First,
I must once again thank Vickie Batzka and Larkspur1
for reading over this manuscript and for their invaluable suggestions on how to
improve the story. As always I want to
thank Joan Sattler for patiently answering my questions about all things Australian
and providing me with Australian slang expressions to substitute for
American. (A glossary of Australian and
Welsh words and phrases is provided at the end of the story.) Finally, I again want to thank Lissa Brown for generously allowing me to use pansies and
rosemary, the combination of flowers she used in Odyssey, in my
story.
Another Australian Bonanza
fan let me know that at the time these stories were taking place there was no
country of
“To Bloom in Another Man’s Garden”
Part 2
by Deborah Grant
August 2003
Chapter 1
Adam Cartwright sat straight up in bed, his heart pounding, as the loud knocking continued on the bedroom door and he felt his wife, Bronwen, sitting up beside him in the dark room. “What’s wrong?” he called.
“Merry Christmas, Daddy! Merry Christmas, Mama!” a childishly treble voice called.
Adam got out of bed and fumbled to light the lamp on his bedside table. Once the lamp was lit, he found the bottoms of his silk pyjamas in his chest of drawers and put them on before unlocking the door to the master bedroom. It was so dark he could barely make out the figure of his three-going-on-four-year-old son.
“Adam Stoddard Cartwright, Junior,” he scolded, “it is not Christmas morning. You know that you are to wait in your bedroom until Mama or I come to get you.”
“I thought it was morning, Daddy, and I wanted to tell you and Mama Merry Christmas,” A.C. said in a quavering voice, for he knew it wasn’t a good thing when his daddy addressed him by his full name.
“It’s all right, bachgennyn,” Bronwen said from the bed. “Why don’t you come sleep with Daddy and me until it’s time to get up and see what Santa Claus brought you?”
“Okay!” A.C. said happily and ran to the bed followed by his resigned father.
“Here you go, Jackeroo,” Adam said, scooping up his son and plopping him in the middle of the bed. A.C. immediately threw his arms around his mother’s neck and planted a loud smack on her cheek. “Now, Santa Claus won’t come unless you’re asleep,” Adam said ruffling his little boy’s hair before reaching to dim the lamp.
“Right, Daddy,” A.C. said anxiously as he settled on his stomach between his parents. He fell asleep almost immediately followed by his mother. Adam, however, found it difficult to sleep without Bronwen’s body curled next to his. Eventually he drifted off but almost immediately he was awakened by a hand shaking his shoulder.
“Merry Christmas, Daddy,” A.C. said excitedly. “Mama says it’s time to go down stairs and see what Santa brought.” He climbed over his father, narrowly missing the most sensitive part of the male anatomy.
“Merry Christmas, anwyld,” Bronwen said with a smile before leaning over to kiss her husband while their son watched curiously. He had observed that Mama and Daddy kissed each other differently than they kissed him or his sisters.
Knowing they had an audience, it was a quick kiss and then Adam turned to his son. “You need to go put your robe on before we go downstairs.” A.C. ran to his room past his sisters’ shouting, “Merry Christmas, Beth! Merry Christmas, Gwyneth! Merry Christmas, Penny!” at the top of his lungs.
Bronwen grinned as she slipped on her violet silk negligee while Adam rolled his eyes as he put on the top half of his pyjamas and his robe. “I can’t find my slippers,” he complained.
“Check and see if they got kicked under the bed,” Bronwen advised and in a few moments they were ready.
The four children, ranging in age from Beth’s almost seventeen to A.C.’s almost four, were waiting for them at the top of the stairs attired in slippers and robes. “Can we go downstairs now?” ten-year-old Penny asked eagerly and her parents nodded.
“Hold onto Beth’s hand, A.C.,” Bronwen called as the children rushed down the stairs.
They were waiting impatiently in the drawing room, eyeing the
pile of gifts under the decorated gum tree branch, which served as a Christmas
tree in
Bronwen had done her Christmas shopping at Bloomingdale’s in Boston that fall when they were enrolling their second daughter, Miranda, in the Girls’ Latin School, so the children all received clothing from their parents.
“I know you won’t be fourteen for a few months,” Bronwen said
to Gwyneth, “but Daddy and I decided that it’s time for you to begin wearing
your skirts down, so we bought you some grownup clothes in
“I’ll help you do your hair, Gwyneth,” Beth offered and Gwyneth accepted with relief while her parents exchanged smiles.
Only A.C. and Penny were still young enough to receive
toys. A.C. was ecstatic over his Noah’s
Adam had saved Miranda’s gift for last. “Let’s let Mama open it, shall we?” he suggested. Penny and A.C. were already sitting beside her on the settee and the others stood behind so they could watch as Bronwen unwrapped the gift.
“It’s Manda and Grandpa!” A.C.
exclaimed as Bronwen revealed a large photograph of Miranda and Ben in an
ornate silver frame. Miranda was wearing
a tailor-made suit of black broadcloth and a shirtwaist blouse with a white
cravat and dimpled for the camera. Ben,
looking very proud of his granddaughter, was dressed in a new black suit with a
black silk
“There’s a letter in the box,” Bronwen said and handed it to Adam. “Let’s read it aloud.”
Dear Family,
Thank you so much for my lovely gifts. A.C., I propped your picture up against the
mirror on my vanity so I can see it every day.
I love my handkerchiefs, Beth.
We had a wonderful visit. They could only stay four days but every day
when I got home from school Grandpa was waiting for me. We explored the city and he told me how it
had changed since Daddy and he left more than fifty years ago. Did you know he proposed to Grandma under a
tree in the Common? The tree is still
there! Grandpa was so happy it was still
standing. They left on a Monday morning
so on Sunday we all went to church with the Aldens and Mrs. Baldwin invited
Granpa and me to dinner afterward. They
both told me lots of funny stories about Daddy when he was little like the time
he knocked over a crock of molasses and then decided to paint pictures on the
walls with it.
“Oh, Daddy,” Penny giggled, “I bet you and Grandpa had a necessary talk.”
“I’m sure we did,” Adam replied dryly, “but I was younger than A.C. so I didn’t know any better.”
“You must have been a sight,” Bronwen managed to get out as she choked with laughter at the thought of her fastidious husband covered with sticky molassess.
Beth and Gwyneth joined in the laughter as did A.C., who didn’t really understand what was so funny but found everyone else’s laughter infectious. Adam rolled his eyes and continued reading.
I told Grandpa that I wanted to have my photograph taken as a Christmas
gift to all of you, and he suggested we both be in the photograph. He had a copy made to take back to the
Ponderosa.
I almost forgot. Two
Sundays before my birthday, Tom Fuller came to call. He asked me how I was adjusting to life in
I’m doing well in my schoolwork, even Latin. My marks won’t be as high in that class
though. Now that the weather has grown
so cold, we don’t go to
“He would look so adorable,” Bronwen said fondly.
“You are not dressing my son in velvet and lace,” Adam replied forcefully and then he continued reading.
By the way, it rained the morning of our birthday, Daddy, but the rain had stopped by the time Grandpa and I went to place the flowers on Grandma’s grave. Grandpa had the florist make up a nosegay of pansies and rosemary. He asked me to put a nosegay like that on Grandma’s grave every year and I promised that I would.
I had better stop now because I must get my package in the mail today if it’s to reach Cloncurry before Christmas. I love you all and I miss you.
Your loving daughter and sister,
Miranda
“I miss Manda,” A.C. said mournfully. “When’s she comin’ home, Daddy?”
“Not for a long time, Jackeroo. But she graduates from the Girls’
“I hope she likes the Christmas gifts we sent her,” Penny said anxiously.
“I’m sure she will,” Bronwen said with a smile. “I know she’s missing us just as much as we miss her, and probably even more.”
Nell and Mary poked their heads into the room then. “Merry Christmas,” they both said smiling broadly at the family. “Breakfast is ready. The sweet rolls just came from the oven, so you need to hurry and get dressed,” Nell stated.
“As soon as you’ve finished dressing, come to my room, Gwyneth, so I can do your hair,” Beth said.
The rest of the family was waiting impatiently for the two older girls with Nell fussing that the sweet rolls would be stone cold if they didn’t eat them soon. Finally, Beth and Gwyneth entered, and Adam was totally unprepared for Gwyneth’s transformation. Instead of looking boyish and gawky, the high-necked cinnamon-colored dress emphasized her long, slender neck (the only feature she had inherited from Bronwen) and made her figure appear sylphlike. Most of the curly dark hair she’d inherited from Adam was piled high on her head in a twist, but the hair at the back was allowed to tumble down in a profusion of curls.
“I’m sorry we’re late,” Beth said hurriedly, “but Gwyneth’s hair has a mind of its own. It’s just too thick and curly to get it all to stay in the bun. Then I remembered that Aunt Annabelle had shown me in one of her ladies magazines that some women wear their hair down in the back.”
“It was worth the wait,” Bronwen replied, delighted at Gwyneth’s appearance.
‘Yes, you look pretty, Gwyneth,” Penny said a little enviously, for now all her older sisters could dress like young ladies while she still wore girls’ clothes.
Like his father, A.C. was a bit disturbed because Gwyneth didn’t look like Gwyneth now; she seemed a stranger to him. Gwyneth felt very ill at ease in her new clothes and new hairstyle and her cheeks reddened at her mother’s and sister’s compliments. Beth understood and said with a slight smile, “I know it feels strange at first, but you get used to it. Trust me.”
“Llywelyn will tease me,” Gwyneth said unhappily, referring to her cousin and best friend, Llywelyn Davies.
“I don’t think he will,” Adam said. “You look very nice, Punkin. It’s just going to take me time to get used to seeing you looking so grownup.”
As soon as Bronwen’s brother, Rhys Davies, and his family arrived to share Christmas dinner with the Cartwrights, the first thing they commented on was Gwyneth’s appearance.
“Gwyneth dear, you look so grownup I almost didn’t recognize you,” Rhys’ wife, Matilda, said with a smile.
“I told you that you’d be a very pretty young lady one day,” Rhys said, putting his arm around his niece and giving her a quick squeeze.
“You sure look different,” Llywelyn said in his newly acquired mellow bass, letting his eyes travel from her fashionable hairstyle to the tips of her new patent leather slippers. It was a shock to see his old playmate in this new guise. Of course he was growing up and so naturally Gwyneth was as well, but it still seemed bizarre.
Ever since the Cartwrights had returned from their voyage to the States in October, Adam had been putting in long hours at the copper mine he and Rhys owned. In a reciprocal arrangement decided on before the Cartwrights left, as soon as they returned the Davies family had traveled to Sydney to visit with Rhys’ and Bronwen’s parents, Dr. and Mrs. Davies. They had only returned a few days before Christmas. Now that Rhys and Adam were both working, they had more time to spend with their families so a few days after Christmas Gwyneth asked her father if they could go riding when he got home.
“I don’t know, Punkin,” he said gently. “Zephyr’s not as young as he once was and he’ll already have made the trip to and from the mine.”
“But you can ride Rhiannon,” Gwyneth said, referring to Miranda’s Welsh Cob.
Adam wasn’t about to admit that he wasn’t as young as he used
to be either, so he said, “All right. I’ll
plan on being home by
“I wanna come too,” A.C. begged and Penny added, “Me, too!”
Adam started to agree but he saw the disappointed look on his middle child’s face and instead said, “I’ll come home early on Saturday and go riding with the two of you. This evening it’ll just be Gwyneth and me.” Adam was rewarded by Gwyneth’s dimpled smile as he ignored the pouting of the younger children.
It was now summer vacation so after Gwyneth finished her chores she and Llywelyn took A.C. fishing at the Cloncurry river. When they came back home Llywelyn cleaned the fish and Bronwen cooked them for their dinner. That afternoon most of the young people in the neighborhood gathered at the Cartwrights’ home to play Battledore and Shuttlecock. Gwyneth finished playing just in time to change clothes. She put on a pair of the waist overalls Adam had given her and one of his old black shirts she had brought home from the Ponderosa. She braided her hair and stuffed the braid under her black Stetson, which was a duplicate of the one her father favored. She then examined her reflection in a mirror and grinned at her resemblance to her father in the old daguerreotypes her grandfather still treasured. Except for her spectacles of course. Daddy did wear glasses for reading now, but they looked different from the ones she and Mama wore.
She was just finishing saddling her Waler mare, Artemis, when
her father rode up. She didn’t notice
the way his eyes narrowed at his first sight of her in the waist overalls he’d
gotten her at Levi Strauss & Co in
“I see you have Artemis all saddled,” he said, in what he hoped was a conversational tone since he did not trust his voice, as he swung out of the saddle.
“Right,” she answered cheerfully. “I’ll help you groom Zephyr and then we can go.”
“Those are the waist overalls I got you, aren’t they?” he asked casually, and she nodded. “Looks like I got them a size too small.”
“Oh no, Daddy, they fit perfectly. I prefer them to my knickerbockers.”
Wonderful! How do I forbid her to wear something that I bought her? Then he had a thought. Maybe they only seem so provocative to me because I’m her father. She is only thirteen years old and she’s still my little girl, thank God, although I know it’s just a matter of time before she, too, becomes a young woman.
“Rhiannon’s pretty frisky,” he commented as they rode toward the river.
“Beth and I try to take turns riding her, but sometimes we’re both busy and we can’t neglect Artemis and Star. Of course, Penny would be happy to exchange Muffin for Rhiannon.”
“I know she would, but she’s small for her age and Muffin is still a good mount for her.” He paused and then said thoughtfully, “I’ve been thinking about fencing the pasture, but that will have to wait until April when the rainy season is over.”
“I can help,” Gwyneth offered.
“Building a fence is no work for a young lady,” Adam said shaking his head, but softening his rejection with a slight smile. “Maybe Llywelyn would be interested in helping.” He smiled then and asked, “I know you’re on vacation now, but I forgot to ask you earlier. Have you had any problems with your schoolwork since we’ve been back?’
“No, the only subject I have problems with is arithmetic. I just don’t understand how you and Miranda can enjoy it.”
“That’s okay, Punkin, because we can’t understand why you don’t like it,” he replied with a slow grin and she grinned back at him.
“Mr. Rockingham was teaching us more about poetry. Just before we went on vacation we were studying sonnets. Did you know a sonnet is fourteen lines of iambic pentameter?”
“Yes, I did know as a matter of fact. Did you know that there are two types of sonnets?”
“Shakespearean and Petrarchan,” Gwyneth answered proudly. “Everyone had to memorize a sonnet and I chose Death Be Not Proud by John Donne.
“One of my favorites,” Adam said reminiscently. “‘One short sleep past, we wake eternally, / And death shall be no more, Death thou shalt die,’” he quoted. “Do you understand what Donne means there?” he quizzed her.
“I think so. He’s talking about the resurrection; after we are resurrected, death won’t exist.”
“That’s right. You know,
Donne was the dean of
“I’m not certain if I understand that,” Gwyneth said anxiously but her father smiled reassuringly.
“Tell you what. We’ll talk it about next year when you’re almost fifteen.” He paused and then asked with a grin. “Race you back home?”
“You’re on!”
Beth’s luck held again this year and although it rained heavily earlier in the week, the day of her seventeenth birthday dawned without a cloud in the sky. The temperature climbed to 112 degrees during the day, but that evening after the sun went down it cooled off enough to be tolerable. This year Rob Anderson and a newcomer to Cloncurry, who played the fiddle, would supply the music and Adam and Gwyneth would attend the party. Beth and Gwyneth both wore new party dresses purchased at Bloomingdale’s and expertly altered by their Aunt Matilda. Gwyneth was beginning to feel more comfortable in her grownup clothes although, despite what she had told Miranda in her birthday letter, she now wished she had a bosom like her older sisters to fill out the top of the dress. She wanted people to think that she was old enough to wear a dress this length, not that she was just a little girl who had grown too tall to wear clothing made for a child her age.
Beth and her parents decided there just wasn’t time for a birthday supper before the party and so the Davies were invited to supper the next night when Beth would open all her gifts.
Llywelyn arrived early for the party with another boy his age. The two were about the same height although the newcomer was an inch or so taller and more slender than Llywelyn, who had a stocky build. The boy had black hair and black sloe eyes and, unlike Llywelyn, probably had to shave occasionally. Adam and Bronwen were surprised to see that both boys were in their shirtsleeves.
“Good evening Aunt Bronwen, Uncle Adam,” Llywelyn said cheerfully. “I’d like to introduce my friend, Mark Pentreath.”
“Mrs. Cartwright. Mr. Cartwright,” the boy said nervously but shook their hands with a firm grip. Adam noted he spoke with a trace of an accent. He couldn’t place it for a moment but then it came to him: Cornish.
“Mark’s family just moved here recently. His father works at our mine. We’ve become good friends and I didn’t think you’d mind if I brought him to the party as my guest.”
“Not at all,” Bronwen replied with a warm smile. “Do you know our daughters, Mark?”
“I’ve not been formally introduced,” Mark replied, reddening slightly for he’d noticed the beautiful eldest daughter at Chapel Bethel where his family now also attended.
Eyeing the others anxiously, the young man was now regretting that he’d let Llywelyn talk him into coming to this party. The sons of miners didn’t mingle socially with the offspring of mine owners. True, Llywelyn was no snob and they’d quickly become friends at school, but this was different. He didn’t even have the right clothes. His mother had washed and ironed his very best linen shirt that he normally wore only to chapel and he’d polished his worn, scuffed boots until they shone. He had experienced his first sense of foreboding when he’d arrived at the Davies house and saw Llywelyn and his father both wearing dress coats and patent-leather pumps. He knew Llywelyn had sensed his embarrassment because he’d immediately said, “It is too hot for a coat. I’m leaving mine at home as well.” Mark was grateful, but he had also seen the look in Mr. Davies’ eyes as he heard the comment. Mr. Davies had kindly held his tongue, for he knew his son was leaving his coat at home so Mark wouldn’t be the only one in shirtsleeves.
Mr. Cartwright, of course, was wearing a dress coat, although Mark noted with some surprise that he was also wearing boots. Mrs. Cartwright was wearing a beautiful dress, lovelier than the nicest dress Mark’s mother had ever owned. The birthday girl looked like a fairytale princess, and Mark even knew which one, for she had hair that was black as ebony with skin white as snow and lips red as blood. He’d forgotten there was a younger daughter; she was tall, as tall as he was. She, at least, didn’t look like a princess. In fact, Mark had the feeling that this girl was as ill at ease in her outfit as he was in his.
“Beth, Gwyneth, this is Mark ¼” Adam hesitated.
“Pentreath,” Mark said quickly.
“Yes, sorry,” Adam said with a smile. “Mark, let me introduce our oldest daughter, Elizabeth, whose birthday we are celebrating, and her sister Gwyneth. This is our youngest daughter, Penelope,” he added putting his hands on the shoulders of a pretty little girl with the loveliest eyes Mark had ever seen. “And this is our son, A.C.,” Adam said nodding at a little boy who grinned at Mark impishly. (Penny and A.C. were on their very best behavior since Adam and Bronwen had agreed they could stand by the musicians and watch the dancing until their bedtimes. A.C. had been warned that he must obey Penny without any fussing, but the little charmer knew that was a small price to pay for being allowed to enjoy the festivities firsthand.)
Fortunately for Mark, another guest arrived just then—Reverend Jones, Mark saw with surprise—so the attention was no longer on him. He heard Llywelyn ask his cousin Gwyneth for a dance and remembered Llywelyn had requested that he also dance once with her. “She’s so tall the boys her own age don’t want to dance with her and all the older boys will be too busy hanging around my cousin Beth to pay any attention to Gwyneth,” Llywelyn had confided. “Gwyneth’s nice and I don’t want her to be a wallflower.”
“Uh, may I have a dance, Gwyneth?” Mark asked nervously. The girl smiled at him and her whole face lit up. She even had a deep dimple, Mark noticed with pleasure. When she smiled, she was very pretty he thought as he signed her dance card for a polka.
“I wanted to arrive early this year,” Reverend Jones said smiling at Beth, “to make certain I could enjoy one dance with you.” Beth, to her surprise, felt a tingling of pleasure at this remark. Ever since Reverend Jones had begun teaching her how to play the harp, which required him to place his fingers on hers, she’d unconsciously become more aware of him. He had a very nice laugh, she noticed, very warm and friendly, and she liked the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled or laughed.
“Daddy has claimed the first dance and I promised Uncle Rhys a polka,” she said demurely.
“I’d like to have the last dance with you as I did last year,” Reverend Jones said gazing into her eyes and causing her cheeks to turn pink. “And I see your second dance is free,” he added, writing his name on her dance card. Then he turned to Gwyneth. “And may I have the pleasure of a dance with you, Gwyneth?” She nodded mutely as he wrote his name down on her card for two dances. She didn’t trust her voice at that moment as she was faced with the prospect of dancing with a man other than her father or her uncle. Her discomfiture was complete as the reverend kindly added, “You look very pretty, Gwyneth. I see your cousin and Mark were intelligent enough to reserve their dances,” he added winking at the two boys.
Beth and Bronwen together had managed to persuade Adam to allow two waltzes this year. Mark did not know how to dance a quadrille or a waltz, but he asked a few younger girls to dance polkas—the girls who looked a little shy and whom the other boys ignored. The first dance was a two-step waltz. Mr. Cartwright led Beth out and a few minutes later Reverend Jones and Mrs. Cartwright joined them and then other couples. Llywelyn was also sitting this dance out so he and Mark stood together and watched the dancers.
“I was surprised to see Reverend Jones,” Mark commented quietly to Llywelyn as he watched the minister dance with Mrs. Cartwright.
“Ministers get married, too,” Llywelyn replied with a broad grin.
“I guess they do,” Mark agreed with a grin of his own.
“Gwyneth and I think Reverend Jones is sweet on Beth,” Llywelyn added.
“She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” Mark stated. “But she’s nice. Some beautiful girls aren’t. They’re too conceited.”
“Aunt Bronwen is always reminding Beth about Proverbs 31, verse 30,” Llywelyn said with a grin.
“‘Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain; but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised,’” Mark quoted.
“Beth gets tired of that verse, but she understands what my aunt means. If she ever did start acting conceited, her sisters and I would let her know about it,” Llywelyn said with a chuckle.
“All your cousins are pretty,” Mark said quietly and Llywelyn smiled at him.
“I think so. You haven’t met Miranda because she’s going to a school in the States. They have colleges for women there and she wants to attend one.”
“I guess she must be the smart sister,” Mark said with a little
smile. “I’d like to attend the
“I’m going there,” Llywelyn said excitedly. “Maybe we could room together. 'That'd be beaut!”
“I said I’d like to attend, but my family can’t afford to send me,” Mark replied a bit despondently.
“Maybe you could get a job now while we’re on vacation and earn money or be granted a scholarship. You’re making good marks in school. Mr. Rockingham would know about scholarships.”
“I’ve got a job after school working at the livery stable. My dad wants me to drop out of school now and work fulltime at the mine.”
“Don’t do that. You’ll
never be able to attend the
“That’s easy for you to say, Llywelyn Davies! Your family is rich,” Mark retorted.
Llywelyn immediately looked abashed. “I’m sorry. I had no right to say that. It’s just that I think it’d be such a waste if you dropped out of school to work.”
Mark smiled. “I understand. Dad hasn’t said too much about it lately because your dad and uncle pay a good wage. Better than the last mine dad worked at. So far we’re doing okay, but I’m expected to contribute my wages to the family, not save it for college.”
“Then I guess a scholarship is your best bet,” Llywelyn said supportively and he resolved to speak to his father and uncle about the subject soon.
It was time for the second dance so Reverend Jones came to claim his first with Beth. It was a quadrille, which didn’t allow for much conversation, but the reverend was content to feast his eyes on Beth and her beauty. The more time he spent with this lovely girl, the deeper his feelings grew, for she had an inner beauty that enhanced her outward appearance. He knew he might be considered too old for her yet he’d known other happily married couples with an age span greater than eight years. Gwyneth had artlessly let slip that her father was ten years older than her mother so that might be a way of getting around any objections Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright could have as to the difference in their ages. He knew, of course, that Bethan (he always used the Welsh version of her name in his thoughts) was still too young now to be thinking of marriage. However, he was prepared to wait and he thought he’d seen signs that she was beginning to view him as a man rather than just a minister and her savior on that dreadful day when her virtue had almost been compromised. It was difficult to see young men closer to her age taking her for walks but he knew he must be patient. Perhaps in another six months, he could ask Mr. Cartwright for permission to court her, but not before.
The second polka was the dance Gwyneth had promised to Mark. He discovered she was light on her feet and he liked the fact he could look her in the eye as they whirled about the yard. In fact, they whirled so fast that Gwyneth’s hairpins began to come loose and by the end of the dance her hair was hanging down her back. Mark had never seen hair so thick and so curly and he surreptitiously managed to touch one curl. It was so soft and looking at Gwyneth, with her amazing hair tumbling down her back, suddenly made him feel very warm.
“Stone the crows! Now I’ll have to go inside and pin it back up. And I don’t know how I’ll ever find all my hairpins,” Gwyneth said with a pout, which for some reason made Mark feel even warmer.
“I’ll help you look,” he said. They both bent down and reached for the same hairpin. Their fingers brushed and Mark jerked his hand back as though he’d been burnt while his cheeks flamed.
Adam and Bronwen had been dancing and they saw Gwyneth talking with Mark and her hair tumbled down and walked over.
“Oh, Gwyneth, did you lose your hairpins?” Bronwen scolded.
“It was my fault, Mrs. Cartwright,” Mark said hurriedly and Adam noticed the boy was blushing. “I guess we danced too vigorously. I told Gwyneth I’d help her look for them.”
“It’s too dark; you’ll never find them,” Bronwen said. “Come with me and you can borrow some of mine,” she said resignedly to Gwyneth, as the young girl followed her mother into the house.
“It wasn’t your fault about the hairpins,” Adam said kindly. “I’m afraid Gwyneth’s hair resists being confined.”
“I’ve never seen hair like hers,” Mark said in awe. “It’s glorious.”
Adam looked at him sharply, but then reminded himself this was a fifteen-year-old boy, and judging from the way he was blushing, an innocent fifteen-year-old. The boy realized whom he was speaking to and blushed even more so Adam grinned at him and said, “You’d better find your partner for the next dance.”
Gwyneth danced with her father, uncle, Llywelyn, Mark and Reverend Jones. In addition, Sandy McDonald and Tony Williams each asked her to dance to please Beth so she greatly enjoyed herself at the party and she didn’t mind being forbidden to dance any waltzes. Beth had a different partner for almost every dance, the exceptions being Sandy, Tony and Reverend Jones, who each danced with her twice. Sandy and Tony considered themselves rivals for Beth’s hand, but neither of them understood why Beth was dancing twice with Reverend Jones.
He approached Beth for the final dance of the evening with a smile. “Our waltz, I believe,” he said, extending his hand. He held her no closer than propriety allowed, yet somehow gazing up into his eyes as he twirled her about in a slow waltz, Beth felt a frisson of excitement. Dancing with Reverend Jones was different than dancing with boys like Sandy or Tony—he was more self-assured, more mature.
“You are an exquisite dancer,” he said quietly, “and so graceful. But it must run in your family because your mother and sister are as well.”
“Thank you,” she said demurely, “you are also an excellent dancer. And you’re right about Gwyneth; now that she seems to have stopped growing, she is becoming very graceful.”
“It was sweet of you to convince Tony and Sandy to dance with her. Not every older sister would be so thoughtful.”
“I love my sister and I don’t want to see her be a wallflower. I think she preferred dancing with Llywelyn’s friend though,” she replied looking up into his dark chocolate eyes and then finding it difficult to look away.
“Young Mark. I think Gwyneth may have made a conquest there,” the reverend said with a smile, finding it equally difficult to look away from her dark hazel eyes, savoring the feel of his hand on her impossibly tiny waist.
Her eyes widened. “Fair dinkum?”
He looked confused for a moment and then said with a smile, “Oh yes. He’s been struck by one of Dan Cupid’s arrows. Your Tada has noticed, too.”
“Poor Mark,” Beth said with a giggle—an adorable giggle the reverend would have said.
“I think he’s decided Mark is young enough and naive enough to be harmless. Besides, I think your sister is too young to have any interest in having a beau.”
“Too right,” Beth said dimpling. “She has no use for romance whatsoever and doesn’t believe that she ever will.” They both smiled at that knowing that just like every other young girl or boy, Gwyneth would change her mind soon enough.
The music ended so the reverend escorted Beth to her parents, resisting the temptation to kiss her hand. Adam turned to his firstborn with a smile. “Did you enjoy your party, Princess?” and she nodded with shining eyes.
The highlight of Beth’s birthday supper the following evening was opening Miranda’s gift, which also contained a letter. The gift was a pair of brown leather shoes that laced over the instep. No one had ever seen shoes like them before, but little attention was paid to the shoes since everyone was anxious to hear what Miranda had written.
Happy Birthday Beth!
I have seen snow! It
is beautiful when it first falls. It
covers everything just like white icing on a cake. Unfortunately, it doesn’t stay white and
beautiful very long here in the city. Along the roads it becomes gray
slush. It is so cold and so wet. I would try to describe it, but you can’t
understand until you’ve seen it and touched it for yourself. Charlotte and I did build a snowman. We borrowed a carrot from the cook for his
nose and we used two lumps of coal for his eyes.
Once the sun sets it is very cold here. One night it actually was only eighteen degrees. I haven’t been walking Rex since it became so cold (he doesn’t like the cold any more than I do!) and I am very glad the Aldens’ groom drives us to school. My birthday coat helps, but nothing can keep me warm when it’s this cold outside.
I am doing well with my schoolwork. You asked if I had met any boys here in
I hope you like your shoes and they fit properly. We’ve always been able to wear the same shoes so I tried them on and they fit nicely. They are called Oxfords. People here wear them in the summer in the country or to the beach so I thought they’d be perfect for your birthday. It makes me even colder to think how warm the weather is back home.
I must stop now so I can get your package in the mail. I’ll write you all about my Christmas here in
Your loving sister,
Miranda
“I want Manda to come home,” A.C. whimpered and Beth picked him up and hugged him.
“I know, little brother,” she whispered kissing his cheek. “There, that’s a kiss from Miranda. She misses you, too, but she can’t leave school yet.”
“We all miss her,” Penny said sadly while a tear rolled down her cheek so Adam picked her up, big girl of ten that she was, and sat her on his lap and cuddled her, blinking back the moisture in his own eyes. Bronwen turned to Gwyneth, who was sitting on the arm of the settee by her, and squeezed her hand comfortingly. I don’t know if we can bear to wait three years until Miranda graduates to visit her Bronwen thought. She caught her husband’s eye and knew he was thinking the same thing.
Chapter 2
The next morning as the Davies ate breakfast, Llywelyn asked carefully, “Dad, if I rode to the mine this afternoon, would you and Uncle Adam have time to talk with me? It’s about business,” he added.
Rhys arched both eyebrows in surprise but he only said mildly, “I’m certain if you ride out, your uncle and I can set aside some time to talk with you.”
“Thanks,” Llywelyn said with a grateful grin.
Rhys told Adam about Llywelyn’s proposed visit as they rode to the mine. Adam was as intrigued as Rhys.
“So Llywelyn wants to talk business with us? And you have no idea what it’s all about?”
“Not a clue. I guess we’ll find out this afternoon.”
Matilda and Bronwen always packed a dinner for Rhys and Adam to eat at the mine since the distance was too great to allow them to come home. Both men noticed Llywelyn’s nervousness when he arrived shortly after they’d finished eating, which only increased their curiosity.
Llywelyn cleared his throat and then plunged into his carefully rehearsed speech. “Dad. Uncle Adam. Have you ever thought of setting up a scholarship in the name of Cartwright & Davies Mining Company? That way you could help some of the very intelligent boys in town whose fathers aren’t wealthy to attend college. It would be a philanthropic gesture and I’m sure the entire town would appreciate it.”
Both men were taken aback but they could see the merit in Llywelyn’s suggestion. “We’ve never discussed it, but actually I think it is a good idea,” Rhys stated and Adam nodded his agreement. “I have a feeling that you have a specific candidate in mind though, son.”
“Sort of,” Llywelyn admitted, “but I know he’d have to compete against other boys and he might not be the one you choose. Anyway, I have several mates who are very bright, but their families aren’t as well off as ours and they probably won’t have an opportunity to attend college just for that reason.”
“You’ve certainly given us food for thought, Llywelyn,” Adam said with a warm smile. “Your dad and I will talk it over and let you know what we decide.” Llywelyn thanked them both and rode back home, hopeful that his father and uncle would act on his idea.
“I do like the idea,” Adam said after Llywelyn left their office. “There are some deserving boys here who have no chance of attending college because of the money involved.”
“We’ll need to set up criteria. I would like a chance to interview potential candidates and then make the final decision. We’ll need to decide on an amount. It will have to be fairly large to be of real help,” Rhys said thoughtfully.
“I’ll write my father about it,” Adam said. “I think Cartwright Enterprises might be willing to contribute, and that would allow us to fund a larger scholarship.”
“Right,” Rhys said. “Why don’t we both write down our ideas tonight, and then tomorrow we can discuss it again.” He grinned at Adam. “I’m proud of my son for coming up with the idea.”
“You should be,” Adam replied with a matching grin. “Llywelyn is a fine boy and I hope A.C. follows his cousin’s example.”
A.C. whined and begged to be allowed to go out and play in the rain but Bronwen and Beth were busy getting ready for Penny’s birthday party that afternoon. Neither one had the time nor the inclination to stand in the rain and watch him. Bronwen told him he must play in his room and he had a full blown temper tantrum, which resulted in his being forced to sit on a stool in a corner of the kitchen facing the wall while Bronwen made the birthday cake and Beth dusted and polished the furniture in the drawing room, dining room and library. Bronwen tried to ignore her baby’s sobs but finally she couldn’t stand it any longer.
“A.C. bach, if you tell Mama you are sorry for being a bad boy, then you may sit at the kitchen table and watch me make Penny’s cake.”
“I’m sorry, Mama,” he said in a quavering voice, turning so she could see his woebegone little face.
“Where’s your handkerchief? You need to blow your nose.”
“I dunno, Mama,” he said checking all his pockets.
“All right you can use mine, and then we both need to go to the bathhouse and wash our hands.”
As they washed their hands, A.C. asked hopefully, “Can I lick the spoon, Mama?”
“Only if you are a very, very good little boy.”
“I will be Mama; I promise,” he said dimpling.
Aside from his incessant chatter, he was good so, as promised, he
got to lick the spoon. To Bronwen’s
great relief as she put the cake in the oven, A.C. decided he would go play
with his Noah’s
Penny and Gwyneth ate quickly and headed back to school while Nell and Mary returned to the laundry. With a sigh Bronwen said, “Beth, I have a terrific headache. Could you go ahead and frost the cake while I rest for a bit?”
“Right, Mama. Don’t worry; she’ll be apples,” Beth replied with an encouraging smile, for her mother did look tired and drawn.
A.C. had worn himself out screaming, so Bronwen went quietly upstairs and lay down on her chaise lounge on the upstairs verandah. She was more tired than she’d realized, for she slept until Beth came upstairs and gently shook her arm.
“I’m sorry, Mama, but A.C. woke up and I didn’t know if you wanted him to stay in his room any longer.”
“How long was I asleep?” Bronwen asked as she sat up, relieved that her headache seemed to have disappeared.
“A little over an hour,” Beth replied.
“Oh, I’m glad you woke me. Would you please play with your brother until it’s time to take him to Aunt Matilda’s?”
“Right. The rain has stopped. Could I take him outside and let him swing?”
“All right, but make sure he doesn’t track any mud in the house,” Bronwen warned.
Bronwen finished all the last minute preparations for the party and then she asked Beth to go ahead and take A.C. over to the Davies house while she changed.
“But I wanna come to Penny’s party. Please, Mama,” he said imploringly. “Please. I’ll be good.”
“A.C. bach, Penny’s party is for Penny and her school friends. I’m sorry but you can’t come. And if you have another tantrum, then you and Mama will have another necessary talk, and I will have to tell Daddy when he comes home that you have been a bad boy.”
“No, I’m not a bad b-boy,” A.C. sobbed. “I just want to come to the p-party.”
“Come on, A.C.,” Beth said brightly, “you’ll have fun with Aunt Matilda.” She grasped her weeping little brother’s hand and led him away.
Bronwen’s headache had returned with a vengeance and she felt like crying herself. It didn’t seem fair to forbid A.C. to come to the party, but it wouldn’t be fair to Penny and her friends to have him there either. She felt her control slipping away and she began to sob uncontrollably. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I stop crying?
A few minutes later Beth returned and found her mother sitting on the verandah crying hysterically. “Mama, what’s wrong?” she asked, feeling panicked.
“I don’t know,” Bronwen sobbed. “I can’t stop crying.”
“Are you all right?” Beth asked anxiously and Bronwen managed to nod. “Don’t worry about the party. I’ll manage until you feel better.” She ran upstairs to change clothes, still worried about her mother.
After Beth left, Bronwen suddenly realized the only other times she had lost control like this was after the birth of her children, but she didn’t see any connection. Fortunately by the time the party guests started to arrive, she’d managed to regain control. She changed clothes, washed her face and hoped none of the children noted her red, swollen eyes.
Adam stopped by the Davies house to pick up A.C. and take him home. A.C. saw him walking up to the verandah and ran out the front door shouting, “Daddy!”
Adam swung him up in the air and then said, “Jackeroo, you’re getting too big for this.” Or I’m getting too old. Maybe it’s a combination of both, Adam thought. “Have you been a good boy for your Aunt Matilda?”
“I was good. Wasn’t I, Aunt Tilda?”
“Yes, he was very good. We played some games and looked at some of Llywelyn’s old picture books.”
“What do you say to Aunt Matilda for letting you come to visit?” Adam asked A.C.
“Thank you, Aunt Tilda,” A.C. replied dimpling and his father squeezed his neck affectionately as Matilda said, “You’re very welcome, A.C.”
“Come on. You can ride home on Zephyr with me,” Adam said to A.C., then turned to his in-laws. “We’ll see you in a bit. I can hardly wait to read Miranda’s letter.”
“We’re all anxious to hear about her Christmas,” Rhys said grinning broadly. “We’ll have to let Penny open her gifts first though.”
“We gots a letter from Manda?” A.C. asked excitedly as he walked along holding his daddy’s hand.
“Too right,” Adam said with a smile that showed all his white teeth. “After Penny’s opened all her presents, then she’ll read Miranda’s letter.”
“I want to hear Manda’s letter first,” A.C. said with a pout.
“Now, Jackeroo,
if it was your birthday, wouldn’t you want to
open your presents first?” A.C. still
looked sulky but his mood improved when Adam helped him to
Penny’s friends had all departed so Adam and A.C. went upstairs to change for the birthday supper. Gwyneth was still in her room struggling to pin her hair up and as Adam walked into A.C.’s room to make certain A.C. was changing into one of his knickerbocker suits he suddenly heard Gwyneth’s voice saying loudly, “Gol dang it!”
Adam was standing in Gwyneth’s doorway within seconds. “Gwyneth Marie Cartwright, do you want your mouth washed out with soap?” he asked sternly. “If I ever hear you use that language again, I promise you that is exactly what will happen.”
“Uncle Joe talks that way,” Gwyneth sulked.
“Uncle Joe is not my daughter; you are. And I expect you to talk like a lady, not a cowboy. And if you talk back to me once more, you will have a sore bottom to go with your freshly washed mouth. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she replied sullenly. “I wish I could cut my hair. It never wants to stay up!”
“I’ll see if Beth can come help you,” he replied, biting his cheek to stop from laughing at her ferocious scowl. He walked halfway down the curving front staircase and called Beth’s name.
“Yes, Daddy?”
“Could you come help your sister with her hair?”
“Right. Poor Gwyneth,” Beth said as she joined him on the stairs. “Her hair really is so uncooperative. I used to wish I had curly hair like hers, but not anymore.”
Penny was as eager as the rest of them to read Miranda’s letter so she opened her gifts in record time. The package from Miranda contained a red pullover sweater and a fat letter.
“Why don’t you read it to us, Kitten?” Adam suggested and Penny’s smile was blinding.
Happy Birthday Penny!
Christmas in
Llywelyn interrupted then. “That just sounds unbelievable. To be all bundled up to go Christmas caroling,” he said shaking his head in wonder.
“Trust me, Llywelyn, it has taken me years to grow accustomed to caroling in my shirtsleeves,” Adam commented with a chuckle.
“Let’s get back to Miranda’s letter, please,” Bronwen said a bit sharply, for her headache had only intensified throughout the afternoon and evening.
Llywelyn stammered an apology while Adam raised an eyebrow at his wife’s tone. It was not like Bronwen to be snappish and he wondered if she were feeling ill. She did look tired and drawn, and she had been massaging the back of her neck now that he thought about it. He resolved to question her when they were alone that night. Meanwhile, Penny cleared her throat and resumed reading.
¼ I
must admit that the Aldens’ tall evergreen tree is lovelier than our gum tree
branch. Their tree was over six feet
tall. Ned, the footman, had to stand on
a ladder to put the angel at the top of the tree. The Aldens are too grand for homemade
decorations; all their ornaments come from
A.C., who was sitting on Adam’s lap, looked up at him with a dimpled grin. “When you write your sister, you can tell her all about your kangaroo ornament,” Adam said, with a matching grin.
Although the climate is very different, many Christmas
traditions are the same in
I loved all of my Christmas gifts and I hope my gift to you arrived in plenty of time for Christmas. Even though I enjoyed Christmas with the Aldens, I did miss you all dreadfully. There’s no school now because of the Christmas vacation but I am trying to keep busy so I won’t get so homesick.
Your loving sister,
Miranda
“I think tomorrow we should each write Miranda a letter,” Rhys said when Penny finished. “As much as we miss her, it must be even worse for her. Letters from her family should help her deal with her homesickness.”
“Yes,” Adam agreed. “I remember how I treasured letters from my father and brothers, and when I got so homesick I could hardly bear it, I’d get out those letters and read them again.” He looked down at his son, whose head was nodding. “I think someone is ready for bed.” A.C. was so sleepy that he didn’t argue and so Adam carried him to his room and put him to bed.
Bronwen was relieved that Rhys, Matilda and Llywelyn left early. (Rhys and Matilda had both noticed how tired she looked and, like Adam, they had noticed her rubbing her neck to relieve the tension so they didn’t stay as long as they normally would for a family get together.)
Beth had been worried about her mother ever since she’d found her crying, and she skillfully maneuvered her younger sisters into heading upstairs to their rooms not long after the Davies left and Adam gave his firstborn a grateful smile.
When he and Bronwen were alone, he suggested they retire early. “You look exhausted, sweetheart, and I suspect you have a headache.”
“I do,” Bronwen said ruefully. “I actually had a long nap, but I’m ready to sleep again. Your son wore me out today.”
“My son?” Adam asked with a sardonic smile. “He’s only my son when he’s misbehaving. When he’s angelic, then he’s your son.”
“He was a little devil today, although to be fair, he had some help from Penny.” At Adam’s raised eyebrow she added, “Penny just had to gloat over the fact that A.C. wasn’t coming to her party. He’d already had one tantrum because he couldn’t go out and play in the rain, and Penny’s gloating brought on another.”
“He told me he’d been a good boy,” Adam said with a frown.
“You know what a three-year-old’s memory is like. I’m sure he’d forgotten. Besides, he got a spanking after the second tantrum and he had to stay in his room for an hour.”
Adam nodded, though he was surprised that his wife had actually spanked their son. “Well then, he’s had his punishment, and he was very good this evening.” He looked harder at her wan countenance. “Are you certain you just have a headache?”
She hesitated, but decided not to mention her crying jag. No need to alarm him. “Yes. I’m certain I’ll feel better in the morning.”
“All right,” Adam replied. He obviously wasn’t totally convinced, but decided not to press her at the moment.
Bronwen woke out of a troubled sleep. “Sweetheart,” Adam said urgently, shaking her shoulder. “Sweetheart, are you all right?”
Bronwen realized she was drenched in sweat, her nightgown was soaked and the bedclothes were damp. “Yes, I’m fine,” she said. “It’s just so warm in here. I’m sorry. If you’ll light the lamp, I’ll change the sheets.”
In the dark, she couldn’t see the skeptical look on her husband’s face, for it wasn’t unusually warm. However, he lit the lamp and insisted on helping her change the bed.
After several weeks of interrupted sleep and mood swings, Bronwen realized that she must be going through “the change”. She resisted going to see Dr. Brooke, and she also didn’t want to tell Adam what was happening, afraid that he would find her less desirable if he knew she was becoming an old woman. Adam decided to take matters into his own hands, and paid a visit to Dr. Brooke one afternoon.
“I can’t convince my wife to see you, but I’m afraid there is something wrong with her. She’s become very moody lately and once or twice I’ve found her crying inconsolably over trifles. And it seems as though we haven’t had an uninterrupted night’s sleep for weeks.”
“Why is that?” Dr. Brooke asked and then answered his own question. “Is she having night sweats?”
“Yes. They’re as bad as mine after I’ve taken quinine,” Adam said emphatically. “Do you know what’s wrong, doctor?”
“There’s nothing wrong with Mrs. Cartwright,” the doctor said calmly. “She is just going through menopause.”
“Menopause?” Adam repeated.
“Yes. You see, a woman’s body undergoes two major changes in her lifetime. The first is when she begins her childbearing years. The second, menopause, is when her childbearing years are over. While their bodies are adjusting to this change, many women experience night sweats, and sometimes they will perspire profusely while they are awake as well. They also often become very moody. When Mrs. Cartwright’s body has finished changing, the symptoms will stop. The best advice I can give you is to be patient and understanding.”
When Adam and Bronwen were alone in bed that night he said quietly, “I saw Dr. Brooke this afternoon.”
“Are you ill?” she said fearfully.
“No, I didn’t go to talk about me; I talked to him about you.”
“I told you I wasn’t sick!” she snarled.
“Yes, that’s what he told me. He explained to me why you are so moody and why you’re having the night sweats.” He paused and then asked gently, “Sweetheart, why didn’t you tell me? Why did I have to hear about it from Dr. Brooke?”
She looked away and said in a voice so low he had to strain to hear, “I didn’t want to tell you that you are married to an old woman.”
“You don’t seem to mind being married to an old man,” he said with a hint of a smile and she heard the ironic humor in his voice.
“It’s not funny!” she retorted, turning to face him. “I’m becoming a dried up old woman! My breasts are starting to sag and I’m afraid my waist is getting thicker even though I’m eating less and trying to walk more.”
“Sweetheart,” he said tenderly, “I’m a decade older than you are. I’m bald and my waist has very definitely thickened. If I am honest, then I have a confession of my own that is just as humiliating for me. If I’ve made love to you less often the past couple of months, it’s not that I find you any less attractive; it’s because my desire just doesn’t seem to be as strong as it once was.”
She smiled ruefully at those words. “As long as we’re both being honest, I have another confession: I think my desire must be lessening as well because I’ve been content.” She paused and then said hesitantly, “I do miss the cuddling that we always share after we make love though.”
“Then we’ll cuddle more often,” he said gently, drawing her close. She laid her head on his chest and he said very softly as he tenderly caressed her, “As long as we’re making confessions, when we were first married, I didn’t really enjoy cuddling. I only did it to please you, but now that I’ve gotten older, I find I take pleasure in it.”
She lifted her head and smiled at him then said quietly, “I think this must be what Mr. Browning had in mind when he wrote about the last of life being the best.” Adam kissed her forehead in silent agreement, and they both drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 3
The winter of 1891-92 had been a hard one in the high country
of the
“You got three letters and a package from
Ben’s fingers were itching to open the letters but he forced
himself to put them to one side until supper when the whole family could hear
them. He looked fondly at the photograph
of Adam’s family they’d had taken before they brought Miranda to
When Joe walked inside the house that evening, tossing his hat on the credenza and carefully hanging his gunbelt on the peg out of the reach of his children, Sarah ran to him squealing, “Daddy’s home!” Joe picked her up, hugged her and kissed her cheek. Benj’s greeting was more subdued; now that he was eight, he didn’t want to be hugged and kissed and in that he definitely reminded Ben more of his Uncle Adam than his father. Of course, Ben thought, it is Annabelle’s reserved temperament that Benj has inherited.
“Did Buckshot bring the mail?” Joe asked eagerly after kissing Annabelle’s cheek, all she would allow in the presence of others. “Did we get a letter from Adam? And Miranda?”
“Yes to all three questions,” Ben answered with a smile. “We even got letters from Beth, Gwyneth and Penny. Right after supper we’ll read the letters.”
“Can I hear the letters, too, Grandpa?” Sarah begged, turning her big hazel eyes on him.
“You sure can, Sugar. You and Benj both,” Ben replied. “Whose letter shall we read first?”
“Adam’s,” Joe said immediately.
“I want to hear Cousin Beth’s,” Sarah said with a pout.
“All right,” Joe conceded, never able to deny his daughter anything. “Cousin Beth’s first.”
“Then I want to hear Gwyneth’s next,” Benj stated firmly
“Then Miranda’s,” Ben stated.
“I give up,” Joe said with a grin. “We’ll hear Adam’s last.”
After supper, Joe and his family gathered on the settee, with Sarah on Joe’s lap, while Ben sat in his favorite leather armchair. He put on his bifocals and opened Beth’s letter.
Dear Grandpa, Uncle Joe, Aunt Annabelle, Benj and Sarah,
Yesterday was A.C.’s fourth birthday and today is Valentine’s Day. Reverend Jones has a small flower garden at the rectory and he presented Gwyneth, Penny and I with a bouquet of pink roses. (They stand for friendship.) I thought that was very sweet of him. I got several lovely Valentines, but you’ll never guess who else got one. Gwyneth! It was very pretty and signed “Your secret admirer”. I think I know who it is. Poor Gwyneth doesn’t have any idea and Penny and A.C. are teasing her unmercifully about having a beau. I think she’s ready to commit sororicide and fratricide.
“What’s sororicide and fratricide?” Benj asked wrinkling h