steadily across the veranda when you hear their happy voices! And don’t even think of telling her about Lawrence until well after the birthday dinner is fully enjoyed and past.”
Anne, Eve, and the children had just begun the walk from the Hopeton dock toward the house when she saw the handsome front door open and her father
shuffle slowly toward them across the veranda. Not once since so many of their loved ones had died had she failed to be stunned by how frail and shrunken Papa looked each time they met. He had been eighty when Anne’s dear ones began to leave, and, of course, he was showing his age then. But year after year the continuing deaths somehow magnified the frightening truth that one day she would lose Papa, too.
As though reading Anne’s thoughts again, Eve, who walked up the path on her right, Pete on her left, called over to Pete: “Yo’ gran’papa, he look good, don’t he, Pete?”
“To me, he’s even sprightlier than the last time we were here,” Pete said in her firm, decisive way. “Mama, I honestly think Grandpapa’s growing backward. Don’t you think he looks younger, stronger, more like himself? Almost as tall as he used to be!”
“No,” Anne said softly. “No, Pete, I think he looks older, more stooped—but sweeter, kinder than ever. How could he look anything but old? The man’s going to be ninety day after tomorrow!”
“But look at he smile, Miss 69 Anne,” Eve persisted. “That man so glad to see yo’ face, it show on his. He smile jus’ the same as always.”
“Eve, don’t say `he smile.` It’s his smile. But thank you both for trying. I’m doing the best I can to prepare myself for losing him someday. Neither of you helps, you know, by treating me as though I were Selina’s age. I’m going to lose—my papa. I need to be ready. I— I need at least to try to be ready.”
“You won’t ever be, though, Mama. I know that. I know just what you’re saying. Don’t pay any attention to Pete and Eve.” Normally shy, quiet Fanny took them all by surprise.
Eve would always try to protect Anne’s feelings. Pete would always find a way to speak the bald truth. Anne knew them both and trusted their instincts about her. Now, after Fanny’s surprising remark, she felt a touch of guilt because she’d honestly never thought one way or the other about the extent of Fanny’s wisdom or maturity. Just that Fanny was always there to help, however quietly, and at least almost always willingly.
Well, she would weigh her own reactions to her two older daughters later. She already knew what prompted Eve to protect her. Protecting her mistress, proving that their friendship went deeper than most such relationships, had come to be Eve’s mission in life. Perhaps had always been.
They had almost reached the veranda when James Hamilton hurried ahead to steady their father down the four front steps so that the old gentleman wouldn’t have to wait a second longer than necessary to embrace Anne. The instant Papa’s feet touched the ground, his arms opened to her, and as she’d done through her whole life, Anne rushed into them.
“Happy birthday, Papa! A blessed, blessed, happy birthday!”
“Anne, Anne, Anne,” he murmured. “How good it is to have you here where I can look at you—where my creaky old arms can hold you again!” In response to Selina’s jumping up and down and tugging at his jacket sleeve, he reached to pat her head, hung with the long curls everyone so admired. He gave Anne one more endearing embrace, then hugged Pete and Fanny and added a whimsical, exaggerated bow for Eve, whose
lovely face lit with her proudest 71 smile.
“Not every gentleman about to celebrate a birthday is honored by such a boatload of charming ladies, eh, Father?” James Hamilton asked with, for him, a surprisingly easy smile. “There’s more excitement to come, Sister,” he added, turning to Anne. “The plan is quite definite, in fact. You are all to follow Papa and
Anne, Eve, and the children had just begun the walk from the Hopeton dock toward the house when she saw the handsome front door open and her father
shuffle slowly toward them across the veranda. Not once since so many of their loved ones had died had she failed to be stunned by how frail and shrunken Papa looked each time they met. He had been eighty when Anne’s dear ones began to leave, and, of course, he was showing his age then. But year after year the continuing deaths somehow magnified the frightening truth that one day she would lose Papa, too.
As though reading Anne’s thoughts again, Eve, who walked up the path on her right, Pete on her left, called over to Pete: “Yo’ gran’papa, he look good, don’t he, Pete?”
“To me, he’s even sprightlier than the last time we were here,” Pete said in her firm, decisive way. “Mama, I honestly think Grandpapa’s growing backward. Don’t you think he looks younger, stronger, more like himself? Almost as tall as he used to be!”
“No,” Anne said softly. “No, Pete, I think he looks older, more stooped—but sweeter, kinder than ever. How could he look anything but old? The man’s going to be ninety day after tomorrow!”
“But look at he smile, Miss 69 Anne,” Eve persisted. “That man so glad to see yo’ face, it show on his. He smile jus’ the same as always.”
“Eve, don’t say `he smile.` It’s his smile. But thank you both for trying. I’m doing the best I can to prepare myself for losing him someday. Neither of you helps, you know, by treating me as though I were Selina’s age. I’m going to lose—my papa. I need to be ready. I— I need at least to try to be ready.”
“You won’t ever be, though, Mama. I know that. I know just what you’re saying. Don’t pay any attention to Pete and Eve.” Normally shy, quiet Fanny took them all by surprise.
Eve would always try to protect Anne’s feelings. Pete would always find a way to speak the bald truth. Anne knew them both and trusted their instincts about her. Now, after Fanny’s surprising remark, she felt a touch of guilt because she’d honestly never thought one way or the other about the extent of Fanny’s wisdom or maturity. Just that Fanny was always there to help, however quietly, and at least almost always willingly.
Well, she would weigh her own reactions to her two older daughters later. She already knew what prompted Eve to protect her. Protecting her mistress, proving that their friendship went deeper than most such relationships, had come to be Eve’s mission in life. Perhaps had always been.
They had almost reached the veranda when James Hamilton hurried ahead to steady their father down the four front steps so that the old gentleman wouldn’t have to wait a second longer than necessary to embrace Anne. The instant Papa’s feet touched the ground, his arms opened to her, and as she’d done through her whole life, Anne rushed into them.
“Happy birthday, Papa! A blessed, blessed, happy birthday!”
“Anne, Anne, Anne,” he murmured. “How good it is to have you here where I can look at you—where my creaky old arms can hold you again!” In response to Selina’s jumping up and down and tugging at his jacket sleeve, he reached to pat her head, hung with the long curls everyone so admired. He gave Anne one more endearing embrace, then hugged Pete and Fanny and added a whimsical, exaggerated bow for Eve, whose
lovely face lit with her proudest 71 smile.
“Not every gentleman about to celebrate a birthday is honored by such a boatload of charming ladies, eh, Father?” James Hamilton asked with, for him, a surprisingly easy smile. “There’s more excitement to come, Sister,” he added, turning to Anne. “The plan is quite definite, in fact. You are all to follow Papa and
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