Chapter 21

The Sacred Heart Orphanage sat on the corner of Winthrop and Smith. It was a tall building, nearly four stories tall, built of drab grey stone. There was no colorful front lawn, no bright rose bushes. No trees grew around the massive building. The windows were void of colorful drapes and even the entrance with its long, plunging front stoop decorated on each side with two growling lions seemed frightening.

Getting out of the carriage, Michaela found herself staring at the tall building while holding her father's hand a little too tightly. For the first time is such a long time, Michaela found herself feeling much like a little child, small and frightened of what it was she was about to find. There was just something about the word "orphanage" that was mysterious. Every time she thought about The Sacred Heart since the moment Joseph had mentioned that they would call, Michaela had envisioned rows of beds and cribs where children dressed in rags screamed and cried. She could imagine a mean matron who ruled the building with an iron fist. All this was a result of the fact that her imagination had been fueled by stories of orphans who ran away in order to find a family. She'd read Oliver Twist and found the thought of anyone having to fend for himself awful. She couldn't imagine what she would do without her father. The sheer idea made her want to cry.

"Are you ready?" Joseph asked, squeezing his daughter's hand back. He was completely unaware of the internal doubts she was struggling with as he turned to smile at her before leading the way up the steps.

The metallic clang from the knocker seemed to resonated through the entire building and Michaela felt it was an eternity before the door finally swung on its hinges.

"Oh Doctor Quinn." A small mouse of a woman answered the door and smiled. She was dressed in a nice calico work dress, very plain and practical, and yet still fashionable enough to receive visitors for the day. Her curly blond-grey hair was twisted and stuck up in pins and frizzed around her head like a halo. Around her neck hung a tarnished pocket watch, which she caught nervously in her hand and glanced at quickly before ushering Joseph and Michaela inside.

"May I introduce to you my youngest daughter Michaela. Michaela, this is Ms. Level. She runs the Sacred Heart." Michaela, as taught, bent her knees slightly as she dipped her head, a small little curtsey that was returned by Ms. Level.

"How do you do?"

"Very nicely thank you." Michaela smiled at the little exchange. See, she could act like a little woman if she wanted, but wouldn't life be boring if this is how she always had to act?

"There are several children in the infirmary, but I haven't encountered anything too serious." Ms. Level turned her attention to the doctor and continued walk through the building leaving Michaela behind to catch up, but that was all right with her. Even as she accompanied her father on his calls, Michaela had learned very early not get in the middle of things, but instead to step back and simply watch, making a mental note of all of her questions to ask after they had left.

As Michaela followed behind the doctor and matron, she began to lag more and more as she took the time to look around her. The interior of the building was nothing like the cold exterior. There was a large oak banister just off the foyer and the walls were painted with soothing colors of butternut and pale blue. Some of the rooms had door standing open where Michaela could see fires burning in a hearth and comfortable table and chairs. Toys lined the walls. She passed the little classroom on her left, which looked like a miniature replica of the one she attended, and the nursery rooms held four or five cribs each with rocking chair and some small toys for the younger children.

As Joseph and Ms. Level disappeared down the hallway, Michaela's attention was distracted from her path to a little boy who came barreling out of the room, silent tears flowing down his cheeks. The boy couldn't have been much older than four or five and yet he looked a little smaller than Michaela's nephew of the same age did. The boy was wearing a pair of black stockings and a black "dress" that hung down to about his knees.

"Oh, what's wrong?" Michaela asked bending over the little boy, who wiped at his eyes with his fist. He just continued to sniffle, stopping only to take a shuddering deep breath. Deciding to change tactics, Michaela knelt down so she could look at him in the eyes. "If you tell me what's wrong I might be able to fix it." She whispered, not sure whether or not to touch the young boy. She had never really had to deal with small children. Every time she was around her nephews, Rebecca wasn't too far away. Michaela felt uncomfortable not knowing exactly what to say to the boy.

Struggling to take a few breathes, the little boy moved the hand that had been blocking his line of vision and looked at her for the first time. "My ball." He said between breaths.

"Where is your ball?"

"In here." Michaela was surprised when the boy took her hands and pulled her into the room next them. Glancing down the hallway where she knew her father had gone, she couldn't see him anymore, but she imagined that he could be able to find her if he was ready to leave before she made it back to the infirmary.

Stepping into the room, Michaela glanced about at her new surroundings. It was dimly lit with oil lamps that sat in the windows. There was a plush sofa that sat again the wall and two chairs sat facing the object. The seats had been scattered with books, pencils, and paper. Sticking his thumb in his mouth the little boy allowed no time for Michaela to look around. Instead, he set his eyes on his ball and made straight for it. Finally, he stopped abruptly and lifted his finger up, pointed up.

Against the wall sat a long table on which blocks and dolls were strewn about, and in the middle of that desk sat a plain cloth ball. Now the only question was how to get it down. As Michaela stood there, thinking, her eyebrow raised and chewing on the inside of her lip the little boy popped his thumb back into his mouth and watched her expectantly. Suddenly, Michaela's face brightened. "Oh, I can fix this." Moving toward a chair sitting alone in the opposite corner of the room, she pulled it over toward the desk and after positioning it, used it as a step in order to crawl onto the top of the table. She laid flat across the tabletop, trying not to have to crawl across the table any more than she had too, and stretched her hands out in order to grasp the ball. When she felt the soft fabric fill her fingers, she smiled and rolled over in order to hop off the desk.

"Here you go." She whispered, handing the ball back to the little boy and warming at the bright smile he gave her.

"Thank you!" He replied excitedly.

"What did you do, Jacob?" The presence of another voice startled Michaela and made her jump. Straightening, she found herself facing another girl not much younger than she was. The older girl was wearing a matching outfit to that of the little boy, black stockings, and a black dress and held a baby.

"He didn't do anything wrong. He just lost his ball. Everything's ok now." Michaela smiled back down at the little boy and patted him on the head. He, in turn, threw the ball up in the air and caught it on its return trip.

"I'm sorry he bothered you."

"It was no bother, really." The other little girl smiled, looking somewhat relieved.

"I'm Gilda, that's my younger brother Jacob, and this," she shook the baby who was laid across her shoulder, "is Tiffany."

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Michaela." Gilda tilted her head to consider the new girl standing in front of her.

"Michaela." She repeated the name as if trying to savor it. "I think that is beautiful." Michaela had to blush.

"Thank you." A ball came hurdling from the right, hitting Michaela in the side and leaving her straining to catch the object. A fluttery laugh accompanied the action, leaving Michaela to smile and toss it back to the little boy who had thrown it in the first place. Gilda, standing on the outside smiled at her brother's happiness and then saw the same way that Michaela laughed.

"You're not going to be staying here are you?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You're not coming to stay at the orphanage."

Michaela shook her head. "My father is a doctor. He's here to look at the sick children. How did you know?"

"You're too happy. Most of the other boys and girls that come here are really sad at first. They never smile."

"Oh." Michaela whispered, not knowing what else to say. She reached out and took the ball that Jacob was offering her before tossing it back to him. She wanted to learn more about Gilda and her siblings, but she wasn't entirely sure if it was ok to ask. Finally, her curiosity won out and she looked back at the girl. "How long have you been living here?"

"For about six months. That's how old Tiffany is. Momma died when Tiffany was born and Papa has been away at sea for almost a year now. He was supposed to be home before Tiffany was born, but he hasn't come back yet." Gilda's voice drifted away before adding as if to reassure Michaela, "I expect him back any day now."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, it will be nice to go home then."

"I imagine it will be."

"Would you like to see my bed?" Gilda's eyes grew large with excitement. She hadn't gotten to talk to someone her own age in so long. There weren't many older children at The Sacred Heart and the few older children there were often worked during the day.

"I would love too."

Gilda took Michaela across the hallway and opened the door to a long room that housed six metal beds. Each bed had its own nightstand sitting to the left of the head, and a trunk that sat at the foot of the bed on which laid a neatly folded woolen blanket and rag doll. Gilda marched through the room straight toward the window at the end.

"I'm the oldest girl in here. All the others are eight and nine so that means I get to have the bed by the window because I'm responsible."

"That's nice." Michaela glanced around her. Each girl had nothing more than six feet of space to keep all of their belongings. The idea was unfathomable to her. When she looked back to her new friend, Gilda could plainly read the thoughts across her face.

"Don't be sad for us. It's really not that bad and I get to help Ms. Level a lot with the little babies. I love the little babies and that means I get to spend a lot of time with my little sister." As if to further prove her point, Gilda took the baby from her shoulder and laid her across the bed letting Michaela have the best view of Tiffany since they met. The baby shared the same fair complexion as her older brother and sister but her face was a little flushed. Michaela didn't think anything about it until she reached out to tickle the cheek. Tiffany coughed several times.

"How long has she been coughing Gilda?"

"Only since this morning."

"She sounds a little congested."

"What?"

"Umm…" Michaela thought about what she was saying, trying to decide on the best way to explain it. "She sounds like she has a lot of fluid in her chest. Would you mind if we took her too my father?"

"Why?"

"Well, you don't want it to develop into an infection or pneumonia or anything like that." Gilda fell silent as she considered the girl standing across from her. What a strange girl. She was using all these big words and talking about infections. Gilda was fairly certain that normal girls didn't know such things.

"Are you studying to be a nurse or something?"

Forgetting her task for a moment, Michaela stood and smiled. "I'm going to be a doctor." She enjoyed the wide look of amazement that spread across Gilda's face, but was startled out of her amusement as the baby gave another little cough. Lowering her eyes back down to the baby Michaela reached to brush at the loose wisps of hair that lay flat across the Tiffany's head. There wasn't any fever, but it was important they keep it that way. Taking the shawl she had been wearing around her shoulders, Michaela wrapped Tiffany in it and cradled the baby to her chest, enjoying the wonderful feeling of having a little one snuggle so close to her. "None of that is important now. Let's take her to Father so he can have a look, ok?"

Knock, knock. The soft rapt at Michaela's bedroom door preceded the loud squeak as it swung open into the room. Just as he did every time he entered her room, Joseph winced. "I promise I'm going to have Harrison fix that," leaving Michaela to smile. It was the little things like that that Michaela loved the most. She gave a soft little chuckle as she looked up at him from where she was stretched out on her stomach across the foot of her bed, her feet dangling over her head.

"Hello Father." Her voice was quiet, signaling to Joseph that he had interrupted a moment of deep thought. Usually, he might have quietly excused himself, not wanting to bother her time alone; he understood how she cherished her ability to be alone in her thoughts. However, he had been a little concerned that she had been so quiet most of the day and had retreated to her room to take a nap after they returned home, which she rarely ever did; therefore, this time Joseph didn't retreat. Instead, he entered the room and sat down next to her on the bed. The bed linens rustled under his weight and settled back into an intense quietness that was broken only by the sound of their breathing.

Michaela twirled an item in her hand, feeling the edges and textures under the pads of her fingers. Joseph had to lean over slightly to be able to see into her hands before he realized that she held the vulcanite necklace of Elizabeth's. Joseph had given the necklace to Michaela on the day of Elizabeth's funeral, an ornament to remind the child of the woman who had given her life.

Joseph placed a comforting hand of Michaela's back and gently ran it along her frame. "You know you did good today. You had your first solo diagnosis. I'm proud of you at catching Tiffany's congestion so early." Joseph knew his daughter smiled that same crooked smile she always gave when he told her such things. He knew she smiled even though he couldn't see it. It was the little things like that he loved about her.

Michaela tilted her head and gazed more longingly at the necklace in her hands. He was proud of her. Those words more than anything else made Michaela feel special, loved, but she couldn't help but think about Gilda and Jacob. What about the children who have no one to be proud of them? Would there be anyone to clap and get excited with Tiffany says her first words or takes her first steps? Gilda didn't have anyone to help her make her bed in the morning or make her birthday special. Jacob had no one to rescue his ball.

She still hadn't said a word aloud and Joseph glanced at the door wondering if he should have given her a few more minutes. She would have told him, though. She would have said that she would be down in a moment or that she'd see him at dinner, but she didn't. As the two of them, neither one moving from their spot, lapsed into a comfortable silence, Joseph's hand continued to glide over the smooth taffeta of her dress. Finally, as his hand began its ascent once more it slipped above her collar and wrapped around the back of her neck, gently squeezing the soft skin of her neck. Michaela in turn lowered her head, enjoying the little massage.

"What are you thinking of, Mike?" The question broke the heavy silence and Michaela sighed, trying to determine what to say. She rose to her knees and slipped the necklace back over her head.

"I was just thinking about the kids at the orphanage today. They're all alone with no one to help them tie their shoes or read good night stories to them. Gilda's the oldest in her room and so she has to help with all the little kids." Michaela blushed deeply somewhat ashamed of the next secret she would share. "I can't imagine having to help with little kids all day. I like going to school and reading my books. Sometimes I just like being able to play with Miriam and not having to worry about anything."

Joseph plucked at a curl that had fallen across her shoulder. "That's what it's supposed to be like when you're eleven. You're not supposed to worry about anything but yourself. That's why children have mothers and fathers."

"But Gilda doesn't have anybody." Michaela shook her head sadly.

"You would be surprised to know the community that children like Gilda and Jacob form. They have close friendship with the other orphans, and I can assure you that Ms. Level and the other ladies who work at The Sacred Heart love and care for each of them separately. A family doesn't have to be parents and their children, sometimes they're not blood relations at all. All that is important is that they love one another."

"Do you think it would be alright if we went back to visit Gilda and the others one day?"

Joseph smiled at his daughter. Somewhere along the line of people who had shaped her life, she had obtained such a compassionate heart. He would never admit to himself that he had any part in giving her such a wonderful gift, but nonetheless he was pleased that she was becoming who she was. "I think we can arrange a little visit."

"Good." Michaela wrapped her arms around Joseph's waist and buried her face against him, smelling his familiar scene of cologne and cigar smoke. She snuggled closer to him as his arms encircled around her. "Father?' She asked, tilting her head up toward him. "You won't leave, will you?"

Joseph chuckled, his chest and shoulders shaking her back and forth. "I'm not going anywhere, my love. I'm not going anywhere."

In Lexington, the Scott house was sound asleep. All, that is, except for Jonathan. He was sitting alone in the darkened parlor with only a little candle sitting in the window to offer light for him. He still wore the brown work pants that he donned this morning, not having to go class today. His white shirt hung limply around him and he was still in his stocking clad feet. He reclined back on the sofa, his foot propped up on the seat and a teacup in hand. He was certain at this hour he needn't worry about being walked in on and this belief attributed much to his relaxed state.

Jonathan was thinking about his family, about his wife, and about his wife's family. After Marjorie's excursion to VMI on Monday, everything had changed. Marjorie had brought him his lunch every day, stopping by the boys on her way in and out of the building. By Wednesday, she had become acquainted with most of Jonathan's students and then on Thursday when the day was over a four o'clock, he had walked out of the academic building on the way home and had found her sitting on a blanket on the grounds surrounded on all sides by boys talking to her and laughing. He stood there for only a moment, taking into account his sister in law and her body language. As one of the boys spoke, saying something funny apparently as each of the boys smiled, Marjorie threw her head back and laughed all the while reaching out with her hand and touching the boy on the shoulder. Turning her attention to him, she tilted her head to one side, and Jonathan watched as a boyish grin spread across her companion's face. Jonathan could only imagine what she said. Quickly closing the distant between him and the social gathering Jonathan watched as the boys upon seeing him began to dismiss themselves from Marjorie's presence. There were only three left by the time he reached them.

"Marjorie, dear what are you still doing here?" His voice was loud and perhaps overfriendly in order to compensate for his disbelief of her behavior.

"Oh" Marjorie cooed not seeming to notice his anger at all. "I was going home after bringing you lunch, but I just got sidetracked."

"That was over three hours ago." Jonathan replied flatly glancing at the remaining boys. Marjorie giggled.

"I must have lost track of time."

"Yes, you must have. Well, I suppose this means you can accompany me on my journey home." Reaching out for her arm, he pulled her up and nodded to the boys. "I imagine you fellas have a lot of studying you need to be doing." The boys just smiled at one another. Professor Scott always put emphasis on his class, usually in jest, understanding that most of his students cared little about Moral Philosophy. Not noticing the tension in their professor's shoulders, they nodded to him before respectfully excusing themselves.

However, despite how more and more lax Marjorie became while in public, Jonathan struggled to maintain his position as brother in law not father, but this morning had beaten all. Just before lunch, there was a knock at the door and Jonathan was surprised to find two of his students on his porch.

"We were, um. We were wondering if we could accompany Miss Quinn through the park today. We were hoping she would enjoy a picnic." The boy on the left lifted a straw basket up and lowered it again as if in confirmation. Jonathan took a step back from the door and considered the two boys asking permission to take his sister in law out. What was he supposed to do? None of the boys had acted out of disrespect, he felt certain of that, but he also knew how boys thought. He was one, after all, and he knew that it was up to Marjorie to set the boundaries of any relationship. Unfortunately, Marjorie wasn't interested in boundaries, which made it harder to her male companions to respect them.

Turning from the door, Jonathan found Marjorie standing behind him. She was already dressed in a walking dress and carried a light shawl to combat the slight breeze. Jonathan frowned and suddenly he saw his Jane standing before him dressed for a caller; it would be a reality for him one day. Instantly Jonathan knew what he must do. Turning back to the boys, he offered an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry boys, but my sister in law has not yet reached 16. It isn't proper for her to be partaking in courting activities yet. I hope you understand when I say she must stay home today." Although disappointed, the boys didn't argue. Marjorie on the other hand was a different story.

After shutting the door, he turned to find Marjorie staring at him in disbelieve. In all honesty, he hadn't expected anything less.

"How could you do that? Just turn them away?"

"That is what was needed to be done."

"We made plans."

"Yes, plans that are very improper considering yours and their age and what it was you planned to do." His voice rose in slightly in aggravation, enough to bring Maureen into the foyer to see whatever the matter was.

"You are not my father!"

"He allowed you to come to my house, Marjorie with the understanding that I would care for you and look out for your best interest. This is my decision." Angrily, Marjorie turned to Maureen, eyes pleading for an intervention, but poor Maureen had no idea what it was she had walked into. Shrinking back against the doorframe she gathered her apron into her hand and twisted the edges.

"Jonathan is the head of the house, Marjorie. He decides these things." Marjorie, no longer interested in her sister and brother in law turned and left for the guest room. That had been before lunch and the girl had barely come out of her room since then. Jonathan, feeling slightly guilty for angering the her simply allowed her to take her meals in her room and made no move to force her out on her last day in Virginia. However, he did not feel guilty enough to go back on his decision.

Taking the last sip of his tea, Jonathan rose from his seat and blew out the candle before turning down the hallway. He was as quiet as possible as he prepared for bed, but even then as he sat down he felt Maureen roll over.

"You're up late."

"I could say the same about you."

"What were you thinking about?"

"This morning; what else?" He sighed as his body sank into the bed, relaxing.

"Do you really think it was necessary not to allow her to go?" Maureen asked shyly, sitting up in the bed.

"Would it have been acceptable in Boston? What would Claudette and Rebecca have had them do?"

"Oh, you're right. I know you're right. I just hate seeing her so upset. This was supposed to be her vacation."

"I know."

"She'll never want to come back."

"Yes, she will. Eventually. One day she'll realize how we were looking out for her." They fell silent as Jonathan found her hand lying on top of the blanket. "I think it might be important," he spoke after a few minutes, "that you write Rebecca and let her know that Marjorie may be needing a little more guidance on societal affairs so that she doesn't make a drastic mistake."

"I'll do it as soon as we get back from the train station tomorrow."

"I think that is best." He leaned over and kissed the side of his wife's cheek before scooting down in the bed. "Get some sleep. It's late and the train leaves early in the morning." He had to admit he was looking forward to having his family back to normal.

There's chapter 21! I hope you enjoyed it.