Danica Favorite - An Unlikely Mother

He turned to look at Sarah and the other women. “While what happened to your shawl was unfortunate, Pierre was trying to help, but got carried away. But as you see, Flora is accepting responsibility for the situation and has offered to make it right.”

Sarah opened her mouth to argue, but the pastor held up his hand. “I won’t tolerate any more squabbles. We need to think more in terms of how we can love and serve one another, instead of being loved and served. Sarah, now that you know Pierre took your shawl because it reminded him of his mother, perhaps you could find another shawl or blanket to offer him? Spray it with some of your perfume so he has that comfort. Imagine what it must feel like to have lost a mother and now have your father missing.”

The words sounded strange to Flora. Usually the lectures were always about how Flora had been wrong and what she needed to do to rectify the situation. Part of her waited for the chastisement to be turned toward her. And yet, it didn’t come. Pastor Lassiter smiled broadly at her.

“I know you are all frustrated and angry because you think it is unfair that Flora gets to sleep in the cabin instead of in a tent. And that I’ve reduced her duties so that she can care for Pierre. Ordinarily, I’d ask for you all to take turns helping with him, but since Flora is the only one who speaks his language, I want him to have consistency of care. Our hope, and our prayer, is that we would find Pierre’s father quickly.”

As Pastor Lassiter explained his plans for finding Pierre’s father, Flora felt George move to stand behind her, close enough that she could feel the comfort of his presence emanating in her direction. He wanted to be a friend to her, to stand beside her. But he seemed to understand that though they shared a bond because of Pierre, he couldn’t get too close. He couldn’t be everything Flora could imagine him being.

She shook her head quickly, trying to banish those images from her head. They came too easily, but it was impossible to think that there would ever be anything more than a casual acquaintance between the two of them. Even if her parents were to accept such a match, as selfish as it sounded, Flora wasn’t willing to trade her life in their well-appointed home for rusticating in a cabin in the middle of some smelly mining camp. Stealing a glance at him, she noticed a smile at the corners of his lips. Would he still smile if he knew what she was thinking? That despite their shared love of a little boy, and their easy way of talking, there was no hope for anything else between them?

Flora sighed. Whatever he thought, it was none of her business. The only thing that mattered right then was helping the little boy clinging to her skirts. And maybe, if the other women could see that she truly was trying to be the woman God created her to be, maybe everything in her life would finally be back to normal. She’d have friends, eligible bachelors would start calling on her again, and then she could get married and start a family of her own. A perfect plan.

Only the weight of George’s gaze on her didn’t make it feel so perfect at all.

Chapter Four

A week later, they hadn’t come any closer to finding Pierre’s father, Henri. It was as though the man had never existed. Except there was a little boy missing him who said otherwise. Today, George found himself walking through the mining area itself, hoping that someone would recognize the little boy happily swinging between him and Flora.

The mine was no place for a child, but George had no other ideas. They’d walked Pierre through the camp a number of times, hoping the little boy would recognize someone, or at least some of the scenery. The only thing Pierre seemed interested in was going fishing, but George felt guilty at the thought. How could he replace the little boy’s father in what had clearly been an important bonding time between them?

Flora and Pierre were singing “Frère Jacques,” and George couldn’t help but enjoy Flora’s melodic voice. Though Flora had spoken disdainfully of her feminine accomplishments earlier, George was impressed with how readily she sang with the little boy, a pastime he seemed to enjoy greatly.

Pierre stopped singing and looked up at him expectantly. “Chante!”

“He wants me to sing with you, doesn’t he?” George looked over at Flora, who smiled broadly.

“It would appear so.” She gave the little boy an affectionate look, and once again George was struck by how readily she opened her heart to a child who needed it. It seemed like the other ladies in the camp hadn’t warmed to Flora, and her only friends seemed to be the pastor and Rose. A shame, because from what George could see, Flora had so much to give.

Pierre tugged at his hand. “J’enseigne!”

George looked at Flora for translation.

“He said he will teach you.” Her words came out with a slight giggle, like she found the prospect delightful.

Delightful, indeed. How could he refuse two such shining faces?

Fortunately, almost every child probably knew the familiar folk song, or at least that’s what George thought. “I don’t sing as well as you, but I think I can manage.”

He began to sing the first few bars, then Flora and Pierre joined in.

Maybe it was wrong of him to think so, but as they strolled through the crowded area of the mine, holding hands with Pierre, who was exuberantly swinging his arms, probably in the hope that they’d pick him up and swing him between them again, this felt like everything he’d always hoped for in a family of his own.

As they rounded the corner toward the mine office, Flora stopped suddenly, cutting off midsong.

“What’s wrong?” George asked.

Flora gave him a shaky smile. “Nothing. I just thought I’d seen my father going into that building, that’s all. Silly, because he wouldn’t be here. Our mines are on the other side of the valley.”

Then her face fell as she sighed. “Unless he’s checking up on me. I’d hoped I’d earned his trust by now, but he was really disappointed in me when he realized just how badly I’d hurt others with my words.”

Flora glanced at him with a look of such remorse, George once again wished he could come clean with her about their past, and how he forgave her for the way she’d treated him when they were children.

“Once everyone got tired of my gossip, it strained my relationship with a lot of people, including friends of my parents. My father had to do a lot of work to repair some of his business interests.”

The mournful look George had grown to hate seeing on her face reappeared. “I honestly thought I was being helpful, telling people all those things, and that somehow, it raised my own status of being good. How wrong I was. I’d give anything to take my words and actions back.”

George smiled at her, wishing he could take her hand and give it a squeeze to let her know that it was all right. “We all make mistakes,” he said. “When I was a child, there was one little girl my friends and I used to tease for having a lot of freckles. We hurt her feelings so badly that her mother came to see my mother, and I got in a lot of trouble for it. Even though I could justify it by saying that she deserved it for teasing me, I should have realized that, as deeply as her words hurt me, mine probably hurt her as well.”

It was the closest to admitting their shared past as George could safely get. But he had to make Flora understand that this was not an unforgiveable sin and that they all made mistakes.

“Children can be cruel,” Flora admitted. “I was also teased for my freckles. Mother made me a special lotion I wore every night, and I take care to stay out of the sun. It was awful being made fun of, and I, too, should have remembered that when I tormented others. I suppose I thought that if people were making fun of someone else, no one would dare laugh at me.”