a home for my heart

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2013 by DAnn Mateer

Published by Bethany House Publishers

11400 Hampshire Avenue South

Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

www.bethanyhouse.com

Bethany House Publishers is a division o

Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan

Printed in the United States o America

All rights reserved. No part o this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval

system, or transmitted in any orm or by any meansor example, electronic, photocopy,

recordingwithout the prior written permission o the publisher. The only exception

is brie quotations in printed reviews.

Library o Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Mateer, Anne.

A home or my heart / Anne Mateer.

pages cm

Summary: It is the early 1900s when an unexpected opportunity arises at

the orphanage where Sadie works; will she have to choose between marrying

her beau and a job she loves?Provided by publisher.ISBN 978-0-7642-1064-8 (pbk.)

1. Single womenFiction. 2. OrphanagesFiction. I. Title.

PS3613.A824H66 2013

813 .6dc23 2013016856

Scripture quotations are rom the King James Version o the Bible.

This is a work o ction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products o

the authors imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual

events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by Dan Thornberg, Design Source Creative Services

13 14 15 16 17 18 19 7 6 5 4 3 2 1


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To Elizabeth, Aaron, and Nathan

My greatest joy is watching you walk in the truth.

(3 John 1:4 paraphrase)


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Chapter 1

Ibarreled through the large kitchen o the orphanage,

skirts billowing out rom my ankles. Wheres Cynthia?

I called. We have to go over her recitation again.

Mrs. Fores gray head turned toward me, but she never

quit stirring whatever bubbled in the pot on top o the steelWehrle range. The pungent aroma o onions and garlic min-

gling with the smell o meat stopped me.

Stew? I moved in or a closer whi.

A giggle caught my attention. I swooped eight-year-old Cyn-

thia into my arms. Got you! Now its time to say your poem.

Her head shook, but her eyes laughed. I smacked a kiss on

her cheek and set her on the foor. Ater supper. No excuses.

I tapped her reckled nose with my nger.

She turned to help the other girls gather tin plates, cups,

and utensils to set on the dining table. Overhead, ootsteps

thumped. Other childrens voices drited rom various parts

o the large house.

The yeasty smell o two resh-baked loaves o bread rest-

ing on the counter curled beneath my nose and caused my

stomach to rumble. I pressed a hand to my middle. Hunger


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A Home for My Heart

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pangs still brought memories to the surace. I glanced out

the window, past my pot o drooping daodils, looking or

a distraction. Brown grass covered the backyard, and gray

clouds skittered across the late-aternoon sky, obscuring any

light rom the sun. I shivered, then rubbed my hands up and

down my arms.

From the corner o my eye, I spied a horse dancing to a

stop at the corner o the house. My heart skipped a beat

as I smoothed my skirt and licked moisture into my lips. Iglanced back at Mrs. Fore. Her wrinkles rearranged them-

selves into a smile.

I fung open the door. Frigid air sent the little girls shriek-

ing and huddling together. Then Blaine Wellsmith lled the

doorway, a red knitted scar hal obscuring his ace, a wooden

crate perched on his arms. He strode inside, kicking the doorshut with his heel.

He placed the box on the kitchen worktable beore unwind-

ing the scar. His grin fashed in my direction, warming me

through in spite o the sudden chill. A sprinkle o dirt littered

Mrs. Fores pristine foor when he removed his gloves.

Cold out there. He peeled o his coat and draped it on

the back o a chair beore straddling the seat. Im ready or

spring, but looks like well have more snow by morning.

Mrs. Fore set a cup o hot coee on the table. Blaine cradled

the warmth between his hands.

The children will be happy about that, I imagine. I joined

him at the table, my eyes easting on his strong eatures. Dark

hair combed back rom a high orehead. Dark brows hovering

low over eyes black as midnight. Not a lean ace, but not one

with extra fesh, either. And though some might not deem


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him handsome in the usual sense, Id recognized the beauty

inside him when we were but children.

The kids havent mangled the sleds I made or them, have

they? He sipped the steaming blackness.

I shook my head, making note to have the boys locate the

sleds beore morning.

Mrs. Fore shooed giggling girls into the dining room and

wiped her hands on her apron. Then she pulled the crate

closer to her and sorted the produceood Blaine had gen-erously donated rom his cellar to the Raystown Home or

Orphan and Friendless Children, in spite o his need to sell

the extra in order to save enough money to buy armland o

his own.

Our own.

Sadies got her posies in a bad way, Blaine. Mrs. Foreset the empty crate beside the back door. Youll have to see

to them i theyll be t to go in the ground come summer.

One o his eyebrows rose in my direction. Have you been

neglecting your fowers?

I finched. Blaine had coaxed the daodils to lie in the

middle o winter. Hed stood sti and uncomortable in his

only suit, his large hands cradling the oblong clay pot as

gingerly as i it were made o crystal when he arrived on

Christmas Day. A bit o color, he said, to cheer you until

spring. I rewarded him with the press o my lips to his wind-

chapped cheekand a red knitted scar. The devotion that

had shone rom his eyes in that moment made the fowers

more precious than i theyd been ashioned o real gold.

But just days into March in the new year o 1910, the but-

tery yellow fowers had paled to the color o chicken stock.


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A Home for My Heart

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The leaves had curled. The petals sagged. I couldnt seem

to make them thrive the way Blaine did. My gaze grabbed

the table as my ngers skimmed across the smooth wooden

surace. I bit my lip. They were only fowers, yet theyd been

his git to me. It was my job to keep them alive.

Blaine crossed the room and lited the pot rom the window-

sill. I can take them home with me and . . .

I hopped up as quick as i Id sat on a pin. No, Ill take

care o them. I snatched the container rom him and mashedone nger into the soil. It seemed sot enough. The fowers

just missed the sun.

Bustling toward the parlor, I listened or Blaines heavy

steps to ollow through the short hall. They did, along with

his chuckle. My lips pressed into a rm line. I would nd a

way to make these fowers grow. I would.I set the plant in a side window, praying or a break in the

clouds. Any sunlight would be better than the solid mass o

gray. I primped the sagging leaves to no avail.

Blaine stood close behind me. Let it alone, Sadie. Light

and water, thats all they need. Simple things.

I relaxed, then turned to him with a genuine smile on my

ace. Like the children. A little love and a little discipline.

The simple things.

And dont orget ood to ll their bellies.

Thanks to you. I let my ngers brush his.

Id bring more i I could. When I own a arm instead o

working someone elses land, I will. He winked.

Heat radiated rom my cheeks. Would my daodils think

they had ound the sun? I ducked my head, seeking a less

intimate subject. Any word rom Carter lately?


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Blaines broad chest heaved with a sigh. No. I wish those

simple things worked with my little brother.

Shyness fed as I covered Blaines hand with mine and

peered into his worried eyes. I wouldnt be too concerned.

Hes still a boy.

He shook his head. Sixteen is nearer a man than a boy. I

wish I knew what he was thinking sometimes.

Remember, you had a much longer time with your mother

than he did.I know. But when I think o that man His ngers

curled into sts.

Many years ago, Blaine had taken Carter and run rom his

stepather, Carters ather. Ater wandering about on their

own, theyd arrived at the doorstep o the Raystown Home,

cold and hungry. Carter a little tyke o three; Blaine a ganglyboy o eleven. Both had stolen my ten-year-old heart.

I stroked his hand fat again. Lets not think o that man

now.

Blaines tension eased. He slipped his ngers between mine.

Sounds good to me. I only want to think about us.

My ace blazed again, and a st seemed to close around

my heart, squeezing all the breath rom my body. I wasnt

sure when our riendship had turned into love, but it had.

No one knew my heart like Blaine did.

He brought my hand to his lips. Walk me out?

The tightness in my chest released. O course.

My hand clasped in his, we returned to the kitchen and

bundled up against the Pennsylvania winter. Outside, the cold

stole our voices until we rounded the corner o the house,

out o the stabbing erocity o the wind.


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He pulled me close. I buried my nose in his wool coat,

drinking in the smell o woodsmoke and pine. One glove-clad

nger lited my chin. Youd better get back inside beore

you reeze.

I nodded, teeth clamped to keep them rom chattering. His

arms still circled their warmth around me. I couldnt make

mysel pull away.

Dont ret over your fowers. Ill plant you rows and rows

o them when we have our own His gaze traveled to mylips. I swallowed hard, my hands stealing around his neck as

his ace lowered toward mine. Just as I could taste his breath,

the creak o the back door cut through the rigid bluster.

Sadie? Theres someone here to see you. Mrs. Fore let

the back door bang shut again.

I pressed my orehead into Blaines chest and groaned. Icouldnt wait or the day when wed enjoy kisses uninterrupted.

A pale-haired woman pulled a woolen shawl closer around

her hunched shoulders as she stood in the oyer. Her tongue

wet her lips as her eyes darted rom the door to the staircase

to my ace, aster than a hummingbird in a fower garden.

Im Miss Sillsby, I said. The matrons assistant. How

may I help you?

Beore she could speak, a wai o a girl appeared rom

behind her skirts. I noted her threadbare clothing beore my

gaze ell on the little ace. Perectexcept or eyes that o-

cused on her nose instead o straight in ront o her.

My mouth lled with the remembered taste o cod liver oil,

and my hand covered my curdling stomach. No tonic would


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cure this girls ill. Nor would sunshine and good ood. An

awkward silence lled the space between us.

The woman hued and set a st on her hip. Im told you

take in kids what we cant eed.

My hand ell away rom my stomach as her words dissolved

the old memories. Another mother in search o help or her

child. I glanced at the closed oce door and chewed my

bottom lip. My job didnt include admitting children. That

responsibility ell to Hazel Brighton, matron o the RaystownHome. But shed gone to deliver a child to a oster home and

wouldnt arrive back until late that evening.

Im so sorry, but our matron, Miss Brighton, is not avail-

able today. I you could return in the morning, I

Im here now. I cant come back later. Can you take her

or not?I studied the mothers ace, trying to discern her character,

her motives. She seemed much older than my twenty-three

years, yet something about the pull o skin around her eyes

made me question that rst impression. Maybe her lie hadnt

been longer, only harder. My heart pinched. I remembered

other eyes older than their years, eyes that had peered darkly

into mine, then turned away and let me go.

With a deep breath, I straightened to my ull height and tried

my best to mimic Hazels quiet authority. We do consider cases

where there is great need, but as I said, I am not the one

The womans scrutiny raked up and down the length o me,

as i I were a beggar and she the queen. I was told this was

a place o Christian charity, she spat. I guess they told me

wrong. She snatched her little girls hand and turned toward

the door.


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Wait!

The woman stiened and stopped.

My gaze snuck down to the child. She looked as cold as

winter snow, with her almost-translucent skin and pus o

nearly white hair standing out over her ears and orehead. I

cupped her jaw in my palm as she stared up at me, unblinking.

What did she see out o eyes that wandered toward each other

instead o in my direction? My arms itched to pull the girl

close, whisper assurances in her ear. I knew rom experienceshe could nd healing in this place, or both body and soul.

One small doubt niggled. Hazel had expressed concern over

money in recent months. But this child needed us. I knew it

deep inside. Hazel had placed out one child today. This little

girl could take his spot at our table. And there were plenty

o beds available in the girls room.Hazel wouldnt want me to turn her away.

Please, Mrs.?

Ashworth. She hitched her shawl higher over one shoulder.

Mrs. Ashworth. I think we can work something out. I

motioned them into the oce and switched on the electric

wall sconces. Mrs. Ashworth squinted into the bright room

as the light illuminated the dinginess o her shawl, her dress.

How long since theyd seen a washtub?

She sat, but her little girl remained standing, no touch

passing between them. The womans ocus zigzagged, never

settling on anything.

In Hazels seat behind the desk, I olded my hands, remem-

bering words Id heard Hazel say so many times, praying I

was doing right. We do consider cases where parents need

a bit o time to nd work and catch up on their bills in order


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to provide or their children. When we consider these cases

o short-term care, we generally ask or a pledge o support

to the Home to help cover the cost o caring or the child.

Mrs. Ashworths ace hardened. One ringed end o her

shawl futtered to the foor. I I had money to care or her,

I wouldnt be here, would I?

The sullenness o her tone grated on me. I sucked in a

breath and bit my tongue until I could make my voice a

perect imitation o Hazelsall kindness and compassion.I understand. But weve ound that oten there is a amily

member or a riend who can step in and give a small amount

to help with the childs keep. Were not asking or the ull

cost o caring or her. Just a bit to help oset expenses. Im

sure you realize that we exist solely on reewill donations.

Mrs. Ashworth snorted and grabbed up the end o hershawl that trailed on the foor. I I had anyone else to appeal

to, be assured Id have gone there rst.

As I said, it is not a requirement, but we always ask.

Mrs. Ashworth hesitated, then leaned orward, a work-

worn hand clutching the edge o the desk. Youll take my

Lily Beth, then?

I pulled a large ledger book rom the top o the cabinet

between the ront windows and opened it to a blank page.

Ater you answer a ew questions, I believe we can take your

daughter into a temporary situation with us.

Id make sure we helped this girl, this Lily Beth.

In spite o her mother.

Or perhaps because o her.


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Chapter 2

As soon as Id handed Lily Beth into Mrs. Fores

care and closed the ront door behind Mrs. Ash-

worth, I wrote questionable in the space reserved

or comments on the mothers habits. Ater a moments con-sideration, I added (quite) beore shutting the volume. The

space designated to record the name o the ather read not

known. I Mrs. Ashworth returned or her child ater the

stipulated three-month period, Id repent o my uncharitable

thoughts about her. But I doubted that would happen. Id

seen her type beore. They seldom returned.

As I transcribed the details o the arrangement into our

admittance registry book, my mind raced with other pos-

sibilities. Like getting Lily Beths eyes xed. Feeding her a

good meal. Introducing her to Jesus. Finding her a stable

home. I knew she needed those things, or Id needed them

at her age, as well.

Shoving aside memories best kept packed away, I joined the

others already in the dining room. Eleven boys squirmed with

lie while conversation teemed among the hal-dozen girls.


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Mrs. Fore looked razzled. I patted her shoulder and sent her

back to the kitchen with my whispered thanks.

Then I noticed Miranda Jennings, the housemaid, in my

usual seat. She leaned across the table to help Timmy wipe

a dribble o broth rom his chin. She saw me watching. Her

body tensed. She pulled back rom Timmy and lumbered to

her eet as her expression turned hard and cold.

Thank you, Miranda. I sat as she lited her bowl and

plate rom in ront o me. I expected her to leave. But shedidnt.

She alighted on the empty seat at the head o the table.

The one reserved or the matron. For Hazel.

I could have taken that place, but I hadnt. I didnt dare

presume, even in Hazels absence. And yet Miranda did.

Miranda, the middle-aged woman who scrubbed our foors,our clothing, our windows.

Mrs. Fore set a bowl o stew in ront o me, but my eyes

remained on Miranda, steam gathering in my chest until I

eared it would burst into the room. Her steely gaze pivoted

to mine. My eyebrows rose. She looked away. I couldnt chas-

tise her in ront o the children. In act, it wasnt my place to

conront her at all, even i I wanted to.

I needed a distraction.

Beside me, Lily Beths spoon clattered against the side o

her bowl. I rested my arm around the back o her chair, my

ire subsiding. This child needed my attention now. I hoped

my presence would soothe the pain I knew she elt, in spite

o her outward lack o emotion. Her mother hadnt even

told her good-bye.

Stew languished in her bowl, but I noticed crumbs littering


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her plate. I reached or a slice o bread and spread it with a

generous amount o butter. Her mouth gaped when I set it

beore her. Then it disappeared down her slim throat in almost

one bite. I smiled and xed her another as she slurped at her

stew. Content, I turned my attention to the other children.

Are you ready to recite or me, Cynthia?

The girls corkscrew curls shook with a ury as tears welled

in her hazel eyes.

Janet stuck her arm in the air and waved her hand as ishe were still in the classroom. And me. I need help with

my math homework.

My stomach fopped. Id much rather try to coax stub-

born words out o Cynthias mouth than try to make sense

o arithmetic.

Spoons clanging against the bottoms o empty bowls sig-naled the end o mealtime. I dismissed the children rom

the table, and Miranda began clearing dishes, her demeanor

returned to its usual dreariness.

Lily Beth tugged at my sleeve.

Yes, love bug?

Her let eye seemed to nd mine, but her right eye wandered

o somewhere else. My heart squeezed.

Do I have to go home now?

I hugged her to my side. No, sweetheart. Youre going to

stay here or a while. A little later, well tuck you under warm

quilts in a bedroom upstairs with the other girls. Youll like

that, wont you?

She hesitated only a moment beore she nodded, her white

hair dancing around her delicate ace. A perect ace marred

only by eyes that reused to sit straight.


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Ater our evening prayers, the childrenincluding LilyBethquieted without protest. I breathed the usual relie o

another day nished. And a good day, at that. Joseph placed

with a amily in Centre County, and Lily Beth enveloped in

our sae and loving environment. Exactly the kinds o things

we existed to do.

I stopped in my bedroom to pick up a book. A downstairs

door closed with a solid thud. Had Miranda letor had

Hazel returned? Best to check, and to lock up i Miranda

had gone or the day. I hurried downstairs, keeping to my

toes in hopes o not waking those who already slumbered.

In the oyer, Hazel unwound a snow-crusted wool scar

rom her head and hung it on the hall tree. Wisps o brown

hair rizzed out about her head as she pulled gloves rom slim

ngers beore shrugging out o her overcoat. Its starting

to snow.

Did you get Joseph situated?

What? Hazel seemed as startled as i Id asked ater

the health o Mr. Granvilles dead cat. Oh, Joseph. Yes,

hes ne. Her cold ngers curled around my hand, and her

eyes shone with excitement. But, oh, Sadie. I have so much

more to tell you.

She pulled me into the parlor, to the worn velvet soa oppo-

site the coal stove. Id never seen calm, unfustered Hazel quite

so . . . alive. Her right hand held my let one. Then she laid

her let hand atop mine. A milky white pearl winked bright

in the dim light. My head jerked up. Our eyes met and held.

Proessor Stapleton? Her long-time beau had driven her


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and Joseph over the mountain in his new automobile, but

I hadnt thought it anything unusual. I pressed my hand to

my chest as tears sprang into my eyes. Years o proposals, o

reusals. And you nally said yes.

Hazel nodded, her ace as bright as the rst star on a

moonless night.

I shrieked in delight, then covered my mouth as we both

dissolved into girlish giggles. Laughing. Crying. Hugging.

Finally, we calmed. I turned serious and studied her ace.Youre sure this time?

Hazel twisted the new ring on her nger. Ten years ago,

God called me to be a missionary to needy children. Ive

gladly done as He asked. Now I believe Hes asked me to

take a dierent path. To become administrator o a dierent

home. My own. A blush stole across her heart-shaped ace.Im so happy or you. And I was, though my throat elt

strangely tight. Hazel deserved a husband. Children. Shed

been preparing to serve on the mission eld in South America

when one o her proessors at the Brethren college in town

approached her. Would she consider being a home mission-

ary? A missionary to children? To orphaned and riendless

children? Shed answered yes all those years ago, orgone the

pleasure o a lie o her own or a decade. She deserved this

happiness now. As did aithul Proessor Stapleton.

When? I managed to squeak out the question that both

ascinated and terried me.

The end o April, though we wont take our wedding trip

until ater the college term is over or the summer. Hazel

blew out a long breath as she rested her head on the back

o the soa. Then it popped back up again. Youll be my


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bridesmaid, wont you? Theres no one else Id want to stand

up with me.

Oh, Hazel! I hugged her again. O course I will!

But even as I spoke, my mind whirled. The calendar had

turned to March. The end o April would come quickly. A

ew short weeks or Hazel to plan a wedding and a lie out-

side the orphanage. A ew short weeks or the rest o us to

transition to a new matron.

My stomach churned aster than Henrys eight-year-oldlegs running downhill. I swallowed down the rising ear. Do

you have any idea . . . who . . . ?

Hazels eyes danced in time to the chuckle deep in her

throat. She clutched both o my hands and leaned in close

to my ace. Thats my other news, dear Sadie. I want you

to be the new matron.Breath seemed to disappear rom my body. I didnt know

where to nd it again.

Youre pleased, arent you?

I wasnt sure my heart was still beating.

I told John I couldnt put his ring on my nger until I

had things resolved here, so we stopped at Mr. Rileys on our

way back into town and told him the news. He telephoned

all the board members. Once they agreed to extend you the

oer, I knew what your answer would be, so I took the ring!

Mr. Riley. The president o the Raystown Homes board

o trustees and a longtime riend o my oster amily, the

Ramseys.

Hazels exuberance gave way to her usual seriousness. I

couldnt think o anyone Id trust more than you.

I pulled in a long breath, trying to calm the squirm in my


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A Home for My Heart

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middle as the past tore through my mind. A child drawn

out o dire circumstances, like Moses rom the basket in the

river. Mama Ramsey had always told me it meant my lie

had purpose. Great purpose. Until this moment, Id never

actually believed that.

Few knew the dark words hidden in the 1892 admittance

ledger, though some still remembered that Id resided at the

Home until the Ramseys took me into their amily six years

later, ater my body had grown strong and well. Since then,Id worked hard to erase the shame that ollowed me like a

shadow. Would achieving the position o matron eradicate

it orever?

Yes, yes, yes, said the silent scream in my head. I wanted

this. Needed this. Was made or this. My heart swelled with

unexpected joy, though ecstasy and ear danced cheek-to-cheek.

Oh, Hazel. Im honored. Im . . . thrilled beyond belie.

O course I will step into your place as matron.

Hazel leaned orward and kissed my cheek. I knew I could

count on you, Sadie.

Then the yellow daodils winked against the dark win-

dow. I drew a quick breath. The board o trustees would not

employ a married woman.

When I own my own land, Blaine had said the year hed

turned sixteen. Then I will ask you to be my wie.

Since then hed worked other mens arms, scrimping and

saving toward purchasing his own. And still we waited. Would

this be my way to contribute?

As matron, Hazels salary was substantially higher than

mine. Id get a raise on top o the continued opportunity to


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work in and or the place I loved. I could help Blaine save

toward our land. By the time we amassed the amount needed,

I elt sure Id have accomplished enough to ollow Hazels

example and set up a home o my own.

A perect situation. The answer to so many years o prayers.

Hazel yawned, covering her wide mouth with her palm.

Ill call Mr. Riley in the morning and let him know youve

agreed. We have so much to do, starting tomorrow. Morning

will come ar too earlyor both o us.I nodded. But I wouldnt be sleeping tonight. How could I,

when the unspoken dreams o my heart had suddenly come

true?


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Chapter 3

Iwaved to the children through the ront oce window as

they made tracks through the new dusting o snow the

next morning. Ten-year-old Janet held Lily Beths tiny

hand, promising to deliver the little girl to the right classroom.

Contentment pushed out a sigh.I turned rom my view o the empty street and surveyed

our oce. An enormous old desk placed toward the back

wall, two straight-backed chairs angled in ront o it. A small

round table o to one side. A tall cabinet between the two

windows that looked out over the street, and a replace now

tted with a coal heater along the opposite wall.

Cozy yet proessional, a room that would soon become

my primary domain.

I met our new girl this morning. Something about the

tightness around Hazels lips worried me.

I gripped the back o one o the chairs. Lily Beth.

Hazel rubbed a nger above her eyebrow. I guess with all

the excitement last night, you orgot to tell me.

I cringed. Sorry. I know I overstepped my bounds, but you

werent here and her mother I shook my head.


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With a hal smile on her lips, Hazel fipped open the admit-

tance ledger and read over my notes on Lily Beth Ashworth.

I cant exactly scold you, seeing as how youll be doing this

kind o thing on your own very soon. But I had hoped to

gain a little ground ater placing Joseph out.

Gain ground?

You know we exist on reewill oerings. That presents

problems on occasion.

My heart thumped as I swiped my tongue over dry lips.What kind o problems?

Money problems. We anticipate generous donations o

ood, such as Blaine and others give. We can even expect

clothing, though we never know i the git will t our needs.

Holidays are rarely a problem. But cash or bills and other

expenses sometimes runs short. Like now. Weve been lowon unding or the past ew months. Or high on expenses.

Or both.

This was nothing new. Mama Ramsey oten lamented when

donations to the Home lagged. She seemed to take it as a

personal aront, though her only connection to the orphan-

age was in a voluntary capacity. Hazel, o course, had more

reason or concern. As did I. How many times have I heard

you say, The Lord will provide or His work?

I know. And I still believe that. Hazel twisted the ring

on her nger. But I also see what it says in my ledger. One

less mouth to eed, one less body to clothe always gives us

a little space.

I stiened. Lily Beth wont eat enough to make a dier-

ence. She can have my portion i need be.

Hazels bowlike lips lited in a smile. I know. Its just


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She waved her hand. Never mind. Wellyoull get through

this crunch, just like we have all the others. She pushed back

rom the desk and stood. Id best telephone Mr. Riley and

tell him youve agreed to the post. Wed like to nalize things

as soon as possible.

As Hazels ootsteps aded away, I leaned back in my chair

and considered her revelation. But I couldnt make mysel

adopt her dire outlook on the situation. The nances would

right themselves, as they always had beore, because the Lordwouldnt let these children suer on account o something

as trifing as money.

Miss Sadie! Janet threw her arms around my waist and

buried her head in my shirt ater school that aternoon. Istroked the thick braid that dangled down her back. She lited

her ace. Youll help me with my math, wont you?

I tweaked her nose. O course, you silly goose. Have I ever

let you alone with your numbers? But I breathed relie that

soon I would no longer be the one helping with arithmetic

homework. That would be one o my assistants duties.

Say, Miss Sadie . . . Twelve-year-old George sauntered in

my direction, reaching or a slice o buttered bread on his way.

Mrs. Fore slapped his hand. Not until youve hung up your

coat and hat. Then youll sit at the table like the civilized hoo-

ligan you are. She winked as she poured milk into tin cups.

George whipped o his hat, then peeled o his coat and

hung both on a peg near the back door. Then he renewed

his quest. Miss Sadie, do you have any good books I could

read? Teacher says we have to read one and write up a paper


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29

saying what we think o it. He looked me straight in the eye.

Another ew months and hed tower over me. I swallowed past

the lump in my throat and prayed again or a amily to take

him in, love him, guide him, maybe even school him in a trade.

I we cant nd a book that suits your ancy on the shelves

here, Ill take you to the library in town on Saturday.

Aw, Saturday? Weve got a baseball game scheduled then.

I pushed up on my toes just a tiny bit, needing to be big-

ger than he was or a little while longer. Ater your chores,o course.

His whole body sagged as his chin dropped toward his chest.

Yes, maam. Then he looked up with a grin. Can I have

I held up one hand.

His nose scrunched as i hed smelled a skunk. May I

have my bread and butter now?I looked at Mrs. Fore. She nodded.

Take your ood to the table, please, I commanded those

still lingering.

The back door opened again. A gangly youth loped inside.

Carter! I threw my arms around Blaines younger brother,

then pulled back and looked up into his ace. Carter didnt

have Blaines stature, but then the boys had dierent athers,

so I guessed that accounted or their opposite builds. And

coloring. Carters hair and eyes were as light as Blaines were

dark. Youve grown since I last saw you. And that was just

a ew weeks ago!

Carters inectious grin appeared. The brothers were as

dierent as peas and corn in personality, too. Blaines seri-

ous nature didnt always appreciate Carters love o un and

laughter, especially when it landed the boy in trouble.


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Carter slid the coat rom his narrow shoulders as I led him

to the table. Is everyone eeling better at the Comstocks?

He shrugged. Mrs. Comstock still coughs a good bit. But

we should make it back to church on Sunday.

Wonderul! Im so glad things are working out well or

you there. It was his third oster home in the dozen years

since he and Blaine had arrived on the Homes doorstep.

Cynthia sidled closer to Carter, her eyes wide under his

disarming grin, the one I elt sure sent the girls at the highschool into a swoon. I studied the foor to hide my smile.

But when I realized Mrs. Fores hu and bustle to prepare

supper, I sobered.

Pulling at Carters arm, I lowered my voice. Wont the

Comstocks expect you at home or chores and such beore

supper?Carter shrugged. I could eat here instead.

I thought o Hazels words this morning about mouths

to eed. She wouldnt be pleased to have another or supper.

And Mrs. Fore didnt take kindly to unannounced guests at

mealtime, either. Ater Lily Beth last night . . .

I lowered my voice. Weve already tried Mrs. Fores pa-

tience this week. Well see i we can work out another time.

He crushed his cloth cap between his hands and looked

at the foor. Looping my arm around his, I led him to the

door. When we see you at church Sunday, I promise well

plan a visit.

Carters quick grin ell into a rown. Grabbing his coat,

he bounded out the door and into the rigid air without aglance back.


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Anne Mateer

31

Miss Sa-die!

Janets crowing called me to the parlor. I let o slicing bread

or supper and scurried through the narrow hall. Miranda

and I nearly collided.

Sorry, she mumbled, pressing her back against the wall,

mouth twisted into a scowl.

The shock o such a look held me in place.

Had she and Mrs. Fore quarreled? I couldnt imagine it.

Maybe one o the children had upset her. I certainly hopednot. In spite o the act that she and I had never moved past

tolerating each other, Miranda worked hard to keep the house

in order. We couldnt unction as well as we did without her

work. Maybe she needed something good to think about.

Like Hazels engagement.

Its nice about Hazel and the proessor, isnt it?Hazel had announced her engagement, though shed kept

my appointment a secret or now, since I didnt intend to tell

Blaine until everything was ocial.

Mirandas head jerked back and her eyes narrowed, regard-

ing me as i I were a boy with muddy shoes come to tread

across her reshly mopped foor. And what will happen to

all o us, I wonder, now that shes o to play house?

My jaw clenched. Then I sotened. It had to be hard or

a woman almost orty years old and never married to hear

o Hazels good ortune. I kept my voice quiet, as I did with

upset children. Shell be happy, and well all be ne.

Some o us will, she muttered as she turned her ace

away.

My spine went rigid. When I took over as matron, Miranda

would answer to me. Best to let her see now that I couldnt


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A Home for My Heart

32

be bullied. Yet Mama Ramseys voice rang through my head.

Youll catch more fies with honey than with vinegar.

I took a deep breath beore pasting on a smile, determined

to keep my comments as vague as possible. I cant imagine

much will change ater Hazel leaves.

Miss Sa-die! Janets shrill impatience.

My skirt swooshed past Miranda as I dashed into the par-

lor. She probably retted as much about keeping her job as

she did her lack o a husband. And who could blame her?This was about as good a place as shed ever nd with her

sixth-grade education. Once I held the position o matron,

Id reassure her that I intended to keep her on. In spite o her

occasional surliness, it would be easier to retain her. Hiring

my own replacement would be challenge enough. No need

to add a maid-o-all-work opening to that list.

a home for my heart

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