~ by M. C. Pehrson
Now, even the days were growing chilly. Leaves changed color and drifted to the ground, but the graceful pepper trees lining Arbor Street remained as green as ever. High school football games sometimes disturbed Emma’s sleep, but she did not really mind. The music, cheering, and noisy traffic made her wish she was out there with the students having fun in the stands. She wondered what it would be like, someday, if she attended the public high school and learned science from Papa in his upstairs classroom. It all seemed such a long way off, but one of her favorite holidays was just around the corner.
On Thanksgiving Day, Mrs. Kester’s cooking filled the farmhouse with all the wonderful aromas that Emma had missed since Mama died. Eating at a restaurant was not nearly as much fun as putting together a big family dinner. While the turkey roasted, Emma and Susan did what they could to help while Tommy slowly hobbled around the house on crutches, one pant leg pinned up.
When Uncle Lars arrived with his parents, Grandma and Grandpa Norquist, Susan giggled and whispered in Emma’s ear, “Bet you’re glad that your bony old Aunt Daisy isn’t here.”
Emma cringed at the very idea. Every summer since Mama died, Great-Aunt Daisy had descended on Arbor Street like a plague. Well, once Papa got married, cranky old Daisy would not be coming around anymore, complaining about Emma’s pet moths and murdering the poor snails in the ivy. It should have been a happy thought, but Emma felt a little sad inside. Where was Daisy today? Was she sitting all by herself, completely friendless?
Soon dinner was served, and Emma forgot about her great-aunt. Conversation at the dinner table centered on the upcoming wedding. With scarcely a month left, Emma was getting excited. Shortly after Christmas, life as she knew it would change forever. Following a simple church ceremony, Papa and his bride would drive off for a weeklong honeymoon. While they were gone, Lars would help move the last of Emma’s things into the farmhouse and stay there with the children until the newlyweds returned.
As Christmas approached, time seemed to pass more and more quickly. One dark December morning, as Emma lay in bed, she heard the rattle of milk bottles settling onto the front porch. As the lonely sound of the milkman faded, she could not help thinking of Aunt Daisy again. Reflexively she touched the fine, straight hair that had always annoyed her picky aunt. In the stillness, she remembered what Papa had said the last time they drove Daisy to the train station. All those summers, he had never once invited Aunt Daisy to stay with them. No one liked being around her, and because she was so miserable, she had simply invited herself.
Emma decided to get up early and surprise Papa with eggs and toast. After breakfast, she sat very still in her kitchen chair while Papa worked her hair into perfectly matching braids. It was her favorite moment of the day when she had her father’s full, undivided attention.
“Papa,” she said. “I’m doing a lot better at school, aren’t I?”
“Mm-mm.” He was tying a blue ribbon at the end of each braid. “There,” he said with satisfaction. “Yes, Honeybee, you’re doing much better at school.”
A stirring of nervousness made her crack her knuckles. “Papa, I was thinking about what you said…”
“Regarding your schoolwork?” He moved to the counter and began preparing peanut butter sandwiches for their lunch.
Emma got up and took two brown lunch sacks out of a drawer. “No, not schoolwork. About never inviting Aunt Daisy here. She used to be a teacher, didn’t she?”
Papa glanced at her in surprise. “Well, yes. She taught elementary school for years.”
“Maybe that’s why she’s so bossy,” Emma mused. Seeing Papa’s eyebrows go up, she quickly explained, “Oh, I didn’t mean that you’re bossy! Not all teachers are that way, but they have to be a little bit bossy, don’t they?”
A smile played around Papa’s mouth as he wrapped their sandwiches in waxed paper. He asked, “Why all this sudden interest in Aunt Daisy?”
“It was the milkman,” she answered, “out there all by himself this morning…sort of lonely, like Aunt Daisy. And I got to wondering… have you invited her to the wedding?”
“Daisy?” Papa put down the sandwiches and turned to her with an incredulous expression. “You know she doesn’t have any use for the Kesters. She made that quite clear, didn’t she? As I recall, that’s the very reason she lit out of here last summer.”
“Maybe she thought we didn’t want her around.”
“We didn’t,” Papa muttered as he turned back to the sandwiches.
It was true, and Emma could not help feeling some remorse. “I bet no one ever invites her to anything. Think how happy she would be if someone did invite her. For Christmas… and the wedding.”
Papa frowned. As if to himself, he said, “Honestly, I don’t think Aunt Daisy is capable of experiencing happiness.”
Not capable of experiencing happiness? What a terrible thought! All day, Papa’s words nagged at Emma. When school let out, she stopped by the church. Kneeling before the placid statue of St. Germaine, she lit a candle and prayed that crotchety old Daisy would receive the gift of happiness.
Susan had gone on home, so Emma went out of the church door into a light drizzle and walked down Arbor Street by herself. Out by the gate, she picked up the mail and took it in to the kitchen table. Papa was still at the high school.
Emma turned up the heat and changed into play clothes before sitting down to her homework in the kitchen. She was munching on an apple when some bright lettering on a piece of mail drew her eyes. It read, “NOT AT THIS ADDRESS—RETURN TO SENDER.” It looked like one of the wedding invitations.
Curious, Emma picked it up and discovered that the envelope flap had come open. She did not see any real harm in peeking inside. After all, she had already seen plenty of the invitations, and they all looked the same — preprinted with information about the wedding. But when Emma examined this one, there was a difference. It included a handwritten note from Papa.
“I’ve been wanting to see you. Why not come early and spend Christmas with us? We have plenty of room at the house. Robert.”
“Hmm,” murmured Emma as she turned her attention to the envelope and its unusable address. Philip Watson. Was he related to the Doctor Watson of Sherlock Holmes? Well, whoever he was, he would not be coming to the wedding.
A sudden inspiration struck, so vivid and powerful that she felt sure it had come straight from Heaven.
Three days passed. Emma and Papa were leaving for their usual dinner at the Kesters when the phone rang. Wearing his hat and overcoat, Papa picked up the receiver.
“Winberry residence,” he said pleasantly, “Robert speaking.”
Abruptly his expression changed. With a grimace, he moved the earpiece slightly away from his head, and now the caller’s resonant voice carried all the way to Emma. Feeling suddenly weak, she sank into a chair.
“…rather short notice, Robert…and I must say, I was taken aback. Under the circumstances, I thought I should make sure there was no mistake… that you actually do want me there for Christmas… and the marriage ceremony…”
“Aunt Daisy…” Papa almost choked on the name. Visibly distressed, he took the phone base in his left hand and began pacing back and forth with the long black cord trailing behind him. “How could it be a mistake? Addressed to you…with a personal note…you said so yourself.”
Daisy’s voice softened a bit. “I can’t say that I understand. But Robert, if you really do want me there…”
Papa rolled his eyes and swallowed hard. “I think you’d like Christina if you only gave her a chance. We’re just having a quiet ceremony… and as for Christmas, well… we’ll be spending most of the day at Christina’s, with her folks.”
“Well, Robert, if you’d truly like me to be there…”
Stifling a sigh, Papa lied outright. “Aunt Daisy, of course, I do.”
Then he put down the phone and used some improper language. A lie and a curse! On Saturday night, Papa would be going to confession, and Emma would be right there with him. She held her breath, waiting for his sharp mind to uncover her part in the mystery, but he only yanked off his hat and kept shaking his head.
“It just doesn’t make any sense,” he kept repeating. “A handwritten note…”
Emma spoke up in a small voice. “Aunt Daisy’s coming?”
Papa did not seem to hear her. “The note must have said something… something about Christmas…” He froze. His chin came up. “Oh, no. Christina put Phil’s invitation in the wrong envelope. But how in the world did Daisy get on the guestlist?” At last, his piercing eyes found Emma. “Young lady, did you add Aunt Daisy’s name to that list?”
“No, Papa.” Emma was glad she could answer honestly.
With a huff not unlike Daisy’s, he picked up his hat and firmly settled it atop his bald head. “Well, heaven us, you’re getting your wish. Break out your dresses. Aunt Daisy is coming.”
1 thought on “Just Wait and See: Chapter 4”