Series: Adam In The Outback (15 of 16)

Summary: This is the fifteenth story in a sixteen part series: “Adam in the Outback”. A.C. is off to the Technical College in Sydney, leaving Adam and Bronwen alone for the first time in 31 years. A secret that has been hidden for many years is about to be revealed.

Rating: T  wc  49,000

Adam In The Outback Series:

My True Love Hath My Heart – Part 1
My True Love Hath My Heart – Part 2
My True Love Hath My Heart – Part 3
Family Reunion
Cartwright is the Name
A Son and Heir
The Country of the Heart
To Bloom in Another Man’s Garden – Part 1
To Bloom in Another Man’s Garden – Part 2
In Memoriam
The Marriage of True Minds – Part 1
The Marriage of True Minds – Part 2
The Marriage of True Minds – Part 3
The Joys of Parents
Grow Old Along with Me
The Best is Yet to Be

Not part of the Adam in the Outback Series, but set in the same realm:

The Adventure of the Gooseberry Pie Eating Bear
O’Tannenbaum

 

First, I want to thank my beta reader, Larkspur.  I also want to thank Lis for all her assistance.  She was my compass.  When I started to veer off course, she pointed me in the right direction.  Finally, I want to thank JC for reminding me that skeletons have a habit of escaping from the closets where we try to hide them.

 

As I do research for these stories, I keep learning new things.  For example, at one web site I learned that what Americans call ‘lemonade’ Aussies call lemon squash.  I made that correction in this story.  In the States, the evening meal may be called supper or dinner.  However, the Cloncurry Cartwrights would call it ‘high tea’ or ‘meat tea’ or even ‘tea’.  (When Bronwen has tea in the afternoon and serves little sandwiches, scones and cake, it is low tea or afternoon tea.)  I decided in this story to use ‘high tea’ in place of dinner/supper and ‘tea’ to refer to afternoon tea.  I trust Australian readers will forgive unintentional errors I make.

 Grow Old Along with Me

Chapter 1

“Now, are you sure you’ve packed everything you’ll need?” Bronwen Cartwright asked anxiously, glancing up at her son.  Today, Adam Stoddard Cartwright, Jr. (better known to family and friends as A.C.) was leaving for Sydney to attend the Technical College.  Even though he was nearly eighteen, his mama couldn’t help worrying about his being on his own so far away.  Now, Bronwen, she scolded herself, Miranda was even younger when you had to leave her in Boston. That knowledge was cold comfort, however, since she’d only been able to visit her second born twice in the last fifteen years and had only seen Miranda’s son and daughter in photographs.

 

“Yes, Mama, I’m sure,” A.C. answered, smiling down at his diminutive mother.

 

“I know you have the money you’ve earned working at the station the last three summers and what you’ve earned working for Mr. McDonald,” his dad said, referring to the local veterinarian.  “But you never know what sort of emergencies might come up, so I want you to have this,” and he handed his son a bank draft.  “Use it to open an account with a bank in Sydney.”

 

“Thanks, Dad,” A.C. replied quietly.

 

‘Don’t fritter it away,” Adam added.

 

A.C. frowned but catching his mama’s eye, he only replied, “I won’t, Dad.”

 

“You’re sure you don’t want us to come with you to meet the stage?” Bronwen asked.

 

“No, I’d rather we said our goodbyes here,” he replied, smiling warmly at her.  Just then they heard children’s voices calling, “G’day!” as A.C.’s terrier, Duchess, barked a welcome.  The young man’s grin grew wider as he went to the front door and saw his sisters, nieces, nephews and cousins all coming up the walk.

 

“We come to say goodbye, Uncle A.C,” dark-haired, sloe-eyed Jory Pentreath called excitedly as he ran up the steps to the verandah.  Then he ran past his uncle, trailed by his younger brother, Benny, and his cousin, Ifor Davies.  “G’day, Grandpa!  G’day, Grandma!” he said with a big grin.

 

“G’day!” three-year-old Benny echoed while five-year-old Ifor, who shared a birthday with his cousin, Jory, added, “G’day, A.C.  G’day, Uncle Adam and Aunt Bronwen.”

 

“G’day,” the three Cartwrights said, smiling at the little boys.

 

The Jones children weren’t far behind their Pentreath and Davies cousins and their mothers—A.C.’s older sisters, Beth and Gwyneth, and his cousin Llywelyn’s wife, Emma—came in after them.

 

“Uncle A.C., could we come with you to meet the stage?” eight-year-old Huw asked.

 

“Please?” his eleven-year-old sister, Elen, added pleadingly, turning her big brown eyes on her uncle.

 

A.C. gazed at the eager young faces looking hopefully up at him.  “Too right,” he replied with a wink

 

“I wanna come,” their younger brother Dylan said eagerly.

 

“Me, too!  Me, too!’ Jory and Ifor shouted.

 

“It’s all right with me,” A.C. said, “if it’s all right with your mamas.”

 

Beth, Gwyneth and Emma exchanged looks and then Beth said, “All of you may go as long as you promise to obey Uncle A.C. on the way to the stage and obey Elen on the way back here.  Do you promise?”  Each boy eagerly nodded.  Beth then added with a teasing smile, “I guess we should say our goodbyes here since something tells me that A.C. won’t want his sisters kissing him goodbye at the stage.”

 

A.C. tugged on one ear then, unconsciously imitating his father, and grinned sheepishly.

 

Beth hugged her brother tightly and then looked up into his dark brown eyes.  “I certainly can’t call you my little brother anymore,” she said after kissing his cheek.  That summer A.C. had reached six feet, only an inch shorter than his dad, and was still growing.

 

“I am definitely not the tallest anymore,” Gwyneth added with a crooked grin.  She gave four-month old Little Adam to his grandma and walked over to hug her brother.  “I’m going to miss you,” she added softly, and then kissed him.

 

“Goodbye, A.C.,” Emma said next.  “Llywelyn told me to tell you that he expects you to do well in your classes,” she added with a smile after hugging him.

 

“No worries.  I plan on doing at least as well as he and Mark did,” A.C. replied with a wink.  Then he turned to his mama and held out his arms.

 

“I’m going to miss you so much, A.C. bach,” she whispered tearfully as he leaned down and kissed her cheek.  “Remember you’ll be Dr. Phelps’ guest.  It’s very kind of him to invite you to live with him while you attend the Technical College.”

 

“I’ll remember my manners, Mama.  I promise,” he said with the big dimpled grin she’d never been able to resist.  He held out his hand to his dad, but to his surprise, his dad pulled him into a quick hug.

 

“Take care of yourself, son,” Adam said.  He pulled back, but left his hand resting on his son’s shoulder.  “You’re young to be on your own so far away from home, but your mama and I know we can trust you to behave responsibly.”

 

“Right, Dad,” A.C. said, while thinking, He acts as though I were Huw’s age.  I’m nearly eighteen years old now, not an ankle biter.  He turned to the two little girls standing by their mothers: Beth’s youngest, Siân, and Llywelyn and Emma’s daughter, Cathy.

 

“Will you tell me goodbye?” he asked, hunkering down to be at their level.

 

“Bye,” two-year-old Cathy said, smiling shyly.

 

“Bye-bye,” Siân said, waving at her tall uncle.

 

“I’ll carry your valise,” Huw offered.

 

“No, let me,” Dylan begged.

 

“It’s pretty heavy,” A.C. said.  “I think maybe I’d better carry it myself.”

 

The boys looked disappointed but the other adults shared a smile at the picture of Dylan struggling to carry a valise half his size.  Even his older brother wouldn’t be able to carry it very long.

 

“You need to go now so your uncle doesn’t miss the stage,” Adam interjected and the little party set off down the street while the others waved goodbye from the verandah.  Duchess started to trot after her master, but A.C. turned and said, “Stay, Duchess.” She cocked her head, but stayed in the yard.

 

“Why don’t we go to the library and I’ll have Mary fix us some tea,” Bronwen suggested, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, when the others were out of sight.

 

“I think I’d better be off to the mine,” Adam stated but then Gwyneth said, “Stay with us, Daddy.  I know the mine can get along without you for a day.”

 

“Yes, I expect it can,” Adam said slowly, for he’d been thinking that the mine could get along without him for the last several months.  He whistled for Duchess and she came running.

 

As they walked down the hall, Bronwen stopped in the kitchen to ask Mary to bring tea into the library along with some ginger biscuits for the children (and Duchess).  The adults seated themselves on the comfortable leather arm chairs.  Bronwen held her youngest grandchild while Siân wanted to sit on her grandpa’s lap.  Benny and Cathy got their favorite picture books from one of the bottom bookshelves and each sat in a window seat.  The little blue and tan terrier curled up between Adam and Bronwen.

 

Adam gazed at his family, thinking what a fortunate man he was.  His first-born, Beth, was as beautiful today as she had been twelve years earlier when he’d given her in marriage to Rev. Dafydd Jones.  It was hard to believe looking at her that she was the mother of four children; however, the flirtatious and flighty girl had matured and found fulfillment in her roles of wife and mother.

 

Adam’s gaze then moved to his third born—shy, serious Gwyneth.  She and her Mark had been married for six years now.  Domesticity hadn’t come quite as easily to her as it had to her oldest sister.  He’d overheard her once telling her mother how at times she yearned to walk away from the never-ending chores of cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing and baking, and just curl up with a good book.  He smiled as he remembered Bronwen telling her that she’d often felt the same way when her children were young.

 

Next, his thoughts turned to his second born, Miranda.  She was the daughter who’d never had any interest in the traditional female pursuits.  Luckily, she’d married a man who could afford to hire a cook and a maid.  However, Miranda had resisted all her mother-in-law’s attempts to foist a nursemaid off on her and was raising her own children.  That didn’t leave her any time to pursue mathematics so she hadn’t had any papers published since Jon was a baby.  However, her letters home showed that she was as happy with her William as her sisters were with their spouses.

 

Finally, Adam’s thoughts turned to his youngest daughter.  Penny would have been twenty-five, the image of her mama when they’d first met.  He and Bronwen would never cease to mourn their loss, but now thoughts of their little girl were more sweet than bitter.

Adam’s reverie was broken then by the sound of his first-born’s voice.

 

“It’s hard to believe my baby brother is off to Sydney,” Beth said, shaking her head just a little.  “Seems just the other day I was changing his nappy.”

 

“Now you’re making me feel ancient,” Emma said with a laugh.  “Although I can certainly remember how proud he was when he got his first pair of knickerbockers.”

 

“Right.  He wanted to show everyone he was a big boy,” Gwyneth said, chuckling.

 

“When I took him to get his first haircut, I could tell he was a little scared when he saw Mr. Puzo’s scissors, but I remember how proud I was of him for sitting still and not crying,” Adam said in a reminiscent tone.

 

“I still have the lock of his hair you gave me from that first haircut,” Bronwen said wistfully.

 

“I still have the lock from Dylan’s’ first haircut,” Beth said, sharing a smile with her mother, and Gwyneth and Emma added that they had keepsake locks as well.  “I would have one from Huw’s first haircut if A.C. and Robby hadn’t been the barbers,” Beth said then.  They all smiled, remembering how Huw had talked the older boys into cutting his hair short like theirs.  To his mother’s horror, they had chopped it off and made such a mess that Cloncurry’s barber had been forced to cut it very short to make it look presentable.

 

“Have you had a letter from Miranda?” Emma asked.  “I’m overdue for one.”

 

“So are we,” Bronwen said.  “I hope she and William and the children are all well.”

 

 

*  ~  *  ~  *

 

 

Miranda Cartwright Gordon, dressed in a shirtwaist blouse with a collar and tie and a narrow gored skirt, stepped back to survey her drawing room.  There were vases of chrysanthemums, marigolds and asters placed strategically in the large, airy room.  (Her husband, a professor of modern history at Dartmouth College, had discovered he enjoyed puttering in the garden and actually had a green thumb.  Because of a late Indian summer, there were a few autumn flowers still blooming in their garden.)  The silver tea service—a gift from her in-laws—had been polished to brilliance and there were plates heaped with triangular bread and butter sandwiches and the petits fours she’d ordered from the bakery.

 

“I think we’re ready, Nancy,” she said to the maid. Then she saw her son reaching out to snag a sandwich.  “Jon, don’t touch Mama’s sandwiches,” she commanded.

 

“Please, Mama,” the five-year-old begged, turning his enormous violet eyes on her.

 

“No,” Miranda replied firmly.  She glanced over at her two-year-old daughter, Laura, who was sitting on the sofa, looking at a picture book, then turned her attention back to her son.  “You know that Mrs. Tompkins is going to have a tea party for you and Freddy and Laura and Connie at her house.  You can wait until then.”

 

Just then they heard someone knocking on the front door, so Nancy hurried to greet the guest, trailed by Miranda and the children.

 

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Lydia Tompkins said breathlessly, holding her daughter’s hand while she balanced her baby on one hip.

 

“Hello, Jon!” Freddy said.  “Guess what?  I got a parakeet!”

 

“Laura and Jon, you be good and you mind Mrs. Tompkins,” Miranda said quickly, bending over to kiss her little girl’s cheek while the two little boys began chattering about the parakeet.  “Thanks, Lydia,” she added, smiling at her friend.

 

“Well, you’ll be paying me back tomorrow when you watch my three,” Lydia replied with a mischievous grin.  The two young mothers watched each other’s children the days they had an open house for their husbands’ students.  “Come along, children.  I thought we could walk down by the river before we have our tea.”

 

This was Miranda’s first open house of the new term.  Usually the first was in mid-September but this year Jon had come down with chickenpox then.  No sooner had he begun to recover than Laura came down with it.  Lydia’s three got it next, which was why Miranda and Lydia weren’t having their first open house until the last week of October.  Some of the students who attended she knew from previous years but many were freshmen.  Promptly at four o’clock, the students began arriving, the freshmen obviously nervous as they entered the large, but comfortable home.  The older ones greeted Miranda with a smile and a bow as they thanked her for the invitation. As she made conversation, she poured countless cups of tea and Nancy brought in fresh plates of sandwiches and petits fours.

 

“Would you prefer milk or lemon?” she asked automatically as the next student approached and then stopped and stared.

 

“I’d like milk, thank you,” the young man replied.  After a moment, he said, “Mrs. Gordon?”

 

Miranda blinked and then said, “Oh, I’m sorry.  I apologize for staring but you look so much like someone I know.  Um, I’m afraid I didn’t hear which you’d prefer.”

 

“Milk, thank you,” he said.  Then he smiled.  “Just out of curiosity, of whom do I remind you?”

 

“My father.  I have some daguerreotypes of him when he was a student at Harvard, and it is amazing how strongly you resemble him.  Your coloring is different, but except for that, you could almost be his twin.”  Just then Nancy came in with more sandwiches and Miranda gestured her over.  “Nancy, go get one of the daguerreotypes of my father from the library, please.  The young man with the curly hair,” she added, seeing the maid’s blank look.  Nancy’s expression brightened at that (she often gazed admiringly at the handsome young man in the daguerreotypes) and she hurried from the room.

 

“Your father’s a Harvard alumnus?” the young man asked.  “Oh, I should introduce myself.  My name is Richard Crowley.”

 

“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Crowley.  Yes, my father was in the class of 1858.”

 

Nancy came over just then and handed Miranda the framed daguerreotype.  She in turn handed it to Mr. Crowley.  “See.  It really is remarkable.”

 

His eyebrows arched in surprise as he took the daguerreotype.  “Gosh!  I see what you mean.  The likeness is remarkable.”  He handed the daguerreotype back saying, “I resemble my mother but we don’t look like anyone else in the family.  I wonder if we’re related.”

 

“I think we must be,” she said with a little smile.  “I’ll have to write my father and see if he knows if we’re related to any Crowleys.  No, wait.  What’s your mother’s maiden name?”

 

“Adams.  Her name was Joanna Adams before she married.  I’m afraid I know very little about my Adams relatives.  My mother said her father died before she was born, and her mother never spoke much about him.  She did tell her that she resembled her father.  I’ll be interested to hear what your father has to say.”

 

“Well, it will be at least two months before I’ll hear back from him,” she replied.  Seeing the puzzled look on the young man’s face, she added, “My parents live in Australia.  It takes roughly a month for my letters to reach them and another month for theirs to reach me.”

 

“Ah, I thought I detected a slight accent, but I couldn’t place it,” he remarked with a smile.  She saw he had dimples just like her daddy’s.  “So your father traveled here from Queensland to attend Harvard?”

 

“No,” she answered, returning his smile.  “My father is an American and his family owns a ranch in Nevada, or Western Utah as it was known when they first settled there.”  She added proudly, “My grandfather, Ben Cartwright, and my father and uncles were pioneers.  The Cartwrights were some of the earliest settlers in Nevada and they were already established when the Comstock Lode was discovered.”

 

Mr. Crowley wanted to be an historian and the period of the western expansion was the area he wanted to specialize in, so he asked excitedly, “Wait.  Was your grandfather the Ben Cartwright of the Ponderosa ranch?”

 

“Yes.  My father, Adam, is his oldest son.  He helped his father build the Ponderosa, but then several years after he’d returned home from Harvard, he decided he wanted to travel.  While he was visiting Sydney, he met my mother and decided to settle in Australia.  My parents and my Uncle Rhys and Aunt Matilda traveled to a little town in Queensland’s outback and started a mining business.  Daddy was a pioneer on two continents,” Miranda stated proudly.

 

“He must be a remarkable man,” young Crowley said admiringly.

 

“I think so,” Miranda said.

 

“And so do I,” William’s voice said, startling his wife and his student.

 

“Oh, I didn’t realize how late it was,” the young man said, noting that no other students still remained in the drawing room.  “I’d better be on my way.  Thank you so much for tea, Mrs. Gordon,” he said with a dimpled smile.  “Nice to see you, sir,” he added before exiting.

 

“I’ll let you know what my father writes,” Miranda called after him, which he acknowledged with a wave.

 

“What was that all about?” William asked, sitting beside his wife and reaching for one of the few remaining bread and butter sandwiches.

 

“Didn’t you notice how much Mr. Crowley looks like Daddy?” she asked, both eyebrows arching up in surprise and handing him the daguerreotype

 

“Ah,” he replied, examining the daguerreotype.  “I knew he reminded me of someone.  Must be a relative of yours.”

 

“He said he resembles his mother, who was an Adams before her marriage.  I need to write Mama and Daddy; they’re probably worried because I haven’t written since Jon and Laura came down with chickenpox.  I’ll be sure and ask Daddy if he knows of any relatives named Adams.  I just want to wait until the photograph we had taken of Jon when he started school is ready.”  She smiled before adding, “By the time they get the letter, A.C. will probably be heading off to Sydney to attend the Technical College.”

 

William shook his head.  “You know, in spite of the photographs Dad has sent us, I still picture the ten-year-old I met at our wedding.”

 

“So do I,” she said with a grin, “even though I know he’s almost as tall as Daddy now.”  Her expression grew more serious as she added, “After Tad-cu and Mam-gu passed away, it was so good of Dr. Phelps and his wife to offer to let A.C. live with them while he attends college.  I don’t think Mama would ever have agreed to let him go live entirely on his own so far away from home.  Mama and Daddy have met Dr. Phelps and they know Tad-cu and Mam-gu thought very highly of him and his wife, so it all worked out.”

 

 

 

Richard found his friend, Bill Hopkins, waiting for him outside the Gordons’ house.

 

“I’d about given up on you,” Bill said.  “You’ll never get in Dr. Gordon’s good graces if he catches you flirting with his wife,” he added with a wink.

 

“I wasn’t flirting,” Richard replied with a lazy grin.  “Although it’s a tempting idea.”

 

“Dr. Gordon has the prettiest wife I’ve met at these open houses,” Bill agreed.  “Well, if you weren’t flirting, what were you taking about?”

 

“She said I reminded her of her father, and she showed me an old daguerreotype of him when he attended Harvard.  Her grandfather was the Ben Cartwright of the Ponderosa,” he added.

 

Bill, who was also majoring in history, whistled.  “Wait, if you look like her father, maybe you’re related.  Wouldn’t that be something!”

 

“Sure would,” Richard agreed.  “I don’t know anything about my Adams relatives.”  He shrugged then saying, “Her parents live in Australia so it’ll be at least two months before she receives her father’s reply.”

 

 

*  ~  *  ~  *

 

 

“We’re back!” Huw yelled as soon as he opened his grandparents’ front door.  Beth came out of the library motioning with her hands to speak more quietly.

 

“Little Adam is asleep,” she said when the children approached her, “and we don’t want to wake him up.”

 

“Right,” Huw said.

 

“Aw, he’s always asleep,” Jory muttered.

 

“That’s what little babies do, drongo,” Elen said in her I’m-older-than-you-are-and-smarter-too tone.

 

“Elen, you do not call your cousin a drongo,” Beth scolded.

 

‘Sorry,” the eleven-year-old muttered, sounding totally insincere, and her mother rolled her eyes in exasperation.

 

“We’ve got to go now because it’s time to begin preparing high tea, so all of you come and say goodbye to Grandma and Grandpa.”

 

Duchess began barking as soon as she saw the children, which woke up the baby, who began to cry.  He was hungry so Emma offered to take Gwyneth’s two older boys home with her children.  Adam, Bronwen and Duchess walked everyone to the front gate, giving Gwyneth privacy to nurse the baby.  After all the goodbyes, Adam and Bronwen turned back toward the house.

 

“It really needs a fresh coat of paint,” Adam remarked.

 

“Well, I know Alan and Charley would be glad of the opportunity to earn some extra money,” Bronwen said, referring to a couple of A.C.’s friends.

 

“Oh, I don’t think I need any help,” he replied.

 

“Adam Cartwright, in case you forgot, you turned sixty-nine a few weeks back, and that’s too old to be climbing up on ladders scraping and painting,” she retorted.  She saw his eyebrows draw together in a frown and said with a tiny smile, “If you feel you must paint something, why not paint the picket fence?”

 

A sarcastic retort was on the tip of his tongue when he remembered how much he detested painting the house, particularly the second floor.  So instead, he rolled his eyes and said, “Well, I guess the boys would like the chance to earn a little extra money.  I’ll ask them once the rainy season is over.”  One corner of his mouth turned up just slightly as he added, “And I will paint the fence.”

 

That settled, they walked around to the kitchen garden at the back of the house.  Mary was weeding the garden and they gathered the ripe vegetables and took them to the kitchen as well as enough lemons to make Lemon squash.  He squeezed the lemons and she made a pitcher of Lemon squash.  (Gwyneth stopped by the kitchen to say goodbye while they were making it.)

 

“Let’s take the pitcher and a couple of glasses to the library and play a game of cribbage,” Adam suggested.

 

As they sat in the large, comfortable room, they were aware of how silent the house was.  They could hear Duchess barking at something in the backyard and the sound of neighborhood children playing outside.  Usually they were serious cribbage players, but neither one could work up any real interest.  When Mary came to tell them high tea was ready, they both felt the oppressive silence as they walked down the hall to the dining room.

 

“I never realized just how big this house is,” she said quietly, for the house seemed as still and hushed as a mausoleum.

 

He grinned crookedly.  “When all the children were growing up, I sometimes wished I’d designed a larger house.  It is pretty big for the two of us and Mary.”

 

She nodded, thinking how the girls’ bedrooms had been shut up for years, and now A.C.’s room would be as well.  Beth had asked for permission to give Elen her old bed, chest of drawers and wardrobe.  When Siân outgrew her crib, she’d have Miranda’s bed.  The room that Gwyneth and Penny had shared hadn’t been touched, except for Penny’s dollhouse.  Elen had outgrown it, but in a few years it would be Siân’s so it remained in the bedroom the two sisters shared.

 

 

 

As Gwyneth pushed the baby carriage up the quiet cul-de-sac where her family lived, she couldn’t help comparing her parents’ large house with their tiny one.  It had seemed just right when she and Mark were first married—the perfect size for a young couple.  It was still the perfect size when Jory came along since it had two bedrooms.  Even when Benny arrived two years later, it hadn’t really seemed crowded.  However, now that there were five of them, the house was beginning to feel cramped.  Most of the houses on Margaret Street were the same size as theirs or a bit smaller.  The exception was the house her daddy had designed for Llywelyn and Emma as a wedding present.  It had an extra bedroom and a dining room in addition to the parlor and kitchen the other houses had.  In fact, at Llywelyn’s request, the house even had a small room for bathing with running water.

 

When Gwyneth and Mark had first been married, the little four-room “pyramid house” was all they could afford.  Now, Mark was a manager and his wages had increased substantially.  In fact, Adam and Rhys had increasingly turned over the day-to-day operations of Cartwright & Davies Mining Company to Mark and Llywelyn.  All this meant Mark and Gwyneth could afford a larger house.  She would speak to him about it after the children were in bed.

 

 

 

Every week when Mary and her niece, Rose, scrubbed the floors of the entire house, Bronwen visited Matilda.  However, this week Matilda showed up on Bronwen’s doorstep, wearing her tailor made suit, a shirtwaist blouse, hat and kid gloves.

 

“I thought we could visit the new dress shop.  It opens today,” Matilda said enthusiastically.

 

“Right,” Bronwen agreed.  “I’ll run upstairs and change,” and Matilda said she would wait for her on the verandah.

 

Soon the two women set out for Cloncurry’s business district.  Although each wore a tailor made suit, her suit was unique.  Matilda was dressed in navy serge and her jacket was double-breasted.  Bronwen, on the other hand, wore a suit of bottle green delaine and her jacket was bolero-shaped.  Each  wore a large, lavishly decorated straw hat that was pinned atop her pompadour hairstyle.

 

The new shop had a big display window, and in it Bronwen spied the most beautiful blouse she’d ever seen.  It had an extremely high lace-covered collar and very full sleeves gathered just above the wrist in wide, lace-covered cuffs.  The upper part of the blouse was smocked, with bands of lace between the rows of smocking.

 

“Oh, I want that blouse,” she breathed.

 

“And I want that hat,” Matilda said, gesturing.  It was made of straw with the widest brim she had ever seen, lavishly trimmed with cascades of black taffeta and black satin and a curling white ostrich feather.

 

They hurried inside the shop where the owner was already waiting on their neighbors, Alice Greene and Ruby Newton.  Bronwen was ashamed of the satisfaction she felt each time she saw Ruby’s ample figure and hennaed hair.

 

“I’ll be with you ladies in just a moment,” the owner said.  She was a fashionably dressed woman who looked to be in her late thirties or early forties.  She wore her hair in a style that immediately caught Bronwen’s and Matilda’s eyes.  It was a pompadour, but it was more bouffant than any pompadour they had ever seen.  They couldn’t help overhearing as she spoke to their neighbors.

 

“These are transformations,” the owner explained, pointing to some odd looking frames.  One was very round with a small opening at one end and a much larger one at the other.  The second frame, which was a bit smaller, was elliptical in shape with a very large opening in the middle.  The owner continued her explanation.  “The frame is placed on your head, and then your own hair is smoothed over it to produce a wonderful volume.  I am wearing a transformation,” she added, pirouetting so the woman would have a better view of her hair.  “I also have a selection of hair pieces.”

 

Bronwen and Matilda exchanged glances.

 

“I think I might buy one of the smaller frames,” Bronwen whispered.  “But the larger one is not for me.”

 

“Nor for me,” Matilda replied with a soft giggle.

 

Then they heard Ruby ask, “Do you have any of the new ‘health’ corsets I have read about?”

 

“Yes, I do.  The ‘health’ corsets do not compress the abdomen, thus harming our organs.  In addition,” the owner added with a knowing smile, “when these corsets are pulled tight enough, they will produce a hand span or wasp waist, while at the same time, thrusting your bosom forward into what is known as the ‘S’ shape.”

 

“I wish to purchase one,” Ruby said decisively.

 

“Very good.  If I may say so, madam, you have the perfect figure for the new fashions,” the shop owner simpered.  “Now, may I suggest a bust bodice for support,” and Ruby nodded.  The owner then turned to Alice.

 

“I would also like one of the ‘health’ corsets,” Alice said.  “And I liked the black leather handbag you have on display,” she added, gesturing at the window.

 

While the owner placed their purchases in boxes, Ruby and Alice greeted Bronwen and Matilda.

 

“I am so happy Cloncurry finally has a shop for women,” Ruby said.

 

“Yes,” Matilda agreed.  “But now I’m going to have to be careful that I don’t overspend my allowance.  It would be very easy to do.”

 

 

It wasn’t long before Bronwen and Matilda were returning home with their purchases.  Matilda had bought the hat she’d admired, and Bronwen had purchased one as well.  Hers was a toque of white silk, shirred and decorated with lace puffs, pink silk roses and an ostrich plume dyed pink to match the roses.  She also bought the blouse she’d fallen in love with in the window.  Mrs. Harrington, for that was the owner’s name, had taken her measurements and promised Bronwen she would have the alterations done within a week.  Bronwen and Matilda had both purchased new corsets and the smaller frames for their hair.

 

“Why don’t you come to my house and then we can practice using the transformations on each other?” Matilda suggested.

 

“Right,” Bronwen replied.  Then she added, “And we can lace each other’s corset.  Won’t Adam and Rhys be surprised when they see us?”

 

“Too right,” Matilda agreed, and then she began to giggle.  “Oh, I just keep thinking of the look on Mrs. Harrington’s face after she suggested you buy a padded bust bodice and you told her it was late in the game to pretend you had a large bosom.”

 

“I can just imagine what Adam would say if he came home and my bosom suddenly looked twice as large,” Bronwen said, also giggling.

 

When they reached the Davies’ house, they went straight up to Matilda and Rhys’ bedroom.

 

“You’ve always been better at doing hair, so why don’t you do mine first?  That way I can watch and see how to do yours,” Bronwen suggested, and Matilda agreed.

 

Combing their own hair over the frame and then twisting the hair in front into a bun on top before twisting the long hair in the back and coiling it around the bun proved a bit trickier than it had sounded back in the dress shop.  Bronwen watched Matilda carefully in the mirror as she achieved a satisfactory result.  After a few false starts, she achieved a credible result with Matilda’s hair.

 

They admired their new, very bouffant, hairstyles and then Bronwen remarked, ‘It’s lovely, but it’s too much work to wear every day.  I’ll just save the frame for special occasions.”

 

“Yes,” Matilda said regretfully, “this style is meant for ladies wealthy enough to have a maid to do their hair for them.  Well, now let’s try our new corsets.”

 

“I don’t think we’d better tighten them enough to have wasp waists,” Bronwen said with a wink.  “I know Adam would scold me and Rhys would probably do the same to you.”

 

 

When Adam returned that evening, he saw Bronwen sitting on the verandah as usual and waved a greeting.  Duchess, who’d been sitting on the porch swing beside her, ran down the steps and trotted after him.  After caring for the livestock and milking the cow, he whistled to Duchess and hurried to wash up for high tea.  Bronwen was waiting for him at the backdoor.

 

“Matilda and I went shopping today,” she said with a smile.  Then pirouetting she asked, “What do you think?”

 

“I think you’re going to keel over from wearing a corset that’s too tight,” he snapped.

 

“It’s not that tight,” she replied airily.  “It’s a new style of corset designed to give women a fashionable ‘S’ shaped figure.  Matilda and I each bought one.”

 

“Well, I don’t know why women want to look like a letter ‘S’ but I must admit you are very fetching,” he said with a slow smile before bending down to kiss her.  “Something else is different though,” he added as he straightened up.  He snapped his fingers.  “Your hair.  There seems to be more of it.”

 

“It’s combed over a frame,” she admitted.  “That makes it look as though there’s more of it.”

 

“I will never understand ladies’ fashions,” he said, shaking his head.  “But whatever makes you happy, Sweetheart.”  Then he added, “Are we expecting company?” because she was dressed in the lilac taffeta evening gown she’d bought when they’d visited Miranda’s in-laws before her wedding.

 

“No, I just thought we could dress for dinner,” she replied.

 

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes because he hated having to wear the stiff collar that went with his dinner jacket.  She did look lovely and wearing the uncomfortable collar was a small price to pay for the pleasure of seeing her.  As long as the corset wasn’t too tight, he had to admit that he certainly enjoyed the effect.

 

“Why don’t you come up and tie my tie for me,” he suggested with a wink.

 

 

“You look so dashing,” she said as she finished with the tie and stepped back to admire him.  The black dinner jacket set off his broad shoulders and deep chest.  Although his waist had thickened a bit, it was trim for a man only one year away from seventy.

 

“The elegant Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright,” he said with a wink as he offered her his arm.

 

The table was set with their best lace tablecloth, china and silver.  He seated her at her accustomed place at the foot, but then frowned as he saw his place at the head.  Even with the extra leaf removed from the table, the distance between them suddenly seemed enormous.  He picked up his place setting and moved it so he was seated at her right.

 

“Now, this is much more intimate,” he said with a wink.

 

“While we were shopping, I learned something that sickened me,” she commented as they dined.  “The shop owner, Mrs. Harrington, said I was lucky to have such small, narrow feet.  She said that in Paris and London, society women actually have their little toes surgically removed so their feet will look narrower.”

 

“You’re joking!” he exclaimed.

 

“No, I’m not,” she replied.  “It’s horrifying and pathetic.  I think those women must lead very empty lives if fashion is so important to them that they would mutilate their bodies.”  She shook her head sadly.

 

“It’s not just society women who lead empty lives,” he said slowly.  “When I was at Harvard, I encountered their male counterparts.  They had no interest in an education; they were only attending Harvard because it was a family tradition.  They spent their days drinking and gambling, wasting the money they inherited and did nothing to earn.  They had nothing but contempt for men who worked for a living.  After encountering them, I thanked God that Pa taught me to value work and not to demean it.”

 

“We were both so blessed in our fathers,” she said softly, reaching for his hand, and they fell quiet, lost in memories.

 

After a few minutes, she smiled a little and said quietly, “I think Mrs. Harrington’s shop will do very well because she also sells practical items that any woman could use.  I ordered a lovely blouse and Matilda and I each bought a new hat.”  She looked a little guilty as she confessed, “I’m afraid I overspent my allowance a bit.”

 

“Never mind,” he said, his lips quirking up in a half smile.  “I don’t think you’ve bought any new clothes for yourself in some time.”

 

“Oh, I bought our birthday gift for Beth,” she added.  “Several new pairs of stockings and a new pair of kid gloves.  Then I thought we could let her pick out a new hat.”

 

“That sounds like an excellent gift,” he said.  “I know how Beth loves hats.”

 

After tea, they played a game of cribbage and then Adam read aloud from The Touchstone written by a new American novelist named Edith Wharton.  It was a pleasant evening but when they walked up the backstairs and past their children’s empty bedrooms, the stillness was oppressive.

 

They went through their normal nightly ritual: He helped her unfasten her dress and tonight he also loosened her corset.  While she slipped on a cotton nightgown, he removed his cufflinks and his shirt and tie.  Then she sat in front of her vanity and unpinned her hair so he could brush it.  Tonight, he picked up the transformation after she sat it on the vanity and examined it, shaking his head.

 

“No wonder it looked like you had so much more hair,” he commented before picking up her hairbrush.

 

Once he’d finished brushing her hair, she turned down the bed while he stripped.  As they lay curled together, he said softly, “I guess it’s going to take a little while to adjust to being on our own.  I mean, we’ve been married thirty-one years, but it was only just the two of us for the first nine months.”

 

“I’m glad Beth and Gwyneth live near us,” she said quietly.  “It helps so much.”

 

He held her a little closer and they drifted to sleep.

 

 

The next day was Friday so Bronwen spent the first part of the morning baking bread.  While the bread was rising and baking, she decided to make orange marmalade.  She and Mary gathered the ripe oranges from their tree.  That done, they set to work removing the peel and cutting it into strips and then squeezing the juice and pulp so it could all be cooked in a saucepan.

 

It was a hot day and what with the baking and then standing over a hot stove stirring the marmalade, Bronwen and her clothes were soaked in sweat.  She took a quick bath, and had just finished dressing in a clean skirt and blouse when she heard Duchess barking and saw Beth and her children coming up the walk.

 

“Mary,” she called as she came down the stairs, “it looks like we’ll have company for tea.  I think we still have a few ginger biscuits left, so please serve them along with some bread and butter.”

 

As she walked onto the verandah, Duchess ran past her, barking her greeting to the Jones children.

 

“G’day, Grandma,” Dylan called.  “We came to see you so won’t be lonely.”

 

“That is very sweet of you, Dylan bach,” Bronwen said with a smile.  “Shall we have tea on the verandah?  It’s cooler outside.”

 

“That would be lovely,” Beth replied, and they all sat on the wicker chairs, except for Huw and Dylan, who jumped on the railing and sat swinging their legs, while Siân sat on her grandma’s lap and grinned at her.

 

“Guess what, Grandma?  Dr. Brooke says I need to wear spectacles like you and Aunt Gwyneth,” Dylan said.

 

“Just before school ended, Melanie told us that she’d started noticing he had problems reading anything she wrote on the chalkboard,” Beth said, referring to Cloncurry’s schoolteacher.  “And lately Dafydd and I have seen him squinting so we had Dr. Brooke check his eyes.  He says Dylan should have his spectacles by the time school starts again in January.”

 

Bronwen smiled at her grandson.  Then she said to her oldest grandchild, who was wearing the pinafore dress she and Adam had given her for her birthday, “You look very pretty, Elen.  Your grandpa said that shade of pink would suit you, and he was certainly right.”  Elen beamed at the compliment.  Just then, they all saw Matilda coming up the street and waved a welcome.

 

“Stay and have tea with us,” Bronwen invited and Matilda accepted with a smile.  Mary brought out the tea cart a few minutes later and the three women sipped their tea and ate bread and butter sandwiches while the children drank milk and ate ginger biscuits.  (Huw and Dylan shared their biscuits with Duchess, who begged shamelessly.)

 

“Are you children enjoying your holiday?” Bronwen asked.

 

“I’ve been playing cricket with my mates,” Huw said with a smile.

 

“Jory, Ifor and me are diggin’ a hole to China, Grandma,” Dylan announced.

 

“Whose yard are you digging this hole in?” his mother asked, frowning slightly.

 

“In Ifor’s.  Cousin Llywelyn said it was all right.  He said him and Aunt Gwyneth dug one ‘cept they didn’t make it all the way to China.”

 

“Oh yes,” Matilda said, shaking her head at the memory.  “They dug a big hole in the garden, and they were both filthy.”

 

“I remember that,” Bronwen said.  “It was so muddy and I never could get all the dirt and grass stains out of Gwyneth’s dress.  That was when Grandpa and I decided she could wear her knickerbockers when she played with Llywelyn.”

 

“And that explains how you got so dirty,” Beth scolded, but Dylan just grinned, showing his missing front tooth.

 

Bronwen turned to Elen, who had been very quiet.  “How are you spending your holiday?”

 

“I’ve been reading Little Women.  When I finish, I’m going to read Little Men,” she replied.

 

“Aren’t you spending time with Kerra and Molly?” Bronwen asked, a little surprised.

 

“No.  All they want to do is talk about Michael and Conan and Richie.  They’re silly,” Elen said in a disgusted tone, and the older women exchanged amused glances.  “I don’t care.  I’d just as soon read anyway.  I wish I could go swimming though.”

 

“Me, too,” Huw said, “but Tada says we can’t go unless a grownup is with us, and he and Mama are too busy.”

 

“I’m not too busy,” Bronwen said.  “If it’s not raining tomorrow, we can all go swimming.”

 

‘Beauty, Grandma!” he exclaimed and was echoed by his younger brother while Elen said, “Thanks, Grandma.”

 

Since Dylan had finished his milk and cookies, he asked if he could go to the backyard and swing.

 

“I have a better idea,” Bronwen said.  “Why don’t you and Huw and Elen and I play a game of croquet?” she suggested, and the children all cheered.

 

All three children, accompanied by their mother, went to the barn to get the old croquet set, leaving the two older women with Siân, who was sitting on the verandah with a pencil clutched in her chubby fist, scribbling all over the paper Mary had brought her.  Matilda asked Bronwen, “So, what did Adam think of your new ‘S’ shape?”

 

“I could tell that he liked it,” Bronwen said with a smile, remembering how that morning he had demonstrated just how much he’d liked it.

 

“So did Rhys,” Matilda said, with a smile similar to Bronwen’s.

 

“I don’t think that he cared much for the transformation though,” Bronwen added.  “I wonder if Beth would like mine?”  She said to her youngest granddaughter, “Siân fach, I need you to stay with Aunt Matilda for a minute.”  Siân was so absorbed in her scribbling that she didn’t even look up, which made the women smile.

 

When the others returned, Bronwen offered Beth the transformation.

 

“I can show you how to use it while the others are playing croquet,” Matilda offered.  “Then you can decide if you’d like to have it.”

 

Bronwen and Elen won the croquet game and the boys didn’t take it well.  Huw threw his mallet down angrily and Dylan kicked one of the stakes so hard he knocked it over.

 

“You know, you remind me of some very ill-mannered boys I met once,” Beth said to her sons.  “Your Aunt Miranda and I beat them at croquet and they were such poor sports that they went back on their offer to hunt for seashells with us.  But we had a wonderful time and the only ones to miss out on the fun were the poor sports.”

 

The two boys still looked sulky but just then Elen shouted, “Look!  It’s Grandpa and Uncle Rhys!”

 

“Now, I wonder why they’re home so early,” Matilda said.  “I hope there’s nothing wrong.”

 

“We’re about to find out,” Bronwen said as the men rode up to the gate and Dylan dashed over to open it for them.

 

“Looks like someone’s been playing croquet,” Adam said with a grin as he and Rhys dismounted.

 

“Yes, and Grandma and I won,” Elen said with a smug smile while her younger brothers scowled.

 

“Drongo,” Huw muttered and his grandpa said sternly, “Huw, you owe your sister an apology.”

 

“Sorry,” Huw said, but his expression was sullen and his grandpa frowned at him.

 

“Would you and Uncle Rhys play croquet with me ‘n’ Huw?  Please?” Dylan begged.

 

“Sorry, Dylan, but I don’t like playing with someone who’s a poor sport.  And that’s exactly how you and your brother are behaving,” Adam replied before leaning down and giving Bronwen a quick kiss.

 

“I’m sorry, Grandpa,” Dylan said, his chin wobbling.

 

“It’s your sister and your grandma that need your apology,” Adam said in a gentler tone so the seven-year-old repeated his apology to them.

 

“I’m sorry, too,” Huw said guiltily.  “You really deserved to win.”

 

“You played a good game,” Bronwen said with a smile while Elen added, “Right.”

 

Matilda, Beth and Siân walked over and joined the others then.  Siân toddled over to her grandpa with a happy grin and he swung her up over his head while she giggled and squealed.

 

“You’re home early,” Matilda observed and her husband smiled before greeting her with a kiss.

 

“We decided to give ourselves permission to leave early,” he replied.

 

Then Adam said, “You’re all invited to dinner this Sunday along with Llywelyn and his family and Gwyneth and hers.”

 

“Are we having a celebration?” Beth asked, and her daddy and uncle smiled.

 

“It’s a surprise,” Adam replied with a wink.  “Now, after Uncle Rhys and I take care of our horses, who wants to play croquet?”

 

“Elen and I need to go home and begin preparing high tea,” Beth said, “but the boys can play one game before they’ll need to head home.”

 

“Thanks, Mama!” they exclaimed happily.

 

Seeing Elen’s wistful expression, Bronwen said quickly, “Don’t forget we’re going swimming tomorrow afternoon, Elen fach,” and the girl’s expression brightened.

 

 

Dylan and Adam bested Rhys and Huw, but this time Huw accepted his defeat graciously.  Adam and Bronwen decided to walk them home since the sun was going down.  Bronwen hadn’t been to the post office, so they stopped there and discovered a letter from their niece, Sarah Cartwright.

 

“Maybe she’ll have news about Miranda,” Bronwen said.  “I’m starting to worry because it’s never been so long between letters.”

 

“Don’t borrow trouble,” he said, patting her hand comfortingly as they walked together.

 

They ate the light meal that Mary had prepared, and then went to the library to read Sarah’s letter.  Duchess trotted down the hallway after them.  They sat facing each other in the comfortable leather chairs, and Duchess curled up at Bronwen’s feet.  She leaned down and petted the little dog while Adam got out his reading glasses.

 

“Poor Duchess.  She really misses A.C.,” she commented as he opened the letter and took out the sheet of paper.

 

He smiled and nodded before beginning to read.

October 17, 1905

 

Dear Aunt Bronwen and Uncle Adam,

 

I hope you are both well.  I am keeping busy.  Ever since I made my debut last spring so much of my time seems taken up attending concerts by the Boston Symphony Orchestra and visiting the Museum of Fine Arts and the Boston or Bowdin Street Theatres.  And there are of course balls and cotillions to attend and calls to make and receive.  I’ve met plenty of handsome and charming young men, but not, alas, that special young man.  Of course, I am only eighteen and I’m not in any hurry to become a wife and mother. 

 

While I’m being a social butterfly, Benj seems to spend all his time studying, or at least almost all.  (He is a member of Harvard’s fencing club but that is the extent of his extracurricular activities.)  He says he wants to ensure he is accepted into the Harvard Law School and that is why he has to study all the time.  I mentioned that to Miranda once, and she said she thought he was using his studies as a way of hiding from life.

“I fear Miranda is correct,” Bronwen said sadly.  “I wish Benj could have reconciled with Joe before his death.  It saddens me that he wants nothing to do with any of his Cartwright relations.”

“He broke Joe’s heart,” Adam said and she heard the bitterness in his voice.

“At least Sarah was always close to Joe, and she’s still close to Miranda,” she responded quietly.

He nodded and then returned to the letter.

Speaking of Miranda, I talked with her on the telephone yesterday.  I was telephoning to ask if I could come for a visit.  However, she told me that Laura was just getting over a case of chicken pox.  (Jon had come down with it first.)  She sounded exhausted, poor thing.

“That explains why we haven’t heard from her,” Bronwen interjected, and Adam nodded.  “Remember when Beth and Miranda came down with chicken pox at the same time, and no sooner did they start to get over it when poor Gwyneth, who was only two, broke out?”

“I remember,” he replied.  Bronwen and Nell were both exhausted caring for the sick children so he’d tried to help in the evenings when he was home.  “I also remember when Penny and A.C. got it,” he added, his gaze moving to the large framed photograph of their youngest daughter that sat on his desk.

“Yes, and Penny would not stay in bed by herself so you made her a swag.  You put it on the floor of the nursery so she could be with A.C.”  Bronwen smiled at him, but her smile was tinged with wistfulness.

“I’m sure Miranda is coping, but I’ll be glad to get a letter telling us that the children are all right,” he said before returning to Sarah’s letter.

William’s parents have invited them to spend Thanksgiving with them in Wilmington.  Poor Miranda is not looking forward to that.  We’ll have Thanksgiving with Uncle Robert and Aunt Paula, Charlotte and her husband, Randall, and their children.  I really like Aunt Paula and Charlotte, and Charlotte’s children are fun, but I miss Daddy and Grandpa so much at Thanksgiving.  I know I was only seven when Mama left Daddy, but I can remember Thanksgiving on the Ponderosa.  I remember in the morning the house was filled with the delicious aroma of roasting turkey.  I remember the five of us seated around the table set with the best lace tablecloth and the best china and silver.  I remember Grandpa, standing at the head of the table as he carved the huge turkey while the fire snapped and crackled in the great room.  Later in the evening I can remember sitting on Grandpa’s lap and watching Daddy and Mama and Benj play parlor games.

 

But I don’t want to be maudlin.  I treasure my memories of Daddy and Grandpa, but I know they would want me to enjoy Thanksgiving here and now, and I shall.

 

Please give my love to Beth and Gwyneth and their families.  I hope A.C. does well at the Technical College, but I also hope he doesn’t spend all his time studying.

 

“I don’t think there is much chance of that,” Adam said dryly, interrupting his reading.

“Would you really rather he be like Benj?” Bronwen asked, with a trace of acidity in her tone.

Adam sighed a little and then admitted, “No, I definitely would not.  I suppose I am being unfair.  He is a very intelligent young man and he’s not as reckless as he used to be.”

“You just wish he were more like you,” she replied, shaking her head.

He started to deny it, but then he shrugged.  “I know that’s what you always say.  Maybe there is some truth in it.”

“Let’s finish Sarah’s letter,” she suggested and he nodded.

I hope you aren’t lonely now that A.C. is off to school.  Of course, there’s Beth and Gwyneth and your grandchildren.  Mama speaks rather wistfully about her friends’ grandchildren, which makes me think she’d like to have some.  However, as I’ve said, I am in no hurry to be a wife and mother, and Benj seems to have even less interest in marriage than I do.

 

I will close by sending you both my love.

Sarah

“Sarah is such a nice girl,” Bronwen remarked.  “Oh, I suppose I should say young woman.  She seems to be enjoying the life of a debutante much more than Miranda ever did.”

Adam smiled.  “Yes, Miranda was always more interested in her studies than balls and cotillions.”

“But I’m sure she’s glad of the experience,” Bronwen said, “since as William’s wife she has definite social obligations.  A wife who was socially inept certainly wouldn’t help his career at Dartmouth.”

“Yes, there is a lot of politics in academia,” he replied with his sardonic grin.  He changed the subject then, saying with a big grin, “So you’re taking the grandchildren swimming tomorrow.  Mind if Rhys and I tag along?”  (Over the last year, the older men had gradually stopped working on Saturday, leaving Llywelyn and Mark in charge.)

“No, I’d be glad of the reinforcements,” she said.

“Rhys suggested we invite Ifor and Jory.  They’re not very experienced swimmers, so we thought we’d keep an eye on the two of them and Dylan, and let you keep one on Elen and Huw,” he stated.

“That sounds like a very good plan,” she replied with a smile.  “I’m sure Gwyneth and Emma will be happy to have the boys come swimming.  I just hope Benny doesn’t fuss at being left behind.”

“If we’re lucky, we’ll arrive while he’s taking his nap,” Adam said.  “If not, then I’m hoping if I offer to take him for a ride on Mercury, that will make up for his being left behind.”

She was skeptical about how well that tactic would work with a three-year-old, but said nothing.

“Shall we read a chapter from The Touchstone?” he asked and she nodded.

The next afternoon, Adam and Rhys went to get Ifor and Jory shortly before the Jones children arrived.  The three children waited impatiently for their grandpa and uncle to return with their cousins so they could head for the river.  Bronwen suggested they play Twenty Questions while they waited as a diversionary tactic.

 

When the men returned with the two young boys, the two older children immediately ran out the gate and headed for the river, followed by Duchess.  The younger children were content to remain with their grandparents.  As they walked through the tussocks of tall Mitchell grass toward the river, Bronwen asked Adam in an undertone if they’d had any problems with Benny.

 

“No, luck was with us and he was napping,” her husband replied with a wink.

 

Cloncurry was built along the banks of the Cloncurry River, so their walk was a short one.  Since it was the wet season, the river flowed along, its water the same rusty color as the soil.  Tall gidgee trees with their rough dark bark grew along the banks.  (During the dry season, the river water slowed to a trickle and then left a dry bed until the rains fell again.)  By the time the others reached the changing tents, Elen and Huw were already in their bathing costumes.

 

“No, you have to wait until we’ve changed before you can swim,” Adam replied firmly to Huw’s question.

 

After an eternity of waiting, the others emerged from the changing tents, so Huw promptly ran to the bank and jumped in.  Elen looked back at her grandmother questioningly, but Bronwen waved her on.  While the little boys frisked around them, their grandparents carefully made their way down the bank and stepped into the river.  Once she was in the water, Bronwen swam as well as she had thirty-one years earlier when Adam had called her a Nereid.  He smiled as he watched her, but only for a moment since he had to keep his attention focused on his grandsons and grandnephew as they splashed and swam joyfully.

 

The children all protested when the adults announced it was time to go, but about halfway home, Jory and Ifor were happy to accept their grandpas’ offer to ride piggyback.

 

“Thanks for taking us swimming, Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle Rhys,” the Jones children said when they reached the corner where their ways diverged.

 

The adults smiled then saying, “You’re very welcome; we’ll see you tomorrow,” while the younger boys waved their goodbyes from their grandpas’ shoulders.

 

When the little party arrived at Margaret Street, Emma was playing catch with Cathy in the front yard.  When the two-year-old saw her grandpa, she forgot all about catching the ball and ran toward him calling, “Pa-pa!’  Rhys set Ifor on his feet so he could pick up his granddaughter and hug her.  Across the street, Benny had been playing with his hoop.  Spying his older brother with his grandparents, he ran toward the gate shouting, “Grandpa!  Grandma!”

 

“I went swimming,” Jory announced smugly as Adam swung him off his shoulders and over the picket fence.  Then he opened the gate so he and Bronwen could hurry through it.  (Duchess hated all cats, including Gwyneth’s Athena, so she wasn’t allowed in the Pentreaths’ yard.)

 

Benny’s little face puckered up and tears filled his dark eyes.  “I wanna go swimming.”

 

“You don’t know how to swim,” his brother taunted.

 

Bronwen quickly interceded.  “Benny, since you didn’t get to go swimming, Grandpa is going to ask your mama if you can come for a ride with him after high tea.”

 

Benny’s expression brightened but Jory quickly said, “I wanna come for a ride.”

 

“No, you came swimming this afternoon, so Benny gets to go for a ride this evening,” Adam said in a firm but gentle tone.

 

“It’s not fair,” Jory whined.

 

Adam and Bronwen exchanged a look before she said to Benny, “Let’s go ask your mama if you can come for a ride.”

 

“Can I ride piggyback, Grandpa?” Benny asked hopefully.

 

“Too right,” Adam replied with a grin, swinging the little boy up onto his shoulders.  The three of them headed for the house, leaving the sulky Jory at the gate.  (Adam and Bronwen had learned that the best way to handle a petulant child was just to ignore him or her.)

 

When they reached the front door, Adam called, “Gwyneth,” and she answered, “I’m in the bedroom, Daddy.”

 

Adam set Benny on his feet before entering the house.  They found Gwyneth in the process of changing Little Adam’s nappy.  Benny wrinkled up his nose at the unpleasant odor and tugged on his grandparents’ hands to pull them out of the room.

 

“I’ll be with you in just a minute,” Gwyneth said and the others decided to sit on the verandah.  They’d barely sat down when Mark and Llywelyn came down the street and Benny jumped up and ran to greet his daddy.

 

Jory was already at the gate and greeted him first.  Mark dismounted and tousled each boy’s thick black hair.  He ground tied his horse, and then waved a greeting to his in-laws.

 

“Guess what, Daddy?” Jory asked.  “Me and Ifor and Dylan went swimmin’ with Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle Rhys!”

 

“I’m goin’ for a ride with Grandpa,” Benny said excitedly, trotting beside his daddy.

 

“G’day, Mark,” Bronwen said with a smile as her son-in-law climbed the steps to the verandah

 

“G’day, Mama.  Dad,” Mark said.  “So you and Uncle Rhys took the boys swimming?”

 

And Elen,” Bronwen said with a smile.  “We all enjoyed ourselves.”

 

Gwyneth and Little Adam had come out on the verandah in time to hear her mama’s remark, and she said with a big smile, “Emma, Beth and I appreciated it.”

 

“Oh, would it be all right if I take Benny for a little ride after high tea?” Adam asked.  “To make up for his not getting to go swimming this afternoon.”

 

“Please, Mama,” Benny added, turning his big brown eyes on her.

 

“A short ride would be fine,” she replied with a crooked grin, just like her daddy’s.

 

“I wanna go,” Jory said then, proving he had inherited the Cartwright stubbornness.

 

“Jory, Grandpa is taking Benny because he didn’t get to go swimming this afternoon when you did,” Mark said.

 

“It’s not fair!” Jory shouted and stormed into the house, slamming the door behind him.

 

Mark frowned saying, “That boy has got to learn to control his temper.”  He got up and went after his first-born.

 

“He’s tired and hungry,” Bronwen said quickly to Gwyneth.  “When you and your sisters or A.C. got too tired, you were more likely to have tantrums.”

 

“I know he’s tired now, but he seems to have a tantrum every time he’s crossed,” Gwyneth said with a worried sigh.

 

Benny had ignored the grownup talk, which wasn’t very interesting, and now spoke up.  “Play horsy, Grandpa?” he asked hopefully.

 

“Right,” Adam said with a grin as he lifted the little boy onto his knee.

 

As Benny giggled, the baby began to make cooing sounds and Bronwen asked, “May I hold him?”  With a smile, Gwyneth placed Little Adam in his grandma’s arms.

 

“I can’t get over how strongly he resembles you,” Bronwen said as she smiled at her youngest grandson.

 

“And Daddy,” Gwyneth added.

 

“Now that his baby hair is starting to disappear, it looks like he’s going to have your curls,” Bronwen continued.

 

“I hope he can keep his,” Adam remarked with a wry smile, and his wife and daughter giggled.

 

“His eyes haven’t started to change yet,” Bronwen commented then.  “I suppose they’ll be dark brown like his brothers.”

 

“Most likely,” Adam agreed.  “I am pleased that one of our grandchildren inherited your eyes, but that’s only because William has blue eyes instead of dark brown like Mark and Dafydd.”

 

“Oh, we got a letter from Sarah, and she wrote that Jon and Laura both came down with chickenpox so I imagine that’s why we haven’t heard from your sister,” Bronwen said then.

 

“I remember two years ago when Jory and Benny both got it,” Gwyneth said.  “I certainly didn’t have any time or energy for writing letters.”

 

Mark rejoined them then, saying with a sigh, “I gave Jory the choice of apologizing to everyone or staying in his room without high tea.  I expect we’ll see him in a few minutes.  Although he can be pretty stubborn,” and he glanced at his wife.

 

“I can’t imagine where he gets it from,” Bronwen said with a straight face.  Then she began to giggle and Mark to chuckle while Adam and Gwyneth rolled their eyes.

 

“I’m hungry, Mama,” Benny announced since his grandpa had stopped jiggling him.

 

“We’ll eat soon,” his mama promised.  “Let’s give Jory a few more minutes to come out and say he’s sorry.”

 

“So, Dad, will you give us a clue as to the big surprise you and Uncle Rhys are planning?” Mark asked.

 

“Nope.  You’ll all find out tomorrow,’ Adam replied with a wink.

 

“I wonder how A.C. is doing,” Gwyneth remarked then, and her husband smiled.

 

“If I know A.C., he’s having the time of his life,” he said.

 

Adam nodded.  “It was a long time ago, but I can still remember how exciting it was to be all on my own on the voyage from San Francisco to Boston.”  He saw his wife’s expression and quickly added, “Of course, I missed Pa and Hoss and Joe very much.”

 

Mark agreed, saying, “I never realized how much I would miss my family.  I knew I would miss Gwyneth terribly,” he added, reaching for one of her hands.  “By the second week of our journey to Sydney, Llywelyn and I were both pretty homesick.  I expect it will be the same for A.C.”

 

Just then, the front door opened and a woebegone Jory appeared in the doorway.  His dark eyes were full of tears and he said in a very small voice, “I’m sorry I l-lost my t-temper.”

 

“Apology accepted,” his grandma said with a smile.

 

“Well, we’d better be on our way,” Adam said, setting Benny down before reaching over and ruffling Jory’s hair.  “I’ll see you after high tea, Benny.”

 

Bronwen gave the baby back to Gwyneth and said to her grandsons, “Does Grandma get a goodbye kiss?”

 

Both boys smiled and kissed her cheek and then Adam offered her his arm, and whistled for Duchess.  Waving goodbye, Adam and Bronwen walked back to their empty house, Duchess trotting along beside them.

 

The next day after the church service, the Davies, Pentreaths and Joneses all gathered at Adam and Bronwen’s house.  They’d put both extra leaves in the dining table so it could seat the ten adults.  The older children would eat in the kitchen while Siân’s and Cathy’s highchairs would be by their mamas.

 

When everyone had finished eating, Adam tapped on his water glass and rose to his feet.

 

“Rhys and I invited you all here so we could make an announcement.”  He nodded, and his brother-in-law pushed back his chair and stood.

 

“Llywelyn and Mark, Adam and I have been discussing what a fine job the two of you have done at Cartwright & Davies Mining Company.  We’ve been giving you more and more responsibilities over the past year, and you both have handled them as well as we’d hoped.”

 

“You’ve even managed to persuade us to try some of the new theories you studied at the Technical College.  Not an easy feat,” Adam added, winking at the two younger men.  “Rhys and I have decided that it is time for us to retire and turn the running of the company over to the two of you.”

 

The two younger men looked stunned so Rhys added with a grin, “Now Adam and I will have more time to go fishing and play with our grandchildren.”

 

Llywelyn was the first to recover.  “Dad, Uncle Adam, I- I don’t know what to say except that Mark and I will do our best to manage the company so we can pass it on to our sons.  And A.C.’s,” he added quickly.

 

“I- I hope he doesn’t think I’m stepping in his place,” Mark said then.

 

“No, he doesn’t,” Adam said reassuringly.  “I actually discussed the possibility of your taking my place with him before he left—just to get his reaction.  He understands that he’ll have to start at the bottom when he returns from the Technical College, just as you and Llywelyn did, and work his way up.  And when the time comes, there’s no reason there can’t be three men running the company instead of two.”

 

“That’s right,” Rhys said with a smile.  “Now, I’d like to propose a toast to the new heads of Cartwright & Davies Mining Co.  May they achieve all the success they deserve.”

 

 

The first day of Adam’s retirement began with one of the torrential downpours common that time of the year in Cloncurry.  It didn’t dampen his spirits, however, and he celebrated by making love to Bronwen and then cuddling as they listened to the rain lash the shutters and beat against the roof.

 

“No fishing today,” he said, getting out of bed and stretching when it was time to take care of their animals.  “Well, I have been meaning to organize the library for ages, and today is a good day to start that project.”

 

Bronwen sighed.  She knew where all her favorites were, but after Adam organized the books logically, she wouldn’t have any idea.  Well, as long as he kept his promise to keep out of her kitchen.  She smiled, remembering their very first quarrel when Adam had rearranged her kitchen in his logical fashion.

 

“Mary and I will be busy doing the washing,” she said, reaching for her spectacles.  “I am so glad that you decided to hang a clothesline underneath the house.  I don’t know how we would have managed all these years if you hadn’t.

 

He winked at her before beginning his early morning routine.

 

 

Even using the Blackstone hand-driven washing machine and clothes wringer that Adam had read about and had shipped to Cloncurry from the States, doing the washing had always been an all day task first for both Bronwen and Nell, and then Bronwen and Mary.  Now that they only had to do the laundry for three adults, it wasn’t quite as time-consuming but it still took the better part of a day.  They finished hanging the laundry to dry just in time to prepare afternoon tea.  While Bronwen was making the cucumber sandwiches that Adam particularly enjoyed and Mary was preparing the tea, there was a knock at the door.  Adam heard it and called, “I’ll get it.”   When he opened the front door, he discovered Rhys and Matilda in dripping mackintoshes.

 

“We thought we’d join you for tea,” Rhys said with a smile.  Adam dimpled and said, “You’re always welcome.”

 

The Davies left their mackintoshes on the verandah and Adam told them to make themselves comfortable in the drawing room while he let Bronwen know they had company.

 

“The drawing room?  Not the library?” Rhys said in surprise.

 

“I’m afraid the library is in some disarray,” Adam replied.  “Since we couldn’t go fishing, I decided I would finally catalogue all the books and organize them.”

 

“Good idea,” Rhys said.  “I’ve been making a few repairs around the house that I’d never gotten around to.”

 

In a few minutes, Adam returned and the three old friends chatted until Bronwen joined them, followed by Mary with the tea cart.

 

As Bronwen poured the cups of tea, she asked her brother how he liked retirement.

 

“I like it fine,” he replied.  “It’s nice to finally have the time to start some of the projects I’ve been meaning to do for ages.”

 

“For example?” she inquired.

 

“Well, now I finally have the time to read Tolstoy’s War and Peace,” he replied.

 

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Adam said.  “When you’ve finished, would you loan me your copy?” and Rhys nodded.

 

“I hope we have a few days without rain before the children go back to school,” Adam said then, “so I can take Huw fishing.”

 

“What about the younger boys?” Matilda asked.  “I’m sure they would like to spend time with their grandpas, and Ifor and Jory start school this January.”

 

“The younger boys just aren’t capable of being quiet,” her husband replied.  “If we took them, we’d never catch any fish.”

 

“I think you should do something with all the older grandchildren,” Bronwen said.  “Jory and Ifor are old enough to learn to play croquet.”

 

“But croquet has no more than six players,” her ever-logical husband pointed out.

 

“You and Rhys could teach Jory and Ifor and another time you could play with Beth’s children and I’d be the sixth player.”

 

Rhys grinned and said with a chuckle, “Beauty, Bronwen fach.  Now all we have to do is wait for a day when it isn’t raining.”

 

“Have you heard from Miranda yet?” Matilda inquired then.

 

“No, but I think I’ll go to the post office in a bit and see if there’s a letter,” Adam replied.

 

“I’ll come with you,” Rhys said.  “I could use the exercise.”

 

 

Matilda and Bronwen helped Mary wash and dry the dishes while their husbands walked through the rain to the post office, accompanied by a wet and bedraggled Duchess.  When the dishes were dried and put away, Bronwen and Matilda sat on the verandah and talked until they could see their husbands coming up the street.  The rain had stopped for the time being so the men carried their mackintoshes.

 

Matilda ran down the path to meet Rhys, waving goodbye to Bronwen.  Adam greeted Bronwen with a kiss and then said with a big grin, “We have a package from Miranda!”

 

“Beauty!” she exclaimed.  “As soon as Mary and I have brought in the dry laundry, we can open it.”

 

He sighed a little because he’d thought they could open the package now, but he was nothing if not practical and knew the laundry had to be brought inside.

 

Since the day was so warm, they decided to go upstairs and read the letter on their verandah.  They sat across from each other and he got out his pocket knife and cut the twine before tearing off the brown wrapping paper.  Digging through the wooden shavings, he held up a photograph in a shiny brass frame.

 

“Oh, look at Jon!” Bronwen exclaimed.  “He’s grown so much since the last photograph they sent us.”

 

“His hair is awfully long,” Adam commented, “but he’s a fine looking boy and he has your beautiful eyes.”  He smiled at her before taking the second photograph from the package.  “Laura certainly takes after Miranda, doesn’t she?” he commented, handing it to her.  Then he got out his reading glasses and opened Miranda’s letter.

 

October 24, 1905

 

Dear Mama and Daddy,

 

I hope this letter finds you both in good health. Jon started kindergarten last week.  He and his friend, Freddy, got a late start because they’ve had chickenpox.  Laura caught it from Jon, but she wasn’t as sick as he was.  Lydia Tompkins and I walked Jon and Freddy to their new school their first day.   (We left our younger children at home with our maids.)  Now, a couple of weeks before school was to start, both boys were eager to go, telling everyone that they were now big boys since they were old enough to go to school.  They both fretted when they were sick and had to stay home.  Once they and their younger sisters were over the chickenpox, the boys were so excited about finally getting to go to school.  That is, they were until we took them to their classroom and kissed them goodbye.  They both started to cry and so the teacher, Miss Templeton, suggested Lydia and I stay for a little while until the boys felt a little more comfortable.  (I like Miss Templeton.  She is probably a year or two younger than I am and so has been teaching kindergarten for several years.  She seems to have an excellent rapport with her young students.)  Lydia and I stayed for about an hour and by then the boys were willing to let us go.  The next day they still wanted us to walk to school with them, but now we walk them to the corner where they meet up with a classmate and his older brother, who is in the third grade and the four boys walk together.  The first day Jon and Freddy decided they didn’t need their mothers to walk them to school we both got a bit teary at the sight of our little boys dressed in their Buster Brown suits, marching off together, so independent of us.

 

Laura is growing up so fast!  She wants to brush her own hair and teeth and we’ve clashed over that.  (I let her help but she doesn’t like it when Mama brushes again after her.)  She insists on feeding herself and she does a good job of it.  The other day she got hold of a pencil and scribbled all over the walls of the library.  At least I caught her before she could scribble on any of the books.  We got her one of these teddy bears that are so popular now for her birthday, and she and the teddy bear are inseparable.  Thank you so much for the picture book you sent her.  She enjoys it very much and I’ve seen her ‘read’ it to her teddy bear.

 

Now, I have to tell you something odd that happened recently.  I had my first open house of the term.  William teaches a course in American history that many freshmen take, so every fall I meet many new faces.  This fall, however, one of the new faces was strangely familiar.  A student named Richard Crowley looks almost enough like Daddy to be his twin.  We think we must be related.  He says that he resembles his mother, Joanna Crowley, née Adams.  Do we have any relatives named Adams?  I know great-grandmother Cartwright was a Bradford and great-grandmother Stoddard was a Collins but that’s the extent of my knowledge.  Mr. Crowley knows nothing about his mother’s family since his grandfather died before his mother was born and his grandmother never spoke much about him except to tell his mother that she bore a strong resemblance to him.

 

Adam’s voice trailed off and he glanced at his wife.

 

“Clever of Thomas’s sister to use Adams as a last name,” Bronwen commented in a voice she hoped was impassive.  The minute he had read the name Joanna, her mind traveled back in time fourteen years.  She was sitting in the lovely drawing room of Thomas and Rebecca Collingsworth in Boston.  She remembered the drawing room was painted a pretty cornflower blue and she was sitting by Adam on a blue-and-white striped sofa and held A.C. on her lap.  Miranda and Penny were with them, sitting in blue velvet Queen Anne armchairs, and the chairs were so big that Penny’s feet didn’t touch the floor.  It was a pleasant visit with some of Adam’s oldest friends, whom she had just met.

“That reminds me,” Thomas said.  “We finally learned what became of my sister, Dorothea.”  He turned to Bronwen then saying, “The summer after our sophomore year, Adam stayed at our family’s cottage on Martha’s Vineyard—a much grander place than ours—and my widowed older sister was there that summer as well so Adam met her.  The strange thing was that fall after we’d returned to college, my sister and her maid just disappeared.  Her late husband had left her comfortably off and she withdrew most of her money from the bank, packed up her belongings, and left without telling anyone where she was going.  My father hired men to look for her, but she just seemed to vanish.

 

“About a month ago the family received a letter.  It was to be sent to us after her death.  Apparently she,” and he glanced quickly at Miranda and Penny before saying, “she, uh, found herself in an interesting condition and decided to go someplace where she wasn’t known.  She did tell us that she had a daughter, but asked us not to try and contact her since she is ignorant of her parentage and is happily married with children of her own.”

 

Bronwen happened to glance at Adam as Thomas was speaking and the telltale way he tugged on one earlobe was the only sign that he was more perturbed by Thomas’ information than he wanted anyone to know.

 

“The only thing Dorothea wrote was that her daughter was named Joanna and she is the image of her father, whoever he is,” Thomas continued.  “The family decided to respect her wishes so we aren’t going to try and locate Joanna.”

 

 

That night at the hotel, as Adam and Bronwen cuddled together after making love, she asked softly, “You’re Joanna’s father, aren’t you?”

 

He was quiet for several minutes before saying earnestly, “I never knew she was with child.  She was the first woman I’d ever been with and I never even thought about the possibility of her becoming pregnant.  I don’t think it occurred to her because she’d been married several years and was childless.  I would have done the honorable thing if I’d known.”

 

Bronwen’s expression was very grave as she said, “I know you would have, but if she’d married you—a college student several years her junior—and the baby was born seven or eight months later, everyone would have known why she’d married you and she still would have been disgraced.  Not fair, but that’s how society works.”  She paused for a moment and cuddled closer before saying softly, “I’m selfish and I can’t be sorry that she made the choice she did.”

 

“I can’t be sorry either.  You’re the woman I love, the woman I want to grow old with,” he replied and kissed her tenderly.  Then he added, “It is very strange learning that I have a daughter and grandchildren somewhere, but I’m glad that Joanna is happily married and never had to endure the stigma of illegitimacy.  Dorothea’s choice was probably the best one for all of us and I will also respect her wishes and make no effort to contact Joanna.”

 

~   ~   ~   ~

 

The sound of Adam’s voice brought Bronwen back to the present.

 

“I never intended to intrude on Joanna’s life but it looks like the truth will out,” he said gravely.

 

“Mr. Crowley may choose not to tell his mother,” she remarked quietly.  She reached up to adjust her spectacles and then looked out at the rain that was beginning to fall again, not in sheets now, but gentle drops that would soak into the soil.  She took a deep steadying breath before turning back to her husband.  “However, you are going to have to tell our children.”  Seeing his expression she added, “I think that in time they will understand and forgive you.  You were only a boy of nineteen or twenty.”

 

“Nineteen.  I turned twenty that November.”

 

“They’ll understand,” she repeated.

 

“Do you understand?” he asked, gazing intently into her eyes.  “You’ve never told me how you feel.”

 

She was silent for so long that he could feel his muscles begin to clench.  When she spoke, he noted that she avoided his eyes.

 

“I’ve never discussed it because I’m not really sure how I feel,” she said quietly.  “I was not so naïve that I believed we were both virgins on our wedding night.  However, I knew you loved me and I believed any women in your past would not intrude on our lives.”  She smiled, but he saw it was tinged with bitterness.  “I was certainly wrong about that.  First, I met Laura, to whom you had once been engaged.  I was surprised to learn she was nothing like me—not in looks or temperament.  Luckily, Pa was there to share his view about how you and Laura came to be engaged.”

 

She stood up and walked to the railing, looking out toward the barn and pasture.  He came and stood beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders, but she shrugged it off.  Keeping her back to him she continued.  “Meeting Laura was not easy, but learning that you’d had a child with another woman was even harder to accept.  However, the woman was dead and you’d promised never to try to contact your daughter, so I tried to forget about them both.  I can’t do that any longer.”

 

He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him.  “Can you forgive me, Sweetheart?  You know what you mean to me.”  She remained silent, her eyes downcast.  His voice tight, he added, “You know that you have my heart in your keeping.”

 

“Yes, I forgive you,” she said softly, raising her eyes to his.  “But I wonder if you would forgive me if our positions were reversed?”

 

“I would forgive you,” he replied gently, letting his fingertips lightly brush her cheek, “but I’d want to kill the man who’d seduced you.”

 

Hesitantly, he put an arm around her shoulders but she moved away.

 

“I’m going for a walk,” she said without glancing at him.

 

He choked back his protest and sat heavily on one of the wicker chairs.

 

When Bronwen returned, she found Adam still sitting there.  His broad shoulders were hunched in defeat and his face was hidden in his hands.  He made no sound but she knew he was weeping.  She walked to him, the light rustling of her skirt and petticoat almost imperceptible.

 

She rested her hand on his shoulder and said softly, “Cariad.”

 

Slowly he raised his face to hers, and his grief-ravaged countenance reminded her of the night she had found him on Penny’s bed, weeping for the beloved child lost to him forever.  She caressed his cheek, feeling the wetness of his tears, before bending down to kiss his lips.  He stood up slowly and tentatively put his arms around her, his embrace tightening when he felt her slender arms encircle him.

 

They stood in silence until he said quietly, “When we’re young, we make decisions thinking that no one else will be affected by them.  In reality, it’s like dropping a stone in a pond, sending out ripples that affect so many lives.”

 

She nodded and then said, “I think we should hold the ripples back for a time.  Let’s not say anything to the children until after Christmas.”

 

“Yes, I definitely don’t want to spoil the holiday,” he agreed, hugging her close.  “Beth’s birthday is January 12, so let’s wait a day or two after that to tell the girls.”

Chapter 2

The week before Christmas, the Cartwright and Davies houses were the sites of frenetic activity on the part of Bronwen and Mary in one case, and Matilda and Daisy in another.  All the scrubbing and polishing and baking, coupled with December’s monsoon rains, caused Adam and Rhys to seek sanctuary in the Cartwrights’ library.  As the two friends worked together cataloging the books Adam had amassed during his lifetime, they discussed their favorite literature.  They both had enjoyed Banjo Paterson’s The Man From Snowy River and Other Verses, which had been published back in 1895, and Henry Lawson’s In the Days When the World Was Wide and Other Verses, published the following year.  Another favorite was the novel, Robbery Under Arms.

 

Their conversation wasn’t limited to literature.  They also discussed local and world affairs.  The Commonwealth of Australia had been established in 1901 and Adam had been outraged that the constitution denied citizenship to Aboriginal people.  Rhys pointed out that the United States didn’t grant citizenship to its native people either.

 

“And we’ve granted women the right to vote, which the United States has not,” Rhys added with a wink.

 

Both men were impressed that the year before a telephone link had been established between Sydney and Melbourne, but doubted the telephone would come to Cloncurry in their lifetimes.

 

“Especially since we still aren’t connected to the railroad,” Adam said in disgust.

 

 

 

December 24, Adam woke before dawn and as he lay quietly beside Bronwen in the dark and silent room, his mind drifted back to Christmas Eves and Christmas mornings when the house had been full of excited children

 

~   ~   ~   ~

 

There was no sign of light in the eastern sky when Adam woke suddenly, hearing the sound of running footsteps in the hallway stopping just outside the bedroom door.  He grinned just a little and shook Bronwen’s shoulder gently.  They both smiled in the dark at the sound of Gwyneth’s loudly whispered, “Can we say Merry Christmas now, Beth?”

 

Beth whispered back just as loudly, “Right.”  The three oldest girls called, “Merry Christmas, Mama!  Merry Christmas, Daddy!” and then Penny chimed in, “Merry Tismas!”

 

Adam shook his head a little as he called back, “Merry Christmas, girls.  Is it morning?”

 

There was a slight hesitation and then Miranda’s voice called back, “Not quite.”

 

“Then I want you to go back to bed until it is morning.  Understand?” he said firmly.

 

“Yes, Daddy,” he heard three voices say dejectedly.  Then as the footsteps moved away, Adam and Bronwen heard Penny say loudly, “Want Daddy and Mama!”

 

“No, you gotta come to bed,” Gwyneth could be heard to say.  “C’mon, Penny.”

 

Adam reached for the cotton nightshirt under his pillow and put it on before getting out of bed.  He opened the door and heard Penny sobbing as Gwyneth tried to drag her back to their room.

 

“Come here, Kitten,” he said and she ran to the sound of his voice and grabbed one of his legs.

 

“Penny may stay with me and Mama, but I want the rest of you girls to go back to bed and stay there until morning.”  He reached down to pick Penny up and heard a little hiccupping sob from where he guessed Gwyneth was standing.

 

“What’s wrong, Punkin?” he asked gently.

 

“I don’t wanna be by myself,” she said in a quavering voice.

 

“All right, you and Penny can both stay with me and Mama,” he said with a smile.

 

“Here, Gwyneth fach,” Bronwen called, “you can get in the middle between Daddy and me.”

 

Since the room was so dark, the five-year-old followed the sound of her mama’s voice and climbed up on the bed where her mama greeted her with a hug.

 

“Kitten, you snuggle up with Gwyneth,” Adam said as he gently set Penny down.

 

“Now you get in bed, Daddy,” Gwyneth said sleepily as Penny crawled next to her.

 

“All right, Punkin.  And you go back to sleep.  Santa Claus won’t come if you’re awake.”

 

“Right,” she replied with an enormous yawn, and her parents could tell she was more than half asleep already.

 

“Merry Christmas, Sweetheart,” Adam said and he heard the smile in Bronwen’s voice as she replied, “God bless us, everyone.”

 

~   ~   ~   ~

 

Adam was reading A Christmas Carol to a very pregnant Bronwen as they sat in the drawing room, which was dominated by the decorated gum tree branch with gaily wrapped gifts heaped underneath it.  Halfway through the visit of the Ghost of Christmas Past, they heard the sound of footsteps on the veranda and then Penny and Gwyneth burst through the front door calling, “We’re home!”  Adam put Dickens down and went to the entry.

 

“Did you have fun?” he asked as the two older girls came in and shut the door.

 

“Yes, we did,” Miranda said with a glowing smile and the others all added their agreement.

 

“Now I want to hear about Santa Claus,” Penny said excitedly so he ushered them into the drawing room.

 

Bronwen was sitting on one of the side chairs since they were more comfortable in her condition.  Adam sat on the settee with Penny on one side and Gwyneth on the other, while the older girls each sat in an armchair. After Adam recited the last line of A Visit From St. Nicholas, he picked up their family Bible from the tea table and read the Christmas story in Luke.  When he finished, he walked over to Bronwen and handed her the Bible so she could read the Christmas story in Matthew.  As soon as he sat back down, Penny crawled up on his lap and he put one arm around Gwyneth’s shoulders.

 

“Now we get to open a gift!” Penny exclaimed as soon as her mother finished.  “I want you to open our gift, Daddy.”

 

“It’s for you and Mama both,” Gwyneth added.

 

“Then I think Mama and I should open it together,” he replied smiling warmly at his daughters.  He got the gift from under the tree and then moved the other side chair by Bronwen’s.

 

“You have more of a lap than I do, so I think you should hold it,” she said with a grin and he chuckled.  He maneuvered his chair so he could hold the gift and she could undo the wrapping.  His eyebrow shot up and Bronwen gave a little gasp when she revealed a beautiful coverlet made of pastel shades of yarn.

 

“Beth fach, is this what you’ve been so busy with?” Bronwen asked, feeling her eyes fill with tears.  “It’s beautiful!”

 

“It certainly is, Princess,” he added gently touching the silky soft material.

 

“We bought the yarn together and then I crocheted it.  We thought you’d like a gift for the baby,” Beth said happily.

 

“It’s your brother or sister’s first Christmas gift,” Adam said with a gentle smile.

 

“And he’s not even born yet,” Gwyneth said with a grin.  “I’ll bet he’s the only baby to get a Christmas gift before he’s even born.”

 

~   ~   ~   ~

 

While Adam, Bronwen, Gwyneth, and A.C. decorated their gum tree branch, including the ornaments that Adam had carved for Beth and Miranda, A.C. chattered away not even noticing the silence of the other three.  “I want to put my roo ornament up high like Gwyneth’s, Daddy.  Can you lift me up?” he inquired.

 

“I don’t think you’re too big for me to lift yet,” Adam replied with a rather forced smile.  After A.C. was satisfied with the placement of his personal ornament, a little kangaroo with a joey peeping from the pouch, he began rummaging through the box for another ornament to hang.

 

“Look!  Penny’s kitten!” he exclaimed holding up the little carving his father had made for his sister.  His mother gasped, one of her hands flying up to half cover her face and she ran from the room.  “Mama?” the little boy said in a quavering voice, his chocolate eyes big and round.

 

“It’s all right, Jackeroo,” Adam managed to get out in a choked voice.  “I’ll take care of Mama, and Gwyneth will help you hang Penny’s ornament.”

 

“We don’t have to hang it, Daddy,” Gwyneth said in a strained voice.  “Not if it hurts you and Mama too much.”

 

“Maybe next year,” he agreed quietly.  “You and your brother finish decorating, all right?” and she nodded.

 

~   ~   ~   ~

 

That Christmas Eve as Adam, Bronwen and A.C. decorated the gum tree branch, their gaiety seemed forced for they were all thinking of the missing family members: Miranda in Boston, Gwyneth in Sydney, and Penny.  In an attempt to lighten the mood, Adam asked A.C. if he’d like to hang his sisters’ ornaments on the tree and the youngster agreed readily.  He hung the little pony, camel and dingo and started to ask where the kitten was, but then he remembered how sad his parents had been last Christmas when he’d found Penny’s ornament, so he didn’t say anything.

 

Adam stepped back from the tree after they’d finished and immediately determined what was missing.  Reaching down into the tissue laden box, he tenderly lifted the final ornament from its nest, and held it up for the others to see.  Gone from our sight, but forever in our hearts, Kitten, he thought wistfully as Bronwen nodded her agreement and he added the precious reminder of their little girl to the family’s tree.

 

~   ~   ~   ~

 

It was a typical hot Christmas day in Cloncurry and the Cartwrights and the Pentreaths were sitting on the verandah, escaping the heat and waiting for the Jonses to arrive.  Duchess was the first to spot them and ran down the steps from the verandah, barking a welcome.

 

“Mewy Cismas,” Dylan shouted, running ahead of the others.

 

“I have Grandpa’s present!” Huw yelled, catching up with his younger bother while their big sister, with her longer legs, sprinted past both of them.

 

“Merry Christmas, Grandma!  Here’s your present,” and she handed her beribboned box to Bronwen.  “I helped Mama make them,” she added, and Bronwen smiled at her as she took the box.

 

“Here’s yours, Grandpa,” Huw said with a grin, holding out another box decorated with a big bow.

 

Dylan thrust the calico dog into the outstretched hands of his cousin, and the nine-month-old little boy with his father’s thick black hair and black eyes immediately began to chew on one of the dog’s paws.

 

“No!” Dylan said, starting to grab it away, but his tada stopped him.

 

“It’s Jory’s toy, Dylan bach, and he can chew on it if that’s what he wants to do,” Dafydd said firmly.  Then he said with a smile, “Merry Christmas all.  Where should I put the pies, Mam?”

 

“Just set them on the buffet,” Bronwen said with a smile.

 

“Where’s my present?” Huw asked hopefully and Adam said, “Now that we’re all here, let’s go in and open our gifts.”

 

The three children ran inside, but Elen stopped in the doorway, causing her brothers to run around her.  Adam and Bronwen had been watching her face and saw the enraptured expression, and shared a tender smile.  Elen saw the most beautiful dollhouse in the whole world—a miniature version of Grandma and Grandpa’s house with even a little swing on the verandah and tiny furniture and little curtains at the windows.  “Oh, is it mine?” she asked, hardly daring to believe it.

 

Adam hunkered down by his little granddaughter, feeling his eyes burn with unshed tears as he tenderly cupped her cheek in his palm.  “That’s right, Precious, it’s yours,” he said softly.

 

“You’re giving her Penny’s dollhouse?” Beth said, her eyes swimming with tears and her voice ending in a sob.

 

“Yes, we want her to have it,” Bronwen said gently.

 

“It was Aunt Penny’s dollhouse?” Elen asked, looking up at her grandpa in wonder.

 

“That’s right,” he replied.  “Uncle Rhys and I made it for her when she was just a bit older than you are.  Grandma and I knew that Aunt Penny would want you to have her dollhouse now.”

 

“I’ll take good care of it, I promise,” the six-year-old said solemnly.  She looked over on the credenza at the photograph of the dark-haired little girl with enormous eyes, like hers, smiling at her.  “Aunt Penny can look down from heaven and watch me play with it, can’t she?”

 

“I’m sure she can,” Adam replied, barely managing to hold back his tears.

 

“Where’s my present?” Huw demanded then, and his grandma smiled at him.

 

“Let’s see if Grandpa can help you find it,” she said, standing behind Adam and giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze.  He reached up and patted her hand, seeing her eyes were bright with tears just like his.  It had been a difficult decision, giving away one of their last tangible links to their precious little girl, but it had just seemed right to give it to Elen, whom they knew would love it as much as Penny had.

 

“Now, Grandma, did we remember to get a gift for Huw?” he asked teasingly, but seeing the little boy’s chin begin to wobble he added hastily, “Grandpa was only teasing, Huw.  Here is your gift from me and Grandma, and here’s one from Uncle A.C., one from Auntie Gwyneth and Uncle Mark and one from your Auntie Miranda, Uncle William and cousin, Jon, that came all the way from New Hampshire.”

 

Soon the Cartwrights’ drawing room resounded to the sound of happy children’s squeals of delight just as it had in years past.

 

~   ~   ~   ~

 

That morning after breakfast Adam and Rhys set out with Llywelyn, Dafydd and Mark to get the gum tree branches they would decorate in lieu of an evergreen tree.  Most of the other fathers in Cloncurry were on the same errand and the men sang Christmas carols as they worked.

 

When Adam returned, he set the branch up in its accustomed place in the drawing room.  Mary had gone to spend Christmas with her family, so when Adam and Bronwen decorated the branch, it was just the two of them.

 

“Remember our very first Christmas Eve?” she asked softly as she hung one of the delicate glass ornaments they’d purchased over the years.

 

“Of course.  It was my first Christmas here in Australia and I remember how strange it seemed to be celebrating Christmas in the summer, to drink Lemon squash instead of hot chocolate,” he replied with a warm smile.

 

“I remember we started our own Christmas traditions,” she said.  “You recited A Visit from St. Nicholas to me and then we took turns reading the Christmas story from Luke and Matthew.  Just the way we always did when the children were growing up.”  She grinned mischievously as she added, “You were like a little boy and couldn’t wait until Christmas morning to give me my gift.”

 

“Yes, I was too impatient to see the look on your face when you saw your earrings,” he said, reaching over to tenderly cup her cheek in his palm.  Her hair might be snowy white and her face might have lines that hadn’t been there thirty-one years earlier, but she was still his beloved Bronwen.  Shakespeare had it right, he thought.  ‘Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks / Within his bending sickle’s compass come: / Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,/ But bears it out even to the edge of doom.’

 

She turned her face slightly so she could press a kiss on his palm.  “The earrings were so lovely and they matched my engagement ring perfectly,” she said then, her eyes sparkling as she glanced down at the beautiful deep violet amethyst surrounded by tiny diamonds on her ring finger.”

 

He chuckled as he said, “And I remember how proud you were not to have overspent your budget on my gift.”  They both laughed lightly at that memory.  Then he added with a warm smile, “I liked my cufflinks as much as you liked your earrings.”

 

They finished with the glass ornaments and were ready to hang their most precious ones: the little wooden animals Adam had carved for each of their children.  First, he hung the little pony he had carved for Beth, who had loved hers so much she would have slept in the barn if her parents had allowed it.  Next, Bronwen hung the camel he’d carved for Miranda, who’d been fascinated with the animals used to transport their mine’s copper ore.  Gwyneth’s dingo was added to the branch and then Bronwen hung A.C.’s little kangaroo.  As her fingers lovingly caressed the carving, she thought of her baby boy and hoped he was having a good Christmas with Dr. and Mrs. Phelps and not missing his family too much.

 

Last of all, Adam hung the little kitten he’d carved for their youngest daughter, blinking back the tears that suddenly filled his eyes.

 

“It’s hard to believe this is the fourteenth Christmas we’ve celebrated without our Penny,” Bronwen said softly.  “Two more than we celebrated with her.”  She made no effort to check her tears, and he put an arm around her shoulders and held her tight.  They stood together then, thinking of the few Christmases they’d celebrated with all five children.  Their reverie was interrupted by a knocking at the front door.  They went to answer it together and discovered Rhys and Matilda.

 

“I guess we’re the first ones here,” Rhys remarked with a smile.

 

“Oh, I hadn’t realized how late it was,” Bronwen exclaimed.  “I was going to make some Lemon squash.”

 

“I’ll be happy to help you,” Matilda replied.  While they headed for the kitchen, Adam and Rhys went into the drawing room.

 

“So what did you carve for Little Adam’s ornament?” Rhys asked, looking at the decorated branch.  “I think you must be running out of animals.”

 

“It’s becoming more of a challenge,” Adam said with a wink.  “Let’s see.  Elen has a koala, Huw an Australian Terrier, Dylan a Queensland Heeler, Jory a budgie, Benny a bilby, and Siân has a kookaburra.  Miranda’s Jon got a buffalo and her Laura a porcupine.  I decided to carve Little Adam an emu.”

 

Just then they heard Jory and Ifor’s voices shouting, “G’day!”

 

The two men shared a smile as they went out to greet their grandsons.

 

“So, are you boys going to come caroling?” Rhys asked.

 

Their heads bobbed up and down.  “Mama’s been teaching us Christmas carols,” Jory announced.  “We know the one about figgy pudding—“

 

“And the one about the fat geese,” Ifor inserted.

 

“What about Away in a Manager?” Adam asked, struggling to keep a straight face.

 

“Even Benny knows that one,” Jory said scornfully.  Just then his parents and Llywelyn arrived.  (Emma had offered to watch Benny and the baby since she claimed to be tone deaf.  “You won’t miss me when you go caroling, but everyone would miss hearing Gwyneth,” she’d said.)

 

“The boys have been telling us that you’ve been teaching them carols, Gwyneth,” Rhys said.

 

“Yes, they’ve worked hard learning them so they could come with us this year,” she replied with a smile for the two little boys.

 

Adam suggested they sit on the verandah where it was cooler and wait for the Joneses to arrive.  Bronwen and Matilda had just joined the others when Jory and Ifor spotted the rest of their carolers.  (The Joneses’ neighbor, Jenna Hughnan, was watching Siân, while her children— Elowen, Jowan and Kerra—were all going caroling.)

 

They walked through the streets of Cloncurry singing the beloved old carols to the accompaniment of Adam’s and Gwyneth’s guitars, and the two youngest carolers sang We Wish You a Merry Christmas and Christmas Is Coming with gusto.  At least at first.  They ended the caroling sleepily riding on their daddy’s shoulders.

 

As the carolers separated to go to their different homes, the two older couples walked together in companionable silence.  They parted at the Davies front gate and when Adam and Bronwen reached their own, Duchess came dashing over from the verandah where she’d been waiting, barking loudly.

 

“Oh dear!  We forgot to feed you, didn’t we,” Bronwen said, leaning over to pet the excited terrier.  “It was always . . .” and her voice trailed off.

 

“It was always A.C.’s job,” Adam finished quietly.  “Well, we’ll feed you right now, Duchess.”

 

They sat in the kitchen and drank their Lemon squash while Duchess ate her dinner.  Then the three of them went down the hall and gathered in the drawing room, Duchess curling up at Bronwen’s feet.  Bronwen said quietly, “Would you mind too much not reciting A Visit from St. Nicholas?  It- it reminds me that the children are all gone.”

 

He put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her.  “No, I don’t mind.  I feel the same way.”  He reached for the family Bible on the tea table, and opened it to Luke and began to read in his rich baritone: “’And in the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent from God unto a city of Galilee, named Nazareth . . .’”

 

Bronwen leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder, and listened as he read the familiar story.  When he finished, he handed her the Bible with a warm smile.  He watched her animated features as she read of how the angel visited Joseph and then of the visit of the Wise Men.  When she finished, he said, “If we’re going to visit Penny before the others arrive, we probably should go to bed now, don’t you think?”  She nodded, and after Duchess was settled in her basket for the night, the couple walked up to their room with his arm around her shoulders.

 

 

Early the next morning when they returned from visiting Penny, Bronwen carried some of the dark crimson roses from the bush Adam had planted on her grave and lovingly tended.  Using Penny’s roses as the centerpiece of the Christmas table was another Christmas tradition.  It was a reminder to the children of the aunt who was in Heaven.  For their parents and grandparents, it brought back memories of the lively and mischievous little girl they had all loved and lost much too soon.

 

While Bronwen arranged the flowers, Adam killed the goose they’d bought from Beth and began plucking the feathers so Bronwen could roast it for Christmas dinner.

 

They were sitting on the verandah’s swing while the goose roasted when they spotted Gwyneth and Mark and their family.  Mark was carrying the Cornish Christmas pudding Gwyneth had made for their Christmas dinner, and Jory proudly carried his grandma and grandpa’s Christmas present.  (Mark had brought the rest of the Christmas presents to his in-laws’ house a few days earlier.)  The Pentreaths were accompanied by Llywelyn and Emma and their children, who were coming to spend part of Christmas with Rhys and Matilda before having Christmas dinner with Emma’s parents.

 

“Merry Christmas, Grandma!  Merry Christmas, Grandpa!” Benny shouted as soon as he spotted them.  He let go of his mama’s hand and ran for the big house.  Jory started to dash after him, but his mama put a hand on his shoulder and said firmly, “No, Jory.  You might drop Grandma and Grandpa’s gift.”  The little boy scowled, but remained with his parents and baby brother.

 

“Merry Christmas, Uncle Adam and Aunt Bronwen!” Llywelyn called just before opening his parents’ front gate.  “We’ll see you all later when it’s time to make the Christmas taffy.”

 

Benny was running so fast he tripped, but luckily he didn’t skin his knees.  He picked himself up and carefully climbed the steps to the verandah, where his grandma greeted him with a kiss and his grandpa swung him up over his head.  The rest of his family was not far behind.  Mark went to put the pudding on the buffet, and Jory excitedly gave his grandparents their gift.

 

“Can we open our presents now?” he asked hopefully.

 

“Not until your aunt and uncle and cousins are here,” his grandpa replied, gently tweaking his nose.

 

“You boys look very nice,” his grandma said and Jory and Benny both grinned.

 

“We got them new sailor suits,” Gwyneth said proudly.

 

“Ifor got a new sailor suit, too, ‘cept his got stripes,” Jory said.

 

Mark walked out on the verandah then and announced, “I see the Joneses.”

 

Dafydd was carrying the mince pies Beth had made for the Christmas feast while the three older children carried the Christmas presents.  They were all wearing their new Christmas clothes.  The boys in sailor suits like their cousins and the girls in new dresses.  Elen wore a simple dress with a high neck, low belt and pleated skirt while little Siân wore a pretty pinafore dress.

 

“Now we can open our presents!” Jory exclaimed, but before he could dash into the house, he felt his daddy’s hands grab his shoulders.

 

“We’ll all go in together,” Mark said quietly and sighed when he saw his first-born’s pout.

 

“Dadolig Llawen, Dafydd,” Bronwen called and with a smile her son-in-law called back, “Dadolig Llawen, Mam.  Merry Christmas, everyone!”

 

“Merry Christmas!” they replied.

When they were all gathered in the drawing room, Adam passed out a gift to each person starting with Little Adam and ending with a gift for him and Bronwen.  Everyone was delighted with their gifts, but the gifts from New Hampshire were the favorites.  The Gordons had sent Siân and Benny teddy bears.  Benny liked his so much he had to be reminded that he had other gifts.  Elen’s gift from her American relatives was a sailor dress of dark red linen with rows of braid and a white tie from Bloomingdale’s.  She loved it and declared she was going to wear it the first day of school.  Jory was delighted with the mechanical bank he received where a mule bucked the coin into the bank.  However, the gift that caused the most stir was one sent to Huw and Dylan together: a Lionel electric train with a B & O locomotive, “City Hall Park” trolley and a two foot suspension bridge, plus a dry cell battery to power the train.  Adam and Mark were as fascinated with the toy as the boys.

 

“Let’s take it outside, boys,” Adam said.  “There’s more room to set up the track on the verandah.”

 

“Too right!” Mark agreed.  “C’mon, boys.”  The three men and the two older boys gathered up the train and track and headed outside.

 

“Don’t forget dinner should be ready be ready soon,” Bronwen called after them.  Shaking her head in exasperation, she said to her daughters, “I don’t think they even heard me.”

 

Indeed, it was with great reluctance the railroad enthusiasts were lured away from the train and into the dining room.

 

Adam had put both leaves in the dining room table and with Siân in her high chair they were all able to squeeze around the table.  As they ate, Beth said, “I hope A.C. is having a good Christmas with the Phelps.”

 

“I’m sure he is,” Adam replied.  “I remember Aaron and I spent our first Christmas at college with your great-grandfather Stoddard.  His housekeeper fixed us roast turkey with oyster dressing, mince pies and plum pudding.  Grandfather had never had a Christmas tree, but knew that we had them back on the Ponderosa so he got one, and we all helped to decorate it.  After dinner, we played parlor games and sang carols until it was time for us to head back to our dormitory.  We were both homesick, but we didn’t want Grandfather to know, and we had a wonderful time in spite of missing our families.”  He smiled at Bronwen then and added, “I’m sure it will be the same with A.C.”

 

After dinner, while the women put Siân and Benny down for a nap and washed and dried the dishes, Jory and Elen joined the others on the verandah with the electric train.  When the women finished, it was time to go to the Davies to make the Christmas taffy.  While they were there, Huw and Dylan excitedly told their cousin and granduncle about their train, so they had to see it as well.  Bronwen sighed, saying, “It looks like we’ll be the only ones playing games since we’ll never get the men away from that train.”

 

“I’ll play games with you, Grandma,” Benny said, earning a kiss.

 

“I’d rather play games than watch the train, too,” Elen said.

 

Eventually the men and boys returned and they all played Blindman’s Bluff, Deerstalker and jackstraws until it was time for the children to go home to bed.

 

That night as Bronwen and Adam lay curled together like two spoons, she said with a giggle, “Next year, I’m going to suggest to Miranda and William that they buy you an electric train.”

 

 

On Friday, January 12, Beth celebrated her thirty-first birthday.  For Adam and Bronwen, what should have been a happy time was instead one of tension and worry since they had decided that Saturday evening they would tell the girls and their husbands about Joanna and her son.  After high tea Friday, the Cartwrights and Pentreaths gathered at parsonage to watch Beth open her gifts.  She exclaimed in delight over the pretty cotton handkerchiefs Elen had hemmed and embroidered and the little bottle of eau de cologne that Huw and Dylan had pooled their allowance to buy (with a little help from their tada)  The Pentreaths got her a new leather handbag and the Gordons sent her a new umbrella, while Dafydd presented her with a new pair of brown leather oxfords.

 

“And I, uh, thought you might like to visit the new dress shop and choose something,” he added with a wink.  (Beth had mentioned to him that she would like one of the new ‘health’ corsets.)

 

“Thank you, Darling,” she said with a grateful smile.

 

“Now let’s see what Grandma and Grandpa sent you,” Dylan said eagerly.

 

Beth thanked her parents for their gift, for she badly needed a new pair of gloves and she was tired of darning the holes in her stockings.

 

“We thought we’d let you pick out a new hat at Mrs. Harrington’s shop,” Bronwen said then.  “You can choose the hat and Dafydd’s gift at the same time.”

 

“Oh, you can come with me, Mama,” Beth said with a happy smile.  “We haven’t gone shopping together in ages.”

 

“Um, Beth and Dafydd, Gwyneth and Mark, we would like the four of you to stop by tomorrow afternoon for tea,” Adam said then.

 

“Could we play croquet after tea if it’s not raining, Grandpa?” Huw asked.

 

“Grandpa and I just want to have tea with your mamas and papas,” Bronwen said quickly.  ‘Maybe next Saturday we’ll only invite our grandchildren.  How would you like that?”

 

“Right,” Huw said with a big grin.

 

Bronwen then turned to her daughters.  “Your Aunt Matilda volunteered to watch the children.”

 

Beth and Gwyneth exchanged glances, wondering why their parents wanted to see them without the children.  Their husbands were wondering the same thing.

 

 

Adam and Bronwen were sitting on the verandah when the Joneses walked up the street, and they waved to their grandchildren as they headed to the Davies’ house.  As Dafydd and Beth walked up the steps, Adam and Bronwen greeted them, and the younger couple joined the older as they waited for Gwyneth and Mark to arrive.

 

“Will you give us a clue why you want to talk with all of us?” Beth asked, her tone playful since she guessed what the answer would be.

 

“Let’s wait for Gwyneth and Mark,” her daddy replied, just as she’d known he would.

 

“Have you heard from Miranda?” Dafydd asked with a smile.  “We received a Christmas card, but no letter.”

 

Bronwen and Adam exchanged a brief, almost imperceptible look, and then she answered.  “Yes, we did.  Jon and Laura are both over their chicken pox now.  Miranda also told us that Jon started kindergarten.  He and his friend, Freddy, got a late start because of their chicken pox.  She sent us photographs of both the children.  Wait just a moment and I’ll get them.”

 

While they waited for her to return, Beth said, “Our house certainly seems empty now that Siân is the only one at home.”  She sighed a little as she added, “I’m a little worried about Elen.  She doesn’t seem to want to spend time with Kerra and Molly.  In fact, she reminds me so much of Gwyneth.  She either has her nose buried in a book or she’s off riding on Sport.”

 

Adam smiled at that description, and then Bronwen rejoined them with the photographs of Jon and Laura

 

“Oh, Jon’s wearing one of those suits like the one she and William gave Huw,” Beth said, smiling as she saw her nephew dressed in a Buster Brown suit with its characteristic large white collar and floppy black bow.

 

“His hair is awfully long,” Dafydd commented, noting Jon’s nearly shoulder-length hair.

 

“That’s what I thought,” Adam said, “but his grandmother thought he looked darling.”

 

“He does,” said Beth, siding with her mama.  “Now let’s see the photograph of Laura.”

 

“She certainly takes after Miranda, doesn’t she?” Dafydd commented with a smile.

 

“Yes, except it looks a though she and Jon both must have William’s light brown hair,” Bronwen said.  “It’s a shame Laura didn’t inherit Miranda’s curls.”

 

Just then they saw the Pentreaths coming up the street, and soon they all adjourned to the library.

 

They sat in the comfortable, buttery-soft leather armchairs and Mary wheeled in the tea cart.  Soon Bronwen was pouring cups of tea and serving bread and butter and cucumber sandwiches.  As they drank their tea and ate, they made small talk.  It wasn’t until everyone was finished that Adam cleared his throat and began to speak, his expression deadly serious.

 

“I need to talk with you all about an incident in my past—one that I’d hoped would stay buried in the past.”  Beth and Gwyneth exchanged uneasy glances at their daddy’s words while their husbands also felt ill at ease.  Adam continued, his speech slow and deliberate.  “The summer between my sophomore and junior years at Harvard, I was engaged in an illicit relationship with a widow.  I knew it was wrong, but I am ashamed to tell you that I put my selfish desires first.”  He winced inwardly at the expressions of shock and dismay on his daughters’ faces.  He drew a deep calming breath and continued.  “Our relationship didn’t last long—only a matter of weeks.  Later that autumn, I learned through a mutual acquaintance that the woman had disappeared.  Her distraught family feared she was the victim of foul play, but despite all the money they spent hiring men to discover her fate, no trace of her was found.”

 

He glanced at Bronwen then, and she smiled encouragingly, knowing how difficult this was for him.  Then she looked at her daughters and saw Gwyneth anxiously tugging on an earlobe, a habit she had picked up from her daddy, while Beth had unconsciously moved closer to Dafydd.  After a moment, Adam continued.  “Many years later, I learned the reason for her disappearance.  She discovered she was expecting a child.  Our child.”  His daughters gasped audibly at those words, but Bronwen patted his hand comfortingly, and as her husband continued, she watched her daughters’ reactions.

 

“Her husband had been dead for several years so there was no question of it being his child.  If she’d come to me and told me, I would have done the right thing and married her, but she did not come.  I suppose because I was a number of years her junior and a college student, and she knew what people would have said about our marriage.  So she told no one and took the money her late husband had left her and used it to start a new life under an assumed name, pretending to be a recent widow.  She gave birth to a daughter she named Joanna.  I discovered all this much later because she had written a letter to be given to her family at her death that explained everything.  She asked her family not to contact Joanna, who did not know that she was born out of wedlock.”

 

“How did you learn about Joanna? Beth asked.  “And when?”

 

“Through that same mutual friend, nearly fourteen years ago.  I confessed everything to your mother then, and I promised her I would never try to contact Joanna.”

 

“It seemed best for our children as well as Joanna,” Bronwen said, reaching for her husband’s hand and entwining their fingers to show her support before looking at her daughters.  Beth’s pain was plainly written on her face while Gwyneth kept her eyes averted, but Bronwen saw her third born’s hands were balled into fists.  “Joanna was a married woman with children of her own by that time.  She had lived her whole life believing her parents were married and her father died before she was born.  What purpose would be served in telling her the truth?”

 

“Then why are you telling us now?” Beth asked, and her voice shook slightly.  “Why didn’t you leave it all in the past?”  Dafydd felt her pain and put his arm around her shoulders comfortingly.

 

“Because Joanna’s son, Richard Crowley, is a student of William’s.  Miranda met him at one of her open houses for William’s students, and noticed immediately how strongly he resembles me.  She spoke with the young man about it and learned he resembles his mother, Joanna.  I am afraid there is not any doubt that Richard Crowley is my grandson.  My skeleton refused to stay in the closet,” he added with a bitter smile that was more of a grimace.

 

“We knew we had no choice but to tell you both, and we’ll have to write to Miranda and your brother,” Bronwen added.

 

“What about the young man?  Will you write him as well?” Dafydd asked quietly.

 

Adam nodded.  “I don’t imagine the news will be welcome, but since Miranda’s already told him that she’s sure they must be related, I will have to tell him the truth.”

 

Gwyneth spoke for the first time.  “I can’t believe you fathered a child out of wedlock.  You were always so strict with us.”

 

“Because I know how easy it is to be ensnared by desire.  I wanted to protect you,” Adam said quietly.  Gwyneth shook her head and turned away from him.

 

“Gwyneth, you must remember your daddy was very young,” Bronwen said gently.  “Not much older than your brother.”

 

“You’re making excuses for him, Mama,” Beth said then in a shaky voice.  “He knew it was wrong.  He just told us so.”  She turned to Dafydd.  “Let’s get the children and go home.”

 

“I want to go as well,” Gwyneth said to Mark, who nodded.  He was surprised at the news, but not shocked as his wife and sister-in-law were.  He’d always known Gwyneth had an idealized picture of her father.  He was a decent man who loved his wife and his children; Mark’s opinion hadn’t changed because of tonight’s revelation.  He would have to try to help Gwyneth accept the fact that her father was human and he’d made a mistake.

 

The two young couples left without a word of farewell, although both Dafydd and Mark looked back with expressions of compassion.  Adam’s anguish was so great it was a physical pain.  Will they ever forgive me?  Will all my children be lost to me?  He felt his eyes begin to burn and he got up and walked over to the window, not wanting Bronwen to see him lose control.  Then he felt her hand on his back.

 

“They will forgive you, Cariad.  It was such a shock to them that they need time to accept it,” she said softly.

 

“I pray you’re right,” he replied, turning to face her.  “How I wish I’d been stronger; had resisted temptation.”  He blinked back the scalding tears that filled his eyes.  “Now, I’ve hurt everyone I love.”

 

His voice was so full of despair that she hugged him tightly.  “We’ll survive the hurt, Cariad.  I know we will.  Our family is strong and we’ve survived other hurts.”

 

“I hope you are right,” he said quietly.  Then he asked, “Would you sit with me while I write to the others?”

 

“Of course I will,” she replied, standing on tiptoe so she could kiss his cheek.

 

 

 

When the Joneses and Pentreaths reached the Davies’ house, they found Matilda reading to Siân and Benny while Rhys was playing Old Bachelor with the older children and Little Adam was sleeping in his baby carriage.

 

“Can we say until we finish?” Dylan begged, but Beth snapped, “No, we need to go now.”

 

“Please,” Dylan begged and Dafydd said quickly, “You heard what your mama said.  We are going now.”

 

“Benny and Jory, we’re leaving now too,” Gwyneth said as she wheeled the baby carriage toward the door.

 

“C’mon, boys,” Mark said and reluctantly Jory and Benny moved toward the door

 

Beth took Siân from Matilda and headed after her sister.  Dafydd quietly thanked Rhys and Matilda for watching the children.

 

“Yes, thanks,” Mark added quickly, for Gwyneth had already lifted the baby from his carriage and was walking toward the front gate.  He waved goodbye and then carried the carriage down the steps and headed after his wife and sons.

 

“Thanks for playing Old Bachelor with us, Uncle Rhys,” Huw said before heading for the front door and Elen echoed his sentiment.

 

“I wanted to finish the game,” Dylan said with a pout and his granduncle said quickly, “We’ll play again soon, Dylan.  If it’s all right with your parents, you can come over after church tomorrow.”  He looked at Dafydd, who nodded.  ‘I imagine Ifor will be here and we can play a game.”

 

“Beauty!” Dylan exclaimed and then he and his tada hurried to catch up with the rest of the family

 

“Beth and Gwyneth were so upset,” Matilda said worriedly.  “I wonder what Adam and Bronwen told them?”

 

“Something tells me that we may never know,” Rhys said slowly.

 

“Well, judging from the girls’ reaction, I think we’re probably better off not knowing,” Matilda said.

 

 

Bronwen watched with concern as her husband wadded up a third sheet of his stationary before squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“I can’t tell this to A.C. in a letter,” he said.  “I’ve got to tell him face to face.  I know what his reaction will be:  He’ll see me as a hypocrite.”

 

Bronwen sighed softly.  Yes, that is exactly how he will react, she thought.  I think if I go, I can be a bridge between my husband and my son.  “We’ll both go to Sydney,” she said firmly and Adam nodded, grateful for her support.

“The next stage to Sydney won’t be here until Friday.  I imagine the girls will want to talk with you alone so I will make myself scarce after dinner tomorrow.  If it’s not raining hard, I’ll go fishing,” he said.  He tried to smile, but she saw that it didn’t reach his eyes.

 

“It’s not raining now, so why don’t we go for a walk,” she suggested.  Whistling for Duchess, they walked out the front door.  As soon as they stepped onto the verandah, they could see Beth walking up the street.

 

“I think Duchess and I will be going for our walk alone.  We’ll go out the back,” Adam said.

 

As soon as the Joneses returned to the parsonage, Dafydd went to his study to work on his sermon and Beth asked Elen to start high tea while she changed Siân’s nappy.  Told to stay at home since high tea would be ready soon, Huw and Dylan went outside to play catch.  When Beth emerged from the girls’ bedroom with Siân, she saw her first-born sitting at the kitchen table, her nose buried in a book.

 

“Elen, I told you to start the meal,” she snapped, snatching the book from her daughter’s hand and slamming it shut.

 

“You’ve lost my place,” Elen protested.

 

“That doesn’t matter because by the time you get it back, you’ll need to start over from the beginning” Beth answered irately.

 

“That’s not fair!” Elen retorted.

 

“You’ve been warned about talking back, Elen.  Now, go to your room and stay there until your tada or I call you,” Beth said angrily.  When Elen looked at her defiantly, she grabbed her arm and dragged her from the room while Siân looked on with big eyes.

 

“You’re mean and I hate you,” Elen screamed before slamming her door.

 

Dafydd came out of his study then.  “What’s wrong?” he asked in a concerned tone.

 

“Elen bad,” his youngest said, toddling over to him.  He picked her and then looked at his wife inquiringly.

 

“She was reading instead of starting the meal and then she talked back to me when I took her book away,” Beth said, feeling her control snapping.  “Could you fix high tea?  I- I want to go for a walk.”

 

“I know you need some time alone.  Don’t worry about us, Cariad.  We’ll manage,” he said gently.  “And I’ll have a talk with Elen.”

 

 

Bronwen was sitting on the verandah’s swing when Beth walked up the steps.

 

“Mama, I need to talk with you,” she said urgently.  “Is Daddy . . . ?” and she looked around.

 

“Your daddy went for a walk with Duchess,” Bronwen said calmly.  “Sit down by me and we can talk.”

 

Beth sat down and then said in a rush, “I don’t understand how you can make excuses for him, Mama.  He was always so strict with all of us and now to find out . . .”  Her voice trailed off.

 

“I’m not making excuse for him,” Bronwen said quietly.  “I know what he did was wrong, and so does he. But I also know that he’s been a wonderful husband to me and father to our children.  You know that, too,” she said in a gentle tone.

 

“Yes, he has.  I- I still love him.  Of course I do,” Beth said, angry with herself because of the tears she couldn’t hold back.  “But it’s such a shock to learn that he’s not the man I always thought he was.”

 

Bronwen put her arm around her daughter’s shoulders comfortingly.  “I do understand that, Beth fach.  Maybe it’s easier for me because I never put your daddy on a pedestal the way you and your sisters did.  I always knew he was a man with human weaknesses.  Well, you know yourself that you can’t be married to a man very long and still view him as a paragon.”

 

“Too right,” Beth replied with a watery grin.  “But—  Well, aren’t you jealous of this Joanna’s mother?”

 

“Beth fach,” Bronwen replied with just the barest hint of a smile, “when I first met your daddy, he was thirty-seven years old.  I observed that he treated women with respect.  Not just me, but all women he encountered.  After we became engaged, I began to know another side of him.  I realized that there were probably times that he had succumbed to the temptations of the flesh, but I also was certain they were the exception rather than the rule, and I knew he would never betray his wedding vows.  He never talked to me about the women in his past, and I didn’t ask.  As long as they stayed in his past, they were no threat to me.”

 

She paused for a moment before continuing.  “I learned about Joanna the same time as your daddy.  I know it was as much of a shock to him as it was to me.  It did hurt, knowing that another woman had borne his child, but I knew he would keep his promise never to contact his daughter.”  She paused and said slowly, “As for Joanna’s mother, now I only feel pity for her.  She certainly paid the price for her sin since she gave up all contact with her family and friends.”  She gave her first-born’s shoulders’ a gentle squeeze as she added, “Maybe having her daughter made up for all she lost.  I won’t begrudge her that.”

 

Beth said thoughtfully, “I imagine the news will be even more of a shock to this Joanna.”  She shook her head.  “I just cannot get used to the idea I have a half sister somewhere in the States.”

 

“Your daddy and I doubt that Richard Crowley will tell his mother,” Bronwen said quietly

 

“I wish I didn’t know,” Beth said sadly.  “Right now I wish Miranda had never married William because then she never would have met this Richard Crowley.”

 

Bronwen hugged her daughter close.  “I wish you and your sisters and brother didn’t have to know.  It hurts me to see your pain.”

 

Beth laid her head on her mama’s shoulder for a moment, comforted by her embrace.  Then she sighed and said, “I’d better be getting home.  Thanks for letting me talk with you, Mama.”  She leaned over and kissed her mama’s cheek before starting to head home.

 

“Oh, would you like to go shopping on Monday?” Bronwen asked and Beth nodded.  “We’re leaving for Sydney on Friday so we’ll be gone for at least two months.”

 

Beth nodded, understanding why her parents were undertaking the arduous trip to Sydney.  When she got home, she found her oldest washing the dishes while her sons dried and put them away.  Dafydd was sitting by the kitchen table playing This Little Piggy with Siân, who was laughing and squealing in delight.

 

“Mama!” Siân shouted as soon as she saw her and wriggled to let her tada know she wanted down.  She ran to her mama, who picked her up and kissed her.

 

“Mama,” Elen said quietly, and Beth turned toward her.  “I-  I’m sorry I was disobedient and that I talked back to you.”

 

“Apology accepted,” Beth said gently and smiled at her first-born.

 

“Tada and Huw and me made us ham sandwiches,” Dylan said with a grin.

 

“I hope that’s not all you had for high tea,” Beth said, glancing at her husband with a raised eyebrow.

 

‘No, I fixed a salad,” Elen said.

 

“And we ate the rest of the ginger biscuits,” Huw added with a big smile.

 

“I deduced that by the ginger biscuit smeared on Siân’s face,” Beth said then, winking at Huw.

 

“Just like Sherlock Holmes!” Huw exclaimed, for his tada was reading The Hound of the Baskervilles to him and Elen.  (Mama said if they had nightmares, she knew who to blame, but Tada just grinned at her.)

 

“Since your mama is home, I need to go finish my sermon,” Dafydd said, chuckling at the comparison of his wife with the famous fictional detective.

Gwyneth was silent on the walk home.  Mark talked with the boys about what they’d done while they were at the Davies’ so they wouldn’t notice their mother’s mood.  When they were about half way home, the baby began to cry and his volume steadily increased along with his hunger.

 

“He sure is loud,” Jory complained while Benny put his hands over his ears.

 

“He’s probably hungry,” Mark said in a matter-of-fact tone.  “You both cried just as loud when you were babies.”  The two little boys looked at each other skeptically.  “How about if Daddy gives you a piggyback ride, Benny,” he suggested, knowing they’d get home quicker that way.

 

When they reached their house, a tight-lipped Gwyneth lifted the screaming baby from his carriage and marched inside without a word or a backward glance.

 

“Is Mama angry, Daddy?” Jory asked anxiously while Benny began sucking on his thumb.

 

‘No, I think she’s just tired,” Mark said reassuringly.  “How about if we play catch outside until Mama says high tea is ready?”

 

Gwyneth tried to relax as she nursed her baby because she could tell her roiling emotions were affecting him.  When he finished, she burped him and then rocked him to sleep, softly singing the same old Welsh lullaby that her mama had used with all her children.

 

Once Little Adam was sound asleep, she put him in his cradle and went into the kitchen.  She fixed sandwiches and a green salad, using vegetables from her tiny kitchen garden.  If she chopped the vegetables with more than ordinary vigor, there was no one to observe.  She poured her boys each a glass from milk that she’d scalded so it wouldn’t go sour.

 

When the food was ready, she set the table and then called Mark and the boys.  Jory and Benny ate and chattered but Mark noticed that Gwyneth only picked at her food, and pinched the bridge of her nose, a gesture he’d come to recognize.

 

“Do you have a headache?” he asked, and she nodded.

 

“Why don’t you go lie down,” he suggested.  “The boys and I can wash up.  Can’t we?”  Benny nodded vigorously, but Jory pouted at being asked to do something he knew was women’s work.  However, he saw the way his daddy was looking at him, so he only muttered a sullen, “Right.”

 

Gwyneth lay on the bed, but the pounding in her head only grew worse.  Daddy, you are such a hypocrite!  I always admired and respected you, but no more.  She couldn’t hold the tears back, but she rolled over and sobbed into her pillow so no one would hear.  Oh, Pen, I’m glad you didn’t have to know the truth about Daddy.

 

The more Gwyneth cried, the more her head ached, but at last she had no more tears left.  The room was growing dark but she decided Mark could put the boys to bed.  If they saw that she’d been crying, it would only upset them.  She didn’t light the lamp; she simply undressed in the little light still available.  She hung her blouse and skirt in the wardrobe, slipped on one of her cotton nightgowns and got under the bedclothes.  When Mark came in, he said her name softly, but she pretended to be asleep.

 

Around midnight, the baby woke as usual.  She knew where everything was and didn’t need to light the lamp or put on her spectacles.  She picked up the squalling infant, sat in her rocking chair, and offered him her breast.

 

Mark rolled over on his back and said softly, “Is your headache better?”

 

“A little,” she replied in the same quiet tone.

 

“How about your heartache?” he asked then.

 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said coldly.

 

“Gwyneth, love, I know you’re upset, but your father only did what a great many young men do.”

 

“I don’t care what a great many young men do,” she snapped at him.  “I thought my daddy was special,” she added, hating the fact that her voice trembled.

 

“I’m sorry, Love,” he said gently.  She made no response at first, but after a moment she added, “I can’t believe Mama has known about this for fourteen years.”  The baby whimpered then, so Gwyneth took a calming breath and Mark lay silent, wishing he knew how to comfort his wife.

 

 

 

Shortly before dawn, the heavy rains began again.  Adam hadn’t slept much that night but had forced himself to lie still so he wouldn’t disturb Bronwen.  Now he got up to close their shutters and the doors that led to their verandah.  When he got back into bed beside Bronwen, she said sleepily, “I don’t think you’ll be going fishing after church.”

 

He reached for her hand, enfolding it in his own.  “No.  I think I’ll visit Rhys.  Maybe we could play a game of chess.”

 

“I may need to go see Gwyneth,” Bronwen said quietly.  “She always holds everything inside, just like you.”

 

“I know,” he replied almost in a whisper and she squeezed his hand comfortingly.

 

 

Since the rain was falling in sheets, they both put on their mackintoshes and Bronwen carried an umbrella to protect her hat.  They walked together with Rhys and Matilda, the women trying not to spatter their skirts with muddy water.  When they arrived at church, Adam and Bronwen sat with Beth and her children in the front pew as always, while Rhys and Matilda sat behind them.  Llywelyn and his family arrived shortly along with Mark and his older boys.  They all squeezed in with Rhys and Matilda, and Bronwen asked Mark about Gwyneth and the baby.

 

“She has a headache so she decided to stay home with the baby.  I was hoping the boys and I could have dinner with you,” he replied.

 

“Too right,” Bronwen said.  “I’ll go check in on her after dinner,” and Mark nodded.

 

When it was time for his sermon, Dafydd walked up to the pulpit.  He looked out over the congregation, letting his gaze rest for an extra moment on his father-in-law, before announcing, “For my text this Sunday, I have chosen the eighteenth chapter of Luke’s gospel, verses 9 through 14:

 

And he spake this parable unto certain which trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and despised others:  Two men went up into the temple to pray; the one a Pharisee, and the other a publican.  The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, God, I thank thee, that I am not as other men are, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican.  I fast twice in the week, I give tithes of all that I possess.

 

And the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, God be merciful to me a sinner.

 

I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other; for everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.

 

 

After the service, the Cartwrights, Pentreaths and both Davies families walked together.  The children ran ahead and splashed in every puddle.  (They had been strictly commanded to avoid splashing on the way to church so this was their reward.)  The women shook their heads a little but since the children were wearing black oilskin mackintoshes and black rubber boots their good clothes weren’t in any real danger.

 

After Sunday dinner, Bronwen slipped away, leaving Adam and Mark playing Old Bachelor with the boys.  (Benny sat on his daddy’s lap and they played together.)  She knocked on the Pentreaths’ door and Gwyneth appeared a moment later, holding the baby.

 

“Mark told us you were crook, so I came to see how you’re feeling,” Bronwen said gently as her daughter gestured for her to come in.

 

Gwyneth didn’t answer immediately.  She put the baby on a coverlet that was spread on the parlor floor while her mother sat on the sofa.  She sat in the armchair across the room and stared at her mother.  When she spoke, her large golden hazel eyes glinted angrily behind her spectacles.  “How do you imagine I feel after learning I have an illegitimate half sister?  After discovering that my father did not practice the morality he always preached to his children?” she asked in an icy tone.

 

“I would imagine that you feel hurt and disillusioned,” Bronwen replied calmly.  “It’s what I felt when I first learned of Joanna’s existence.”

 

“And yet, you stayed with him,” Gwyneth said.  “I cannot understand how you could do that after learning what kind of man he really is.”

 

“Let me see if I understand,” Bronwen replied, her expression and her voice neutral.  “You feel that because of something your daddy did when he was only nineteen years old, I should forget the thirty-one years that we have been happily married.  I should just forget that fact that he is the only man I have ever loved, forget that I know he loves me as much as he loves his own life and has never been unfaithful to me.”  She saw her daughter looked uncomfortable and she shook her head.  “Well, I’m sorry, but I can’t do it.  What is more, I have no desire to forget what your father means to me.”  Her expression grew very stern as she added, “If you believe that this one mistake he made decades ago outweighs the love he has shown you from the day you were born—no, from the day he knew I was carrying you—that is your right.  And it is also your loss.”

 

Gwyneth turned away, hiding her expression.  “It hurts so much knowing that he’s not the man I always believed he was,” and her voice gave away her misery.

 

“Oh, Gwyneth fach,” Bronwen said gently as she got up and sat on the arm of Gwyneth’s chair.  She gently squeezed her third born’s shoulder as she said softly, “I know it’s hard accepting that your daddy isn’t perfect.  He is a very good man, but he’s not perfect.”

 

Gwyneth turned then to face her mama, who saw the tears pooling in her daughter’s eyes.  “I’ll try to forgive him, Mama, but it’s hard.”

 

“And it’s hard for him to forgive himself for the hurt he’s caused his children,” Bronwen said softly while thinking, “Oh Gwyneth fach, you are so much like your daddy.

 

Chapter 3

“Daddy!  Mama!  It snowed again!” Jon shouted as he ran to bang on his parents’ bedroom door after rushing into his sister’s room to share the good news with her.  “Can we go make a snowman?  Please?”

 

“Snowman!” Laura shouted excitedly.

 

William opened the door, wearing a warm robe over his pajamas.  He liked to sleep in on Saturday mornings, but Jon and Laura were both early risers just like their mama.  With a sigh he looked at his offspring: Laura in her flannel pajamas with their drop seat and moccasin feet, clutching her teddy bear in one hand, and Jon in his pajamas, robe and slippers.  The fine light brown hair they had both inherited from him was sticking out in every direction.  Their expressions were so hopeful as they looked up at him that he said with a grin, “Let’s get dressed and then we’ll see if Mrs. Matthews has started breakfast yet.  After breakfast, we’ll build a snowman.”

 

“Hurrah!” Jon shouted and Laura, spying her mama getting out bed, ran past her daddy.  “C’mon,” she said to Miranda, tugging on one hand.

 

“Mama has to fasten her robe, Sweetie.  It’s cold,” Miranda replied, wrapping a flannel robe over her high-necked flannel nightgown.  She’d lived in Hanover for eight years, but she still wasn’t used to the bitterly cold winters.  “Okay, let’s go downstairs so we can use the water closet.”

 

“I think Jon is using it now,” William commented as the three of them exited the room, “but you and Laura can be next.”

 

Jon was ready to dash back up the stairs and dress just as they came down.  “You need to wash up first,” his mama said firmly, pointing at the bathroom door before shepherding her youngest into the water closet, hoping that she hadn’t had an accident during the night.  (Laura had gone for three weeks now without one and Miranda was wondering if she could switch her little girl from diapers and rubber diaper covers to drawers.  She was pleased to see Laura had had another dry night.

 

“All yours,” she said to William with a grin as she took Laura into the bathroom to wash up.

 

When they finished, they went up to Laura’s room so Miranda could help her dress in a romper suit.  She let Laura brush her own hair while she went to check on Jon.  He was wearing his favorite turtleneck sweater, knickerbockers, warm wool socks and high-top lace-up shoes.  He was nearly finished making his bed, but Miranda saw with a smile that his hair was still sticking out every which way.

 

“Don’t forget to brush your hair, Jon,” she said.

 

“I already did,” he said quickly and she said, “Jon,” so he pouted and said, “Oh, Mama.”     But she waited until he picked up his hairbrush before returning to check on Laura’s progress.  She finished brushing Laura’s hair, parted it on the side, and then used a barrette to hold it back.

 

“All right, Sweetie,” Miranda said with a smile, “let’s see if Daddy’s finished dressing.”

 

She knocked on the bedroom door and William called, “Come in.”

 

Like his son, William was wearing a turtleneck.  He smiled warmly at his wife and daughter as he finished brushing his thinning brown hair.

 

“Why don’t you and the children go on down and I’ll finish dressing and join you,” Miranda suggested.

 

“I think I already heard Jon clomping down the stairs,” William said with a grin.  “C’mon, Laura Beth,” he added, holding out his hand, “let’s see what Mrs. Matthews is fixing for breakfast.”

 

They found Jon             already waiting in the dining room, staring out the window at the nearly two feet of snow covering the lawn.  He turned as he heard the others enter the room.

 

“Mrs. Matthews is making pancakes and sausage!” he said excitedly, for they were his favorites.  A moment later the cook entered with a tray containing a pitcher of maple syrup, a coffee pot, and two mugs of hot cocoa.

 

“All right, you can drink your cocoa while we wait for your mama,” William said, smiling at the cook as he poured himself a cup of coffee.  Miranda appeared a few minutes later and William grinned when he saw she was wearing one of his wool cardigans over her shirtwaist blouse.  Mrs. Matthews bustled in behind her with the pancakes, sausage, a soft-boiled egg for William, and Miranda’s tea.

 

After saying grace, William and Jon dug into stacks of pancakes they’d drowned in maple syrup.  Miranda and Laura each ate one pancake with a little syrup, so they finished eating first.  Miranda took Laura to the water closet before she buttoned her into her red wool coat with its velvet collar and cuffs.  Then she gave Laura the red wool mittens her grandma had knitted her from wool Granduncle Bryn had provided and finally, she put on a red wool stocking cap that had once belonged to Jon.

 

Once he saw his sister was finished, Jon wolfed down the rest of his pancakes and sausage.  He made a visit to the water closer at his daddy’s insistence before he hurriedly put on his navy blue wool coat with its sailor collar and wide belt.  Then he jammed his wool stocking cap on his head and stuffed his hands in his mittens.  He’d started to open the front door when he heard his mama command him to stop.

 

“You are not playing in the snow unless you put on your boots,” Miranda said as she helped Laura into hers while William put his on.  Jon impatiently crammed his feet in his rubber boots and then dashed outside, leaving the door open.  William started to call him back, but instead took Laura’s mittened hand and carefully closed the door behind them.

 

Miranda went back into the dining room, poured herself another cup of tea, and then stood at the window and watched her family build a snowman.  Part of her wanted to join in the fun, but the bigger part resisted going out in the freezing cold.  Jon was trying to show Laura how to roll a snowball while William shoveled a path for the milkman and postman.  Laura would look back and wave at her mama, and Miranda would smile and wave back.  The two-year-old lost interest in the snowman when it was half finished, and ran back toward the house.  Her mama was waiting for her.

 

“Cold, Mama,” she said, and Miranda saw her little girl’s nose was red and badly in need of a handkerchief.

 

“Well, you can stay inside where it’s warm,” she replied, kissing Laura’s cold cheek.  “Let’s get you out of your boots first because they’re making puddles.  Okay?”

 

“’Kay,” Laura said with a grin.

 

Once Laura was out of her coat, hat and mittens, Miranda took her upstairs to change into dry rompers since hers were wet from the snow, and then the two of them went back into the dining room to watch the progress on the snowman.  Mrs. Matthews had kept some hot cocoa warm on the stove and she brought it in.

 

“What do you say to Mrs. Matthews, Laura?” Miranda asked as the child reached for her little mug.

 

Laura scrunched her features as she tried to remember, and then with a happy smile she said, “Tank you.”

 

Miranda felt a warm glow as she watched her husband and son work happily together on the snowman.  Laura, however, grew bored with watching.  She and her mama went upstairs so she could play with her blocks (and give Nancy a chance to tidy up the dining room).  It wasn’t long after they went upstairs that the front door was flung open and Jon went running down the hallway in his snow-covered boots, headed straight for the water closet.  Nancy sighed at the wet puddles she had to mop up before they stained the hardwood floor.

 

“Sorry, Nancy,” William said.  (He’d managed to get almost all the snow off his rubber boots before coming inside.)  “I’ll do my best not to track in anymore snow, but I need to get a carrot from Mrs. Matthews and a couple of lumps of coal so we can finish our snowman.”  He called up the stairs, “Dearest!”

 

Miranda appeared at the top of the stairs a minute later.  “Yes?” she inquired.

 

“Could you get the Stetson out of my wardrobe and bring it to me.  I thought we’d let the snowman borrow it.”

 

“A cowboy snowman?” she asked, arching one eyebrow just like her daddy and grandpa.

 

“Why not?” William asked with a grin.

 

When the snowman was complete, William and Jon came inside and William was carrying some letters.

 

“The postman came by while we were putting on the finishing touches,” William explained.  “There’s a letter from Dad.”

 

“It’s time for lunch now,” Miranda replied, cramming the letter in one of the cardigan’s pockets.  “I’ll read it afterward.”

 

Mrs. Matthews came out then with a cup of coffee for William and a mug of hot cocoa for Jon.  “You two both look half frozen,” she commented.

 

“I feel that way,” William replied with a grin.  “But the coffee is warming me up.  Thanks.”

 

“Oh.  Thanks for the cocoa,” Jon added hurriedly.  “Come see our cowboy snowman, Mrs. Matthews!” he said excitedly, grabbing her hand and starting to drag her into the dining room.

 

“Just a minute, young man,” Miranda said firmly.  “You aren’t going anywhere until you take off your boots.  You’ve made enough work for Nancy.  I’ll hold your cocoa while you take them off.”

 

Mrs. Matthews admired the snowman and then went back to finish preparing lunch.  Miranda set the table with some ‘help’ from Laura while William and Jon washed up.  Mrs. Matthews brought in a tureen of steaming chicken noodle soup with plenty of sandwiches, and for dessert there was a plate of Butter Drop Do cookies

 

As soon as he’d finished his last cookie, Jon asked his father eagerly, “Can we have a snowball fight, Daddy?”

 

“I’m sorry, Jon, but Daddy has to work this afternoon,” William replied.

 

“And I think you’ve played in the snow enough today,” Miranda added.  “Why don’t you go up to your room and read one of your books or play with the toy soldiers Grandpa Gordon sent you.  Then later I’ll play Slapjack with you.”

 

“Okay,” Jon said.  He’d rather play in the snow, but he liked his toy soldiers.

 

With Jon playing in his room and Laura finally settled down for her nap, Miranda joined William in the library.  He was already seated at the big walnut partner’s desk, and the entire desktop was covered with his research notes as he worked on a paper about the United States’ western expansion for publication in a professional journal.  She removed a letter opener from a drawer on her side of the desk and then sat down on the leather Chesterfield with her letter.  There was no sound in the room except for the scratching of William’s fountain pen and the ticking of the grandfather clock Ben had left to Miranda and William and they’d had shipped from the Ponderosa to their home.

 

When she opened the letter, she was surprised to discover some pages were sealed and the name Richard Crowley written on them.  She put the sealed pages beside her and began to read the letter.  William was so intent on his work that he didn’t hear her faint gasp as she read.  When she finished the letter and the postscript in her mama’s hand, she calmly folded the letter.  Her outward serenity was belied by her inner turmoil.

 

Daddy, I always believed you were a strong man and a moral one.  How could you have been so weak and so immoral?  Almost as soon as she asked the question, she remembered an event eleven years earlier.

 

She was standing in the entryway of Christopher Burton’s townhouse, hoping that her nervousness at being alone with him in his home didn’t show in her voice as she asked, “Where are the etchings?”

 

“They’re upstairs, but I thought we could have a brandy first,” he said taking her arm and guiding her into his drawing room.  She saw it was a very masculine room with dark oak paneling, heavy maroon velvet drapes around the two windows, a large Chesterfield made of a rich reddish brown leather and a couple of matching leather armchairs flanking a mahogany secretary and bookcase.

 

“Oh no, I shouldn’t,” she said quickly but he only smiled and said in that teasing voice, “Come, where’s your intellectual curiosity? It will be a new experience and you should savor it.”

 

“All right, but just a little,” she agreed, sitting in one of the leather armchairs.

 

He smiled when he turned back toward her, a snifter of brandy in each hand. “You look as if you’re afraid of me. Come, sit with me,” he said patting the empty space beside him on the Chesterfield.

 

“It doesn’t seem quite proper,” she replied weakly as she gazed into his beautiful dark eyes.

 

“And Miss Cartwright must always be proper,” he teased. “Now, come here.”

 

Her cheeks turned pink, but she got up and sat beside him, not too close. She had a mental picture of what her daddy would say if he could see her now, but she forced it from her mind.

“Try the brandy,” he suggested and she took a sip. It burned her throat and she didn’t find the taste at all appealing. He chuckled at the face she made and said, “No one likes their first drink. Have another sip.”

 

She took another, but she still found the taste unpleasant so she sat the snifter carefully on the floor. “It feels a little warm in here, don’t you think.”

 

“Why don’t you loosen your cravat and unbutton your collar?” he suggested softly and his voice seemed to have a hypnotic effect on her so she did as he recommended. He took the cravat from her unresisting hand and said softly. “You have such a lovely neck—as white and slender as a swan’s.” He moved closer and she knew she should protest, but she didn’t want to. He pressed his lips to her neck and instead of objecting she found her fingers running through his hair, enjoying its silky softness. His lips and tongue found hers and she was lost in his embrace, deaf to the voice that told her what she was doing was wrong and she would regret the consequences.  She abandoned herself to the pleasure his body was giving hers.  Suddenly, the shrill sound of the bell indicating there was someone at the front door followed by a discreet knock at the room’s closed door interrupted their interlude.

 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Burton, but Mr. Collins is here and says he must speak with you.”

 

“All right, have him wait in the study,” Christopher snapped irritably. “I’m sorry, darling. I’ll get rid of him as quickly as I can.”

 

She nodded but as soon as he left, her inner voice became more insistent.  She looked at herself and saw that without her even being totally aware he had unbuttoned her blouse and slipped her silk undervest down exposing her breasts. Her skirt and petticoats were hiked up over her knees, displaying the elastic suspenders holding up her stockings and her bare thighs.  She realized how easily she had nearly succumbed to his seduction. She felt a little dizzy from the brandy, but she knew this was not how she wanted to give herself to the man she loved and that man was not Christopher Burton.

 

Oh, Daddy, I have no right to judge you.  I was only saved from ruining my life and breaking Mama’s heart and yours by the Grace of God.  Mama has forgiven you, but I’m not sure if William would forgive me.  I know it’s wicked, but I can’t help being grateful Charlotte wrote me that Christopher Burton drowned in a boating accident two years ago.  He took my secret to the grave.

 

“William,” she said then, and managed to keep her voice steady.  He looked up, a little irritated at being interrupted.  “I’m going to play with Jon,” she added, “but I’m leaving Daddy’s letter here on the table.  There is also a letter for Richard Crowley that you’ll need to give him.”

 

William nodded absently, only half listening, and returned to his work.  She took a deep steadying breath and went up to play with her little boy.

 

It was about an hour later that William decided he needed a break.  He stood up and stretched and then walked over to the window overlooking their backyard.  All the bushes and perennials in his garden were covered in snow.  It looks like Mrs. Matthews’ fluffy boiled icing,” he thought with a tiny grin.  He started to turn back to the desk and then he saw the letters on the low rectangular table.  I’ve worked hard so I think I’ll read Dad’s letter.  Since he enclosed one for Crowley, he must be providing the answer as to how they are related.  That should be interesting.

 

After he finished the letter, he refolded it and put it back in the envelope.  Well, Dad, I don’t know if it was harder for you to write that letter or for Miranda to read it.  I’ve observed how she feels about you, and from the little I saw at the time of our wedding, I’d say all your children feel the same way.  This news must have hurt them terribly.  His eyes fell on the sealed sheets of paper with Richard Crowley written in his father-in-law’s neat and precise handwriting.  And poor Crowley!  I could see how enthusiastic he was about the possibility he was related to Ben Cartwright.  I think it will come as an unpleasant shock to discover his mother is Ben Cartwright’s illegitimate granddaughter.

 

 

That night William picked up Miranda’s hairbrush and began their nightly ritual of brushing her long, curly black hair.  As he brushed he asked gently, “Do you want to talk about Dad’s letter?”

“What is there to talk about?” she asked his reflection in her vanity’s mirror.  “That I just discovered I have an illegitimate half sister who must be twice my age?”

 

“And you have a nephew,” he added softly, continuing to draw the brush through her hair with firm, sure strokes.

 

“Yes,” she said quietly.  “I imagine this news is going to be an unpleasant shock to him as well.”  A small sigh escaped her before she added, “I am disappointed in Daddy, but I am not going to let something that he did many years before I was born change the way I feel about him.”  He finished his task in silence, and then she walked over to the windows that overlooked the street.  She parted the drapes slightly so she could gaze at the moonlight glistening on the snow.  After a moment, he walked over and put an arm around her shoulders.

She leaned against him, and they stood together silently until she said, “I feel pity for Richard Crowley’s grandmother, and I don’t blame her for reacting as she did.  If she’d stayed in the Boston area, her reputation would have been ruined even if she and Daddy had married.  By running away and changing her name, she could raise her daughter and keep her reputation.”

 

“Yes,” William agreed, “it was the best decision for everyone.  If Crowley hadn’t decided to attend Dartmouth, or if I had accepted the position at Trinity or Antioch, then everyone could have remained in blissful ignorance.”

 

“I suppose,” Miranda said.  Then she added, “I want to write to Beth and Gwyneth to see how they are taking the news.”

 

“What about A.C.?” William queried.

 

“I’m sure he’s not taking it well,” Miranda said, frowning slightly.  “Since Dad wrote that he and Mama are traveling to Sydney to tell him, he is probably just finding out about it now.”

 

“I’ll see Crowley Monday and give him his letter,” William stated glumly.

 

 

After Monday’s lecture, William indicated that he wanted to speak with Richard Crowley.

 

“I have something for you,” he said in a carefully neutral tone.  “It’s a letter from my father-in-law.”

 

“I didn’t expect him to write me personally,” Richard said, and William noted he raised one eyebrow exactly the same way Miranda and her father and grandfather did.

 

“You’ll understand when you read the letter,” William said quietly.  He hesitated and then said in a gentle tone, “If you need to talk about this letter, I am a good listener, Mr. Crowley.”

 

 

The letter burned a hole in Richard’s pocket the rest of the morning as he attended his classes.  He wanted to read the letter in private and he knew his roommate had a class after lunch so he could have the room to himself.

 

As he broke the seal, he thought, If Mrs. Gordon’s father took the trouble to write to me, then we must be related.  I am related to the Ben Cartwright of the Ponderosa Ranch.  His happy expression faded as he read the words neatly written on the sheets of paper.

 

Well, Richard, he thought, wadding the letter into a ball, you wished to discover that you were related to the Ben Cartwright of the Ponderosa.  I guess you’ve learned to be careful what you wish for.  He buried his face in his hands.  Thank God I never mentioned any of this to Mama.  She was so close to Grandmother.  It would kill her to know that she is illegitimate.

 

Slowly, he brought his hands down and stared at the wadded up pieces of stationary.  He carefully smoothed them out and read the engraved name: Adam Stoddard Cartwright.  I’d like to blame it all on you, but I can’t.  I was young when Grandmother died so I don’t remember her very well, but I know she must have been several years older than you were, and she was a widow, not a young virginal girl. 

 

He clutched his nut-brown curls in both hands and wrinkled his forehead as he tried to understand how a young man only a year his senior could be involved with a widow.  I can understand why Grandmother would leave and start a new life rather than endure the gossip that surely would have resulted if she’d married a man several years her junior.  What I don’t understand is why a respectable widow would have carnal knowledge of a young man.  It’s so sordid.

He savagely wadded the papers back up into a ball and tossed them into the grate.  He watched the orange flames lick at the pages, causing them to curl up and blacken before turning into ash.  I wish I’d never come to Dartmouth.  Then I’d never have met Mrs. Gordon.  I suppose she must have received a similar letter and the news must be just as shocking to her.  I know she had no idea of the truth or she never would have mentioned anything about the fact I look like her father.  My grandfather.  He shook his head and grimaced.

 

I just want to forget I ever read this letter.  Maybe I could drop Dr. Gordon’s class.  No, that’s no answer.  He is an expert on the American frontier and the main reason I chose to attend Dartmouth.  He’s also an exceptional teacher.  That hasn’t changed.  Suddenly he remembered Dr. Gordon’s words as he’d handed him the letter.  “If you need to talk about this letter, I am a good listener, Mr. Crowley.”

 

Richard put on his overcoat and walked to the building where the members of the history department had their offices.  He didn’t have long to wait until he was told Dr. Gordon would see him.

 

“Close the door,” William told the young man calmly, “and then please sit.”  Once Richard was sitting across from him, William said in a quiet, even tone, “I thought you might want to speak with me.  The news was a surprise to us as well.”

 

“What- what sort of a man is . . .” and Richard paused searching for the right term, “is your father-in-law?”

 

“He’s a family man,” William said slowly.  “The Cartwrights are a very close-knit family.  My father- and mother-in-law are devoted to each other and to their children and grandchildren.”  He paused and said thoughtfully, “Of course, by the time I met my father-in-law, he was in his sixties and had been happily married for nearly twenty-five years.  It’s hard for me to imagine him as a young man of nineteen, but I seriously doubt he was a debauchee.  Not with the strict moral upbringing he would have received from Ben Cartwright.  However, even decent, moral men—and women—have weak moments.  I am not judging your grandfather or your grandmother because I have no right to throw the first stone.”

 

“No, neither do I,” Richard said heavily.  Dr. Gordon is right.  It’s not my place to judge or even to understand.  I just have to accept the fact that it happened.  He looked his professor in the eye and said, “I- I’m not going to say anything about this to my mother or my brother and sisters.”

 

“No reason for them to know,” William agreed.  “Remember, Crowley, what you learned today doesn’t change who you are, or who your mother is.  I wouldn’t dwell on it.”

 

“I won’t, sir,” Richard replied, his expression brightening a little.  “Th- thanks for talking with me.  It’s helped a lot.”

 

“My pleasure,” William said with a warm smile.  “If you ever need to talk with me again, my door is always open.”  He saw with pleasure as his student left that the young man was once again standing tall and confident.

 

 

 

Chapter 4

“Here you are, A.C.  Two eggs just the way you like them and a nice slice of ham.”

 

“Thanks, Mrs. Phelps,” the young man replied with a dimpled grin as he eyed the two eggs sunny-side up with appreciation.  Mrs. Phelps smiled at his unaffected pleasure and went back to the kitchen for the toast rack.

 

“Do you have any special plans for the day?” Dr. Phelps asked.

 

“I’ll have to spend a couple of hours working on assignments,” the boy said with a sigh.  His expression brightened as he added, “but then Russell, Tom and I are headed for Bondi Beach.”

 

Dr. Phelps grinned and said, “Checking out the sheilas?” and A.C. winked at him.

 

 

A.C. still missed his family and his mates, but he liked the Phelps, and the feeling was mutual.  At first, they were kind because he was the grandson of their old friends.  It wasn’t long, though, before they were treating him like a son rather than a boarder.  The Phelps’ two married daughters often brought their children to visit their grandparents, and A.C. would play with them just as he used to do with his nephews and nieces.  He had made new friends at the Technical College and they would study together, play cricket and stop at their favorite pub for a beer.  His dad had always limited his visits to the pub to Fridays and Saturdays and even then A.C. had a curfew.  When he’d first arrived at Sydney, he and his mates had visited the pub every evening.  It was during his second week with the Phelps that he had his first real hangover.  Dr. Phelps didn’t lecture him the way he knew his dad would have, but neither he nor his wife showed any sympathy for A.C.’s condition.  When A.C. finally felt human again, he decided maybe Dad had been right about limiting his time at the pub and the amount he drank.  He was relieved to learn that his mate, Russell, who had also overindulged, had arrived at the same conclusion.

 

A.C. had quickly discovered that Sydney had one huge advantage over Cloncurry:  there were hundreds of beaut-looking sheilas.  Nearly every Saturday, A.C. and Russell would ride the local tram from Darlinghurst to Waverly, where they would take the tram to Bondi Beach.  (Their mate, Tom, lived in a different suburb, Kings Cross, and he’d meet up with the other two at the tram station in Waverly.)  On his first visit, A.C. was taken aback by the daring the bathing costumes worn by many of the young women.  They were sleeveless and often the skirts or pantaloons came above the knee.  A.C. had seen one woman wearing a striped knit bathing costume that fit her like a second skin, displaying every feminine curve.  Russell and Tom didn’t seem shocked, and wanting to fit in, he mimicked their reactions.  Unconsciously, though, he was drawn to the girls who wore modest bathing costumes like his sisters.

 

 

When Mrs. Phelps rejoined the two men, she said to A.C., “I imagine you’ll be receiving letters from your family any day now.”

 

“I hope so,” he replied.  “I want to hear about their Christmas.  Miranda wrote me that she and William were giving Huw and Dylan an electric train, and I can’t wait to hear what they thought of it.”  He grinned then adding, “Dad should be pleased the railroad finally came to Cloncurry,” and Dr. Phelps chuckled warmly while his wife grinned.

 

 

As A.C. opened his calculus textbook and began to read, he thought, Dad, I don’t know how you and Uncle Rhys, Llywelyn and Mark can find this interesting.  It’s as dry as dust!

 

He forced himself to concentrate and when he finished, he moved to the equally dry textbook on general chemistry, groaning when he realized he still had an assignment in his geology class.  I hope this gets more interesting as it goes along or I’m going to die of boredom before I earn my degree.

 

He resisted the temptation to shove the books aside; the habit of wanting to please his mama and win his dad’s approval by doing well in school was too firmly ingrained after all these years.  After what seemed an eternity, he was finally finished.  He was already wearing his white flannel trousers so after putting on a navy blazer and grabbing his bathing costume, he headed for Russell’s house.

 

“Will you be back for high tea?” Mrs. Phelps asked as he started to leave.

 

“No, I think we’ll probably stop at the pub and get something to eat there,” A.C. replied.  “I should be back by ten, but I’ll use my key so you and Dr. Phelps don’t need to wait up for me.”

 

“Dr. Phelps has two patients who might go into labor at any time, so he may very well be leaving as you’re coming,” she said with a smile, and A.C. grinned and nodded.

 

 

When A.C. approached the Browne house, he saw Russell’s two youngest siblings sitting on the verandah.  Eleven-year-old Tim jumped up and ran inside yelling, “He’s here!”  Nine-year-old Jane ran down the steps and up the walk to meet A.C. at the gate.

 

“G’day, A.C.!  Mum said we could all come with you and Russell to Bondi and then you’d take us to the Aquarium at Tamarama!” she exclaimed, her brown eyes sparkling with excitement.  “I get to ride the roller coaster!”

 

A.C. sighed.  He loved children but having to be responsible for Tim and Jane and Rob and Helen was going to make it impossible to spend time checking out the sheilas.  The he shrugged philosophically.  There’d be plenty of other Saturdays.

 

“Oh, and Mama says as a reward, she’ll fix the Shepherd’s pie you like so much for high tea,” Jane added with a wide grin.

 

The rest of the Brownes appeared then.  Russell’s oldest sister, Helen, was fifteen and wearing her skirts down.  She was a tall, slender girl who reminded A.C. a little of Gwyneth.  Rob was thirteen and wouldn’t need too much supervision.  Mrs. Browne turned to her youngest, who was practically dancing in excitement, and said firmly, “Jane, while you’re swimming, you’re to mind Helen.  Understand?”

 

“Right,” Jane replied, and Helen rolled her eyes.

 

“Russell and A.C. will bring you all home immediately if any of you misbehaves,” Mrs. Browne added sternly.  She turned to the two young men and said with a smile, “I appreciate your taking the billy lids.”  A.C. noticed Helen and Rob wore identical expressions of indignation at being referred to as billy lids.

 

“No worries, Mrs. Browne,” he replied with a wide grin. “We’ll have a good time,” and he winked at Rob and Helen.

 

 

“Did you finish all our assignments?” Russell asked in an undertone as they walked to the tram stop, keeping an eye on the youngest children.  A.C. nodded and Russell asked anxiously, “Could you help me with the chemistry tomorrow after church?” and A.C. agreed.  “Sorry about Mum making us take the billy lids,” Russell added then, sounding embarrassed.

 

“She’s apples,” A.C. assured his friend.  “I’ve spent plenty of Saturdays with my nieces and nephews,” and Russell smiled in relief.

 

 

A.C. had to choke back a laugh at the expression on Tom’s face when he saw the six of them arrive at the tram station in Waverly.

 

“My mum asked me to look after the billy lids,” Russell explained self-consciously and Tom shook his head, disbelief written all over his face.

 

“I’m not going to be a nanny.  I’ll see you blokes tonight at the Lord Dudley,” Tom said as he walked away, still shaking his head.

 

A.C. smiled at Russell, who looked mortified, and then turned and said to Jane and Tim, “Let’s go buy our tickets.”  Jane smiled at him, then turned and stuck out her tongue at Tom’s retreating back, causing A.C. and Russell to choke back laughter.

 

 

“I like the old tram better,” Tim commented as the tram made its way to Fletcher Street.  “It had a really loud whistle.”

 

“It was too loud,” Helen said firmly.  “I prefer this new electric one.”

 

As they drew closer to Tamarama, Jane shrieked excitedly, “Look!  There’s the roller coaster!  What a ripper!”

 

A.C. smiled a little, remembering that he had been just as impressed at his first sight of the roller coaster that plunged and wound its way across Tamarama Beach.  Of course, he had pretended nonchalance, not wanting Russell and Tom to think him naïve.

 

“Can we ride the roller coaster first?” Jane begged and Russell said, “Right.”

“I want to ride the carousel,” Helen said then.

 

“I wanna see the shark,” Rob announced and Tim chimed in, “Me, too!  Me, too!”

 

“No worries.  We’ll do all those things,” Russell promised.

 

A.C. added, “And we can see one of the shows as well.”

 

“Shows?” Jane repeated.

 

“They have a music hall with dancers and singers and acrobats and all sorts of performers,” A.C. explained.  “The shows are great fun.”

 

“We’ll save the show until last,” Russell decided, and the others agreed.

 

As they stood in line to board the roller coaster, Jane tugged on A.C.’s hand and said, “Will you sit with me?”

 

Helen said quickly, “I was going to ask A.C. to sit with me.  Russell will sit with you, won’t you, Russell?”

 

“Right.  My feelings will be crushed if you won’t sit with me, Jane,” Russell said tragically, placing his hands over his heart and looking forlorn.  With a giggle, Jane agreed.

 

They all laughed and screamed as the roller coaster went careening across the beach.  “I wanna go again!” Jane exclaimed as soon as the ride ended, but her older brother shook his head.

 

“No, sorry, Jane.”

 

“Please,” she implored.

 

“If there’s time after we ride the carousel and see the shark and the show,” he replied, “maybe we can go for another ride.

 

“I’d rather ride the roller coaster again than the carousel,” Jane said petulantly.

 

Seeing the angry frown on Helen’s face, A.C. said quickly, “I like riding the carousel.  It reminds me of riding my horse back home.”

 

“You have a horse?’ Jane asked then, the roller coaster forgotten.

 

“Too right,” A.C. replied with a grin.  “His name is Blackbird  and he’s a black Waler gelding.”

 

As they walked toward the carousel, Tim asked eagerly, “How long have you had your horse?”

 

“I got him for my sixteenth birthday,” A.C. replied.  “He was a present from my dad because I’d outgrown my Welsh cob.”

 

“What’s a Welsh cob?” Jane asked then.

 

“It’s a breed of horse,” A.C. replied patiently.  “My cob, Bucephalas, was only fourteen hands and Blackbird is nearly sixteen hands.”

 

“What happened to your cob?” Jane asked.

 

“When my niece, Elen, turned eleven this November, then she got Bucephalas.  Her younger brother, Dylan, got her pony.  Before, he had to share a pony with his older brother, Huw.”

 

“Who’s taking care of your horse now that you’re living here?” Tim asked while Jane thought about how unfair it was that all these other children could have ponies and she couldn’t.

 

“My dad,” A.C. said.  “Elen wanted to do it, but she’s too young to handle Blackbird.”

 

And she’s a girl,” Tim said, causing Jane to stick out her tongue at him.

 

“She may be a girl, but she’s an excellent rider just like her mama.  In fact, all my sisters are excellent horsewomen, but they don’t have much time to ride now,” A.C. said.

 

“I’ll always have time to ride,” Jane stated firmly.

 

“Wait until you’re a mother with billy lids to look after,” A.C. said with a wink.

 

“I’d rather have a horse,” Jane declared with such conviction that A.C. had to choke back a laugh.

 

After riding the carousel, they slid down the giant slide.  Jane decided it was almost as much fun as the roller coaster.  They all were fascinated by the tiger shark, and Helen stood a little closer to A.C. as if seeking protection.  Rob and Tim liked the shark the best, but Helen and Jane preferred the seals.  Everyone loved the comics and acrobats they saw at the music hall.

 

Since Tamarama and the southern end of Bondi had dangerous rip currents, they walked to the northern end of Bondi and spent an hour swimming before heading back to Darlinghurst.  Mr. Browne was sitting on the veranda reading the newspaper when they approached the house.  Jane ran up the path calling, “G’day, Daddy!  I rode the roller coaster!”

 

Mr. Browne bent down and kissed her cheek and then said, “Your mum told me that Russell and A.C. took you to The Aquarium.  Sounds like you had a good time.”

 

“We had a flaming good time,” Rob interjected.

 

Mrs. Browne appeared in the doorway then and told them to come in and eat.  The moment A.C. entered the Browne’s house, he could smell the delicious aroma of Mrs. Browne’s Shepherd’s pie.  She had also prepared scones, and Jam Roly-Poly.  As A.C. sat around the table with the Browne family, he suddenly experienced an acute pang of homesickness.  Dad and Mama will be having high tea right now.  Mama probably fixed Welsh rarebit because Dad likes it so much and maybe my favorite—Teisen Nionod—onion cake made with potatoes, onions and butter—along with cold ham or roast beef.  Dad and I both love Mama’s Picau ar y maen—those delicious little cakes she  cooks on a griddle like flapjacks and then sprinkles with sugar—and she probably fixed them.  After tea, they’ll go to the library and play cribbage or maybe Dad will read to Mama from the copy of The Return of Sherlock Holmes Miranda wrote me she was giving  him for Christmas.

 

“A.C.,” Jane said impatiently, breaking into his reverie, “I asked which did you like best—the slide or the roller coaster?”

 

“Sorry,” A.C. replied.  “I guess I was woolgathering.  I’d have to say I liked the roller coaster best.”

 

 

After tea, A.C. and Russell headed for the Lord Dudley in Paddington where they met Tom.

 

“Well, if it isn’t the nannies,” he greeted them with a smirk.  “Did you have a nice time with your little charges?”

 

“Too right,” A.C. replied with a grin.  “I wouldn’t want to do it every Saturday, but it was fun.”  Tom shook his head in disbelief.

 

 

A.C. arrived back at the Phelps’ house a little before 10 and just as Mrs. Phelps had predicted, the doctor was leaving.  He greeted A.C. with a smile, saying, “You got some letters today from Cloncurry.  You’ll find them on your desk.”  His smile broadened as he saw the boy’s face light up.

 

A.C. took the steps to his bedroom two at a time.  When he opened the door, he saw two envelopes on his desk.  Flopping on the desk chair, he snatched up the top letter from Rev. and Mrs. Dafydd Jones and ripped it open.  The first sheet of paper was covered in his oldest sister’s flowery script.

 

December 26, 1905

 

Dear A.C.

 

While Dafydd and the older children are delivering Boxing Day gifts and Siân is taking a nap, I decided I would take advantage of the quiet time to write to you.

 

I hope you are enjoying yourself at the Technical College as much as Miranda enjoyed Radcliffe. . . .

 

A.C. shook his head as he read those words.  Now, Miranda would probably enjoy all my dull classes since she’s so much like Dad, he thought with a grin.

 

We all miss you and hope your Christmas was a merry one.  Thank you so much for the pretty tortoiseshell combs.  Dafydd thanks you for his new umbrella and Siân likes the jumping jack you made her.

 

The children are enjoying their summer holiday but I’ll be glad when they all are back in school, although it will seem awfully quiet with just Siân and I know she’ll miss her brothers and sister.  Jory and Ifor start school this January.  I remember how hard it was for me to see Elen leave for school that first day and Miranda wrote that she felt the same way when Jon started this October.  I think it’s always hardest with your firstborn, although something tells me it’s probably just as hard when it’s your youngest.  The children and I try to visit Mama at least once a week since you’ve been gone so she won’t feel too lonely.  I know she misses you, but she and Aunt Matilda have been so busy getting ready for Christmas that she didn’t have much time to feel alone.  I suspect this Christmas Eve was difficult for her and Daddy.

 

Oh, Siân is waking up so I must close.

 

Your loving sister,

Beth

P.S. I almost forgot.  Dafydd asked me to send you his regards.  He hopes you are enjoying Sydney.

 

A.C. put that sheet of paper down and picked up the next.  He didn’t recognize the neat, round hand but guessed it be Elen’s.

 

December 25, 1905

 

Dear Uncle A.C.,

 

I hope your Christmas was beaut!  I received some lovely gifts.  Thank you so much for the hair ribbons.  Mama and Tada gave me a pretty new dress and Grandma and Grandpa a new bonnet to wear to church.  Aunt Gwyneth and Uncle Mark gave me Five Little Peppers at School.  Aunt Miranda and Uncle William gave me a beautiful sailor dress from Bloomingdale’s.  I’m going to wear it the first day of school.  Kerra and Molly won’t have anything as nice.  They are so silly now.  All they want to do is talk about Michael and Conan and Richie.  I’ll never act that way.

 

A.C. smiled as he read that, but then looked pensive as he realized that when he returned to Cloncurry in four years, Elen would be fifteen and no longer a little girl.

 

Mama’s not too happy because I would rather read or ride Bucephalas than spend time with Kerra and Molly.  Sometimes I visit Aunt Gwyneth and help her take care of the baby.  He’s so sweet.  Grandma says Grandpa must have looked just like him when he was a baby, but I can’t picture that.  Aunt Gwyneth likes to read as much as I do so I can talk to her about books.

 

I guess that’s all I have to say now.  I hope you like living in Sydney.

 

Love,

Elen

 

A.C. smiled as he put down that sheet and picked up the third.  About three-fourths of it was covered by a sprawling scrawl and the remainder by large, slightly uneven printing.

 

Dear Uncle A.C.

 

How are you?  I hope you had a good Christmas.  Thank you for the marbles!  Mama and Tada gave me a new sailor suit.  Aunt Gwyneth and Uncle Mark gave me a new cricket bat.  Grandpa and Grandma gave me new tack for Sugar.  Aunt Miranda and Uncle William gave me and Dylan an electric train.  Its a ripper!  Grandpa and Uncle Mark helped me and Dylan set up the track and we all had fun playing with it.  Grandpa and Uncle Mark and Uncle Rhys and Cousin Llywelyn played with it more than me and Dylan.  Grandma and Aunt Matilda came and told them it was me and Dylan’s Christmas present, not theirs.  That was funny.

 

We all missed you.  I wish you didn’t have to be in Sydney.

 

Your nephew Huw

 

 

deer unkl ac mere krismus crismas i mis yu Dylan i forgot thank yu for my yoyo

 

I miss you both, too A.C. thought as he put the letters back in the envelope.  Then he eagerly opened the envelope from his parents.

 

December 25, 1905

 

Dear A.C.,

 

I know our letters will probably cross each other in the mail, but I am so looking forward to hearing from you.  I’m sure you are settling in nicely with the Phelps and I hope you are enjoying your classes at the Technical College.  I can’t help worrying a little about your spending Christmas by yourself.  Your dad reminds me that you aren’t by yourself and I know the Phelps will include you in their Christmas, but it’s not the same as being with your own family.

This was your dad’s and my first Christmas Eve with just the two of us since our very first Christmas together.  It did seem strange at first, but it was nice.  I was glad to spend Christmas with your sisters and their families though.  Christmas needs children, I think.  I liked the new gloves you gave me very much and your dad liked his new wallet.  (Of course, I know he’ll thank you himself.)

 

Beth, Elen, Huw and Dylan plan on writing to you but I doubt if poor Gwyneth will be able to find the time.  I’ll tell you on her behalf that they all liked the gifts you sent.  The most popular gift was the electric train Miranda and William sent Huw and Dylan.  The men all liked it as much as the boys.  I think they almost forgot whose gift it was.

 

I miss you, son, but I hope that you are enjoying life in Sydney.  I am looking forward to your first letter telling us about your life there.

 

With all my love,

Mama

 

I miss you, Mama, more than I realized I would.  I hope you’ve received my letter by now.  He put her letter aside and began to read the letter from his dad.

 

December 25, 1905

 

Dear A.C.,

 

You’ve spent your first Christmas away from your home and family, and even though I know you miss all of us as much as we miss you, I hope you still had a merry Christmas with the Phelps.  Your mama and I are both looking forward to your letter telling us all about it.  I hope you enjoyed our gift.  Your mother was delighted with her new gloves and I needed a new wallet so I thank you very much for giving me one.

 

Our Christmas Eve was as different as yours must have been.  Your mama and I have celebrated Christmas Eve thirty-two times, but this is only the second time it has been just the two of us.  Although we missed all of our children, it was nice to decorate the tree together and read the Christmas story together.  Christmas Day the house was filled with our grandchildren and we both enjoyed that.  I’m sure your mama has written to you about how much Uncle Rhys and I, as well as Mark and Llywelyn, enjoyed Huw and Dylan’s electric train.  I’m embarrassed to admit we had to be reminded it wasn’t our toy.

 

Oh Dad, I wish I could have been there to see you and Uncle Rhys playing with the train, A.C. thought with a chuckle before returning to the letter

 

I have some other news I need to share with you.  Do you remember my asking if you would mind Mark taking my place if I decided to retire while you were attending the Technical College?  Well, your uncle and I discussed it and we decided it was time for us to step down and let Llywelyn and Mark run the company.  We’ve been sending part of our time organizing and cataloging our library.  More important, we’ve also had more time to spend with our grandchildren.

 

Your mama and I look forward to hearing from you soon.

 

Affectionately yours,
Dad

 

A.C. yawned hugely then.  Guess I’d better write my replies tomorrow after church.  Well, after I help Russell with his chemistry.  Can’t believe Dad and Uncle Rhys actually retired.

 

 

 

The Phelps were Anglicans, but A.C. chose to attend the Methodist chapel his grandparents had attended.  Everyone welcomed the Davies’ grandson and many remembered Bronwen.  There were two very pretty young ladies he saw every Sunday.  Winifred Evans was a small, pleasingly plump young woman with curly brown hair and enormous brown eyes.  She was a shy and quiet girl.  Elspeth Whipple was taller and less curvaceous with auburn hair and a flawless milky white complexion.  She was more outgoing and he knew she was fond of swimming since he’d seen her at Bondi Beach nearly every Saturday.  For the past few weeks, A.C. had been trying to decide which girl he was more interested in spending time with.  Elspeth, who was nearly eighteen, already had three young men paying court to her, so he had finally decided he would ask Winifred’s father if he could walk her home from church.

 

As soon as the service was over, A.C. made his way over to the Evans family.

 

“G’day, Cartwright,” Mr. Evans said with a friendly smile while his wife also smiled and said, “G’day, Adam.  How are you this fine Sunday?”

 

“I’m very well, Mrs. Evans, as I hope all of you are,” he replied.  “I- I was wondering if I might be allowed to walk Winifred home this afternoon?”

 

“I don’t see why not,” Mr. Evans said replied after a slight pause.

 

“You’re welcome to stay and dine with us,” Mrs. Evans added while Winifred’s cheeks grew very pink.

 

“Thanks, but Dr. and Mrs. Phelps are expecting me,” the young man said regretfully.

 

‘Well, let’s plan on next Sunday,” Mrs. Evans said and A.C. nodded.  Then he turned to Winifred and offered his arm.

 

“Certainly is a beautiful day, isn’t it?” he remarked, wanting to break the ice.

 

“Right,” she replied.  After a little hesitation, she asked nervously, “Do you like living here in Sydney?”

 

“Yes, I do,” he said with a friendly grin.  “I miss my family and my mates back home, but I do like it here.”

 

“You’re from Queensland, aren’t you?” she asked, feeling more at ease.  She’d noticed the tall, dark-haired young man the very first Sunday he had attended church.  She and her friends had talked about how handsome he was and they all wondered if he had noticed any of them.  So many of the young men were interested in Elspeth and the others wondered if Adam Cartwright would be drawn to her as well.  Winifred had turned sixteen a month earlier and two boys from school had come calling.  They were both nice, but she knew they’d never be more than friends.  She wondered if perhaps she and Adam might be more.

 

A.C. smiled down at her.  “Yes, I’m from Queensland.  My family lives in a little town in the Outback called Cloncurry.  My dad and my uncle own a copper mine.  I’m studying mining engineering so I can work for our mining company.”  He made a face then, adding, “The problem is that all my classes are so boring: calculus, physics, and geology.  Chemistry isn’t so bad but I think biology would be more interesting.”

 

“I don’t like mathematics very much,” Winifred said.  “I prefer studying history, but all my friends think it’s boring.”

 

“I guess we all have different tastes,” he replied.  “I know my dad and uncle weren’t bored when they studied engineering.  Maybe I’ll find it more interesting as I go along.”  He smiled down at her, saying, “So you like history?  I think memorizing a lot of dates is boring, but not studying the people who made history.  My sister, Miranda, is married to a professor of modern history at Dartmouth College in the States.”  He smiled more broadly at the way her face lit up when he mentioned William.  “He wrote a book about the United States’ westward expansion and it was very well received.  He sent my parents a copy and I thought it was interesting.”

 

“I like ancient history the best.  My brother, Kendrick, learned Latin in school and I got him to teach me so I would be able to read letters and speeches in the original Latin.”

 

“You really do like history,” he said, raising one eyebrow.

 

“Trinity College at the University of Melbourne admits women students to the Trinity College Hostel,” she said.  “I wish I could attend, but my dad and mum say sending a girl to college would be a waste of money.  I suppose they’re right.  A wife and mother doesn’t need a college degree.”

 

“No, I suppose she doesn’t, but there’s nothing wrong with her having one.  Miranda attended Radcliffe College in Massachusetts and earned a degree, but my other sisters, Beth and Gwyneth, didn’t have any interest in college.  They’re all wives and mothers now.”

 

“So you have three sisters; do you have any brothers?” she asked then, wanting to learn more about him and embarrassed that she had confessed her dream of college.  Now that he thinks you’re a bluestocking, he won’t want any more to do with you, she thought sadly.

 

He shook his head.  “No, I’m the only boy in the family, and I’m pretty sure I was a surprise.”

 

“Fair dinkum?”

 

He nodded.  “My dad was fifty-two when I was born; I’m certain he hadn’t counted on being a dad again at his age,” and she giggled.

 

“I guess you are much younger than your sisters then?”

 

“I was three when Miranda went away to college and five when Beth married.  Gwyneth married when I was eleven.” He stopped and said slowly, “I had another sister who was closer to me in age, but she died not very long after Beth married.  I- I don’t think much about Penny.  I can barely remember her and it was such a sad time when she died.”

 

Winifred nodded, saying quietly, “My brother Broderick was killed by a ghost gum branch when he was seven.  I remember what a sad time that was.”  She looked up into his eyes and felt a bond of sympathetic understanding.  Just then she noticed they were approaching her house.

 

“Thank you so much for walking me home,” she said, feeling shy again.

 

“I enjoyed it very much,” he said softly.  “May- may I walk you to church next Sunday?”  She dropped her eyes and nodded before smiling radiantly at him.  He turned and headed for the Phelps’ house, whistling cheerfully as he walked along.

 

The Phelps were sitting on their verandah, enjoying the summer sunshine, as he walked up the street.  They exchanged smiles at his natural exuberance as he strode jauntily along, whistling Waltzing Matilda.

 

“Sorry I’m late,” he said as he walked up the steps.

 

“Rev. Williams preach a long sermon?” the doctor asked with a wink.

 

The boy grinned, then shook his head, saying, “I walked Winifred Evans home.”

 

“The oldest Evans girl.  Yes, she is pretty,” Mrs. Phelps said with a smile.  “A very nice girl, if a little shy.”

 

“She’s like Gwyneth; the shyness disappears as she gets to know you,” A.C. replied.  “I asked her if I could walk her to church next Sunday.  Oh, and Mrs. Evans invited me to dinner.”

 

“And speaking of dinner, ours is ready, so go wash up,” Mrs. Phelps said with a smile.  The older couple looked after him fondly as he went inside.

 

 

All that week A.C. found himself looking forward to Sunday with Winifred as much as Saturday at the beach.  He came home from the Lord Dudley a little earlier than usual.  Before he went to bed, he polished his boots until he could see his reflection.  Sunday morning he took extra care choosing and tying his necktie and he carefully combed his thick dark hair.

 

When he arrived at the Evans’ house, the door was answered by Winifred’s little sister, Cristyn, since their maid had the day off.

 

“G’day,” A.C. said with a broad grin.  “I’m here to walk Winifred to church.  Is she ready?”

 

“I’ll see,” Cristyn said and then ran to the stairs and yelled, “Winifred!  Adam Cartwright is here!”

 

A.C. had to smother his laugh in his hand but then Winifred appeared.  She was dressed in pale yellow muslin trimmed in lace, and he thought she had never looked prettier.

 

“I’m sorry you had to wait,” Winifred said as they walked together.

 

“I don’t think I waited more than a minute.  Trust me, my dad and I have waited much longer for my mama and sisters,” he said with a wink, and she giggled.  He liked her giggle.  She didn’t do it often like some girls he’d known and it wasn’t loud, both of which he found irritating.  Winifred’s giggle was soft and unaffected.

 

“How are your classes going?” she asked.

 

“Still boring,” he replied.  “How about yours?”

 

“They’re not too bad.  We’re studying Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar as history and that’s interesting.”

 

“It definitely sounds more interesting than calculus,” he said, and her lips quirked up in a tiny smile.

 

 

As they sat side by side in a pew, he leaned over and whispered, “I guess I’d better warn you that I’m not much of a singer.  My sister Beth says I’m tone deaf.”

 

“I’m sure you have a lovely voice,” she whispered back, but he shook his head and rolled his eyes.

 

As they shared a hymnal, she discovered his sister was correct.  Well, I knew he couldn’t be perfect, she thought, and I don’t really care if he is a good singer.

 

 

After church as they walked to her home, he asked with a wink, “Beth was right about my singing, wasn’t she?” and he was rewarded by that infectious giggle.  “You may find it hard to believe, but my sisters and my parents all sing beautifully.”

 

“Well, we can’t all be good at the same things.  My mother sews beautifully, but I’m a dreadful seamstress,” she said with a smile.

 

“My dad is good at everything.”  Seeing her skeptical look, he said, “If there’s something he’s not good at, I’ve yet to discover it.  He graduated summa cum laude from Harvard.  He sings beautifully and plays the guitar.  He’s an excellent horseman and a crack shot.  He’s a shrewd businessman, and he and my mama have been happily married for nearly thirty-two years.”  He sighed quietly, “I used to want to be like him, but I’m never going to measure up.”

 

“I don’t think you need to try and be like someone else; I think you should be yourself,” she said earnestly.

 

“You are a very perceptive girl, Winifred Evans,” he said looking down into her chocolate brown eyes.  Impulsively, he bent over and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.  Then straightening up, he saw her gazing at him with shining eyes and the lips he had just kissed were turned up slightly in a smile.  He said, “I know I should apologize for being forward, but I’m not sorry.”  And he winked.

 

Winifred felt her face grow warm as she gazed directly into his deep brown eyes and said softly, “Neither am I.”

 

As they approached the Evans’ front gate, Cristyn came running out onto the verandah.  “Hurry up!” she called.  “I’m hungry.”

 

Winifred was mortified but A.C. just grinned and said, “I’m getting my own back.  I used to do this to my sisters when they were your age.”

 

When they entered the dining room, A.C. found himself seated at Mr. Evans’ right with Winifred on his right.  “Winifred tells me that you’re studying mining engineering at the Technical College,” Mr. Evans said after the food had been blessed and everyone’s plate was full.  “She also said you plan on working at your family’s mining company.”

 

A.C. hurriedly swallowed a mouthful of the delicious leg of lamb Mrs. Evan’s had prepared.  “Yes, sir.  My father and my uncle own a copper mine near Cloncurry in Queensland.”

 

Mr. Evans nodded and ate a bite of one of his wife’s potato cakes before commenting, “Chancy business, mining.”

 

A.C. nodded and then said, “My dad and uncle also own a cattle station.  My dad says you should always diversify your assets.”

 

“Your dad sounds like a very astute man,” Mr. Evans commented.  “And it’s nice to see a son carrying on the family business.”

 

Winifred said in an undertone, “Kendrick didn’t want to become a butcher like my father.”

 

Mr. Evans continued.  “Will you inherit the family business?”

 

A.C. tugged on one ear.  “Well, I suppose I’ll inherit my dad’s share,” he said slowly.  “I just received a letter from him saying that he and my uncle have decided to retire and they’ve turned over management of the mining company to my cousin, Llywelyn, and one of my brothers-in-law.”

 

“It makes sense for your cousin to step into his father’s place, but I’m surprised your father is retiring now while you’re in school,” Mr. Evans commented.

 

“I’m not surprised.  Before I left for Sydney, Dad told me that he might retire before I returned,” A.C. said.  Seeing the older man’s questioning look he explained, “My dad turned sixty-nine a couple of weeks before I left for Sydney.”

 

“I remember your grandmother talking about her granddaughters in Queensland,” Mrs. Evans said then, changing the subject.  “She was so proud of them.  As I recall, she and your grandfather traveled to the States for one of their weddings.”

 

“Yes, my second oldest sister, Miranda.  She married a history professor at a college in the States.  My oldest sister, Beth, is married to our minister.  My third sister, Gwyneth, is married to a mining engineer and he’s worked for Cartwright & Davies Mining Co. ever since he returned from the Technical College.”

 

“Hmm.  If I were you, I’d keep an eye on this brother-in-law.  Might be trying to get part of your inheritance,” Mr. Evans said then.

 

“No, Mark wouldn’t do that,” A.C. said firmly.  “Besides, there’s no reason why we couldn’t have three partners instead of two.”

 

“If you cut a pie into three pieces, the pieces will be smaller than if it’s cut in two,” Mr. Evans said then.  He saw the boy frown and said, “Didn’t mean to offend you.”

 

“Mark is your cousin Llywelyn’s friend?” Mrs. Evans asked then.  At A.C.’s nod, she said, “I remember when the two of them stayed with your grandparents while they attended the Technical College.  He seemed a nice young man.”

 

Winifred’s fourteen year old brother, Emlyn, spoke up then and turned the conversation to cricket and the upcoming Sheffield Shield.

 

 

When Mrs. Evans brought out dessert, A.C.’s face lit up and he exclaimed, “Pwdin Efa!  I haven’t had any since I left Cloncurry.”

 

Mrs. Evans smiled broadly as she said, “Well, I thought ‘Eve’s Pudding’ was would be the perfect dessert to serve an Adam,” and everyone at the table chuckled.  “Winifred helped me make it,” Mrs. Evans added as she began to serve the apple pudding.

 

After swallowing his first bite, A.C. grinned broadly and said, “It’s delicious!”

 

 

A.C. whistled cheerfully as he walked back to the Phelps’ house.  He had asked Winifred if he could walk her to church next Sunday and she had agreed.  She was a nice girl as well as pretty and the more time he spent with her, the more he enjoyed her company.

 

When he approached the Phelps’ house, he saw they had company.  As he opened the front gate, he looked up at the foursome on the verandah, and his eyes widened.  “Mama!  Dad!” he called as he ran up the walk and bounded up the steps.

 

Adam and Bronwen rose to their feet and A.C. ran straight to his mama and enfolded her in a hug and kissed her cheek before he gave his dad a briefer hug.  “It’s wonderful to see you” he added with an enormous grin.  His expression almost immediately changed to one of concern.  “N- nothing’s wrong back home?’

 

“No,” Bronwen answered quickly.  “Everything is fine.”

 

“We do have a reason for visiting you,” Adam added quietly, “but we can leave that until tomorrow.”

 

“I imagine the three of you have some catching up to do,” Mrs. Phelps said.  “I hope you’ll stay for high tea, Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright?”

 

“We would love to.  Thank you so much,” Bronwen replied.  The Phelps went inside then, giving the reunited family some privacy.

 

“Mrs. Phelps tells us you’re spending time with Dilys Roberts’ daughter,” Bronwen commented with a smile.  At her son’s blank look, she said quickly, “Oh, I think her married name is Evans.”

 

“Yes, Winifred is a nice girl and I enjoy her company,” A.C. replied.  “I like her family, too.  Well, her dad is a bit of a stickybeak.”

 

His parents exchanged amused glances before Adam asked, “How are your classes going?”

 

A.C. found he couldn’t tell his dad that his engineering classes were boring him to death.  After all, Dad expected him to follow in his footsteps and become an engineer just as Llywelyn had followed in Uncle Rhys’ footsteps.

 

“No worries,” he replied with a smile.  “Calculus is a bit of a challenge, but I’m managing all right.”  Then he asked eagerly, “How is everyone back home?  I got the letters you wrote me just after Christmas.  Wish I could have seen you and Uncle Rhys playing with Huw and Dylan’ train.”

 

Adam smiled ruefully.  “Oh, your mother has been teasing us both unmercifully.”

 

Bronwen grinned mischievously at her husband before saying, “Jory and Ifor are in school now.  They are both enjoying it very much.  Gwyneth says Jory comes home eager to tell her what happened that day and what he learned.  Cloncurry is very lucky to have a teacher like Melanie Andrews.”

 

“She did make learning fun,” A.C. said reminiscently.  Then he added, “Elen wrote me that Kerra and Molly are only interested in boys now, so I think she’s feeling rather alone.  She did say that she’s been spending time with Gwyneth.”

 

“Yes, she has,” Adam said.  He added with a smile, “She reminds all of us of Gwyneth at the same age.”

 

“So how are you liking retirement, Dad?” A.C. asked then.

 

“I’m liking it just fine,” Adam replied with his crooked grin.  “Your uncle and I finished cataloging and organizing our library two days before we left.”

 

“On the journey here, your dad has been teaching me about the Dewey Decimal System so I can find the book I’m looking for,” Bronwen added, rolling her eyes.

 

“What’s the Dewey Decimal System?” A.C. asked curiously.

 

“It’s a system of classifying books developed by an American librarian, Melvil Dewey.  Your uncle and I used it to organize our library.  Your mama is convinced that she will never be able to find a book now so we thought teaching her the system would be a good way to use our time on our journey,” Adam replied while A.C. began to chuckle at the mental picture.

 

“Oh, you can laugh, but I am now an expert on the Dewey Decimal System,” Bronwen said with a grin.

 

They sat on the verandah and talked until Mrs. Phelps came to tell them tea was ready.  She had been busy—toasting crumpets, preparing poached eggs on toast and making cakes.  The five of them sat around the dining room table enjoying the food and hot tea.

 

“Your lamingtons are delicious,” Bronwen said, taking a bite of one of the small squares of sponge cake covered in chocolate and coconut.

 

“Yes, I have to say these are as good as my wife’s,” Adam said, winking at Bronwen while Mrs. Phelps’ cheeks grew pink with pleasure.

 

“Thank you,” she said, adding, “your son is as joy to cook to for.  He has such a good appetite,” and Adam managed to turn a snort of laughter into a cough.

 

“Now that it’s just the two of us,” Bronwen said sadly, “cooking isn’t as much fun.”

 

“Hah!  I think you’re forgetting the cookies and cakes and sweet breads you make for the grandchildren,” Adam added with a wink, and the others all chuckled.

 

 

After the meal, Adam announced that he and Bronwen were going back to their hotel.  “We’d like to talk with you tomorrow after your classes, A.C.’

 

“I’m done by two o’clock,” A.C. said, and Adam stated, “Then we’ll be here around two.”

 

 

 

As Adam and Bronwen got ready for bed that evening, she said, “It was wonderful seeing A.C.  He seems happy living with the Phelps.”

 

Adam didn’t reply immediately.  He took off his cufflinks and set them on the chest of drawers before saying quietly, “Yes, he does.”  He sighed gently then and his shoulders hunched slightly.  “I am really dreading our talk tomorrow,” he admitted.

 

Bronwen was silent, thinking of the pain they would be inflicting on their son in less than twenty-four hours.  In some ways, she thought A.C. would be even more devastated than his sisters.  When they’d left Cloncurry, Beth and Gwyneth had both come to see them off.  They had all tried to behave normally, but they hadn’t quite managed to pull it off.  Beth had been able to hug Adam and kiss him goodbye but Gwyneth had visibly stiffened at his embrace and she moved away almost immediately.  Adam didn’t need to say anything for Bronwen to know how hurt he was and how he blamed himself.

 

“Remember what you said Pa taught you:  The hurt that you feel when you tell the truth is a little shorter and less painful than the hurt you feel when you don’t face the truth,” she said gently, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

 

“I hope Pa was right,” he replied, his tone somber.

 

 

 

They next day they arrived at the Phelps’ home a little before A.C.  They were sitting on the verandah chatting with Mrs. Phelps when he returned.

 

After they greeted each other, Adam suggested quietly, “Why don’t we go up to your room to talk?”

 

“Right,” A.C. replied, a little nonplussed.  He led the way, and so missed he anxious glances his parents exchanged.

 

‘There’s only one chair,” he said when they reached his room.  “Hope you don’t mind sitting on the bed, Dad.”

 

“Actually, I’d rather stand,” Adam replied quietly.  “Why don’t you sit, son.”

 

A.C. raised one eyebrow in a perfect imitation of his dad, as Bronwen noted with a pang.

 

 

“You bloody hypocrite!” A.C. spit out when Adam finished.  Adam flinched at the anger and disgust radiating from his son.  “Always telling me to treat women with respect, while you—” He glanced quickly at his mama and choked back what he was going to say before jumping to his feet and walking out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

 

Bronwen cast one compassionate glance at her husband’s anguished countenance before turning and following their son.  He was walking rapidly, his long legs lengthening the distance between them.  He was already out the front door and walking up the path so she called his name.  He turned and stopped, tapping one foot impatiently, as she hurried to catch up.

 

“A.C. bach, I want to talk with you about your father’s news,” she said as they walked along.  “I know it came as a shock—“

 

“Now there’s an understatement,” he snarled, stopping abruptly, and Bronwen’s heart ached at the bitterness and pain in his tone.

 

She took a steadying breath and continued.  “Your dad knows what he did was wrong and I know he feels great remorse for his action and its consequences to others, especially his children.”

 

“Including this Joanna?” he asked angrily.

 

“Yes,” she replied quietly.  “And her son.”

 

“How can you be his advocate, Mama, after he betrayed you?” A.C. demanded.

 

“A.C. bach, your father didn’t betray me.  When he was involved with that woman, I was a nine-year-old schoolgirl living halfway across the world.”

 

“He always told me to treat women with respect—the way I would want my sisters to be treated.  He’s such a bl—”  He stopped himself and took a calming breath before continuing.  “He tells me to behave one way, but he does the opposite!”

“Oh, son, the fact that your father sometimes fails to live up to his principles doesn’t make him a hypocrite.  It makes him human.  What happened between your father and Joanna’s mother was wrong, but it was all too human.  That’s what your father is: a fallible human being.”

 

“He always seemed perfect,” A.C. muttered, dropping his eyes and staring at the paving stones.

 

“Not to me,” she said gently.  “I don’t agree with Shakespeare that love is blind.  I was aware of some of your dad’s faults before I married him and I’ve discovered others over the years, but that hasn’t diminished my love.”  She put her hand gently on her son’s arm, feeling the tense muscles.  “A.C., remember what a good father he’s been to you and your sisters.  Surely that should outweigh a mistake he made when he was still a boy.”

 

His head swiveled up instantly and he retorted angrily, “So if I behaved the same way, you wouldn’t mind?”

 

Bronwen felt her heart began to race.  A.C. is going to meet all kinds of women here in Sydney and they won’t all be nice girls like this Winifred he’s seeing now.  He might encounter an older, more experienced woman just as Adam had.  Would he be strong enough to resist temptation?

 

A.C. continued to stare at her, his expression tense and watchful, so she forced herself to speak calmly.  “If you behaved the same way your dad did, I would be disappointed in you.  I don’t deny that.  But I would still love you.  You’re my son, and nothing you do could ever stop me from loving you.”

 

His tense posture relaxed a little and he looked down at her and tried to smile, but she could see it didn’t reach his eyes.  “I need to think, Mama.  I’m going for a walk.  Could you tell Mrs. Phelps that I won’t be there for high tea.  I don’t have much of an appetite.”

 

“I’ll tell her.”  She hesitated and then added, “If you want to see us, we’re staying at the Russell.”  He bent down then and kissed her cheek.  “A.C. bach, remember that your dad loves you very much.”  He sighed and then nodded slowly before he turned and walked away.

 

She stood on the sidewalk until he disappeared from sight, and then she turned and slowly walked back to the Phelps’ house.  As she walked onto the verandah, she could hear someone—Mrs. Phelps she assumed—playing Beethoven’s Pathetique sonata.  She stopped for a moment and listened, for the music matched her emotions perfectly.  Then she walked up the stairs to A.C.’s room, knowing she would find Adam there.

 

He was sitting on the bed, his head in his hands, but he raised it as soon as he heard her enter the room.

 

“He said he needed time to think so he’s going for a walk,” she said in answer to his unspoken question.  “He asked me to tell Mrs. Phelps he probably won’t be back for tea.  I think we should go back to the hotel.”

 

After delivering A.C.’s message to Mrs. Phelps, Adam and Bronwen decided to emulate their son and walk part of the way back to the Russell.

 

“A.C. is angry and he’s hurt,” she said quietly as they walked together.  “You know he’s always looked up to you and—”

 

“And now he knows I am not the man he thought I was,” Adam finished for her.  “I expected his reaction and I thought I was prepared for it.  I was wrong.”

 

She didn’t have any words of comfort but gave his arm a gentle squeeze, and they walked on in silence.

 

 

Although neither of them had much of an appetite, they went to the hotel’s restaurant and ordered a light meal.  Bronwen only picked at her food, but she drank two cups of hot, sweet tea.  Adam smiled a little to himself, wishing he could find the same comfort in a cup of tea.  What he craved was a shot of whiskey or maybe a sifter of brandy; however, he resisted the temptation.

 

When they returned to their room, Adam suggested a game of chess to distract them both.  They were halfway through their second game when there was a knock on their door.  Adam got up to answer it, and discovered his son.

 

“Would you walk with me, Dad?  I’d like to talk with you alone,” A.C. said quietly, and Adam nodded.

 

As they walked together, it was clear to anyone watching they were related.  They had the same long stride and moved with the same feline grace.  Considering the disparity in their ages, most would have guessed Adam was A.C’s grandfather rather than his father.

 

They walked for a bit in silence, Adam waiting for A.C. to speak first.  A.C. stopped in front of a pub not far from the Russell and gestured at the door.  “We can talk in here,” he said brusquely.

 

The pub was crowded, but A.C. spied an empty table back in a corner and pointed it out to his dad.  They took their pints of beer and threaded their way through the crowd to the corner table.

 

Without any preamble, A.C. said bluntly, ‘Mama told me that you aren’t a hypocrite, just human.”

 

Adam took a swallow from his glass and looked into his son’s eyes, seeing the anger and the pain, before speaking.  “Your mama is a very generous woman.  I don’t blame you for thinking of me as a hypocrite.  I feel like one.  Your grandpa raised me with the same values your mama and I raised you, and I failed to live up to them.”

 

A.C. was quiet, digesting his dad’s words.  Adam sipped his beer and waited.

 

“She told me that you didn’t betray her,” the young man said next, and his anger was evident in his tone and his tense posture.

 

“A.C., I would never betray your mama.  Never.  I don’t think I can explain to you what she means to me.  I can only say that I pray someday you will be lucky enough to find a woman you love the way I love your mama.”

 

“But you did betray her, Dad!” A.C. retorted, his eyes flashing.  “It doesn’t matter that you hadn’t met Mama yet.  When you slept with this woman you didn’t intend to marry, you were betraying your future wife.”

 

Adam couldn’t meet his son’s eyes, struck by the truth in his words.

 

A.C. read his dad’s shame in the way his shoulders slumped, but A.C. wasn’t finished yet.  He’d always known his dad loved him and his sisters, but what did his dad feel for the daughter he’d never known about until she was an adult with children of her own?

 

“Now that everything’s in the open,” he said carefully, gazing directly at his dad, “are you going to get in touch with this Joanna?”

 

“If Joanna wrote me, I would respond, but I wouldn’t initiate any contact between us.  I promised your mother I wouldn’t, and I will keep that promise.”  Adam paused for a moment and took another sip from his glass before continuing.  He knew if he wanted to save his relationship with A.C., he must be completely honest.  “I did write her son.”  Seeing his son’s eyebrows draw together in a frown, he added in a neutral tone, “Your mama and I agreed that I owed it to him since Miranda had told him she thought they must be related.  We think it likely he won’t share the information with his mother.”

 

“If I were him, I wouldn’t,” A.C. responded immediately.  “I guess it must be as much of a shock to him as it was to me.  If this is his first year at Dartmouth, then we must be about the same age,” he added as the idea suddenly struck him.

 

“It sounds that way,” Adam agreed.

 

A.C. leaned back in his chair then and slowly drank his beer.  Adam sipped his and waited silently.  When A.C. finished, he set his glass down and said, “I guess we shouldn’t leave Mama alone at the hotel.”

 

Adam swallowed the last of his beer and replied, “I imagine she is wondering about us.”

 

Before he stood up, A.C. said quietly, “I’m really angry with you, and it’s going to take time for me to get over my anger.”  He stood up in one fluid motion and said, “Tell Mama I’ll get in touch with her before you go back to Cloncurry.”

 

Adam nodded, remaining seated.  A.C. turned to go, but then looked back over his shoulder.  “I am glad of one thing.”

 

“What?” Adam had to ask.

 

“I’m glad you don’t have another son,” A.C. replied softly, and then walked away.

 

 

 

Chapter 5

“I see the stage!” Beth announced.  Siân clapped her hands while Little Adam giggled.

 

Benny demanded, “Where?  Where?”

 

“See the cloud of dust?” Gwyneth asked him, and he nodded.  “Well, the stage is making the dust.  When it gets closer, you’ll be able to see the stage in the dust cloud.”

 

“And Grandma and Grandpa are on the stage?” the not-quite-four-year-old asked, wanting reassurance.

 

“Too right.  They sent us a telegram saying they would be home today,” Gwyneth responded with a smile.

 

“Ma-ma,” Little Adam said then, squirming to get down.  Gwyneth put him down, carefully holding his hands to keep him balanced.

 

“Look, Aunt Beth,” Benny said proudly, pointing at his baby brother.

 

“I see,” Beth said with a smile.  She asked her sister, “How long has he been standing?”

 

“I just saw him grab onto a chair and pull himself up two days ago,” Gwyneth replied with a fond smile for her youngest.  “Mark got him to take a couple of steps holding onto his hands.”  Little Adam grinned happily at everyone.

 

Siân was growing bored with waiting and tugged on her mama’s hand.

 

“I’m sorry, Sweetie, but we shouldn’t have to wait much longer,” Beth said soothingly.

 

Gwyneth saw Benny was also growing restive so she suggested they sing.

 

“Jesus Loves Me,” Benny suggested immediately, and Siân nodded vigorously for she liked this song.  (Although she tended to make up her own words and tune.)

 

They were just finishing their second rendition when the stage pulled up.

 

“Grandpa!” Benny shouted excitedly when he saw Adam step down.

 

Adam smiled at his grandson and tousled his hair before turning to help Bronwen down.

 

“G’day, Grandma!” Benny said excitedly and ran to hug her.

 

Beth saw her mother looked exhausted and, as she hugged her, she said, “I drove our surrey so I could take you home.”

 

“Thank you.  That was very thoughtful,” Bronwen said with a wan smile.  After hugging Benny, who then ran to his grandpa for another hug, she added, “Your daddy and I have decided this will be our last trip to Sydney.”

 

“Unless the railroad comes to Cloncurry,” inserted Adam.  After hugging Benny, he smiled at Siân, who hung back behind her mama’s skirt.  Just then, Bronwen spied her youngest grandchild.

 

“Oh, look at Little Adam!  He can stand now!”

 

The baby grinned, showing his grandparents his new teeth.

 

‘You’ve certainly grown while Grandma and Grandpa were away,” Adam said, smiling at his little namesake.

 

“Me, too, Grandpa,” Benny said loudly.

 

“Yes, you have.  I noticed it right away,” Adam said to the little boy, who beamed with pride.

 

Bronwen grinned at him before turning to Gwyneth and hugging her.

 

Beth said quietly, “It’s good to have you back, Daddy; I missed you,” and then hugged him and kissed his cheek.

 

“It’s good to be back, Princess,” he said, and found himself blinking back the tears that suddenly filled his eyes.

 

“I missed you, too, Grandpa,” Benny said, and Adam smiled at him.

 

“And so did I,” Gwyneth said softly, and Adam gazed at her searchingly.  She smiled just enough for her dimple to peep out.  “Little Adam, let Grandma hold you.”  She handed the eight-month-old to her mama before hugging her daddy.

 

“Well, let’s not stand here in the dust and heat,” Beth said then.

 

Benny begged to sit with his grandparents and he chattered away on the drive, causing his mama and his aunt to exchange smiles, thinking of their little sister who had also been a chatterbox.  Duchess had been napping on the verandah but woke when the surrey drew up in front of her home and dashed to the front gate on her short legs, barking a greeting.  Mary had been preparing afternoon tea to welcome Adam and Bronwen home and, hearing Duchess, she walked out on the verandah and waved a greeting.

 

“I think you should take a nap before tea, Mama,” Beth said as they walked up the path to the house.

 

“I am tired,” Bronwen admitted.  “I’ll take a nap if your daddy agrees to take one as well.”  (She knew that Adam was as tired as she was, although he’d never admit it and the girls probably didn’t realize it.)

 

“Can I take a nap with Grandma and Grandpa?” Benny asked, and his mama couldn’t quite hold back a snort of laughter at his request since he always whined about taking his afternoon nap.

 

“I think our bed is big enough for all three of us,” Bronwen said and Adam added, “There’s room for Siân if she’d like to join us.”

 

“What about you, Siân?” Beth asked her little girl.  “Do you want to take a nap with Grandma and Grandpa and Benny?”

 

The little girl, who was now a couple of months short of her second birthday, looked solemnly at her grandma and grandpa with big hazel eyes just like her mama’s, and then nodded.

 

“I’m going to borrow a blanket and spread it on the verandah for the baby’s nap,” Gwyneth said then.  They all walked up the stairs.  Beth got Siân settled on the bed with the others and then she joined her sister on the verandah.  The baby had already drifted off so the two young women talked softly.

 

“I’m glad they’re home,” Beth said.

 

“Mama looked so tired,” Gwyneth commented.

 

“So did Daddy,” Beth said softly, and Gwyneth nodded.

 

They were both silent and then, wanting to lighten the mood, Beth asked, “Have you and Mark had any luck yet in finding a new house?”

 

Gwyneth sighed.  “No.  We’re considering the Chynoweths’ old house.  It has three bedrooms, but they’re so small.  Plus, it would be farther for the boys to walk to school and for Mark to ride to the mine.”  She smiled crookedly.  “I guess what I’d really like is a house like this one.”

 

“So would I,” Beth said.  “I think we were spoiled growing up here.  Daddy did such a beautiful job designing this house.”

 

“And the one he designed for Llywelyn and Emma,” Gwyneth said.

 

The two sisters chatted until the baby woke—hungry and needing to be changed.  Gwyneth took him inside to attend to his needs, and a few minutes later, the rest of the family joined Beth on the verandah.  Mary followed, pushing the teacart.

 

“It’s such a pretty day I thought we would have tea outside,” Bronwen said.

 

She had just finished pouring the tea and was serving the cumber sandwiches, scones and petits fours when the older grandchildren and Ifor came running toward the house.

 

“Welcome back, Grandma and Grandpa,” Elen called as she sprinted up the path.

 

After Bronwen and Adam had a chance to greet the children, Mary brought the boys milk and another teacup and saucer for Elen, who was now allowed to have a cup of tea with lots of milk.

 

“How’s Uncle A.C.?” Huw asked through a mouthful of scone.

 

“Huw!” his mama admonished and he quickly swallowed before saying, “Sorry.”

 

“Your uncle is very well,” Bronwen said, smiling as she remembered how hard she’d worked to teach her children not to talk with their mouths full.  “He’s happy living with the Phelps and they enjoy having him stay with them.  He’s started spending time with a young lady named Winifred Evans.”  Beth and Gwyneth shared a smile at this news.  “I knew her mother.  She was about Elen’s age when we moved here.”

 

“I don’t know why Uncle A.C. wants to spend time with a girl,” Huw commented.

 

“I wouldn’t spend time with no girl,” Dylan stated emphatically.  Jory and Ifor both added, “Too right!”

 

“Well, he has some friends at school and they play cricket and swim at Bondi Beach,” Adam said then, his lips quirking up in a little smile as the boys nodded their approval of this news.

 

When Mary came to clear away the dishes, she said, ‘Oh, I forgot to tell you.  A letter from Miss Miranda came today.  It’s on the desk with the rest of the mail; I set it on top.”

 

Thank you, Mary,” Bronwen said, and Beth and Gwyneth noted the anxious looks their parents exchanged.

 

Beth stood up then saying, “Well, I need to get back and start preparing high tea.  Unless you children are too full of scones and petits fours?”

 

“I’m not too full,” Dylan said immediately.  “Can we have Teisen Nionod?”

 

“Yes, I’ll make Teisen Nionod,” Beth said with a smile.  “Oh, I think I need to stop at the green grocers and buy some more onions and potatoes.  I’m not sure we have enough.”  She turned to her sister then asking, “Do you want to ride home in the surrey?’

 

“It’s not far.  I think we’d rather walk,” Gwyneth replied.  Then she turned to Jory, Ifor and Benny.  “Say goodbye, boys, and then we need to start home.”

 

After they’d all said their goodbyes, Adam and Bronwen stood on the verandah and waved to their grandchildren until they were out of sight.  Adam whistled to Duchess and then they walked inside.  Bronwen stopped in the kitchen and asked Mary to make another pot of tea and bring it to the library, and then she joined Adam.  He was sitting behind his desk, staring at four envelopes.

 

“I have a letter from Bronc Evans.  That must be about the Ponderosa,” he said as she sat in one of the leather armchairs.  “We have a letter from Sarah as well as the one from Miranda.”  He paused and stared down at the fourth envelope, his eyebrows drawn together in a frown.  “And there is one letter addressed to me from an R. Crowley.”  He pushed it to one side and said, “I’ll read the letter from Miranda first.”

 

He got up and sat in the chair beside Bronwen before putting on his reading glasses.

 

February 22, 1906

 

Dear Mama and Daddy,

 

I received Daddy’s letter.  I will admit to you that when I first read it, I reacted very emotionally.  I was both angry with Daddy and disappointed in him.  That was my initial reaction, but when I viewed what he had written logically instead of emotionally, I realized I wasn’t being fair to him.  As he admits, what he did was wrong; however, I am certainly not in the position to cast the first stone.  In addition, an event that happened so many years in the past does not change the fact that he has always been a wonderful father to me and that I love him very much.

 

Bronwen reached for his free hand and entwined their fingers.  He smiled at her before blinking back the moisture in his eyes and continuing.

 

We are all in good health.  Jon is enjoying kindergarten.  We got him a pair of ice skates for his birthday and he’s now a good skater for his age.  He has started asking William and I if he can have a dog since several of his schoolmates have one.  I would like a dog, but not until Laura is a few years older.  William is ambivalent about having a pet, but I can bring him around.  I like terriers so I imagine that’s what we’ll eventually get.  Not a terrier like Lady, but one they breed here in the States.

 

Laura, I’m learning, has definitely inherited her share of Cartwright stubbornness.  She is at that difficult age when her favourite word is, “No!”  I’m glad I went through this once before with Jon so I know this behaviour will pass.  William says she’s probably just like I was when I was her age.

 

Bronwen began to chuckle at William’s comment and Adam grinned broadly before returning to the letter.

 

Sarah came for a visit last weekend.  She said she needed a break from balls and soirées.  She went ice skating with Jon and Freddy and had a tea party with Laura and her teddy bear and doll.  Then Saturday evening, she offered to watch the children while William and I dined out at the Hanover Inn.  (I can’t remember if I told you, but the Wheelock Hotel where you stayed before our wedding has been remodelled and rechristened the Hanover Inn.)  William and I really enjoyed spending the evening together on our own, and Jon told us the next morning how much fun he’d had with Sarah.  She reminds me so strongly of Uncle Joe; she has his joie de vivre.  I think you would feel the same way, Daddy.

 

An old school friend of William’s, Albert Davidson, has invited us to visit him in Charleston at the end of May.  After Albert received his doctorate at Harvard, he accepted a position at the College of Charleston.  He married a young woman from a wealthy Charleston family who own a printing business that was founded nearly 100 years ago.  As a wedding gift, her father gave them a house on The Battery, the city’s most exclusive area.  Albert is quite eager to show off his adopted city, and we are looking forward to visiting somewhere new.  (William is also interested in seeing an example of the New South Movement although he says Charleston’s not really a very good model since for the most part its economy is declining, Albert’s in-laws’ printing business being one of the exceptions.)

 

I think that is all my news for now.  William, Jon and Laura send their love, just as I send mine.

 

Miranda

Adam reached over and set the letter on the desk, then picked up Sarah’s letter, which he had already opened.

 

February 15, 1906

 

Dear Uncle Adam and Aunt Bronwen,

 

I hope you are both well.  Mama, Benj and I are in good health.  Benj is studying harder than ever now that his graduation is approaching.  He would like to graduate summa cum laude just as you did, Uncle Adam, and then he would be certain to be admitted to the Law School.  Mama keeps busy with her societies and charities.  I’m afraid I spend my time more frivolously than either of them.  Miranda keeps trying to encourage me to join the National Women’s Suffrage Association, but Mama and Aunt Paula would disown me.  (They can’t believe that William hasn’t put his foot down and forbidden Miranda’s involvement.)  I just don’t care passionately about having the right to vote, and I find politics (when I’ve heard men discussing them) to be very boring.

 

He stopped reading when Mary brought a tray with the teapot, cups and saucers, sugar and milk.  Bronwen poured them each a cup, and after taking a sip, he returned to their niece’s letter.

 

I have been seeing a lot of one particular beau: David McMasters.  I like him very much but I’m not sure that he is the man I want to spend my life with.  I telephoned Miranda and asked if I could come for a visit this weekend.  I think being away from David for a time and seeing a happily married couple will help me understand my feelings.  I want a marriage like the two of you have.  I love my mama and daddy, but I don’t want to follow their example.  I hope that doesn’t sound disrespectful.

 

Your loving niece,
Sarah

 

“Poor Sarah,’ Bronwen said quietly.  “Making the decision to marry is hard enough when your parents are happy.  I’m sure it must be harder if they are unhappy or estranged.”

 

“I suppose,” Adam said thoughtfully.  “I always knew Pa loved my mother, Mama and Belle-mère, but I didn’t have much chance to see them together.  I think it’s more a matter of finding the right person.  One’s missing half as the poets describe it.”

 

“A marriage of true minds,” Bronwen added softly, and he smiled before leaning over and kissing her.  They finished their tea, and then his expression sobered as he thought of the letter from Richard Crowley setting on his desk.  She noticed and said gently, “Would you like me to leave while you read the other letter?”

 

He reached for her hand, enclosing it in his own.  “No, I don’t want there to be any secrets between us.  If- if you don’t mind, I’d like to read it aloud.”

 

“I don’t mind,” she replied.

 

He went to the desk and opened the letter before resuming his seat.  Pulling the paper from the envelope, he noted the large, neat handwriting.

 

February 23, 1906

 

Mr. Cartwright:

 

I want to express my thanks for your letter.  It was evident that it was a difficult one for you to write.  I think you will understand when I say I do not intend to share the news with my mother or younger siblings.  My mother was devoted to my grandmother, and it would distress her greatly to learn the truth of her parentage.  I see no reason to burden my brother or my two sisters with the knowledge.  I suppose, in the circumstances, you are entitled to know a little about them:  My brother, Wallace, is ten; my sisters are Julia, who is sixteen, and Cecily, who is thirteen.

 

Dr. Gordon has been very kind and allowed me to talk with him.  He has told me a little about you.  I am beginning to understand that my grandmother made the best choice for everyone involved.  Certainly it was for my mother and it sounds as though it was for you as well since Dr. Gordon says you have been happily married for many years.

 

In closing, I want to assure you that I bear you no ill will and will never intrude upon you or your family.

 

Sincerely,
Richard Crowley

 

“He sounds like a very nice young man,” Bronwen commented carefully.

 

“Yes, he does,” Adam replied.  “And a thoughtful son and brother.  I’m sorry I had to trouble him with the knowledge of his mother’s illegitimacy.”

 

“He seems to be dealing with the news in a mature manner,” she added in the same neutral tone.  “I am glad for his sake that he was able to talk with William.”

 

“Yes, historians have to be able to examine events in the past dispassionately, and it sounds as though William was able to impart some of his objectivity to . . .” Adam paused for a moment, “Richard.”

 

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes.  Then Duchess came into the library and looked at them hopefully before barking.  With a smile, Bronwen said, “I think Duchess would like to go for a walk.”

 

Adam said with a wink, “Let’s oblige her.”

 

 

 

A several weeks later as Adam and Bronwen were eating breakfast in the kitchen since it was Mary’s day off, he remarked, “I know I promised you long ago that I would keep out of your kitchen, but yesterday while you were visiting Matilda I looked around, and I have some ideas that would make it much more efficient.”

 

Bronwen drew a deep breath and mentally counted to ten before saying, “Adam, Cariad, you are the love of my life, but if you don’t find something to keep you occupied so you aren’t underfoot, I may be driven to homicide.”

 

He scowled at her for a moment before grinning crookedly.  “Am I as bad as that?”

 

“You and Rhys both,” she replied with a wry smile of her own.  “Since the river is drying up and you can’t fish and the older grandchildren are in school so they aren’t available to play with, the two of you don’t seem to know what to do with yourselves.”

 

He sighed.  “We’re beginning to think retiring was a mistake.  Oh, it was time to put Llywelyn and Mark in charge, no doubt of that.  We just didn’t realize how much we’d miss our routine.  We’re sick of chess, checkers, cribbage and horseshoes, and we can’t spend all our time reading.  Even that enjoyment is beginning to pall.”

 

“The two of you need a project.  And not reorganizing my kitchen or Matilda’s,” she added hastily.

 

“Both our houses have been painted recently, and our barn and fence are in good shape,” he said regretfully.

 

“What about photography?” she suggested.  “Maybe Rhys would like to learn.”

 

“That is a brilliant idea, Sweetheart!” he exclaimed.  “It would be intriguing to capture the town and countryside, and I think Rhys would be interested.  I’ll ask him after breakfast.”

 

 

While Adam was giving Rhys his first lesson in photography, Gwyneth stopped by for a visit, bringing Benny and Little Adam.  Bronwen saw that Benny was carrying a piece of paper that flapped in the wind as he ran ahead of his mama, who was pushing his brother in his baby carriage.

 

“Grandma!  Grandma, I made you a picture!” he shouted as he climbed up the verandah steps, clutching the railing in his free hand.

 

Bronwen bent down and took the piece of paper with a smile.  Then, taking Benny’s hand, they sat side by side on the swing.

 

“See, here’s Mama and Daddy and Jory and me and Little Adam.  And that’s ‘Thena,” he added proudly, referring to his mama’s cat.  “And that’s ‘Thena’s babies.”

 

“Oh my!  What a wonderful picture,” Bronwen said, hugging him and dropping a kiss on his dark hair.  “I think you deserve a ginger biscuit for that.”

 

Just then Gwyneth and a sobbing Little Adam walked up the steps to the verandah.

 

“Grandma said I get a ginger biscuit!” Benny announced.

 

“You don’t mind do you?” Bronwen asked and Benny looked hopefully at his mama with enormous brown eyes just like his great-grandfather, Ben’s.

 

“Just one though,” Gwyneth replied, and then winced as the baby increased his volume.

 

“Teething?” Bronwen asked, noticing how the baby was drooling, and Gwyneth nodded.

 

“That’s really why we’re here,” she added.  “I wanted to make some teething tea, but I can’t find my recipe.  I was hoping you could tell me the ingredients.”

 

“I’ll make a batch while Benny eats his biscuit.  Actually, the baby might like gnawing on one as well,” Bronwen said.

 

The baby did enjoy gnawing on the hard ginger biscuit although his mouth and chin were soon smeared with it.  While Bronwen mixed together the dried chamomile, catnip, lavender, and lemon balm, she said to her daughter, “Over the years, I’ve had many occasions to thank Hop Sing for this recipe.”  She looked at the baby with his sticky face saying, “Little Adam reminds me of Penny and A.C.  He wants everyone to know he is suffering.”  Gwyneth smiled faintly at that.

 

“Grandma, will you read me a story?” Benny asked since he’d finished his biscuit.

 

“Right.  Now, Grandma needs to take this jar and put it in the sun so it will make the tea.  Why don’t you go to the library and pick a book, and then we can sit on the swing and read.”

 

“Beauty!” the little boy exclaimed before running down the hall to the library.

 

“Don’t run,” Gwyneth called after him and then rolled her eyes.

 

“It never had any effect on you or your siblings either,” Bronwen said with a chuckle.

 

After reading Benny his storybook, Bronwen brought down the old blocks from A.C.’s room for the boys to play with while they waited for the teething tea to be ready.  As the mother and daughter gently rocked the swing, Bronwen asked Gwyneth how her search for a house was coming.

 

“I think we’re going to buy the Chynoweths’ old house,” Gwyneth replied, but her mama noticed her lack of enthusiasm and commented on it.

 

“It’s not exactly what we want, but it’s the best of what’s available.  I told Mark that if we wanted to build our own house, Daddy would be happy to design one for us just as he did for Llywelyn and Emma.”  She sighed before adding, “You know how prickly Mark can be about accepting gifts from you and Daddy.  He says we can afford to buy the Chynoweths’ house but not to build our own.”

 

“Isn’t life ironic?” her mama commented.  “You need a bigger house and your daddy and I are just rattling around in this one.”  She stopped suddenly and her face lit up.  “Stone the crows!  I think I have the solution to all our problems: a project for your daddy and uncle, a bigger house for you and a smaller one for us.”  Seeing Gwyneth’s blank look, she said excitedly, “Your daddy can design a smaller house for us, and he and your uncle can supervise its construction.  Then you can buy this house from us for the same amount as the Chynoweths’.  It’s the prefect solution!”

 

Gwyneth’s eyes shone behind her spectacles but then she said hesitantly, “Mark may say we can’t afford this house since it’s much larger than the Chynoweths’.”

 

“Ah, but it’s at least ten years older than theirs.  And we won’t be selling you all the land.  We originally bought two lots so we’ll sell you the one this house is on and build ours on the other lot.”

 

Both women were eager to share Bronwen’s idea with their spouses.  Gwyneth had a mountain of mending waiting for her back at her house and so she left soon after with the jar of teething tea and a new copy of the recipe.  Benny begged so hard to remain with his grandma that his mama agreed he could stay and have lunch.  When Adam returned around noon, he went looking for Bronwen in the kitchen and discovered Benny slapping thick pieces of smoked ham on slices of bread lavishly spread with mustard.

 

“I see we have company for lunch,” he said with a big dimpled grin.

 

“G’day, Grandpa!” Benny shouted as he jumped off the kitchen chair he’d been kneeling on.  Adam caught him up and tossed him overhead while he giggled.  Bronwen, who’d been making a salad to go with the ham sandwiches, smiled at them.

 

When Adam set Benny down, the four-year-old said excitedly, “I’m helpin’ Grandma make the sand’iches.”

 

“So I see,” Adam replied with a grin.  “Anything I can do to help?” he asked after kissing Bronwen.

 

“You can get the plates, glasses and silver from the cupboard,” Bronwen replied.  “Once we’ve finished, you and Benny may set the table.”

 

Adam’s lips quirked up in a tiny grin as he watched how carefully his grandson set the silverware on the correct side of the plate.  When he commented on what a good job he was doing, Benny said with a sunny smile that it was his job at home.  “Jory puts on the plates ‘n’ glasses ‘n’ I do the napkins ‘n’ knifes ‘n’ forks.”  He then added artlessly, “Daddy says boys aren’t supposed to set the table but Mama says if boys want to eat, then they have to help.”  His grandparents exchanged amused glances at this information.

 

“I think I’ve come up with a better project for you than photography,” Bronwen said after Adam had blessed the food.

 

“Really?” Adam asked, one eyebrow cocked.  “I know.  You’ve decided to let me reorganize your kitchen,” he said with a teasing wink.

 

She stuck out her tongue, causing Benny to giggle and Adam to chuckle.  “Gwyneth gave me the idea,” she said.  As she continued, her features grew more animated and her tone more enthusiastic.  “You know she and Mark are looking for a bigger house, and here we are in a house that’s now too big.  You could design a smaller house for us, and then when it’s finished, we could sell this house to Gwyneth and Mark.”

 

Adam smiled broadly and his eyes sparkled.  “Sweetheart, you are a genius!”  Bronwen loved the look on her husband’s face.  She could see the possibilities already lining up behind his eyes.  “I would love to design a little bungalow for us,” he stated eagerly.  “I’ve been reading about the Arts and Crafts style in The Studio and The Craftsman for years, and it would be perfect for us.”

 

She felt a rush of happiness at his excitement and he continued with great enthusiasm while Benny stared at his grandpa in wonder.

 

“Once I’ve completed the design, Rhys and I can work together in ordering the materials and supervising the construction.  I want to get started on the design right after lunch.  Why don’t you invite Rhys and Matilda over tonight and we can tell them.”

 

Rhys was every bit as enthusiastic as Adam, and their wives exchanged smiles as the two discussed building materials and who they should hire to help with the construction.

 

“Since the bungalow will be so much smaller, we won’t need some of our furniture,” Adam commented.  “I know the dining room will be smaller.  Arts and Crafts homes have what’s called a living room rather than a formal parlor or drawing room, and ours will definitely be smaller than this room.  Actually, I wish we could replace all this furniture,” and he made a sweeping gesture to include the entire drawing room, “with some in the Arts and Crafts style.”

 

“What does it look like?” Bronwen asked curiously.

 

“I’ll show you,” Adam said, standing.  “I’ll just go get some issues of The Craftsman and you can see some examples.

 

When he returned, the four of them began looking at the examples of furniture.

 

“Oh, I really like this circular dining room table,” Bronwen exclaimed.  “It’s so cozy and intimate.”  She and Adam shared a smile.

 

“Now, this is an interesting settee,” Rhys said.  “I like the clean lines.”

 

“Yes,” Adam agreed, “that’s one of the things I like best about the style.”

 

“I notice the journals provide instructions on how to build the pieces,” Rhys commented then.  “I may not be an architect, but while Adam is designing the bungalow, I could be making your new furniture.”

 

“Oh, that would be wonderful,” Bronwen exclaimed with a warm smile for her brother.  “You did such lovely work on the pieces you made for Llywelyn and Emma.”

 

“It would be a pleasure,” Rhys replied.  “All you and Adam need to do is pick what you like and what type of wood you’d like me to use.”

 

After discussion, Adam and Bronwen decided they would only use Arts and Crafts furniture in the two most public rooms:  the living room and the dining room.  They chose dining room chairs to go with the small circular dining table Bronwen liked and a sideboard, all to be of Queensland Walnut.  For the living room, they selected the settee Rhys had admired and a matching tea table, plus a couple of Morris chairs.  These would be made of Queensland Maple.

 

 

Adam spent the next couple of weeks in the library, papers spread all over the desk, and others rolled up and stacked in the corner.  Bronwen was delighted to see his enthusiasm.  One afternoon he came into the kitchen where she and Mary were cleaning up after spending the day baking bread and ginger biscuits and a lemon meringue pie for dessert that night.

 

“I’m finished,” he said with a big dimpled grin.  “If you come to the library, I’ll show you the plans and a drawing of what the house will look like.”

 

“I’ll finish up, ma’am,” Mary said with a smile so Bronwen took off her apron and draped it over the back of a chair.

 

“Here’s what the finished house will look like,” Adam said proudly as he unrolled a sheet of paper and spread it on the desk.  The pen and ink drawing showed a one-story wooden-frame house with a large lattice-work veranda in front that wrapped around one side and the back of the house.

 

“It’s lovely,” she said, looking up at him with a smile.

 

“Now, here is the floor plan,” he said, returning her smile before picking up another roll and spreading it over the drawing.  “This is the entry, which leads into the living room.  I made the living room cozy with large windows providing a view of the backyard.”

 

“Where does this hallway lead?” she asked, pointing.

 

“To the library,” he answered.  “It’s largest room in the house.  These are French doors opening on the verandah.  There are two windows on this wall, and two more windows facing the backyard that will have window seats.”  He smiled at her and put an arm around her shoulders.  “It will have built-in shelves just like this library.”  Using his finger, he indicated different areas on the floor plan.  “The dining room is here by the living room with a large window overlooking the backyard.  The kitchen is behind it,” he said.

 

“And I suppose these are the bedrooms?” she said gesturing.  “Which is ours?”

 

“Ours is the front bedroom, next to the room for bathing.  See, here is a similar room by the back bedroom for doing the washing.”  He grinned crookedly as he said, “I thought it would be nice to have a separate room for doing the washing.”

 

“Too right!” she said with a grin.

 

“Both bedrooms have French doors that open onto the verandah,” he added.  “Rhys has been buying lumber for the house as well as the furniture so tomorrow we’ll start hiring men and then we can begin work.”  The excitement in his tone was unmistakable.

 

 

 

Meanwhile, Mark’s reluctance to accept Bronwen’s plan had been overcome by the arguments of his wife, mother and two sisters.  Once they all ganged up on him, Gwyneth knew he would come around.  The evening that he capitulated, as they gathered for high tea, he announced to Jory and Benny that they would all be moving to their grandma and grandpa’s house.

 

“We’re gonna live with Grandma and Grandpa!” Benny exclaimed excitedly.

 

“No, Sweetie,” Gwyneth said carefully.  “Grandpa and Grandma are building a new house and they’re going to live in it.”  Seeing her middle child’s chin begin to wobble, she added quickly, “You can visit Grandma and Grandpa whenever you want.  They’ll be just next door like the Trehearnes and the Maddocks.”  Benny’s face brightened at this information.

 

Mark turned to Jory and said, “You’re awfully quiet.”

 

“I don’t wanna move,” Jory said.  “I like this house.  And I wanna live across the street from Ifor.”

 

“Grandma and Grandpa don’t live that far away,” Gwyneth said soothingly.  “You can still play with Ifor every day.  And you can walk part of the way to school together.”

 

“And you’ll have a room of your own,” Mark added.

 

“Fair dinkum?” Jory asked.  Now he, Benny and Little Adam all shared a room.

 

Mark nodded.  “Since you’re the oldest, we’re giving you Uncle A.C.’s old room.”

 

Gwyneth saw Benny didn’t look too happy and said quickly, “Benny, we’ll repaint the room that used to be Aunt Beth and Aunt Miranda’s, and then was mine.  It will be your room and Little Adam’s.”  Benny liked the idea of having his mama’s old room so Gwyneth and Mark were relieved to see that both of their older sons seemed to be accepting the idea of moving.

 

 

 

The same day that construction began on the new house, Gwyneth and Beth and their youngest came to visit Bronwen.  First, they all walked over to watch the men work, each woman holding firmly onto the hand of a child.  Siân and Little Adam soon lost interest but Benny was fascinated by the men sawing and hammering and had to be lured away with the promise of a ginger biscuit.

 

As they all sat on the verandah, the women drinking tea and the children drinking milk with their ginger biscuits, Beth asked, “Are you excited about moving into your new house, Mama?”

 

‘I am,” she said with a grin.  “As excited as I was when we moved into this house.  It seemed so big at first when it was just the three of us, but then Miranda was soon added to the family.  Before your daddy and I knew it, we were a family of six, and then seven.  But now that it’s just the two of us again, it will be nice to be in a smaller house.”  The three women shared a smile and Bronwen added softly, ‘It’s hard walking by all those empty rooms.  Sometimes I find myself going into A.C.’s room and looking at his old toys and schoolbooks.”

 

Just then Siân tugged on her mama’s sleeve.  “Biscuit,” she said, trying to reach the plate.

 

“Say please,” Beth said, firmly grasping the chubby little hands.

 

Siân tried to wriggle out of her mother’s grasp but finally gave in.  “Pease,” she said, and her mama handed her a biscuit.

 

“Can I have another biscuit.  Please,” Benny asked then.

 

“Yes, you may have one,” his mama replied as she moved the plate within his reach.  Little Adam was still messily chewing on his ginger biscuit but he stopped just long enough to grin at everyone.

 

After smiling at her grandchildren, Bronwen said, “I wanted to talk with Gwyneth about something.  Uncle Rhys is making new furniture for our dining room and parlor—oh, I mean living room—so would you want ours?”

 

“Yes, I want your dining room set,” Gwyneth said with a little grin.  Then she looked at her older sister.  “We don’t need the furniture in the drawing room.  Would you and Dafydd like it?”

 

“Too right!” Beth said.  “I would love to replace the old horsehair sofa the Darnells left for us.  And we can use the armchairs.  I don’t think we have room for the wing chairs though.”

 

“Demelza might want them,” Gwyneth suggested, referring to her sister-in-law.

 

Just then they heard Duchess barking as she chased a rabbit.

 

“Stone the crows!” Gwyneth exclaimed with a frown, “I hadn’t thought about Athena and Duchess living in such close proximity.”

 

“That will be a problem,” Bronwen said, also frowning.  “Duchess regards cats as vermin.”

 

“Can you confine Athena to the house?” Beth asked.  “You did train her to use a box.”

 

“I’ll have to,” Gwyneth replied.  “I just hope we can find homes for all her kittens before we move.”

 

Benny had finished his ginger biscuit so he asked his grandma if he could play with her blocks.

 

“Right,” Bronwen replied with a smile.

 

“They’re in A.C.’s room, aren’t they?” Gwyneth asked.  At her mama’s nod she stood up and said, “C’mon, Benny, let’s go get them.  Little Adam, you stay here with Grandma, Aunt Beth and Siân.”

 

“Bocks,” Siân exclaimed, scrambling down from her chair.

 

“You can come with us to get the blocks,” Gwyneth said and shepherded the children inside the house.  Beth and Bronwen smiled slightly as they heard Benny say to Siân, “Jory’s gonna sleep in Uncle A.C.’s room when we move here.”

 

Gwyneth and the children returned with the blocks a few minutes later.  She divided them between Benny and Siân.  She saw her youngest rubbing his eyes in an effort to keep awake so she picked him up and sat down with him in her lap.

 

“Have you had a letter from Miranda?” she asked her mama.  “It’s been nearly a month since I had one.”

 

“We just got a short letter telling us that she and William and the children are off to Charleston, South Carolina to visit a friend of William’s.  She promised to write a longer letter when they return,” Bronwen replied.  “We’ve also heard from your brother.  He mentioned that his mate, Russell, has met a girl that he’s interested in and A.C. is still spending time with Winifred Evans, so the four of them often do things together.  He’s looking forward to the winter holidays.”

 

“Do you think our little brother is serious about this Winifred?” Beth asked.

 

“I hope not,” Bronwen said, and her daughters looked at her quizzically.  “Don’t misunderstand me.  When your daddy and I met Winifred at church while we were in Sydney, we thought she was a very sweet girl.  But your brother is barely eighteen and Mrs. Phelps told me that Winifred is only sixteen.  I don’t think either of them is ready for marriage.”

 

“I know I wasn’t ready at sixteen,” Beth said and Gwyneth nodded.

 

 

A few weeks later, Adam and Bronwen received a letter from Miranda.

 

June 7, 1906

 

Dear Mama and Daddy,

 

We are back from visiting William’s friend Albert Davidson in Charleston, where we all had a wonderful time.  It is such a beautiful city and so different from Boston.  I suppose since they are both seaports I thought they would be similar.  However, I couldn’t have been more mistaken.  Daddy, I know you would love the architecture.  Albert was telling me that it’s a mixture of Georgian, Greek Revival and Classic Revival styles.  Just like back home in Cloncurry, all the houses have verandas (although they call them piazzas) and lots of windows to make living in the summer heat bearable.  Of course, the climate in Charleston is very humid and I found that difficult to adjust to.  One thing surprised me a bit.  Many of Charleston’s streets are dirt while others are cobblestones and what Albert’s wife, Eugenia, informed me are oyster shells.

 

I wrote you before that Eugenia is from a wealthy old Charleston family and that her parents’ wedding gift was a house in Charleston’s most exclusive neighbourhood.  It is a magnificent three-story brick Classic Revival house.  Just as is true of all the other houses along The Battery, the piazza is along the side of the house.  A rather unique feature of all these houses is that the door opening onto the street does not lead to the house; it leads to the piazza.  The interior of the Davidson’s home is very ornate and the furniture is all Chippendale and Hepplewhite.

 

Albert and Eugenia also have a son and daughter but Claire is the elder.  She is not quite five and her little brother, Bobby, is only a year old.  Laura and Claire played with their dolls together without too many squabbles and we left them with the Davidson’s nursemaid.  Jon had no one to play with so he came with us when we explored the city.  Luckily, he is a curious little boy and he enjoyed seeing houses and trees so different from those back home.  (There are certainly no palm trees in Hanover!)  Albert enjoyed telling him stories about Charleston’s pirates.  I am afraid your grandson is a bloodthirsty little boy.

 

The last day we were in Charleston we rode the Charleston and Seashore Railroad to the Isle of Palms.  We boarded the train at Market Street in downtown Charleston and that took us to the ferryboat.  The ferry carried us across the harbour to Mount Pleasant.  Once we got to Mount Pleasant, we travelled by trolley across dry land and marshes until we reached the Isle of Palms.  The main attraction of the Isle of Palms is a dancing pavilion, but there is also a Ferris wheel and merry-go-round.  All three children enjoyed the merry-go-round.  Claire was afraid to ride the Ferris wheel, even with her daddy, but our two loved it.  We finally managed to drag them away so we could spend some time on the beach.  Eugenia doesn’t swim so she watched the two girls and helped them build sandcastles.  We’d taught Jon to swim last year so the rest of us had fun swimming in Atlantic.  (It was brisk but not bad once you were swimming.)  I think that day was probably my favourite part of our vacation.

 

I may as well confess that Eugenia and I didn’t get along that well.  Like so many other women from her social background whom I’ve met, she considers me odd and unfeminine for wanting to attend college and for having interests outside what Society considers suitable for genteel women.  She would be appalled to know she actually has a lot in common with her Yankee counterparts on Boston’s Beacon Hill.

 

I hope both of you are in good health.  William and I are relieved to know the two of you don’t plan on making any more trips to Sydney, but we understood why you had to take this one.  And I imagine it must have meant a great deal to you, Mama, to visit Tad-cu and Mam-gu’s grave and say a last goodbye to them.

 

Well, I’m gong to close now so I can get this letter in today’s post. Oh, I am enclosing a letter from Jon.

 

Love,
Miranda

 

“Oh, I want to see what Jon wrote us,” Bronwen said, getting up and perching on the arm of Adam’s chair.

 

deer granpa and granma

 

how are you I had fun swming in the oshun  I got som shells so did Laura did you evr heer about blackbeerd

 

Lov
Jon

 

“I see William’s friend must have told Jon about Blackbeard.  Well, there are plenty of gory stories about him.  Enough to satisfy a bloodthirsty six-year-old,” Adam said with a chuckle while Bronwen rolled her eyes.

 

 

 

Since it was the dry season, construction on the new house proceeded at a steady pace.  Adam was sure that it would be ready for them to occupy before the rainy season, which began in October or November.  Gwyneth told her parents that she wanted to turn what had been Beth and Miranda’s old bedroom into a one for her two younger boys.  On the weekends, Mark worked stripping off the old wallpaper with its design of pink roses on a cream background.  Once that task was accomplished, he painted the walls blue and the trim white.  Gwyneth sewed new blue gingham curtains to replace the old pink chintz.

 

Beth told Gwyneth that she and Elen could hook a rug for Benny and Little Adam’s room.  However, when she told Elen that evening as the family was gathered together for high tea, she was not prepared for Elen’s reaction.

 

“I won’t help!” Elen retorted with a scowl.  “And you can’t make me!”

 

“Elen, you know you are not to argue with your mama if she asks you do something,” Dafydd said sternly.  “As a punishment, you will go to bed right now.  And tomorrow you will help your mama make the rug for your cousins.”

 

“It’s not fair!” Elen managed to get out as she ran from the table in tears.  Huw and Dylan kept their eyes glued to their plates, refusing to make eye contact with their parents.

 

“I’ll talk with her,” Beth said to Dafydd and after a slight hesitation, he nodded.

 

Beth found her first-born lying face down across her bed, sobbing into her pillow, so she sat beside Elen and gently rubbed circles on her back.  When Elen was all cried out, she rolled onto her back to face her mama.

 

“Elen, can you tell me what’s troubling you?  I know it’s not helping me to hook a rug,” Beth said quietly as she handed her daughter her handkerchief so she could blow her nose.  “You said that something isn’t fair,” she added when Elen remained silent.

 

“It’s not fair that Jory and Benny and Little Adam get to move into Grandma and Grandpa’s house and Jory gets a room of his own,” Elen got out in a rush, not meeting her mama’s eyes.

 

Beth gently smoothed her daughter’s mussed hair back from her tearstained face, trying to think of the right words.

 

“I see,” she said gently.  “You think having a room of your own would be a wonderful thing?”  Elen nodded.  “When your Aunt Miranda decided to go to school in Boston, I got to have a room of my own.  I thought that would be wonderful, but instead I missed her.  There was no one I could whisper to after Grandma and Grandpa came to kiss us goodnight.  There was no one to make sure I got up and dressed on time so Grandpa wouldn’t scold me.”

 

“But you and Aunt Miranda were close to the same age.  Siân is an ankle biter and all she does is get into my things,” Elen replied in a sulky tone.

 

Beth sighed.  It was true that her daughters would never have the same kind of close relationship she and Miranda had shared.  The difference in their ages was too great.

 

“Elen,” she said quietly, continuing to smooth her daughter’s hair, “when I accepted your tada’s proposal, there was a little part of me that felt sad to be leaving your grandparents’ house to live in a little parsonage with hand-me-down furniture from Rev. Darnell and his wife.  But then I realized that what made your grandparents’ house special wasn’t its size or the nice furniture.  What made it special was the love that filled it, and I knew your tada and I could fill this parsonage with that same love.”

 

Elen remained silent, and Beth was afraid she hadn’t been able to reach her.  As she started to stand up, Elen suddenly threw her arms around her and hugged her tight, a rare occurrence these days.  Beth hugged her daughter back and when they broke apart, she said with a wink, “But I’m still glad we’re going to be able to get rid of that awful horsehair sofa.”  Elen dissolved into giggles.

 

 

 

By the time the extended family gathered to celebrate Little Adam’s first birthday, the exterior of the bungalow was complete except for the wraparound verandah.  Some workers were finishing the verandah while the others were plastering the interior walls and ceilings.

 

“We should be able to move in by mid-September at the latest,” Adam announced as the Cartwrights, Davies, Joneses and Pentreaths all gathered in the drawing room and ate birthday cake.  “It’s probably time to begin packing up what we plan on taking with us.”

 

“I’ll help you, Bronwen,” Matilda said, and Bronwen accepted her offer with a smile.

 

“Mark and I have some news we wanted to share with all of you,” Gwyneth said then, and he put his arm around her shoulders.  “We’re so glad that Mama came up with her idea because in February our family is going to increase.”

 

 

“Another grandchild,” Matilda said to Bronwen after they’d congratulated Gwyneth and Mark.  “I’m a little envious.”

 

“Your third one will be here in a couple of months,” Bronwen said, glancing over at Emma, who was talking to Gwyneth and Beth.

 

“But you’ll soon have ten!” Matilda replied.

 

 

“I expect you’re hoping for a girl this time,” Llywelyn remarked to his friend.

 

“I know you’re just supposed to hope for a healthy baby but, yes, I would really like a daughter this time,” Mark responded.

 

“Are Jory and Benny excited at the prospect of a little brother or sister?” Dafydd asked.

 

“Benny is, but I’m afraid Jory thinks he already has enough younger siblings,” Mark replied with a sigh.

 

“I think he just needs time to adjust,” Dafydd said reassuringly.  “He was just getting used to leaving the house and neighborhood where he’s lived his whole life, and now he has to cope with another change.”

 

“I hope you’re right,” Mark said earnestly.

 

 

“So, Jory and Benny, you’re going to have a baby brother or sister,” Adam said.

 

“But I’m gonna have one first,” Ifor replied, grinning at his granduncle and grandpa.

 

“So you are,” Rhys said, ruffling his grandson’s hair.

 

“I want a baby brother ‘cause I already got a sister,” Ifor stated emphatically and the two older men shared a smile at his candor.

 

“I guess I’d rather have a sister,” Jory decided.  “Then I won’t have to set the table.”  He couldn’t understand why his grandpa and granduncle chuckled.

 

 

 

“I never realized how many things I had accumulated over the years,” Bronwen said to Matilda as they began packing up the master bedroom.

 

The drawing room was now an empty shell; the day before Dafydd, Mark and Llywelyn had moved the settee, armchairs and tea table to the parsonage and the side chairs to Mark’s sister’s house.  All the books in the library had been packed away along with the cribbage and chess sets and the family photographs that set on the desk.  The room that the oldest Cartwright daughters had shared until they each left home had now been transformed into a room suitable for two small boys.

 

Bronwen turned toward her vanity, and felt the sting of tears as she saw the box to store her gloves and handkerchiefs that A.C. had made her under his dad’s supervision.  She opened it slowly and lifting out everything on top, she found what was most precious to her: the handkerchief that Penny had made her, which was the last gift she’d received from her littlest girl.  Penny had been so proud of the violets she’d worked diligently to embroider.  (“‘Cause Daddy says you and me have eyes like violets.”)  Feeling the strength leave her legs, Bronwen sank onto the bench, clutching the handkerchief.  Matilda started to ask her a question about the packing, but she saw the tears trickling down her friend’s cheeks and recognized what she held in her hand.  Without a word, she stood behind Bronwen and placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

 

Bronwen struggled to regain her composure, and once she felt in control, said in a shaky voice, “I’m sorry.  I feel foolish.  I- I just never realized how hard it would be to leave this house.”

 

“I’m not surprised,” Matilda said gently.  “After all, you’ve lived here more than half your life.  All your children except for Beth were born here.  This is where you and Adam raised your family.  It has to have so many memories for you.”  She smiled at her old friend, saying, “I thought you were very unselfish to offer to sell this house to Gwyneth and Mark.”

 

“It was the right thing to do,” Bronwen replied, but she heard the uncertainty in her voice and said more firmly, “It was.  It’s just harder than I thought.”

 

Matilda sat down beside Bronwen, and put her arm around her friend’s shoulders, sensing that she needed comfort.

 

“Yesterday when Mary and I did the washing here for the last time,” Bronwen said softly, “I saw the marks by the backdoor where Adam measured the children.”  She felt her eyes begin to fill with tears and tried to blink them back.  “I remember how Adam and I could lie in bed and in the quiet we could hear Beth and Miranda or Penny and Gwyneth whispering after they were supposed to be asleep.  Later we could hear the click-click of Lady’s and Duchess’s claws on the floor when they’d come sneaking up the backstairs to sleep with A.C.”  Matilda gave her friend’s shoulders a gentle squeeze as she continued to reminisce.  “And I remember so many Christmas mornings watching the children dash down the stairs to see what Santa had brought them.”

 

She stopped and drew a deep breath.  “Listen to me.  I’m only going to be living next door.”  She stood up then, saying, “Let’s pack the linens first, shall we?”

 

 

Adam came into the house that evening merrily whistling.  “Sweetheart!  Sweetheart!” he called.  Then he saw Bronwen stick her head out of the kitchen.  It suddenly struck him how tired she looked.  She smiled at him, but it was mechanical.  There was no happy sparkle in her eyes, and he realized there hadn’t been for some time.

 

“I think you’re working too hard, Sweetheart,” he said gently.  “The house is nearly done, and I’m not really needed.  I’ll stay home tomorrow and help you pack.”

 

“You don’t need to do that,” she said quickly.  “Matilda and I are managing just fine.  In fact, we sent Mary to help Gwyneth with her packing.”

 

She tried to sound cheerful, but Adam had been married to her for thirty-two years and she couldn’t fool him.

 

“I went up to the attic to see what we wanted to take with us,” she said, hoping to distract him.  “Most of it was rubbish but I found A.C.’s old rocking horse and thought Benny and Little Adam would like it, so I put it in their room.  Of course we brought down the Christmas tree ornaments and . . .” she hesitated.  Taking a deep breath, she continued..  “And Penny’s things: her pink dress and hair ribbon, her knickerbockers, and the treasure box Pa made her.”  She saw the sadness in his eyes and added gently, “I didn’t pack those yet.  I just brought them down to our room.”

 

“Thank you,” he said softly.

 

Then, in the same artificially cheerful voice, she said, “So the work on the house is nearly done.  How- how soon can we move?”

 

“All that remains to be done is papering the two bedrooms and painting the verandah,” he replied.  Then he asked, “Are you in the middle of something?”

 

“I was getting ready to make some rarebit for high tea, but I hadn’t started yet.  Why?”

 

“I want to show you something,” he said with a little grin that betrayed his eagerness.  Responding to his enthusiasm, she smiled as she took off her apron, saying, “Let’s go.”

 

She had been so busy packing that she hadn’t had much time to watch the progress on the bungalow.  It was painted gleaming white just like their house and it did look very welcoming.  As they walked up the steps, she smiled up at him.  He unlocked the front door and held it open for her.  She looked all about her in delight, seeing the floor plan come to life.  The living room with its paneled walls, hardwood floor and windows looking out at the new lemon and orange trees Adam had planted, was warm and inviting.  She noticed the furniture Rhys had made was already placed in the room, adding to its charm.

 

“I know you’ll want to rearrange it,” Adam said, but she shook her head.

 

“It’s perfect.”

 

“We brought over the new dining room furniture as well,” he said, pleased with her happiness.

 

As she walked from room to room, she felt the warmth and coziness.  She was glad they had made the decision to have some new furnishings but to keep some they’d had since the first days of their marriage.  The bungalow, she realized, was a blending of their old life, with its joys and sorrows, and the promise of the new life awaiting them.

 

Bronwen stopped and smiled up at Adam radiantly.  “I just thought of some lines by one of your favorite poets:

 

Grow old along with me!
The best is yet to be,
The last of life, for which the first was made.

He put his arms around her and held her close as she continued.  “I really believe now that the years we’ll spend in this house truly will be the best.”

 

“And so do I,” he said softly, before bending down to kiss her.

 

 

Next in the Adam In The Outback Series:

The Best is Yet to Be

Not part of the Adam in the Outback Series, but set in the same realm:

O’Tannenbaum

 

 

References:

 

In addition to Fashion in Costume: 1200-1980 by Joan Nunn, for women’s clothing during this period I also used the following web sites:

 

http://www.vintageblues.com/history_main.htm

 

http://www.fashion-era.com/index.htm

 

http://intimelyfashion.com/hair/gibson2.htm

 

http://www.vintagestudio            .com/index.html

 

I also used Children’s Costume in America, 1607 – 1910 by Estelle Ansley Worrell

 

 

I learned about William Blackstone’s washing machine at http://www.homefurnish.com/bedbathstorage/homeappliances/historyofwashingmachines.aspx

 

 

I learned about High tea vs. Low tea here:

http://www.seedsofknowledge.com/lowtea.html

http://www.woodlands-junior.kent.sch.uk/customs/questions/food/tea.htm

 

 

I learned about Butter Drop Do cookies, the ancestor of Toll House cookies (a.k.a. chocolate chip cookies) at this web site.

http://whatscookingamerica.net/History/CookieHistory.htm

 

 

I primarily used this web site for Australian history

http://www.teachers.ash.org.au/jmresources/history/australian.html#1900

 

 

I used this web site to get information on The Aquarium at Tamarama, New South Wales.  (There’s a photograph of the rollercoaster A.C. and his friends rode.)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tamarama,_New_South_Wales

 

 

I read about Arts and Crafts architecture and furniture at the following web sites:

http://www.cl.utoledo.edu/canaday/artsandcrafts/

 

http://www.cl.utoledo.edu/canaday/artsandcrafts/interior.html

 

http://www.cl.utoledo.edu/canaday/artsandcrafts/furniture.html

(You can find the settee Rhys made for Adam and Bronwen here.)
http://www.cultureandrecreation.gov.au/articles/artsandcrafts/

http://www.cultureandrecreation.gov.au/articles/architecture/

 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arts_and_Crafts_Movement

 

 

I found information on Charleston and the Isle of Palms at the following locations and I also got some from a good friend who is a native of South Carolina:

 

http://excursia.com/destinations/USA/SC/charleston/stories/20001115/att_islepalms.shtml

 

http://www.discovercharleston.com/discover/  and http://www.discovercharleston.com/discover/exploring-past.htm

 

 

 

Glossary of Welsh and Australian Words and Phrases:

Welsh

Bach and fach – adding bach after a man’s name or fach after a woman’s is a form of endearment.

Cariad – dear or darling

Mam-gu – grandmother

Tada – daddy

Tad-cu – grandfather

 

Australian

Beauty or Beaut — That’s great! or Fantastic!

Billy lids – a child. Rhyming slang from “Billy Can Lid” for Kid, another term for a child.

Biscuit – what in America we call a cookie  (I think Bronwen’s ginger biscuits are like gingersnaps.)

Bloody — universal intensifying adjective. Perhaps a corruption of “By our Lady”.

Crook — a synonym for sick  

Drongo – a stupid person

Fair dinkum – used as a substitute for “Oh really?” or “true”
Flaming — an all purpose intensifying adjective. Similar to “bloody” but softer and considered slightly more socially acceptable.

Right – Okay

Ripper – great

She’s apples – It’s all right

Stone the crows!  — an Australian version of “My gosh!” or “My goodness!”

Too right – absolutely