Chapter Twenty-nine—"The Birthday of my Life is Come"
(Extract from a letter written to Miss Una Meredith, Matron, Hopetown Orphan Asylum, Hopetown, Nova Scotia, from her sister, Mrs. Jem Blythe (nee Faith Meredith), Ingleside, Glen St. Mary's, P.E.I.)
"May 4th, 1933
"…Hopefully this letter will reach you in time for your birthday on the 10th…if not, know that our best wishes for the coming year are with you, as well as our love. I hope to get this done in time to send it with Meredith to the post office, but that will most likely depend on a number of things beyond my control, such as laundry, visitors, and my children. But I'm sure you've learned all about children in the last several months!
"It may amuse you to know that Meredith keeps pestering Jem and me that we should adopt 'a whole bunch of Aunt Una's orphans—all girls, because I want lots of sisters'. I've tried to explain that our family is just the size that I prefer it, but she won't be pacified. Please don't encourage her if she writes to you surreptitiously about it—between the five of us, Jem's parents, and Susan, the house is quite full as it is!
"Matt is peering over my shoulder and wants me to add that he wishes you a happy birthday and will you please write and tell him what happened to Katherine Gordon after you found her in the coal cellar looking for the 'chocolate flour'. He scoffed at the idea of someone mistaking coal dust for flour, but I happened to notice him licking a little off of his hand the other day—I do not believe that he was overly impressed…
"…The book of poems by Christina Rossetti is from all of us here at Ingleside, with our love and hopes that your 37th year will be the best one so far. Love always from your sister, Faith Blythe."
Una smiled as she lay the letter down on her large wooden desk. Katherine Gordon was one of the few success stories that she had had since becoming the matron in mid-February. A black-haired imp of eight, her Italian appearance did not seem to mesh well with her Scottish surname. According to the records, she had been left at the orphanage at the tender age of four by a brusque man claiming to be her grandfather. For the four remaining years of her sojourn at Hopetown, she had been the very soul of mischief and was considered to be the naughtiest of all sixty of the children unfortunate enough to reside there.
Una had suspected that many of Katherine's peccadilloes were due to her desire for attention and had, much to the disapproval of several of her subordinate staff members, installed her in charge of several of the younger children. For the most part, the change had been miraculous. It was true, there had been incidents such as the coal cellar one, but everyone had been surprised at how well Katherine had been behaving.
"In fact," Una mused as she flipped through one of her files, "she might do very nicely for these people." "These people" were Mr. Horace Lesley and his wife, a childless couple from Prince Edward Island who had written to her asking for a lively child, preferably with a good sense of humor. Una was unsure of why they had specifically requested a lively child—most people preferring their orphans to be on the docile side—but she decided that if they wanted a lively child, she would be happy to oblige them by sending Katherine Gordon.
The few months that she had served as matron had been difficult ones, yet full of a certain satisfaction. Many of the old staff had let her know in no uncertain terms how things were supposed to be run, but Una had kept her own counsel. One of her first official acts had been to change the menu that was served week after week without variation—after the first week of it, she had begun to have regular nightmares about Aunt Martha's ditto. This had cost her the cook and the cook's husband, a mousy sort of man who claimed that he was the asylum's handyman, although he never managed to fix anything properly. A series of cooks had been engaged since—although none of them had managed to stay more than three weeks, the upside was that the menu was invariably different with each cook. The present cook had been in residence for three and a half weeks, which Una considered to be a promising sign.
The other major battle that she had begun to fight had been in the matter of clothing. There was, Una decided, no good reason for making the thirty-seven girls all wear the exact same brown and blue checked dress, which somehow managed to hang awkwardly on all types of figures and make all thirty-seven girls look as though they had neglected to wash their faces. Since the budget would not stand for new dresses at the moment, however, Una had had to acknowledge a temporary setback. She had consoled the girls and herself by allowing them to experiment with different hairstyles other than the two tight braids with no bangs that had been required by the previous matron. After this edict, fluffy bobbed heads had sprung up all over the dining hall like an odd sort of flower garden.
A soft knock sounded at the door. "Miss Meredith? May I come in?" a quiet voice asked.
"Of course, Elma." Una smiled at the young woman who entered. There were days, Una thought, when Elma Madison was the only reason that she didn't pack up and go home. A slight wisp of a thing consisting mostly of brown hair and big eyes, Elma had earned her B.A. from Redmond several years previously, but the thought of teaching at a large school had terrified her. Although her parents had considered her to be wasting her time by working with orphans, she had applied to be the teacher for the younger children at the orphanage two years before Una's arrival. Always cheerful and wanting to help, Elma was the bright spot in everyone's day, especially Una's. Out of the five staff members, Elma was the only one to support Una's innovations and had even begun to suggest a few of her own.
"Happy birthday! I just stopped by to tell you to avoid the classroom for a bit—the children are making you a surprise, and they'd hate for you to see it before it's finished, so I thought I'd tell you to stay away. But make sure to act surprised anyway."
Una laughed. "Sounds good. I'll be the epitome of surprise."
"Oh, did someone give you this for your birthday?" Elma asked, picking up the Christina Rossetti book. "I remember reading some of her poems back at Redmond for one of my literature classes."
"My sister and her family sent it as a present," Una told her. "I'll have to read it in my spare time."
The corner of Elma's mouth twitched. "Since you have so much of that…"
"I haven't read any of Rossetti's work that I recall. Do you have any that you especially like?" Una asked, glad to be having a conversation that didn't involve orphans.
"There were several that I remember," Elma said, leafing through the book. "Oh, where's that one I'm—oh, here it is. And it's appropriate as well, since it's entitled 'A Birthday'." She cleared her throat and began to read.
"My heart is like a singing bird
Whose nest is in a water'd shoot;
My heart is like an apple-tree
Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit,
My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these,
Because my love is come to me.
"Raise me on a dais of silk and down;
Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates,
And peacocks with a hundred eyes;
Work it in gold and silver grapes,
In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;
Because the birthday of my life
Is come, my love is come to me."
Oh, very appropriate, Una thought to herself. Thirty-seven, and I have the fortune of hearing a poem by some woman whose love has come to her at long last. There is something decidedly ironic about this.
Elma, realizing that perhaps she had chosen a poor selection, flushed with embarrassment. "It's a lovely book. I hope you find some poems you like in there…I really must be getting back to my classroom. Make sure to act surprised!"
"I will!" Una answered, trying to look cheerful.
Elma had almost made it to the door when a look of frustration crossed her face. "There was something else I had for you—oh, it was this telegram from Kingsport." She handed the yellow piece of paper to Una. "I hope it's not bad news, being that it's your birthday and all."
"It's from a friend of mine—almost family. It's just a birthday greeting."
"That's good. I really must be getting back to my class."
After Elma left, Una looked at the paper in her hand once again. HAPPY BIRTHDAY UNA STOP PRESENT ARRIVING SOON STOP LOVE ALWAYS SHIRLEY STOP.
She smiled softly. Shirley was a dear, and it was thoughtful of him to remember her; thoughtful, but characteristic. After her first horrible week as matron, a week where she had cried herself to sleep every night, he had written a long letter to cheer her up. If it had had a smidgen of romance in it, she knew that she would have thrown the job and all the reservations she had had about him overboard and fled to his side, just to leave Hopetown. Perhaps Shirley had suspected as much and had not considered the use of sentiment to be what was needed; instead, his letter was filled with amusing anecdotes about his students. Since then, she had received an occasional letter, but never one that could be construed as anything besides one family member writing to another. The "love always" in his telegram was the most romantic phrase that she had heard from him since the night on Spofford Avenue.
Thinking of one Blythe brother happened to bring another to mind. Una's eyes might have been slightly wistful at the memory of her dance with Walter, but she shook her head. "It was beautiful. Let's leave it that way," she said out loud to the pin on her blouse.
I wonder what Shirley's gift will be—I wouldn't put it past him to send me a shipment of caramels for the sole purpose of sticking my orphans' mouths together to give me peace and quiet! Not that I'd mind a few caramels myself, the way the cooking is around here. I should go see what Elma's class made for me…I hope it will not be too garish…
**********
A large papier-mâché vase painted in various shades of green and blue adorned Una's desk that evening as she worked on the budget, courtesy of Elma's class of primary scholars. More precious to her than the vase, however, were the hugs that the children had given her; children who, for most of their lives, had neither loved anyone nor been loved in return. And that's why I'm here, she thought to herself.
Thirty-seven. That's not so old. It just took me longer to find where I belonged than most other people. But I'm at peace now. I've found where I'm needed. Where I want to be. Where"—a knock sounded at the door.
"Yes? Oh, it's you, Katherine. Can I help you with something?"
The little black-haired girl grinned. "Nope. Not me. You've got a visitor, Miss Meredith, and Nancy said that I could show him in 'cause I was good and didn't get in any trouble today. And I didn't, 'cause it was your birthday. Oh, and happy birthday, Miss Meredith!"
"Did the visitor give his name?" Una asked, trying to think of who it could be. The minister, perhaps, to complain about the behavior of the older boys during church? A prospective adoptive parent who worked in the fields all day, therefore having to come in the evening to see her?
"Dunno. If he did, I didn't hear it, but he's some friend of yours, I guess." Katherine stuck her head back around the door. "You can come in now, mister. I told her about you, so it's fine for you to come in." She skipped out the door, happy to have been of service.
The visitor entered, and suddenly Una felt as though the last puzzle piece of her life had snapped into place. They stood there silently for several seconds—or was it for several hours? Una could not have said. She was only conscious of the feelings bubbling over inside her that refused to come out in words. But what if—what if this didn't mean what she thought it did?
Then he spoke, and any doubt that remained fell away. His hands were filled with delicate pink blossoms, and his voice was filled with the joy of a thousand springtimes.
"Una, I've brought you the first mayflowers."