As Bright as Heaven(65)

Maggie is putting on her coat now to take Alex over to the Sutcliffs’. I know why she spends so much time over there. Dora Sutcliff, still wrapped in grief over losing Charlie, finds comfort in caring for our orphan baby, and when she is experiencing that solace with this beautiful child, she talks of Jamie. If I were to let on to Maggie that I know this, she would accuse me of sticking my nose into her business.

That she is somewhat infatuated with a man eight years older than she is not a concern of mine. I am far more interested in why she continues to lie about how she found Alex. I’ve no doubt most of her account of that day is true. The fact that no one ever went to the police to report Alex’s disappearance is ample proof that Alex’s mother died of the flu and there is no father or other immediate family.

I believe that part of her story.

But she is not one to forget details. Not Maggie.

She knows in which row house she found Alex. She is purposely withholding that information.

It can only be because she thinks if she were to reveal it, Alex might be taken from us.

This is not my dilemma, I tell myself. This is not my lie. If there is someone to whom Alex belongs, they would come forward, wouldn’t they?

The front door opens and shuts and Maggie heads across the street with Alex. I walk to the front windows to watch them, and confetti swirls about their heads like ash.





CHAPTER 43



? December 1918 ?





Willa


Today is Christmas, but it doesn’t feel like it.

Evie tried to make a ham the way Mama did, but it didn’t taste like Mama’s ham. Mr. and Mrs. Sutcliff came for supper. Dora Sutcliff spent a lot of time just holding Alex on her lap. Even though the war is over, Jamie Sutcliff isn’t home yet. Maggie asked them why not. Mr. Sutcliff said it takes a while for the dust of war to settle.

“What dust?” I asked.

But Mr. Sutcliff just sipped his sherry like I was asking Maggie instead of him. But Maggie didn’t say anything. She doesn’t know what kind of dust he’s talking about, either.

Grandma and Grandpa Adler came on Christmas Eve, but they didn’t stay over.

When they got here on the train, Papa took us all over the river to the cemetery where Mama and Uncle Fred are buried. Charlie is buried in some other graveyard. Mama’s cemetery is called the Woodlands, which sounds pretty, but because it’s December all the trees were like skeletons and the big white statues and towers looked sad and cold. There’s no stone with her and Uncle Fred’s names because Papa is having one made out of marble, like the steps to our front door, and it’s not done yet. Grandpa and Grandma wanted to put flowers on Mama’s grave. All that’s there on her spot is dead grass and a little wooden sign painted white that says P. Bright. They put the flowers, little white roses, under the P.

But it was cold and windy and we didn’t stay long. Evie had made a big pot of stew for dinner, so we came home and ate and then we opened presents.

That part didn’t feel like Christmas, either. Grandma and Grandpa were still sad from going out to the graveyard, so Grandma kept dabbing her eyes and blowing her nose. And Grandpa kept looking sideways at Alex. When Grandma Adler asked Papa if he thought it was wise to take in another person’s child when there was no mother in the house, he said, “What goes on in this house is not your concern, though, is it, Eunice?” And her mouth dropped open like a fish’s.

“There’s no cause to speak that way, Thomas,” Grandpa Adler said, his voice real low, but his eyebrows all scrunched.

“What way?” Papa said, in his normal voice with normal eyebrows. “I am only stating what is true. You decided what was best for your house, and now I am deciding what is best for mine. If you will excuse me.”

Papa stood up and went into Uncle Fred’s office to go smoke one of the cigars Grandad—his papa—had sent him.

I think Papa is mad at Grandma and Grandpa Adler.

I got a new doll and mittens and a necklace and a miniature tea set for Christmas. Evie got books and two hair combs and perfume. Maggie got a bracelet and ice skates and a fur muffler. Alex got toys and a cuddly blue elephant with a curly trunk. There was fruitcake and peppermints and punch and oranges. There was music on the wireless. There was a tree in the sitting room with garlands and lights. There were stockings at the fireplace.

But it still didn’t feel like Christmas. Not without Mama.

I wanted this day to end. I wanted Christmas to stop. After the Sutcliffs left I took my new doll and tea set up to my room and I shoved them under my bed. I threw my new mittens in the corner by my toy shelves. I took my new necklace and dropped it into one of my old shoes that doesn’t fit me anymore.

I didn’t know that Maggie was at the doorway watching me. She had Alex in her arms and he was asleep.

“Go away,” I said.

And she said, “Come with me.”

“No.”

“Come with me,” she said again. “I have a present for you from Mama.”

“No, you don’t,” I said.

She cocked her head toward her new room. Mama’s old one. “Come and see.”

I followed her into the room. She laid Alex in the baby crib that Papa had bought and then she turned toward Mama’s dressing table. She opened a drawer and took out the jewelry box with the roses carved on it. Mama’s jewelry box.