As always, I want to
thank Larkspur and Vickie Batzka for reading draft
copies of this story. Their help is
invaluable. Joan Sattler came through
for me once again with some new Australian idioms (Their definition is provided
at the end of the story.)
“The Marriage of True Minds”
Part 1
by Deborah Grant
March 2004
Chapter 1
The tall, bald, white-bearded man breathed in the clean
sea breeze, looking at the vast expanse of blue water on every side, and
thought how his life had changed since the last time he’d made the voyage to
his native land. Adam Cartwright had
lived in Queensland for the last twenty-four of his sixty-one years, and the
last time he had sailed to the United States had been in 1894 to attend the
graduation of his second daughter, Miranda, from the Girls’ Latin School in
Boston. Now he was sailing to the
He turned his head and looked at the lovely, dark-haired
young woman standing at his left.
Gwyneth, his third daughter, was twenty now; she’d been courted by
several young men in her hometown of
“Look, Dad! A dolphin!” the young boy on his right shouted, pointing excitedly, and Adam grinned at his son. Adam Stoddard Cartwright, Jr., or A.C. as he was known, was now ten. He was tall and skinny with thick, wavy black hair, large hazel eyes and a spattering of freckles across his nose. He was a bright boy, but not particularly interested in his schoolwork. He’d rather be swimming, riding or playing cricket with his mates. However, he was the top student in his class for two reasons: He didn’t like disappointing his parents and he didn’t like being on the receiving end of one of his dad’s “necessary talks”.
For a moment, Adam’s thoughts turned to the third child who
should have been with them. Penny would
have been seventeen—having her first beaus walking her to and from church and
taking her for evening strolls. In his
mind’s eye he could picture her now: a
younger version of her mother when he’d first met her—slender and dainty with
enormous violet eyes dominating her heart-shaped face. He felt his own eyes began to fill with tears
and savagely forced his thoughts in another direction. Instead he thought of Penny on her second
voyage to the
He glanced quickly at his wife, Bronwen, who was standing on the other side of A.C. and for a moment their eyes met and he knew she had also been thinking of Penny. They shared a poignant smile and they both thought of all the changes that had taken place the past four years. The two most important ones were their grandchildren: three-year-old Elen Penelope and fourteen-month-old Huw Adda, named for his grandfathers. It was hard to believe three and a half years had passed since Elen entered their lives. ¼
a a a
Adam gazed tenderly at the tiny baby in his son-in-law’s arms, feeling such awe and wonder. It seemed only yesterday he had been holding his own firstborn and now he was looking at her beautiful, perfect daughter.
“We want to name her Elen Penelope,” Beth said quietly and he felt the saltiness of his tears burn his eyes as he said in voice that was just a little unsteady, “Penny would be so pleased.”
“Would you like to hold her, Tada?” his son-in-law asked tearing his eyes from his baby daughter while his countenance reflected the same joy Adam remembered he had experienced when he’d held Beth in his arms for the first time.
“Very much,” he replied and held out his arms. Dafydd carefully passed his precious bundle to her maternal grandfather, who immediately began the gentle rocking motion he had used with his own babies. “You’re a beautiful little girl, Elen,” he said softly, “just like your mother.”
“I think she favors Dafydd,” Beth said fondly, “except she has Mama’s eyes.” Left unspoken was the thought in all their minds, And Penny’s.
“Well, I hope you’re wrong. I hope she looks just like you, cariad,” Dafydd said with a smile. “Girls should take after their mothers.” He stopped, stricken, remembering that Penny had been the image of her mother.
Bronwen only said with a smile, “Perhaps, but they don’t always. Look at Gwyneth.” They all shared a smile then and she continued, “My granddaughter is a beautiful baby no matter whom she takes after.”
“Will you listen to your mother,” Adam said teasingly. “Her granddaughter. Her daughters and her son are perfect. It’s only my daughters and my son that are naughty.” Beth giggled at that but then little Elen began to wave her fists and wail.
“Elen fach is hungry,” Bronwen said. “Your father and I will give the three of you some privacy now but I’ll be back in the morning to fix breakfast for you, Beth. Dafydd, it would be easiest if you could have your meals at our house until Beth is up to cooking for you. That is if you don’t mind?”
“Of course not, Mam,” Dafydd assured her as his in-laws prepared to depart.
The rain was still pouring but it was a hot evening, typical of early November. Bronwen had arrived at the rectory that morning in Dafydd’s buggy while Adam had ridden his chestnut gelding, Mercury, straight from the mine. They were in a hurry to share the news about Elen’s birth with their younger children, so they rode home together on Mercury. They were thoroughly soaked by the time they arrived at their stable, but their two younger children, who had been watching for them on the verandah, came running toward the stable heedless of the rain.
“Is Beth all right?” Gwyneth called while her little brother shouted, “Is the baby born? What’s his name?”
“Your sister is fine,” Bronwen said with a smile as her children approached and Adam added with a grin, “And so is your niece, Elen Penelope.”
“They named her for Penny,” Gwyneth said and her parents saw her eyes pool with tears behind her spectacles.
“It’s a girl,” A.C. said and disappointment was written all over his countenance. “I wanted a nephew.”
“I’m just happy the baby is healthy and your sister is all right,” his father replied.
“Oh!” Gwyneth said, her hands going to her mouth. “I forgot. Uncle Rhys, Aunt Matilda and Llywelyn are at the house waiting to hear about Beth and the baby.”
“I’m surprised Llywelyn didn’t run out in the rain with you,” Bronwen said as she looked at the four of them, soaked to the skin.
“He wanted to, but Aunt Tilda wouldn’t let him,” A.C. confided. Just then their little terrier, Lady, came dashing up barking hysterically.
“And now we have a wet dog as well,” Adam sighed. “There’s nothing quite like the smell of wet dog,” he added as Gwyneth picked Lady up and let her lick her face enthusiastically.
“Matilda will cark it when she sees us,” Bronwen said with a giggle. “Let’s all help Daddy with Mercury and then we’ll make a dash for the house.”
Matilda was indeed aghast when the four Cartwrights ran up the steps to the verandah, dripping wet, but her husband and son just grinned.
“You can congratulate us,” Adam said. “We have a beautiful granddaughter, Elen Penelope. She has Bronwen’s eyes, but she’s going to take after her daddy.”
“That’s wonderful,” Matilda said while Rhys thumped his brother-in-law and friend on the back saying, “Congratulations.”
“How’s it feel to be an aunt and uncle,” Llywelyn asked his cousins with a grin.
“I don’t really know,” Gwyneth replied honestly.
“I wanna see the baby,” A.C. exclaimed. “When do I get to see her?”
“Tomorrow morning before you go to school, you and Gwyneth can come for a brief visit. And you must be quiet, A.C. bach. Babies need to sleep most of the time.”
“Why?” he asked scrunching his face in puzzlement.
“It helps them grow,” his mama replied
“Did I sleep a lot?” he inquired.
“Yes, you did,” his older sister said with a smile. “You slept through thunderstorms.”
“While the tiniest sound, like someone walking into the room, would wake you up,” Adam interjected. “When I complained about it to Grandpa in a letter, he wrote back that it was only just since I had been the same way when I was a baby.”
“Could I come with you when you visit Beth?” Matilda asked. She’d always wanted a daughter but she’d had a miscarriage before Llywelyn, and he was five before she’d finally conceived again, only to give birth to a stillborn girl. She had never become pregnant again. Since she had no daughters of her own, she’d grown very close to her nieces, particularly Beth and Penny since they had both enjoyed pretty clothes and sewing as much as she did.
“Of course,” Bronwen replied. “Beth will be stoked to see you and skite about her little girl.”
“Then maybe Llywelyn and I can come for a visit after supper,” Rhys suggested and Bronwen nodded. The Davies then said goodbye and, opening their umbrellas, they ran next-door to their house.
“I’m starved,” Adam announced.
“I haven’t had anything to eat since
“Neither have I,” Bronwen admitted.
“We had Cornish pasties,” Gwyneth replied. “I tried out the recipe Mark’s mother gave me.”
“They were good, too,” A.C. added. “I wanted two but Gwyneth said I had to save some for you.”
“I’m glad one of our children was thinking of us,” Adam said ruffling his son’s wet hair. “We all need to get into some dry clothes and then your mama and I can eat.
A short time later, they gathered in the dining room in dry clothes and the two women wore their hair down so it would dry faster. A.C. stared at them. “Stone the crows! You sure have long hair,” he exclaimed. Gwyneth’s hair was thick and curly so it came just below her hips while her mother’s was straight and fine and fell nearly to her knees.
“It’s never been cut; that’s why it’s so long,” his sister replied.
“Never?” A.C. asked in surprise.
“Women usually don’t cut their hair,” his mama answered, “though I know your sister was tempted to on at least one occasion”. Bronwen’s eyes twinkled as she remembered her husband’s description of the not-quite-fifteen-year old Gwyneth’s bold declaration that her hair was too unruly to handle and she was going to take the scissors to it after she’d been caught swearing at it and been threatened with having her mouth washed out with soap.
Adam, not wishing to relive that tempestuous scene, hastily interjected, “I’m hungry. Where is this pasty I was promised?”
“Here they are,” Gwyneth said, getting the platter off the top of the china cabinet. At her father’s raised eyebrow she explained, “I had to put them where A.C. couldn’t reach them,” and her little brother stuck out his tongue at her.
“This is delicious, Gwyneth,” Bronwen stated after swallowing a mouthful of the meat pastry.
“Yes, it is,” Adam added upon his first bite of the flakey crust and savory filling.
“It’s Mrs. Pentreath’s recipe,” Gwyneth said modestly. “If they turned out well, then I thought I’d make some to take with us Sunday afternoon when we go fishing.”
“I certainly vote in favor of the idea,” Adam said with a grin.
“And I expect the pasties are Mark’s favorites, hmm?” Bronwen added, eyeing her daughter speculatively.
“His mother did say they were one of his favorites,” Gwyneth replied, a faint blush on her cheeks as she avoided her mother’s eyes. “These are beef but she told me how to make lamb and chicken. The chicken has fried mushrooms as well as the potato and onion.”
“These are certainly delicious,” her father commented, “but if Mrs.
Campbell gives you a recipe for haggis because it’s one of
“Haggis?” A.C. repeated.
“It’s a food Scots enjoy. It involves a sheep’s stomach,” Adam replied.
“Yuk!” A.C. said making a gagging noise.
“A.C.,” his mama said reprovingly and then she frowned at her husband. “You could set a better example.” Adam only grinned before asking, “Would either of you ladies like to play some chess?”
“I’ve got a history test tomorrow and I need to study,” Gwyneth replied while Bronwen exclaimed, “We haven’t told Nell and Mary about the baby! I must do that and then talk with them about fixing your meals for the next week since I’ll be spending most of my time at the rectory.” She paused, then added with a devilish glint in her eye, “with my new granddaughter.”
Adam rolled his eyes in mock annoyance and turned to his young son, “Would you like to play a game, Jackeroo?”
“Okay, Daddy. Can we play my Christmas Goose game?”
“Right,” Adam replied with a matching grin.
That night when Adam and Bronwen were in their bedroom after the children were asleep, she started to braid her now dry hair. He stopped unbuttoning his shirt and said quietly, “Don’t braid it. You’re even lovelier with your hair down.” He winked suggestively. “Especially when it’s the only thing covering you.”
“What you’re suggesting is hardly proper behavior for a grandma and grandpa,” she replied teasingly, though she did as he requested.
“I assure you I intend to be a most improper grandpa,” he replied, swooping her up in his arms and carrying her to their bed.
A.C. woke before the sun was up the next morning. There was a full moon which gently illuminated his bedroom and he dressed hurriedly by its light. He crept quietly down the backstairs and out the backdoor so he could feed the surprised and sleepy chickens and feed and water an equally surprised Sport. Mercury, Gwyneth’s Artemis and Olwen, his mother’s Welsh cob, all neighed as if to ask why their humans weren’t feeding them. Buttercup, their milk cow, mooed loudly to remind everyone that she needed to be milked. His chores done, A.C. scurried into the kitchen to eat a slice of bread and drink a glass of milk before hurrying to the rectory to see his brand-new niece. The kitchen had been empty and dark when he left to do his chores, but now Nell and Mary were up and beginning their day.
“Stone the crows! Master A.C., what are you doing up at this hour?” Nell asked astonishment written all over her features since A.C. had never been up before his father and sister, who were the early risers of the family.
“I done my chores and now I’m gonna eat breakfast and go see Elen,” he announced.
The two women exchanged amused glances over his head.
“Reverend Jones, Miss Beth and little Miss Elen are asleep now,” Mary said grinning at him.
“Mama said I could go see Elen before I went to school,” the little boy asserted.
“She didn’t mean at daybreak,” Nell assured him with a laugh.
A.C. scowled at them both. “She didn’t say I couldn’t go then.”
“Only because it never occurred to me that you’d plan to go this early.” Bronwen’s voice came from the doorway. A.C. whirled around and saw his parents and big sister standing in the doorway grinning at him.
“It’s too early to visit, Jackeroo,” his father confirmed while Gwyneth shook her head and said, “Drongo,” earning a reproving stare from both parents.
“I’m going to fix Beth’s breakfast, so give me a goodbye kiss,” Bronwen said bending over to kiss his cheek. She thought with a sigh how fast her baby was growing up. Not quite seven yet but already as tall as some eight or even nine-year-olds.
“Can I come with you?” he asked eagerly.
“I’m sorry, bachgennyn, but Mama is going to be too busy taking care of Beth and helping her care for Elen. Daddy will bring you and Gwyneth over after you’ve eaten your breakfast. Dafydd is going to be eating breakfast with all of you, too.” She and Adam exchanged a quick kiss and then she hurried out the door.
“Since you’ve done all your chores, would you like to learn how to milk Buttercup?” Adam asked.
“Right,” the little boy replied, but with less than his usual enthusiasm. However, once his daddy demonstrated the technique and let him try, his normal exuberance returned. Adam promised he could milk on his own that evening. (Buttercup did not share A.C.’s delight but she was a longsuffering bovine.)
By the time the three had finished their chores and changed clothes, Dafydd was knocking at the front door.
“Come in, come in,” Adam said with a broad smile, taking in his son-in-law’s bleary eyes. “You don’t look like you got much sleep. Did Elen wake you?”
“No,” Dafydd replied stifling a yawn. “She slept just fine. It was Beth who woke up at
Adam laughed out loud at that while Gwyneth dimpled and A.C. just looked puzzled.
“I thought babies needed to sleep a lot,” he commented.
“They do, but they also need to eat a lot. That’s pretty much all babies do for the first month or two: eat and sleep,” his daddy replied.
“And dirty their nappies,” Gwyneth added wrinkling her nose. “I remember watching Mama change yours.”
“Why can’t we eat breakfast with Elen?” A.C. asked (after sticking out his tongue at his sister behind his daddy’s back).
“Elen doesn’t eat food like we do,” his daddy said patiently. “She drinks milk.”
“I drink milk,” A.C. replied not understanding.
“Not milk from a cow; milk from Beth,” his older sister retorted smugly.
“Milk from Beth?”
Adam sighed, and giving Gwyneth a look of displeasure for her ill-timed response, he then said to his daughter and son-in-law, “Why don’t you go on and start without us.” The other two left with alacrity. They were halfway through their meal when Adam and A.C. entered the room. As soon as he saw his sister, A.C. said speculatively, “You mean when Gwyneth gets married and has babies, she’ll make milk just like Buttercup?”
Gwyneth flushed scarlet while Dafydd, who’d just taken a sip of tea, sprayed it across his plate.
“Jackeroo, it’s not polite to compare your sister to a cow,” Adam replied as Dafydd tried to mop up tea with his napkin while Gwyneth glared at her brother. “But, yes, when Gwyneth marries and has children, her body will produce milk for them just as Beth’s is now.”
A.C. nodded, but then he looked puzzled again. “Grandpa told me that Grandma died when you was a little baby, so how did you eat?”
Adam answered seriously, “A friend of your grandma’s—“
“Mrs. Baldwin,” Gwyneth interjected yet again but Adam raised his eyebrow, which caused her to immediately refocus her attentions on her breakfast.
“Mrs. Baldwin had a baby girl and she offered to feed me as well as her own baby. Now, we have to hurry and eat so you’ll have time to see Elen before you need to go to school.”
Even though he ate quickly, A.C. still managed to consume two scones, liberally covered with Bronwen’s homemade orange marmalade, a good-sized helping of scrambled eggs, and a glass of milk. Dafydd shook his head and marveled at the amount of food his little brother-in-law could eat and still be so skinny. Just as Adam and A.C. were finishing, Matilda arrived.
“G’day, Aunt Tilda,” A.C. greeted her. “Did you make milk for Llywelyn when he was a baby?”
Matilda turned a fiery red and sputtered while Dafydd tried to turn his laugh into a cough and Gwyneth rolled her eyes. Adam said sternly, “Adam Stoddard Cartwright, Jr., you are not to ask any more women if they made milk or if they will make milk for babies. Do you understand?”
“Why, Daddy?”
“Because it is not polite. And that is all you need to know,” he added decisively, effectively preventing further discussion of the subject on the part of his youngest child.
Since the rectory was only a short distance away, they all walked together. As soon as he could see the building, A.C. sprinted ahead. Adam started to call him back, but thought better of it. Bronwen had been watching for them and was at the door to greet A.C. before he had a chance to pound on it.
“You’re going to have to be very quiet, A.C. Elen and Beth are both asleep,” Bronwen said softly.
“You mean,” and seeing his mama put her finger on her lips he moderated his volume, “I can’t see Elen?’
“You can tiptoe into the bedroom and look at her sleeping in her cradle.”
“I wanted to hold her,” A.C. whined just as the others joined him on the verandah.
“You’ll have plenty of chances to hold her later on,” Bronwen said reassuringly. She turned to her son-in-law. “Dafydd, why don’t you take Gwyneth and A.C. up to your bedroom so they can look at Elen. Beth is asleep as well so I told A.C. he must be very quiet.”
“I guess I’ll come back this evening with Rhys and Llywelyn,” Adam decided. “I’ll see you then, sweetheart.” He kissed Bronwen quickly and left. “Matilda, I thought you and I could visit until Beth and the baby wake up,” Bronwen suggested.
“That would be lovely,” Matilda agreed and so they went to the parlor.
A.C. started to make a comment when he saw the baby but Gwyneth and Dafydd both put their fingers to their lips so he held his tongue until they joined the two older women. “Elen’s all red and squished,” he commented and saw his mama’s face looked almost like she was going to cry.
“I’m sorry, Mama. I take it back,” he said hurriedly.
“No, it’s all right,” Bronwen said blinking back her tears. “It’s just that Penny said the same thing about you when you were born.”
“Fair dinkum?” and she nodded before adding, “All babies look that way when they’re newborn. In a day or two Elen won’t look so red.” She smiled at her son-in-law and then said to her children, “You two had better hurry so you aren’t late. Don’t forget to stop and get the mail, Gwyneth.”
“I won’t. There might be a letter from Miranda. Her debut ball was about a month ago so we should be hearing from her about that.”
The minute Adam and Mercury approached the Cartwright house that night, A.C. ran to meet them yelling, “Daddy! Daddy! We got a letter from Manda!”
Adam pulled back on the reins and leaned over to pat Mercury’s neck. “That’s good news, Jackeroo. We’ll take the letter with us and read it so Beth can hear as well.”
“I get to see Elen again?”
“Right. Elen may still be sleeping but Beth will probably be awake and I know she’ll want to see you and Gwyneth. Do you want to help me with Mercury?” At his son’s nod, Adam reached a hand down and helped the boy mount behind him. When they reached the stable, they found Gwyneth there currying Artemis. When the three of them finished caring for the horses, they walked back to the house and discovered Dafydd waiting to eat supper with them.
When the meal was over, A.C. turned to his daddy eagerly. “Can we go now, Daddy?”
“May we go, and no, not until your Uncle Rhys and Llywelyn arrive.”
A.C. began to pout but before he tried his daddy’s patience too much, the Davies knocked on the door and soon they were on their way. Bronwen greeted them on the verandah with a warm smile. “Beth just finished feeding Elen so they are waiting to see all of you.”
“We got a letter from Manda and we brought it with us so everyone can hear it,” A.C. announced happily.
“I hope she’s writing to tell us all about her debut ball,” Bronwen said.
“You mean a ball like the one Cinderella went to?” her son asked.
“Yes. In
“She wrote me about her ball gown in her last letter,” Gwyneth added. “It’s pale green satin, off-the-shoulder with puff sleeves and she’ll be wearing elbow-length gloves dyed to match her dress. The gown has a little décolletage so she’s going to wear the pearl necklace she got her for her eighteenth birthday.”
Bronwen saw A.C. roll his eyes impatiently, and also caught the discomfiture on Adam’s face when Gwyneth mentioned the ball gown’s slightly low cut bodice, so she hurried them up to the bedroom where Beth cradled Elen.
“She doesn’t look so red now,” A.C. observed, unknowingly echoing his Uncle Joe’s comments about Beth the second time he saw her.
“Of course not,” Beth answered tartly, more than a little hurt that her brother would think his niece less than perfect. “Elen is a beautiful baby.”
“A.C. made the same observation about Elen that Penny did about him,” Bronwen said gently, hoping to soothe Beth and remind her of her brother’s artlessness at the same time.
“That’s right. I remember. She wanted to trade you for a baby that wasn’t so red and squished,” Beth said with a grin at her baby brother while her parents shared a smile tinged with sadness.
“Penny didn’t want me?” the little boy asked and his chin began to wobble.
“No, that wasn’t what she meant,” Beth hastened to assure him, for she hadn’t meant to hurt him. “She was just surprised at the way you looked, just like you were when you saw Elen.”
“Penny loved you very much,” Adam said gently, giving his son’s shoulder a squeeze and A.C. looked up at him and smiled.
“Could I hold Elen?” Gwyneth asked quietly and her sister smiled her consent. A.C. watched his sister carefully place her hand under the baby’s head as she picked her up in her arms.
“Hello, Elen. I’m your Aunt Gwyneth.” She turned and looked at her brother-in-law. “She really does look like you, Dafydd.”
Rhys and Llywelyn both moved closer to get a better look at the family’s newest member and with a broad grin Rhys said, “She surely does.”
A.C. moved closer to his big sister and asked, “Can I hold her?”
Beth looked desperately at her mother who said with gentle firmness, “You may hold Elen when she’s a bit older, A.C. bach.”
“Gwyneth gets to hold her,” A.C. whined.
“And Gwyneth is almost grown up,” Adam replied. “I was about your age when Uncle Hoss was born and I didn’t get to hold him for a couple of months,” he added though the memory was bittersweet, for the first time he’d held Hoss was when Mama had placed his baby brother in his arms just before her death.
“A couple of months!” A.C. said loudly causing the baby to wail so Beth took her back and comforted her while Adam told his son firmly, “You mustn’t talk loudly around the baby.”
“I didn’t mean to make her cry.”
“I know you didn’t,” Bronwen said, “but newborn babies are very delicate. That’s why we want you to wait until she’s older before you hold her. I know you wouldn’t want to accidentally hurt her.”
“No,” the child replied in a whisper his eyes very round.
“Tell you what, A.C.,” Llywelyn said. “I won’t hold her until you can. That way you won’t be the only one,” and the adults all smiled at him although part of the reason he made the offer was his own nervousness at the thought of holding such a tiny baby.
Little Elen quieted quickly in her mother’s arms and fell asleep so Bronwen suggested they all go downstairs to the parlor to hear Adam read Miranda’s letter. Beth placed Elen in the cradle Adam had made her and the doting grandfather carried the cradle and its precious cargo down the stairs, while Dafydd carried his wife in his strong arms. The rectory’s parlor had a large horsehair sofa and several armchairs so they all made themselves comfortable while Adam put on his bifocals and opened the letter.
Dear Family,
By the time you receive this I may already be an aunt; I am anxiously awaiting the letter informing me of the birth of my nephew or niece.
You made me promise to tell you all about my debutante ball, and
it was held the night before last. The
Aldens’ home was magnificently decorated, the ladies were dressed in
exquisitely beautiful ball gowns in a rainbow of colors and the men were all
attired in black dress coats, white shirts with high starched collars and black
bow ties. Most of the conversation was
vapid but I did meet one interesting man.
His name is Christopher Burton and he just recently moved to
Well, I must stop now so I’ll make the morning post. If the baby has already arrived, please give him or her a kiss from me.
With love to you all,
Miranda
“I’m not sure I approve of her seeing a man in his thirties,” Adam said with more than a touch of worry in his tone. “She is barely nineteen.”
“She’s also a level-headed and intelligent young woman,” Rhys replied. “You have to trust her judgment.”
“Excellent advice,” Adam said with a sardonic grin. “I’ll quote it back to you after this young
man,” and he nodded at Llywelyn, “is living on his own in
“Poor William,” Gwyneth interjected, remembering her sister’s fondness for the other young man, which had not been disclosed to their parents.
“I thought they were just friends,” Adam commented and he did not fail to observe the significant glance his daughters shared.
“You’re right, Daddy,” Beth replied a little too quickly causing her father’s eyes to narrow speculatively.
That night when he got into bed beside Bronwen he said, “Were things serious between Miranda and this William?”
“She hasn’t confided in me,” Bronwen replied laying her head on his chest as he placed his arm around her. “I suspect she’s been more candid with her sisters.” She sighed gently as Adam murmured his agreement. “From everything she’s written, I think we would both like William. I confess I, too, am a little concerned about her seeing a handsome, sophisticated older man. I pray he is not the type of man to take advantage of an innocent young woman.” Sensing his displeasure, she said hurriedly, “I’m being foolish. Rhys is right. Miranda is the most sensible and level-headed of our girls. She won’t be blinded by a sophisticated veneer.” Adam did not reply, though his wife could feel the tension in his arms as he held her to him. Both were alone with their thoughts as the minutes slowly ticked by and they drifted to sleep.
After several days of monsoon rains, the sky on Sunday was clear (and the temperature was over 105 degrees), so the Cartwrights and Davies planned to go fishing after church. Gwyneth had gotten up early to make beef and chicken pasties to take and Bronwen had made a batch of Adam’s favorite gingersnaps, which coincidentally were also A.C.’s favorite, the night before.
They were all seated in their family’s pew and the service was almost ready to begin when Beth slipped into the church, carrying Elen. Gwyneth slid over with a smile and Beth sat down gratefully, for it had taken all her strength and more time than usual to prepare for church that morning. A moment later Dafydd walked in and everyone could see his eyes immediately sought his wife in her accustomed place and the loving smile they shared before he began the service. Bronwen reached for Adam’s hand as they observed the little ritual between their daughter and her husband and the happiness that was evident on both their faces.
Afterward, all the women gathered around Beth and little Elen, who had slept soundly throughout her daddy’s sermon. Gwyneth frowned as she heard one woman say to another as they walked away, “It’s a pity she takes after her father rather than her mother.” However, her thoughts were distracted by Mark and Douglas, who both approached her while exchanging cold, barely polite glances with each other.
“Is your family going fishing?” Mark asked before
“I think Mama intends to stay with Beth but Daddy, A.C. and I are planning on going fishing right after we go home and change. I made Cornish pasties and there’s plenty to share.”
“If you made them, I’m sure they’re delicious,”
Neither young man had noticed Adam’s approach and both started when he said genially, “We’ll see you both at the river.” He put his hand on his daughter’s arm and firmly guided her away from her admirers.
“Can we go swimming after we fish?” A.C. queried as the three of them walked back home.
“Yes, we may,” Adam replied with a grin.
As always, he and A.C. finished changing long before Gwyneth appeared, attired in a plain cotton blouse, full knickerbockers that fastened just below the knee (accenting her shapely legs) and brown oxfords. She let her hair hang down her back in a single fat plait and wore a straw boater as protection from the sun.
When they rode up to their fishing spot, Mark and Douglas were already there and Adam’s lips curved up in a half smile at the obvious coldness between the two. If they were a pair of stallions they’d be fighting over her, he thought to himself in amusement. The amusement faded quickly when he remembered that like a pair of stallions, the two young men were rivals for the chance to eventually mate with his daughter.
“I’m hungry,” A.C. announced distracting his father from his most unwelcome thoughts. “Let’s eat first.”
“I’m looking forward to eating Gwyneth’s pasties so I vote in
favor of eating first,”
“Yes, dinner has my vote,” Mark added, glaring at
“I’ve never eaten it,”
Gwyneth looked from one to the other and shrugged. “Thanks,
“How come Mark and Douglas always want to follow Gwyneth around?” A.C. asked his father as he watched them sit on either side of his sister.
“Because they’re young men and men like to be around women,” Adam replied with a little grin.
“I never will,” A.C. said resolutely. His father grinned more broadly and tipping down his son’s straw sailor hat said, “Never say never, Jackeroo. C’mon, or those three will catch all the fish.”
Gwyneth and her two beaus were serious anglers but A.C. grew bored since the fish didn’t seem to be biting. Every time he started to talk, they all three glared at him, which amused his father no end. Finally the boy could stand it no longer. He put his fishing pole on the bank beside him and whispered loudly, “Can, I mean, may, I go swimming now, Daddy? Please?”
Adam hesitated because if he went swimming with A.C. that would leave Gwyneth and her beaus unchaperoned. He grinned when he suddenly realized the two rivals would serve as wonderful chaperones since neither would let the other take any liberties.
“I’m not having any luck either, so I might as well go swimming. Do you three want to join us?”
“In a little bit,” Gwyneth replied. Then she turned to Mark and Douglas, “Did you bring your bathing costumes?”
They both nodded, their interest in fishing evaporating at the thought of seeing Gwyneth in her bathing costume, for it plainly revealed her long slender legs and emphasized her tiny waist and gently rounded buttocks.
“We’re not really having any luck either,” Mark commented casually. “Maybe we should all go swimming.”
“Too right!”
Gwyneth hesitated and then nodded. She jumped up and ran to get her bathing costume from her saddlebags and the four males retrieved theirs. A.C. changed quickly and refused to wait for his sister so Adam dove into the river with him. He glanced toward the riverbank in time to see Gwyneth make her appearance and observed how the two young men—one tall and burly and the other more slender but still with a muscular build—couldn’t take their eyes off his daughter’s slim, graceful form.
“C’mon, I’ll race you,” she called, running past her love-smitten swains rather like Atalanta her father thought with a grin.
{ { { {
It was a frigid late December afternoon in northern
“’Scuse me, Joe, but I’ve got the mail,” he announced in his mellifluent baritone.
Ben’s eyes blinked open at the sound of Jacob’s voice and he smiled at the tall black cowboy. “I’ll take it, Jacob. Thanks.”
“Sure, Mr. Ben.” Jacob returned the smile. He handed the elderly man the large pile of letters and headed out the front door.
Joe looked up from his ledgers and saw his father’s face light
up as he glanced through the letters.
Ben smiled warmly saying, “We have letters from
“Please,” Joe replied and he dropped his pen and walked over to sit on the settee by Pa as he opened the first letter.
Dear Daddy and Grandpa,
I miss you very much.
I wish I could come home. It snowed
yesterday and I wanted to build a snowman, but Mama said it wasn’t what a
proper young lady would do. Cousin
Miranda came for a visit and we went to the Common and built a snowman there. She said it was our secret. She told me a story about how Daddy and Uncle
Adam and Uncle Hoss used to build snowmen and have snowball fights every
winter. I asked her if she built snowmen
with Beth and Gwyneth and Penny, but she said it doesn’t snow in
Miranda asked Benj to come with us, but ever since he started
going to school here in
Love,
Sarah
“I miss her so much,” Joe said, his voice unsteady while he blinked
back the tears beginning to pool in his green eyes. “It was so hard to leave
“You could go this spring. Bronc can handle the branding and the spring roundup. He’s a capable man and trustworthy,” Ben suggested.
“I do trust him, Pa, but he’s not a Cartwright.”
Ben sighed. He didn’t
understand his son sometimes. If he’d
ever had to make the same choice, he’d have left the Ponderosa in Bronc’s capable hands and boarded the train to
Dear Dad and Grandpa,
How are you? I am well. Some of the ponds here are frozen so I’ve been ice skating with my friends. I am doing very well at school and enjoying my lessons.
Benj
Joe said with a sigh, “I think he’s still angry that I had to
come back here for the fall roundup before we had a chance to go to
“He’ll get over it, son,” Ben said, hoping the words were true, for Benj was a sensitive and moody child who, unfortunately, did tend to dwell on his grievances, real or imaginary. At times he reminded Ben of his Uncle Adam at the same age; however, Benj lacked his uncle’s cheekiness and his sense of humor. He was truly his mother’s son.
Ben missed his grandchildren terribly, and letters were a poor substitute. He’d been surprised at Annabelle’s meanness in refusing to allow Benj and Sarah to visit the Ponderosa, for her behavior was uncharacteristic. He hadn’t wanted to discuss it with Joe, but mentioned his bewilderment in a letter to Miranda, wondering if she had any opinions. She had written back that she believed Mr. Alden was responsible. Just from some remarks he’s made, I don’t think he cares much for Uncle Joe, and he has a lot of influence on Aunt Annabelle. Mrs. Alden and Charlotte are just as sweet and kind to me as ever but I intend to ask Daddy and Mama to let me stay at one of the college boarding houses next year.
“Let’s hear what Adam has to say. I hope he’s writing to tell us that he’s a grandpa,” Joe said with what his father knew was a forced grin.
Dear Pa and Joe,
Congratulations! You
are now a great-grandpa and a great-uncle.
Elen Penelope Jones arrived tonight at approximately
My Beth is quite the little mother. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised because she always loved to be the mama to her dolls.
Reading those words, Ben thought sadly, Just like her baby sister. I know Penny would have been a wonderful mother, too. However, he forced his thoughts back to his son’s letter.
I don’t have any additional news. We are all well. I could mention that Mark has been spending a
good deal of time here since he will be leaving for
Bronwen has just reminded me that I mustn’t forget to send her love. I won’t be seeing much of her for the next two weeks because she’ll be spending most of her time with Beth and Elen. Nell and Mary will be cooking our meals while Bronwen will prepare Beth’s. Dafydd is going to be joining A.C., Gwyneth and me for meals until Beth feels up to handling her household.
I’ll close for now. The next time I write I hope to include a photograph of Elen.
Affectionately yours,
Adam
“Grandpa Adam,” Joe said with his old infectious giggle.
“The birth of the first Cartwright of a new generation,
although technically she’s a Jones,” Ben added, an enormous grin on his
face. “I’m looking forward to that
photograph.” His expression grew more
serious as he added, “Now that we know Elen’s name, we need to get her
christening mug engraved and on its way to
“I’ll take it into town myself tomorrow,” Joe promised. “You know, with a mother as beautiful as Beth, it’s sure a shame little Elen takes after her father,” he said slowly.
“Dafydd is not ill-favored,” Ben said but Joe only replied, “No, he’s not but you know what I mean,” and Ben nodded reluctantly.
“Let’s hear what Miranda has to say,” Ben suggested and carefully opened her letter.
Dear Grandpa and Uncle Joe,
I imagine by the time you read this letter that you’ll have
received word from Daddy about the birth of Beth’s baby. I so hope she will have a little girl because
she wants one so much. I, on the other
hand, am in no hurry whatsoever to assume the roles of wife and mother. I am enjoying college so much. I was surprised to discover my parents have
been more modern in my upbringing than I realized. Mama was always very frank when she answered
our questions about basic biology and I’m discovering that wasn’t true for many
of the other students who are certainly having their eyes opened in the biology
class. (I will be taking that next
term.) Besides enjoying my classes, I
have been to tea with some classmates several times at the home of Miss Alice
Longfellow, daughter of the poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, and naturally we
attend the teas the college president, Mrs. Agassiz,
holds every Wednesday in the drawing room of Fay House. (Fay House is where the college is
located.) Emily Collins and I are still
good friends and I’ve made two new ones— Samantha Overton from
Since I’ve made my debut in society, I’ve also attended a few balls and I’ve attended the theater and symphony a few times with young men Mr. and Mrs. Alden deem acceptable. My most frequent escort is Mr. Christopher Burton. He is a fascinating conversationalist and very handsome. He’s tall and has dark hair like Daddy (and like you must have had when you were a young man, Grandpa). In fact, his eyes remind me of yours for they are the same color, like black coffee. He is a few years older than I am, but young men my age are so immature.
Joe broke in then. “What
happened to the young man studying in
“I don’t know that they were ever more than friends,” Ben replied. “Besides, Miranda is still very young.”
“Lots of girls are married by the time they’re nineteen,”
“Well, lots of girls aren’t college students,” his father retorted. “Now, may I return to Miranda’s letter?”
¼
However, Mr. Burton had to return to
“I don’t want to wish his mother ill, but I hope it is some
time before he returns to
It will be Christmas soon and I’m looking forward to caroling
again this year and attending the party afterward. I feel very close to Daddy then for he’s told
us often how he used to go caroling with the
Before I close I wanted to reassure you both that Benj and Sarah are well. I visit them every Sunday afternoon. I suppose to be completely accurate I should say I visit Sarah. Benj is now at that age where he wants nothing to do with girls and that includes his cousin. Sarah misses you both very much and we talk about you constantly. She loves for me to tell her the stories Daddy used to tell us about when he and Uncle Hoss and Uncle Joe were growing up on the Ponderosa. The stories make us both feel closer to our families.
I love you both very much and I can’t wait to see you this summer.
Miranda
“I’m so glad Miranda is there in
“I wish I could be there to hear her share stories about the three of you boys. When she comes to visit us this summer, we’ll have to get her to tell us. Then we can add some stories her father may have forgotten,” and the two men shared watery smiles.
{ { { {
Christmas preparations at the Cartwright home in Cloncurry hadn’t been any merrier than those on the Ponderosa. Adam and Bronwen tried, for their children’s sake, to put up a front but this second Christmas without Penny was no easier than the first although Bronwen was grateful that this year Adam was no longer so full of anger and despair that he shut out the rest of the world. Gwyneth saw through her parents’ façade, but she also pretended to be happy and excited for her baby brother’s sake. A.C. wanted things to be the way they used to be and Beth’s grief had been blunted by her own little girl so they accepted their parents’ and sister’s performances at face value.
The Jones family was coming to share Christmas dinner, but on Christmas Eve it was just Adam, Bronwen, Gwyneth and A.C. While the four of them decorated the gum tree branch that served as a Christmas “tree” in the outback, including the ornaments Adam had carved for Beth and Miranda, A.C. chattered away not even noticing the silence of the other three. “I want to put my roo ornament up high like Gwyneth’s, Daddy. Can you lift me up?” he inquired.
“I don’t think you’re too big for me to lift yet,” Adam replied with a rather forced smile. After A.C. was satisfied with the placement of his personal ornament, a little kangaroo with a joey peeping from the pouch that his father had carved, he began rummaging through the box for another ornament to hang.
“Look! Penny’s kitten!” he exclaimed holding up the little carving his father had made for his sister. His mother gasped, one of her hands flying up to half cover her face and she ran from the room. “Mama?” the little boy said in a quavering voice, his hazel eyes big and round.
“It’s all right, Jackeroo,” his father managed to get out in a choked voice. “I’ll take care of Mama and Gwyneth will help you hang Penny’s ornament.”
“We don’t have to hang it, Daddy,” Gwyneth said in a strained voice. “Not if it hurts you and Mama too much.”
“Maybe next year,” he agreed quietly. “You and your brother finish decorating, all right?” and she nodded.
“I-I didn’t mean to make Mama cry,” A.C. said as tears pooled in his own eyes.
“We know you didn’t,” Gwyneth replied, squeezing his neck gently. “Mama and Daddy are just really missing Penny right now. But they want us to have a merry Christmas and the best thing to do is finish decorating just like Daddy said.” She managed an encouraging smile before placing the little ornament back among the tissues. “They’ll be back soon. You’ll see. And everything will be fine.”
A.C. soon saw that his sister was correct in her prediction. His parents came back in a few minutes and they smiled at him. He did notice that their eyes were red and puffy but he didn’t say anything about that. After a light supper, they joined the Davies and the two families went caroling through the streets of Cloncurry. When they returned, they drank the fresh lemonade Mary had made, using lemons picked from their lemon tree, and then they gathered in the drawing room for their traditional Christmas Eve celebration. Gwyneth and Bronwen sat in the two green brocade armchairs as always while A.C. sat on the settee next to his father. Adam’s right side, where Penny had always sat, was empty and he felt his throat constrict. Gwyneth saw the tears in her daddy’s eyes and knew instinctively what was wrong.
“May I sit beside you?” she asked quietly and he nodded. As she slipped beside him she asked softly, “Could I recite the ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas this year?” Adam nodded again, still not trusting his voice.
By the time Gwyneth finished reciting the poem, Adam was again in control and he was able to read the Christmas story found in Luke’s gospel. When he finished, Gwyneth carried the large Cartwright family Bible (which Ben had given to Adam after his marriage) over to her mother so she could read Matthew’s story of the Magi bringing gifts to the Christ child. When Bronwen finished, Adam turned to A.C., who was rubbing his eyes to keep them open.
“Time for bed, Jackeroo. Tomorrow morning you can see what Santa Claus brought you. I’ll come tuck you in.”
“Night, Mama,” the little boy said sleepily, giving her a quick kiss and hug. “Night, Gwyneth,” he added with a huge yawn. He placed his hand in his daddy’s and let himself be led up to his bed.
When Adam
returned to the drawing room after tucking in his half-asleep son, he found his
wife and daughter putting gaily wrapped gifts under the Christmas “tree”. He walked over to Gwyneth and gave her a
quick hug. “Thank you,” he said softly
and she returned the hug briefly before busying herself arranging the
packages. Bronwen smiled inwardly, for
expressing their feelings was difficult for both father and daughter.
“I hope A.C.
likes the Aesop’s Fables I bought him in
“I’m sure that he will,” her mother said with a smile.
“I considered The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood because
it has beautiful illustrations, but I thought it was too old for A.C. The same was true for
“Yes, he’ll enjoy those when he’s nine or ten,” her father agreed. “We got him the complete set of Hans Christian Andersen’s Fairy Tales and Stories at The Corner Bookstore. They’re probably too difficult for him to read on his own, but I think he’ll enjoy listening to them read aloud.”
“I know I will,” Gwyneth said with a smile, for she had devoured all nine Fairy Books from Blue through Yellow. She stood up then saying, “I think I’ll go to bed now. Goodnight,” and she kissed each parent before heading up the stairs.
“Let’s stuff their stockings now,” Bronwen suggested. Just before supper, she and Adam had slipped up to the attic with Penny’s Christmas stocking and lovingly placed it alongside the treasure box that had been Ben’s last gift to his little granddaughter, the pretty pink muslin dress that Matilda had made for her youngest niece’s last birthday, the knickerbockers Penny had worn when she went riding, and her Graces game. Now there would be no unbearably sad reminder of their lost little girl confronting them as they filled the stockings.
They sat side by side at the dining table and he stuffed A.C.’s stocking while she stuffed Gwyneth’s. Usually they talked while they performed this task, but this year they worked in silence.
The temperature in Cloncurry never dropped below 50 degrees; therefore, they had no fireplace on which to hang the stockings. Adam and Bronwen simply snuck into the children’s rooms and laid their stockings on their chest of drawers for them to find first thing Christmas morning. It was tradition that each child could empty the contents of his or her stocking as soon as he or she awoke Christmas morning (although no candy could be eaten until after breakfast), but no one could go downstairs until Adam and Bronwen gave their permission. After silently slipping into the children’s rooms and depositing the overflowing stockings, they went to their room and got ready for bed, each lost in his or her personal memories of Penny. That night they held each other close, sharing their recollections of their precious little girl and all the Christmases they’d spent with her. Because they were alone, both adults let themselves express the depth of their continuing grief and comforted each other as best they could. The release of emotion brought a measure of peace to each of them and they were able to fall asleep in the hours before daybreak.
“Daddy! Mama! Can we go down and open our presents?”
Adam rolled over groggily and opened his eyes to darkness. “Is the sun up?” he called out as he felt Bronwen stir beside him in the dark room.
There was silence and then A.C. said in a hesitant voice, “I think it’s almost up, Daddy.”
“When it’s all the way up, then you come back and ask if you can go downstairs,” Adam replied and Bronwen added, “Don’t eat any of your candy yet.”
It seemed to Adam as though he’d barely closed his eyes when he was awakened by a persistent tapping on the bedroom door.
“The sun’s up now, Daddy,” he heard his son announce.
“Daddy and I will be ready in five minutes so you may wait at the top of the stairs,” Bronwen stated in a no-nonsense voice as she heard the shuffling of impatient feet move towards the stairway.
When Adam and Bronwen emerged from the master bedroom, A.C. and Gwyneth were both standing at the top of the stairs in their robes and slippers, looking like runners waiting for the sound of the gun.
“They’ll be no running,” Bronwen said firmly as Adam found himself grinning in spite of himself at the sight of his normally imperturbable daughter, with the curls that had escaped her braid bouncing in concert with her barely contained excitement.
A.C. quickly headed down the stairs with Gwyneth following at a slightly more sedate pace. Adam and Bronwen shared a poignant smile as they remembered the Christmas mornings when there’d been five children hurrying down the stairs to the drawing room instead of only two.
“No running,” Bronwen repeated and reluctantly A.C. slowed his pace. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he dashed into the drawing room and made a beeline for the decorated gum tree branch. That is until he heard his father’s deep voice intone, “Adam Stoddard Cartwright, Jr.!” The little boy stopped in his tracks and reluctantly seated himself on the green-and-white settee and waited for the rest of the family to join him.
Everyone was delighted with their gifts: The spurs his grandpa and Uncle Joe had had
made especially for him with a silver overlay engraved with the Ponderosa’s
pine tree brand were A.C.’s favorite.
Adam’s was the leather-bound copy of Henry Adams’ History of the USA
During the Administration of Thomas Jefferson and James Madison that
Miranda had sent him from
“They’re beautiful, but you shouldn’t have,” Gwyneth said breathlessly.
“Yes, we should,” Adam relied. “Your older sisters each received jewelry on their sixteenth birthday, but you didn’t. Mama and I wanted to rectify that and since diamonds are your birthstone, they seemed the most appropriate choice.”
“I know they’re for a special occasion, but could I wear them today just so I can show them to Beth and Dafydd?” Gwyneth asked and her parents nodded, for they had anticipated her request.
“May we go for a ride, Daddy, so I can wear my new spurs?” A.C. begged.
“After we do our chores and eat breakfast, then we’ll go for a ride,” Adam promised. “And we’ll be back in plenty of time for Christmas dinner,” he added for his wife’s benefit.
“Be back early enough that you can each take a bath,” Bronwen requested and Adam nodded while A.C. whined, “Aw, Mama. Do I have to?”
“Yes, you do and if you fuss about it, then you won’t be going riding,” his mama replied.
By the time the Joneses arrived, the temperature had soared. The four Cartwrights were sitting on the verandah and A.C. ran to greet his sister, brother-in-law and niece. Beth had followed her mother’s advice about going on long walks so she had almost regained her slim figure. At six weeks old, Elen had lost the dark hair she was born with and light brown hair replaced it, although at this point it wasn’t much more than fuzz. She had plumped out a little but she was not a chubby baby as her mother had been.
“Merry Christmas, Bethy! Merry Christmas, Dafydd,” A.C. shouted as he ran toward them. The loud sound woke Elen who immediately began screaming her displeasure.
“Oh, A.C., can’t you remember to be quiet around Elen?” his sister snapped, her nerves frayed.
Adam had followed his son and said calmly, “Let me have Elen, Princess,” and Beth gratefully handed her wailing daughter to her father. Adam held Elen so she could rest her head on his shoulder and gently rubbed her back while speaking to her in a soft, soothing voice.
“I’m sorry, Bethy,” A.C. said in a small voice and his brother-in-law ruffled his hair.
“We know you are, A.C. bach. It’s just that Bethan and I didn’t get much sleep last night so we’re a bit on edge.”
“I’m sorry I was dirty with you,” Beth said contritely. Then she smiled at him. “Elen liked the toy rabbit you all gave her. Just like Bunny,” she added thinking of her baby sister’s brown velvet rabbit. Bronwen and Gwyneth joined them in time to hear her remark and Bronwen said softly, “Yes, I used Bunny as a model and the little red velvet rabbit your grandpa and uncles sent you for your first Christmas.”
“I’d almost forgotten my rabbit,” Beth said. “You don’t still have it?”
“Of course I do. It’s packed away with the little rag doll I made for your first Christmas.” She smiled at her firstborn. “You nearly loved them to death.”
Elen’s loud cries had subsided and, to her frazzled parents’ relief, she was sleeping peacefully on her grandpa’s shoulder. “Elen and I will sit on the swing. I think the rocking motion will keep her sleeping,” Adam said.
“The chicken is still roasting so why don’t we all sit on the verandah where it’s a bit cooler?” Bronwen suggested. She sat beside Adam on the swing, ready to help if their granddaughter woke. Beth, Dafydd and Gwyneth sat on the wicker chairs while A.C. perched on the railing with Lady at his feet. Almost as soon as they sat down, Beth noticed her sister’s earrings.
“Mama and Daddy gave them to me,” Gwyneth said proudly and for just a moment Beth felt a stab of jealousy. Then she scolded herself. You have Grandma’s pearls, and a minister’s wife has no need of diamonds. She said cheerfully, “They’re lovely and very becoming.”
“You received my mother’s pearls on your sixteenth birthday and
Miranda received her cameo on hers but there was nothing to give Gwyneth. Mama and I decided that since diamonds are
her birthstone, we would get her jewelry in
“What did you get for Christmas, Bethy?” A.C. asked.
“Mama and Daddy got me this pretty blouse,” she said proudly, for she loved the lightweight pink-and-white striped cotton blouse with its white sailor collar, “and Gwyneth bought me these new shoes.” She pulled up her skirt just enough to reveal a pair of green morocco leather shoes with steel buckles. “Miranda gave me my new hat,” and she touched the brim of her straw boater. She smiled warmly at her little brother saying, “And I love the pretty handkerchiefs you gave me.” She added, “Thank you all so much.”
“What did you give Bethy?” A.C. asked his brother-in-law and
was puzzled by the intimate smile the young couple shared. Bronwen and Gwyneth also shared a smile for
they (and Miranda) had done Dafydd’s shopping for him. He had come to see his mother-in-law a day or
two before the family sailed for
“I wonder if you could do me a favor, Mam?” he had asked a bit
nervously. “I’ve heard you talk about
all the lovely things for sale at that store in
“Of course, Dafydd. Do you have something in mind?” Her lips curved up just a little as her son-in-law blushed slightly.
“She’s seen advertisements for ladies combinations that are decorated so prettily with ribbons and lace and I know she’d like some for herself.”
“I’d be happy to shop for some you can give Beth,” Bronwen had answered with a smile. When she and her two younger daughters had been shopping at Bloomingdale’s, they’d found glamorous combinations decorated with frills, tucks, lace trimmings and ribbons. They cost a bit more money than Dafydd had provided but they were so lovely that the three women contributed enough to make up the difference, knowing how much their sister would love wearing them. (And Bronwen knew how much Dafydd would enjoy seeing her wear them; in fact, she bought one pair for herself as a surprise for Adam.)
“Bethy,” the little boy persisted since his brother-in-law had effectively ignored his previous question. “What did Dafydd get you for Christmas?”
“A.C., presents that married couples give to each other are, sometimes, very private and personal. I’m sure Beth liked whatever Dafydd chose to give her, so let’s just leave it at that,” his father said, without anger, as he recalled his own “appreciation” of some of the gifts he’d given Bronwen over the years, including the frou-frou petticoat this year
A.C. knew better than to press the issue, even on Christmas Day, so he was content to pet Lady while the adults continued to talk. Just as Bronwen was about to say that dinner was ready, Elen woke and began to cry.
“She’s hungry again. I’ll take her, Daddy,” Beth said, as she carefully took the wailing bundle from her father’s strong arms. “You all can go ahead and eat without me.”
“Nonsense,” Bronwen said. “You just go on up to our bedroom and we’ll wait until Elen’s had her Christmas dinner.”
As his sister disappeared into the house, A.C. complained, “I’m hungry, too.”
“You’re not starving, young man, so I don’t want to hear any more complaining,” his daddy said with a raised eyebrow.