”

“Please let me finish, Mr. Crothers. There is a house included in the sale, but it isn’t
this
house. The legal description on the second page of the contract is for the house my father had constructed when we first moved here.”

Mrs. Crothers’s face twisted with anger. “They’ve cheated us, Hugh.”

“We didn’t cheat you, Mrs. Crothers.” Laura’s stomach clenched.

How she wished that Winston would appear at the front door. Had he been in such a rush to complete the sale that he hadn’t gone over the fine details with Mr. Crothers? But then, why hadn’t Mr. Crothers read the contract for himself?

“A large frame house and barn sit on that piece of land. They are both in good condition. The home isn’t fancy but is very
suitable until you can build exactly what you want. We lived in that house until my father built this one.”

“She can tell you whatever she wants, Hugh, but you need to talk to that lawyer. They’ll not get away with this. I wanted this house, and if she’s telling the truth, we don’t own it. You need to get your money back.”

Ewan rose from his chair and stepped to his uncle’s side. “We need to remember what is most important, Uncle Hugh. Our search was for a brickyard, not a house. We own the brickyard, and there’s a suitable house on the land. I doubt you’re going to be able to break the contract. Mr. Hawkins gave you sufficient time to read the papers, and he asked you several times if you had any questions. He even asked if you wanted to return and further explore the property before you signed the papers.”