As Bright as Heaven(89)

So, last night I had told Palmer yes, I would marry him and he could speak to Papa. We’d been alone in the sitting room, as Alex and Evie were already in bed and Willa had gone up to her room early, too. Happy to finally have the answer he wanted from me, Palmer hadn’t wanted to wait a minute. He’d happily kissed me, and then he’d taken my hand to accompany him to the office where my father often retired in the evening to smoke one of Grandad’s cigars and read.

Papa had the reaction I thought he would when Palmer told him he wanted my hand in marriage. He was happy that I had won the love of such a fine, accomplished man as Palmer, and relieved that I would always be well taken care of.

“New York’s not so far,” Papa had said, when he heard the extent of Palmer’s plans, and he stroked his chin in that way he does when he’s contemplating something.

Then he said he didn’t know much about how to pull off a proper wedding, and I assured him that Palmer and I didn’t need a lavish ceremony that would take months to plan. Something simple would be just fine.

“I suppose Dora Sutcliff might be able to help us with the preparations,” he’d said, his mind obviously still whirling with how the bride’s father was supposed to handle the details of a wedding when he was a widower. “Or your grandmother.”

Papa had mended his relationship with my mother’s parents to a point. He still hadn’t fully moved past the notion that Mama would quite likely be alive if they had just let her and us girls come back to Quakertown when she’d asked. Anything having to do with Grandma Adler was always a pondered thought.

“I’m sure if we need any extra help with anything, Dora will be happy to lend a hand,” I’d assured him.

Papa then visibly relaxed. It would have been kind to let him enjoy that moment a little bit longer, but I had to tell him the rest.

“Palmer and I would like to take Alex with us,” I said, startling myself with how sharp those words sounded out loud.

Papa didn’t say anything for a second. “You want to take Alex?” he said a moment later, echoing my words as though he hadn’t quite heard right.

“It would be our privilege to raise him alongside any children we may have of our own, Mr. Bright,” Palmer said.

“He’d have a home like all the other children in school,” I went on. “A home with two parents and brothers and sisters closer to his own age. And he and I could come down on the train on Saturdays and we could spend the whole day here with you and Evie and Willa. I can’t imagine leaving him, Papa. Nor can I envision him here without me. I’m already like a mother to him. . . .” My voice trailed away as my throat tightened.

Papa had started to stroke his chin again, deep in thought. “Yes . . . ,” he said, but I wasn’t sure what he was saying yes to. Perhaps it was to this unspoken thought that no child should have to say good-bye to his mother.

“Papa?” I needed to know what he was thinking. Alex was not my father’s adopted son. Alex was a member of this family as a ward of the state. He had our last name because no one knew what his last name was. Even I didn’t know what it was. We had been told that at some point the court would declare Alex adoptable. Surely after six years of no one coming forward to inquire about Alex, Palmer and I could now petition to adopt him and be accepted. If my father would consent to it.

Papa took another moment to ponder and then he nodded as he sat back in his chair, the move of someone who has just decided something. “Every child deserves a home like that,” he said, a quiet sigh escaping at the same time.

“We’ll give him everything a child needs,” I said.

“I know you will. You have from the very beginning, Mags.”

The moment grew so tender that Palmer excused himself. He said he needed to telephone his parents in Delaware and that we’d go shopping for a ring the next day and that I could pick out whatever kind of gem I wanted. I walked him to the front door. His kiss good-bye was long and deep.

I locked the door, turned off the lights, and saw as I neared the staircase that Papa’s office door was still open and light spilled out of the room. He was sitting where I’d left him, but now he had opened a bottle of cognac that he’d retrieved from some hidden place and he’d poured two glasses.

He looked up and offered one of the glasses to me. I’d never had cognac or any other kind of liquor before. I moved forward to take it and I sat in the chair next to his.

“It’s the last of it,” he said. Then he’d lifted the little glass toward me. “To your happiness, Maggie. To yours and Alex’s and Palmer’s.”

The cognac felt like a cleansing fire as it slid down my throat and into my body. We didn’t say anything else as we sat there and sipped.

“I want to pick the right time to tell Alex that we’re taking him,” I said when the drink was gone. I felt warm and loose and sleepy. “I don’t want to tell him until I can tell him everything. Like when the wedding is. When we’re leaving. All that.”

Papa took the glass from me and set it down by his own. “News of an engagement doesn’t stay quiet for long. Especially when plans are being made. And the bride-to-be is wearing a ring.”

“I know. I won’t wait too long.”

Papa smiled at me. “I’m happy for you, Maggie. Happy and sad. Your mother would have loved to be a part of all this.”