Someone to Hold
Page 96

Joel had given notice to his landlord—he would move to the house on the hill after his marriage. He had finished Abigail’s portrait, to the delight and even awe of all who saw it, though her grandmother would not display it until Camille’s had been painted too. Joel left that until after his wedding. He was not sure if his intimate relationship with her would make her portrait easier or harder to paint, but he always welcomed a challenge, and this would surely be the biggest yet.
Camille gave her notice to Miss Ford but did assure her she would teach right up until her wedding day if necessary. She was cheered to discover that there had been two other very promising applications after the position had been offered to her, and that one of those applicants was still available and eager for the job. Camille met her and approved of her sunny nature and sensible disposition and enthusiastic knowledge on all sorts of subjects, academic and otherwise, and obvious love of children. Even so, Camille felt a pang of regret for having to leave so soon. She would see the children again, though. She would visit, and a number of them would come up to the house on the hill for various reasons. Joel was already concocting an ambitious scheme for gathering them all there over Christmas for feasts and parties and games and gifts and the celebration of the birth of a baby.
The legal arrangements for the adoption of Sarah and Winifred were well under way. Sarah did not need to be consulted, of course, being too young to express an opinion. However, that she loved Camille above anyone else was acknowledged by all, as was the fact that Camille adored the baby quite as much as she could possibly love any child of her own.
There was to be no child of her own yet. She had discovered that a week after her betrothal.
Winifred, at nine years old, was old enough to be consulted. Indeed, it was imperative that her wishes be known. She had lived at the orphanage all her life. It was the only home she had ever known, the people there the only family. It might well be that she would choose to stay rather than launch into the unknown several years before it would be necessary for her to do so anyway. Camille took her into one of the visitor rooms a week after her betrothal and closed the door.
“Winifred,” she said when they were both seated, “you have probably heard that Mr. Cunningham and I are to be married.”
“I have, Miss Westcott,” Winifred said, seated primly on the edge of her sofa cushion, her hands folded in her lap. “I am very happy for you.”
“Thank you,” Camille said. “You probably do not also know that after we are married and move to our house up in the hills we will be taking Sarah with us as our adopted daughter.”
The girl’s thin hands tightened about each other. “I am very happy for her,” she said. “I have prayed for her, and my prayers are to be answered.”
“We have asked Miss Ford,” Camille said, “and Miss Ford has asked the members of the board of governors if it is also possible for us to adopt you. They have granted permission, but since you are old enough to have a say in the matter, I have undertaken to be the one to speak privately with you. The choice will be yours, Winifred. You may remain here where you have always belonged and where you are safe and comfortable, or you may come with us and be our daughter and Sarah’s elder sister. We would give you a home and love you and care for you and provide for you when you grow up. No matter what you decide to do when that time comes, you would always be our daughter, and our home would always be yours. We would always love you.”
Winifred’s eyes stared out at her from a thin pasty face. “But why have you chosen me?” she asked in a voice that was higher pitched than usual. “I always try to be good and to learn my lessons and be tidy and help others and say my prayers, but other people do not always like me because I am still a sinner. I am not worthy of such an honor, Miss Westcott. Sarah—”
“Winifred.” Camille went to sit beside her and set a hand over the two clasped ones. They were icy cold. “Let me tell you something about love. It is unconditional. Do you know what that is?”
The child nodded. She had not taken her eyes off Camille’s face.
“Love does not have to be earned,” Camille told her. “You are indeed a good girl and conscientious and pious. Those are admirable qualities and have won my approbation. They alone would not necessarily win my love, however. Love is not the reward for good behavior. Love just is. I want you to know that if you choose to be my daughter and Mr. Cunningham’s, we will love you no matter what. You would not have to feel you must be on your best behavior every moment. You would not have to feel you must prove yourself worthy or fear that we would send you back here if you did not live up to our expectations. We have no expectations, Winifred. We just love you and want you to be part of a family with us and Sarah and any other children we may have in the future. We want you to be happy. We want you to be able to run and play and talk and laugh and do whatever you wish to do, provided only that it is not dangerous to yourself or others. We want you to be the person you choose to be. I do love you, Winifred.”
The eyes still stared. The complexion was still pasty. “I am not pretty,” she half whispered.
Her brown hair fell in two braids over her ears and shoulders. Her forehead was broad, her eyes and other facial features unremarkable. It was a small face and had not yet grown into her permanent teeth. She was thin, even a bit gangly. She was indeed not a pretty child.
“Most girls and women are not,” Camille said, resisting the temptation to protest and perhaps lose all chance of winning the child’s trust. “Many are beautiful, however. Have you noticed that? Some women are plain, even bordering upon the ugly, but no one ever notices except perhaps upon a first encounter. There is so much goodness and light and kindness and happiness and vitality welling up from inside them that their outer appearance is transformed into beauty.”