NOTE: I really cannot tell you how happy it makes me to see your reviews on this story. There's a few more chapters in store. I hope you will stick with me. Again, thank you for reading.
Dickie hastened towards the Dower House. Isobel had left him a note saying that she would be there. She had not written anything else. He worried, not quite sure why she would leave the phone unattended while Catie was still missing.
Something must have happened with the Crawleys. Dickie pulled his overcoat closer to himself, trying and failing to ignore the bitter January wind. Something must be wrong.
But, as he hurried closer to the Dower House, he saw Isobel walking up the road towards him. She was smiling – that beautiful, radiant smile that melted his heart. He had yet to notice the small figure holding his wife's hand, trailing slightly behind her.
"Isobel! My darling! What on earth's happened?" Dickie nearly shouted as he quickened his pace, closing the distance between himself and his wife. "I'm sorry…my dear…" he stuttered, "I could not find Catie…I…I…I…" And then he saw the young brunette with large, dark eyes come out from behind Isobel's skirts, still clutching her hand.
"Hi," Catie whispered. Her eyes fixed on Dickie. "Were you looking for me?"
"Catie!" Dickie stared at her unbelieving. Then he said her name again: "Catie…" And relief washed over him like a gentle wave kissing the shore. "How…how did you…" He was having difficulty forming a coherent thought. He looked at Isobel, wondering how in the world she had managed to find Catie.
Isobel embraced Dickie, leaning in close to whisper in his ear. "We owe a great deal to Cousin Violet," she acknowledged. "More than I think we can repay and more than she will ever let us forget," Isobel emphasized, adding the last bit with a wink of her eye.
"But…I don't understand," Dickie stammered. "What does the Dowager have to do with any of this?" He stared at Catie for a moment, watching the little girl absently look down at her feet. She moved her foot to the left and right, half raised on her heel.
"Can we go home now?" Catie asked, looking between Isobel and Dickie. "I'm cold."
The couple chuckled.
Then, a serious expression formed on Dickie's face. "And where is home? Where do you want to go?" He had no idea that Isobel had already told the little girl about the adoption, let alone that Catie chose to be with them.
"Home," Catie emphasized. She walked up to Dickie and threw her arms around his waist. She peered up at him. "With you," she added smiling.
Dickie picked Catie up at that moment, raising her into the air then holding her close. "Do you mean that?" He asked grinning. "Does that mean you want to stay with us?"
Catie giggled. "Yes," she chirped. "I want to stay with you. I want you to adopt me," Catie emphasized those two words. They would be together – a family, something Catie desperately wished to have again. "There's a bubble bath at home too," she added, sneaking a glance at Isobel.
Isobel's heart was full. She watched her husband embrace the little girl. Finally, Isobel thought to herself, he can have a chance. A chance to know a child's love. A chance to realize that not everything will come crashing down around him. Larry and Tim will always be his sons. But, in Catie, I think, he may have found a piece of his heart.
Isobel stroked Catie's cheek when the little girl looked her way. "I'm quite chilled myself," Isobel admitted, crossing her arms and rubbing them vigorously for warmth. "I'd say we all go home and have a nice mug of cocoa. Does that sound like an agreeable plan?"
"Yes," Catie and Dickie answered. Dickie let Catie down, and the three walked back to Crawley House. Catie walked in the middle, using both Dickie and Isobel as shields from the wind. Isobel placed a protective arm around her, pulling her close as they hurried back home.
…
They arrived at Crawley House, removing their coats, hats, and gloves and placing them on the rack and table near the front door. Isobel moved into the kitchen to make everyone a mug of hot cocoa, while Catie followed Dickie into the sitting room.
Catie rested on the settee, inhaling deeply, happy to be safe and warm in her home. This is my home now, she thought to herself as she took in her surroundings. She remembered Christmas morning and how Dickie and Isobel had a present sitting out for her on their walnut coffee table. Too bad I left my art box at the hospital. I want to draw.
Catie then thought about the picture she drew of Isobel and Dickie, the one she had ripped right across their faces. She made herself small, scrunching into herself and shoulders raising slightly. I was so mad at them when I did that. I hope they didn't see it. I hope…I'm sorry if they did.
Dickie watched Catie carefully. He saw a whole array of emotions dance upon the child's face. He was not really sure how she was feeling at the moment. "And what are you thinking about, my quiet little friend? You look like you have something you want to say."
Catie contemplated what she should say next, but there was only one expression that came to mind. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"What on earth for, dear?" Isobel asked. She entered the room as the child spoke, carrying a tray of hot cocoa.
"Running away, ripping up that drawing I made of you two, worrying you," Catie listed. "I'm sorry for everything." The child felt that she had to say something.
"Think nothing of it," Dickie said as he took a mug from Isobel. "We should have made it known how we felt about you. I should have made it known sooner than I did," Dickie admitted freely.
"Catie, I should have told you I loved you at Christmas. How you had already found your place inside my heart. I should have let you know, but I didn't. I'm sorry for that," Isobel confessed. She handed Catie her mug and sat down beside the little girl on the settee. Isobel took a sip of her cocoa. "We should not have kept our plans to adopt you in the dark for so long. Though, the reason we did so was to keep from disappointing you if it fell through." Isobel placed her mug down on the coffee table. She placed her arm around Catie, giving the child a gentle squeeze. "You have nothing to apologize for. Do you hear me." Catie nodded her head. "Though, next time, if you ever have a question or are upset, promise you will come to Dickie or myself. Running away is not the answer," Isobel added sagely.
"That sounds like something my Mama would say," Catie peeped. She smiled up at Isobel and took a sip of her hot cocoa, forming a chocolate mustache above her lips.
"Your Mama sounds a very wise person. She must have been to have raised an intelligent young one like you," Dickie declared, leaning forward in his chair.
"Oh, there's something I have been meaning to return to you, Catie. Hold on one moment," Isobel said cheerfully as she rose from the settee. "It's upstairs. Be back in a tic." She left the room, walking briskly up the stairs and into the spare room. She grabbed that wooden art box that had been placed lovingly inside the guest…Catie's…bedroom.
Downstairs, Catie finished her mug of hot cocoa rather quickly. Dickie smiled at the little thing, downing the last bit of his shortly thereafter. "Catie?" Dickie asked.
"Yes?" She peeped; eyes fixed intently on the older gentleman.
"Do you mind popping into the kitchen and placing these mugs in the sink?" Dickie inquired, grabbing the morning's paper that he had missed reading from the coffee table. "You can explore the kitchen. You may find some interesting snacks. I have a stash of candies I keep hidden from Isobel," he gave the child a wink. "She would scold me if she knew I had them. I'll tell you where if you promise to keep my secret."
Catie crossed her heart. "I promise I won't tell." Her eyes brightened as she giggled.
"Good. They're in the third drawer from the doorway. All the way in the back," he revealed. With a gesture of his hand, Dickie added, "Now, off to the kitchen, and hurry before she gets back down here so we can sneak a taste."
Catie stood and took Dickie's mug from him. Hurrying to the kitchen, she passed the stairs to bedrooms on her way. Humming quietly to herself, Catie placed the cups into the sink and made short work of finding where Dickie hid his candies. She popped one into her mouth, savoring the rich, sweet taste. She grabbed two more, placed them in her pocket, and began to retrace her steps back into the sitting room.
As she passed the stairs, Catie saw Isobel walk gingerly down them holding her art box. It's not at the hospital. Catie lit up. Isobel has it! She brought it here. They must love me.
…
Isobel had not been paying attention to her footing. She saw Catie at the foot of the stairs and wanted to join her in short order. On the third step from the bottom, Isobel lost her balance. Her left foot caught behind her right, and she tripped, quite dramatically really. The art box flew out of her hand as Isobel attempted to grab the railing before she came crashing down.
Isobel landed face first on the floor. She winced a bit, but she was not hurt, shaken really, but not injured. The only thing that Isobel noticed was that her left foot felt a bit sore, having hit the angled lip of the stair as she tumbled to the ground.
The art box lay on the floor near her. It appeared no major damage had been done.
Catie's heart jumped with fright as she saw Isobel fall. There was nothing she could do to help her…to catch her. Just like Mama and Father. I couldn't do anything to help them. A look of sheer panic crossed Catie's face. Is Isobel okay? Is she hurt? Please don't be hurt. The little girl froze. She did nothing but stare down at the woman lying face down on the floor.
Dickie heard the commotion and rushed to the stairwell to investigate. "Isobel," he gasped, "my darling, are you all right?" He bent low, reaching for her hand as she pulled herself onto her knees. "Whatever happened?"
"I'm fine," Isobel muttered, accepting Dickie's hand as she came to stand. She smoothed her skirts. "Honestly," she declared, "I just took a minor tumble. Nothing to worry about." She placed a reassuring hand on Dickie's forearm. Then, she winced. "The only thing hurt is my pride. Well, that…and my left foot is sore." Isobel looked down at her foot, bending her ankle up and down, to the left and right, checking to make sure she had full range of motion. "Nothing is broken. It will just leave a bruise, no harm done." Isobel smiled at Dickie.
"As long as you're sure," Dickie stated.
"I am fine," Isobel asserted, walking over to the art box and picking it up.
It was then that the couple noticed Catie, standing straight, as if a rod ran down her spine. Her hands balled into fists as she squeezed them tightly. A look of distress remained on her young face. After a moment, the little girl looked up at Isobel. "You're all right?" She questioned, scared that she was hurt.
Isobel crossed over to Catie. She was careful not to appear in any sort of pain, ignoring the slight discomfort in her foot. The bruise would heal in a few days, and she would be right as rain. Placing an arm around Catie's shoulder, Isobel answered, "Of course, I'm alright, dear. I just tripped. That's all." Isobel looked down, meeting Catie's eyes. "I promise I'm not hurt."
"You're sure?" Catie whispered, examining the nurse. The fall had terrified the child, more than the couple realized at that moment. The six-year old's brown eyes scrutinized Isobel, looking up and down as if checking to see if there was some hidden injury.
Isobel squeezed Catie to her. "I'm fine," she reiterated. "Let's head back into the sitting room. Here," Isobel said as she handed Catie her art box. "I kept this. I hope you still have use for it, that you want it."
Catie smiled. "Yes," she beamed, "I want it. I love to draw." The three went back to the sitting room, and Catie situated herself at the table and opened her box. No harm was done to the box with the fall; her supplies had been shaken around a bit, but nothing had been broken.
"Why don't you create something for Isobel," Dickie suggested. "Make her feel better from her tumble," he spoke as he rubbed Catie's shoulders, looking down over her head as she started to sketch.
"Honestly, you two," Isobel murmured as she reclined on the settee with a book, "I'm quite all right."
…
Time passed, and the three soon discovered that night had fallen. They made their way upstairs and into their respective bedrooms.
Isobel followed Catie into her new room. "This is yours from now on," Isobel affirmed. "Anything you want to change, you let me know."
"I like it the way it is," Catie admitted. "It's so big," she gushed. "I never had a room this big before." She looked around at the well-appointed room, the one she had stayed in at Christmas with its cream-colored walls and cornflower blue quilt on the bed.
Isobel pulled down the covers as Catie climbed onto the mattress. "This is your home, Catie. It always will be." Isobel thought for a moment. Will she allow me to give her a good night kiss? Should I ask? Isobel hesitated and then decided. Leaning forward, she placed a gentle kiss on Catie's cheek as the child's head sank into the pillow. "Goodnight, my dear." Isobel smoothed the brown hair.
Catie squeezed Isobel's hand and beamed at the woman. She did not return a kiss just yet. Are they really mine? Catie wondered. Do they belong to me? Is it okay, Mama and Father? Is this all right with you? She thought about her parents. Glancing up towards the ceiling, towards heaven, she willed the Connollys to hear her thoughts. "Goodnight Isobel," Catie replied. "You promise you're okay?" The child let worry seep back into her voice.
"I swear," Isobel vowed, a hand at the doorknob. She shut the door to Catie's room and made her way to the master bedroom.
Dickie was already under the covers, snoring lightly. Isobel changed into her nightgown and joined him. Dickie turned to face her, placing an arm around her waist and pulling her close. Sleep soon overtook them both.
…
Crawley House stood utterly silent in the dark, still night. The lights were off, and it appeared that everyone had fallen fast asleep.
A shrill, broken cry pierced the stillness. A child gripped her pillow tightly, weeping. The tears flowed freely, soaking her cheeks and raining down onto her blankets. Mama! Father! Catie screamed internally. No! Come back! Where are you? She had woken from a terrible nightmare, searching the room desperately for her Mama and Father.
Her heartbroken sobs echoed down the hall.
Isobel and Dickie heard the noise and shot up in the bed. Isobel gripped Dickie's arm. "Catie…" she quaked; her lips trembling. She threw her legs over the side of the bed, coming to a stand. She stepped carefully on her left foot. It was tender, but not so painful that she could not hide it. She grabbed her dressing gown off the chair and flung it around her, briskly tying a knot at the front. She raced down the hall and opened the door to Catie's room.
Dickie was on his wife's heels, just a moment behind.
The couple beheld a heartbreaking sight. Catie could not hold back her tears or wails. She clung to her pillow as if that alone could provide some sort of comfort. She saw the couple enter her room and looked up at them. They are not Mama and Father. "Where's Mama and Father?" She gulped. "I saw them, but they are not here."
Isobel rushed to Catie's side, sliding under the covers next to the little girl. She hugged Catie close, laying back against the headboard. Running her fingers through the soft brunette locks, Isobel soothed her. "Shh…shh…my darling girl. You were asleep. You must have been dreaming. I'm here."
"But they were in that car!" Catie wailed. "I was there, and I saw them. I was stuck. I couldn't get out. Mama and Father looked awfully hurt. I couldn't help them." She took rapid, shallow breaths.
Isobel looked up at Dickie, searching his eyes and hoping to find the right words to say. She seemed to be at a loss. Isobel shrugged her shoulders at her husband as the little girl clutched at her dressing gown. I don't know what to do. But I have seen patients have these things before. Night terrors. She recalled from the back of her mind. They come and go at will.
Dickie walked over to the bed, sitting tentatively on its edge. "Catie, my little one," he spoke softly as he rubbed her back. "You were having a nightmare. We're here. Isobel and I. We love you, just as your Mama and Father love you."
At that statement, Catie turned to face Dickie, rubbing her eyes.
"They're still with you," Dickie continued. "In their own way," he mused. "They're right here," he affirmed, pointing to Catie's heart. "Keep them there, and they'll never leave."
Catie shook her head in agreement. She then snuggled back into Isobel. Craning her neck back, Catie cast her eyes on the woman who held her in her arms. "You are all right?" She asked Isobel again. Please say you are okay. I have to hear those words again. I can't lose you too. I'm so afraid of losing you too. Catie hated to admit it, but she knew that Isobel and Dickie were not as young as her parents. Well, they're not old either, Catie thought. Don't be hurt…. Don't be hurt…. Don't be hurt. The words repeated in her head.
"I'm fine, Catie, dear. Really, I am. I am not going anywhere, okay?" Isobel smoothed Catie's hair back, running her fingers from the child's forehead to the base of her skull. It felt so comforting to Catie, warm and gentle, like a mother's love.
"Can you stay with me until I fall asleep? Promise you will stay with me?" Catie whispered as Isobel laid her back on the pillow.
"Of course," Isobel smiled, thrilled at being needed by a child. She placed a kiss on Catie's forehead.
"Well," Dickie said, "I see you have everything in hand. I'll head back to bed, shall I?" He bent low and placed a kiss on Catie's cheek. Her eyes were closing by themselves as Isobel continued to run her fingers through her hair. Dickie then kissed his wife. "Goodnight darling," he whispered to Isobel as he left the room.
Isobel softly hummed as Catie's breathing returned to a normal pace and then slowed as sleep came.
Not long after Catie had fallen asleep, Isobel sunk deeper down into the pillow, pulling up the covers to her shoulders. Soon, Isobel joined Catie in dreamland, slumbering peacefully with a little girl resting against her arm.
…
Isobel awoke the next morning. She smiled at where she had fallen asleep and glanced over to see a little girl still off in dreamland. Good morning, my precious girl, she thought to herself.
Careful not to wake Catie, Isobel tiptoed out of the room, across the landing, and into her own bedroom to change for the morning. She noticed Dickie was no longer in bed. He was always up before her. At least I don't have to make the tea or coffee in the mornings, she giggled to herself.
Isobel dressed and went downstairs, paying close attention to her footing on her way down. She had no intention of falling again. She went into the sitting room where Dickie had a cup of coffee waiting for her.
"Good morning, dear," he smiled at her. "I heard you get up this morning. Did Catie have a restful night after…" Dickie did not finish the phrase.
"Yes," Isobel said, sitting down on a wing-back chair. "She settled and did not wake up again."
"And you are just beaming this morning." Dickie could not help but notice his wife's glow.
"Well, it's been a long time since I fell asleep with a child right next to me. It's rather a nice feeling…" Isobel admitted, taking a sip of her coffee, "being needed."
"You are always needed," Dickie uttered.
"Dickie," Isobel looked up from her coffee, "I was wondering if we could go to the courthouse today. We should finalize the adoption. Submit the paperwork, if Catie is agreeable," Isobel mentioned.
At that moment, Catie walked into the room. "Really?" She asked, bounding over to sit by Isobel. "Can we go today?"
"I see no reason why not," Dickie answered, reaching his hand out to grab Catie before she sat. He pulled her into a firm embrace. "You would like that, yes?" He chuckled.
Catie beamed, not a trace of last night's episode appeared on her face. "More than anything," she answered.
"Well then," Isobel answered, "you best get dressed. I'll make you some toast while you head upstairs to change." She noticed the little girl was still in her nightdress and smiled.
"All right," Catie answered, hurrying back up the stairs.
…
The three soon made their way to the courthouse on a frosty morning in January. The process was very quick. The Mertons turned in all the paperwork, watched a judge sign off on it, and Catie Connolly became the legally adopted child of Isobel and Dickie Merton. It was that simple. Though the law gave an adopted child very little in the form of rights, at the very least, it placed Catie's wellbeing firmly on the Mertons' shoulders, a responsibility they were happy to bear.
Catie clutched both Isobel's and Dickie's hands as they walked back to Crawley House. A family…that is what they were now. My family, Catie beamed looking back and forth between Isobel and Dickie.
The new family passed the village hospital on the way. Isobel had something on her mind. It would not rest. She could not leave it. I have to know, she thought to herself.
"Why don't you two run ahead?" Isobel mentioned to Dickie and Catie, letting go of their hands. "I need to stop at the hospital, check on a few things…" she said as her hand reached for the gate.
"Whatever for?" Dickie asked. He looked thrilled at the fact that he was headed home with his two favorite girls, a family now complete.
Isobel eyeballed Dickie, willing him to understand. "I need to speak with Doctor Clarkson about something." Her eyes drifted down to Catie, not wanting the little girl to catch her meaning.
After a moment, Dickie raised his eyebrows. "Ah," he murmured, "something about work, is it love?" He knew now what was on her mind.
"Yes…" Isobel hedged, running a hand through Catie's hair. "I'll be home before you have the chance to miss me," she assured her family.
"Okay," Catie murmured, "but hurry." She grabbed Dickie's hand, waved to Isobel, and began to walk back to Crawley House.
My home, Catie reminded herself. It is my home, and they are my family. Will Mama and Father be happy for me? Would they be okay with this? I miss them. She sniffled a bit and then pushed aside her hesitations.
Please, Mama and Father, let me know that it's okay.