Twelve

Chandler left Isabel with a veiled threat. “If I read anything about me, Magdalene, or our marriage in the newspaper, you’ll have me to answer to. Understood?”

She nodded, and he strode away from her, back toward his bride. Thank God he had never seriously considered Isabel as a contender. He didn’t like the spoiled child she turned out to be, not one bit.

Sam stopped in front of him. “Our agreement still stands. Just because I’m courting Isabel doesn’t mean I’ll break my word to you, no matter what she may disclose.”

“I appreciate knowing that. Thank you.” He shook his hand again and strode back to his spot on the bench. “Fancy meeting them here. I had no idea they were courting.”

“Nor did I.”

Magdalene’s frosty words matched the cold shoulder she bestowed on him. Next, they visited the marine aquarium, the largest in the country housing both salt and freshwater tanks. Chandler admired the large photographs of California scenery lining the walls, but he couldn’t draw Magdalene’s interest. They also toured the museum, conservatories, and small, but select, art gallery. He and the children conversed throughout the day, but Magdalene remained stone-faced and silent. He figured knowing what lay ahead tonight dampened her mood—either that or something having to do with Isabel.

“Magdalene, I plan to tell the children about Frankie as soon as we finish supper,” Chandler informed her as they gathered around the table. “I know this is difficult, but for his sake, could you please liven up?”

She nodded but looked as if she might cry.

After he said grace, Mrs. Lindsay served chicken and dumplings, one of Frankie’s favorite meals. Afterward, she carried out a chocolate layer cake with candles. All the children reacted with chatter and excitement.

“Yes, Children, it’s a party!” He spoke loud enough to be heard above all of them. A dozen pair of eyes focused on him, and he forced himself to appear jubilant—a difficult task, considering the sizable ache in his heart. “Tonight is a special celebration. We’re having an adoption party!”

“ ’Doption? What’s that?” Frankie asked. Since he was the youngest, not quite three, he hadn’t had adoption explained to him yet.

“An adoption is when a real family with a mother and a father decides to invite one of you children to come and live with them and become their very own family member.” Despite his excited and upbeat tone, their little faces appeared crestfallen.

“Can you imagine how wonderful to have your own mother and father, maybe some sisters and brothers?” Magdalene chimed in.

“A house with your own room?” he added.

“I’d be scared,” Sarah said, her eyes large.

“Who’s being adopted?” Bobby asked. The look on his face clearly revealed he hoped it wasn’t him.

Chandler glanced at Magdalene for support. “Frankie.”

The other eleven orphans appeared relieved, but Frankie started to cry.

Chandler rushed to Frankie’s chair and swept him into his arms. “It’s okay, little fellow,” he promised, kissing his forehead.

Magdalene took Frankie’s hand. “Look at your cake! Let’s light those candles so you can blow them out!”

The child nodded but looked fearful. Chandler passed Frankie to Magdalene while he lit the candles. Then he lifted him near the cake, and Frankie blew and blew. The children laughed at his antics, and when all the candles were finally extinguished, Magdalene cut fifteen slices.

Chandler held Frankie on his lap while they both ate their cake. Frankie had chocolate all over his face, hands, and Chandler. The cake certainly lightened the mood. When the chocolate mess was finally cleaned up, all the children were in good humor and acting silly.

Chandler led his crew into the parlor, keeping Frankie on his lap. Tonight he spoke on God’s plan for families, sharing with them what God said about mothers, fathers, and little children. He also told them how much Jesus loves people, especially children.

Then instead of reading, Magdalene told a made-up story about a boy named Frankie, who didn’t have a mother or father, and a couple named Farnsworth who had no children but wanted some really badly. They searched high and low for a special child, and finally they found Frankie.

Chandler was glad he’d stayed for story hour. His motive had been purely selfish; he wasn’t ready to put Frankie down yet. Magdalene mesmerized all of them with her yarn. He saw each of their faces relax as she presented adoption in such a positive light.

“They founded me?” Frankie asked.

“Yes.” Chandler tweaked Frankie’s nose. “They found very special you.” He hugged the child tight, swallowing the lump he’d been fighting all evening.

“Bath time! Tonight is Sarah, Susie, and Frankie.” Magdalene reached for Frankie, but he tightened his hold on Chandler’s neck.

“You do it.” Frankie pointed at Chandler.

“Me? I don’t think I know how.”

“Miss Maggie will help.”

Chandler helped Frankie pack his few belongings while Magdalene assisted Sarah and Susie with their baths. With Frankie, she instructed Chandler in the fine art of child bathing. He ended up almost as wet as Frankie, and bathing a child with her produced a longing in his heart for them to be a real family. He could imagine them together, bathing their tiny babe. He closed his eyes, fighting off double sorrow—sorrow at losing Frankie and sorrow for the children they might never have.

After all the children were tucked in and prayed for, he and Magdalene knelt beside Frankie’s bed and prayed for him and his future family.

“Miss Maggie, will you wock me?”

Magdalene lifted the child and carried him to the rocker.

Chandler kissed the top of each of their heads and left. He needed air. He took the stairs two at a time, and tears began to trickle down his face before he even reached the door. Outside Chandler looked up into the starry sky, longing to cry out his agony to God, but no words came—only more tears. He and Magdalene were people living out the consequences of their own bad choices.

❧

Magdalene held Frankie snugly against her, and they rocked and rocked. She prayed for him and his parents to love each other quickly, and she begged God not to find homes for any more of their orphans.

She had no idea how long she rocked. Mrs. Lindsay had retired ages ago, but Magdalene couldn’t bring herself to end her final time with Frankie.

Finally Chandler came back upstairs. He knelt beside the rocker and looked exhausted. He’d been crying, and even though she didn’t want to care, she did. Her heart ached for him—for them.

“Maggie, it’s after midnight. Why don’t you come to bed?”

At her nod, he lifted Frankie from her arms and laid him on his bed. Together they tucked him in and each gave him one last good-night kiss. Then Chandler took her hand and led her to the little cottage they shared. Once inside, he pulled her into his arms and held her tight for a moment. After kissing her temple, he released her completely, and she immediately missed his closeness.

“ ’Night, Maggie,” he whispered, guiding her into the bedroom they didn’t share. He closed the door between them before she could offer to take the couch. Magdalene spent a fitful night trying to sleep and forget the image of Chandler and Isabel with their heads close together in intimate conversation. Just thinking about it caused her stomach to ache.

❧

Chandler thought he’d heard Magdalene crying in the night, but he didn’t dare go check on her. Each time he held her, he just wanted to hold her more. He ran his hand across his jaw and sighed. Where did they go from here?

After breakfast, he and Frankie left for town to meet his new parents. Chandler figured this way would be easier on everyone. He assured the little boy that Miss Maggie’s and the other children’s tears weren’t because adoption was a sad thing, but because they all loved him so much and would miss him terribly. Frankie seemed to accept Chandler’s explanation.

The transition went better than he’d hoped. The Farnsworths were kind, loving people. Answering the door with a puppy for Frankie was ingenious, and he didn’t even cry when Chandler hugged him good-bye because of his excitement over the dog. Chandler didn’t cry either, at least not until their front door closed and no one could witness his sobbing.

Chandler decided to pay his mother a visit before he picked up their mail and a few supplies. Baldwin escorted him into her sitting room, and she came in a few moments later. Rising, he placed a kiss on each of her cheeks.

“I’ve missed you. How are the newlyweds?” She sat on the small sofa and straightened her skirts.

Chandler had no desire to discuss private matters with his mother. “Fine. I came by to see if Father saw Sam Starr’s retraction in the newspaper.”

“Yes, and he felt satisfied—though he’d have preferred it never happened.”

Chandler sighed. “Me, too. Will we ever have an amicable relationship?”

“Frankly, that’s up to the two of you. I cannot predict how either of you will behave. I do, however, know your father has few regrets in his life; but of those few, you are by far the largest and heaviest.”

“Why doesn’t he change, then, treat me differently?” Chandler exhaled a frustrated sigh.

“He wonders the same about you. The truth is, change is hard and old habits die a slow death. You both have bad habits in the way you treat one another. Do you remember the story of your father and me, as newlyweds, leaving France and our families to find the American dream?” Her eyes took on a faraway look.

Chandler nodded and his mother continued. “What we never mentioned was, we left without either family’s blessing. We sailed to America in pursuit of wealth and opportunity, leaving behind hurt and angry parents who didn’t understand. Looking back, we were foolish, but then leaving seemed cosmopolitan—the thing to do.

“Through letters, my parents and I reconciled. Your father reestablished a relationship with his mother but never with his father. When your grandfather died, Archard never forgave himself for the rift between them. Now he faces a similar rift with his youngest son and would give his right arm for a second chance.”

“He’s the one who despised me even when I was a child.” The old hurt returned.

“I’ve only recently realized he despised the illness that held you captive, not you.” She cocked her head slightly and sent him a smile of understanding.

“As a young boy, how was I to know the difference?” His choked voice echoed the deep pain he carried within.

“You couldn’t, and he was wrong. But then you walked away from him and the family business to find your own way.”

“To escape his displeasure.”

“And you replaced him with a surrogate father. That hurt him deeply, Chandler.” His mother reached over and patted his hand.

“It wasn’t intentional. I ached for a father—someone who’d love me with no demands or expectations—and Mr. Baxter willingly filled the role.”

“He was a good man, your Mr. Baxter. I’m only sorry your father never realized it. He only saw him as a thief who stole his son’s affection. Now that he’s gone, Archard hopes to win back your love and respect, but he doesn’t know how. He believes if you came to work for him, you’d get to know him and recognize that he’s not such a bad person.”

Choked up by his mother’s revelations, Chandler had no answers. He paced the floor. God had brought him to a point where he desired healing with his father, but how? “I’ll work hard to build a solid relationship with him. I’ll ask God to help me forgive him for past hurts and love him the way I did Mr. Baxter. I’ll ask the Lord to make me the son He’d have me be.”

His mother quickly wiped the drizzle of tears from her cheeks. Polite society did not cry publicly, even if the only public around was her son.

Chandler felt grateful Warren had taught him to feel and express those feelings.

“One problem solved,” his mother said. “Shall we move on to the next?”

“What next problem?” He returned to his chair, sensing his mother referred to Magdalene.

“Your wife. I assume the marriage isn’t going well, is it?”

“Why would you assume that?” He squirmed under his mother’s astute gaze.

“You may fool some of the people, some of the time, but you are not fooling your own mother. You look awful, and the bags under your eyes tell me you’re not sleeping well.”

“I’m a newlywed. Newlyweds aren’t supposed to sleep well.” He hoped his joke would provide a diversion.

No luck. His mother was like a bulldog when she got hold of something. “I noticed the way you gazed at Magdalene and heard the defensiveness in your voice when your father referred to her as a homely spinster.”

“You don’t think she’s homely, do you?”

“No, I don’t. On your wedding day, she was quite lovely.”

“And what do you mean, ‘the way I gazed at her’?” Chandler studied his mother.

“You’re in love with her. My guess, based on your appearance, is that the feelings aren’t mutual.”

Thinking of Magdalene brought a slight smile to his lips. “I do love her—so much.” He shook his head, puzzled as to how to win her love.

“Be patient and woo her.” She smiled, obviously pleased with the way their conversation had gone.

“She’s so distant, I don’t even know where or how to begin.”

“Sounds like the same problem your father had with you.”

The irony of her observation caught his attention. “As a man measures it out, so it is measured back to him.” “You’re right, it does. Where does one begin to repair and rebuild a relationship?”

“I think time and talking—”

“Speaking of time,” Chandler glanced at his pocket watch, “I have several stops before I can head home. Can we continue this soon?” He placed another kiss on her cheek.

“I love you, Son. Your God will guide you to the correct answers with both your father and Magdalene.”

Yes, my God will. I’m glad you recognize the truth of your statement.

They hugged and she escorted him to the front door. “Don’t make plans on New Year’s Eve. I have a surprise for you and your new bride.”

“Not a levee.” Leave it to his mother to plan a big reception. “Things are bad enough. I don’t think a party in honor of our marriage will help.”

“Every wife deserves a celebration and gifts. Don’t worry. Everything will work out fine.”

“I sure hope you’re right. Bye, Mother.”

On his way to the general store, Chandler prayed. Please make things right between Magdalene and me. Give her a forgiving heart. And then, Lord, I need to make things right with my father as well. He’s old and may not be around much longer, but there’s so much pain between us. Show me how to make amends for the years of pain we’ve caused each other.

Chandler thought about what his mother had said. Maybe his father hadn’t meant to hurt him. Maybe he’d truly been pained by Chandler’s thin, sickly body. Maybe he’d avoided him, not because of disgust, but guilt. A new understanding dawned.

When he arrived back at the orphanage, Chandler went to his office to go through the mail and hopefully get a little bookwork done before supper. Another letter from New York was in the pile. He opened it first.

Dear Mr. Alexandre:

This letter is to inform you as of January 1, 1883, the estate of Warren Baxter will again be contributing funds to the San Francisco Christian Home for Orphans and Foundlings. We will be donating the same amount as before, so you may continue the work so dear to Mr. Baxter’s heart.

Chandler went limp in his chair. He reread the first paragraph again, but the words didn’t change. This meant his marriage to Magdalene was no longer necessary. Instead of joy over the news, sadness spread through his entire being. Chandler finished the rest of the letter.

Upon reading Mr. Baxter’s journals, his nephew, who now controls the funds, discovered the orphanage was his uncle’s dearest loved endeavor and most important project. I’m certain you can appreciate his desire to use the money in ways most pleasing to his uncle. We do, however, wish to apologize for any minor problems the young Mr. Baxter may have caused during our brief lapse with the endowment.

Respectfully,

Winston Wallace Williams III

With the bold script, Chandler’s future appeared bleak. They had the nerve to refer to minor problems. If they only knew the havoc they’d triggered in his life in the past two weeks—in all their lives.

“What now, Lord? What do I do?”

Chandler tucked the letter under some other paperwork. He needed to think and pray.