Chapter 17
For the next few days, Ivy pondered about their friends’ visit.
Over and over, she replayed every moment, narrowing her focus onto Torin and Jewel.
The afternoon had been such a delight, with a camaraderie she’d never before experienced.
She had a strong sense that Torin hadn’t, either, and that allowing himself to relax and enjoy the visit had been a good step for him.
The aftermath, though, was quite a letdown. Since then, all of them went about their regular routine in a subdued manner.
Torin had little interaction with Ivy. He also seemed quieter with his daughter, as if he had to make an effort to engage.
Ivy forced herself to smile and encourage Jewel, for the child needed support more than ever.
Her pupil was listless, fractious, and only showed brief glimpses of her normally sunny spirits.
Although Brave stuck close to the girl, even the cat couldn’t lift her mood.
She wondered how much of Jewel’s attitude was missing her friends and how much was in response to Torin and Ivy’s emotional withdrawal.
With each circle of her memories, Ivy came to the same conclusion—Torin and Jewel’s isolation was no longer the protective perimeter he intended—but a flawed strategy causing more harm than good.
As always, she ended with the same question. How do I make him understand?
Today, she’d hiked with Jewel to the meadow near Hank’s house, bringing along a blanket to sit on and allowing Jewel to play. By now, they let Brave off the leash, for they’d learned the cat would stick close.
A mourning-cloak butterfly danced on the air, fluttering delicate maroon wings with a distinctive border of black dotted with blue and capped by frilly yellow.
Jewel gave chase until the butterfly flew into the trees. Then she searched the ground, gathering up items to stuff into the pockets of her pinafore.
Returning to the blanket, she sat on the edge and emptied her pockets. Using some stones, sticks, and moss, the child attempted to build a little fairy hut, something Torin had done with her previously.
Ivy remembered watching his hands that day.
They were long-fingered, scarred across the knuckles from years of chores he'd never been raised to do.
Yet, he could cleverly fit bits and bobs of wood and stone and moss and woven grass into a quaint tiny house to charm the fairies to come live there. She sighed.
Since she knew from experience her pupil would adamantly refuse help, Ivy soaked up the sun, although she kept her face shaded by her straw hat. She hoped for the feeling of peace that often seeped into her when she sat in the midst of nature. But her thoughts refused to settle.
Keeping a casual eye on Jewel, she allowed herself to ruminate on Torin’s insistence on isolation, asking herself the question for what must be the sixty-seventh time. And then she went over the same answers for the sixty-seventh time.
I need to point out the evidence.
Jewel’s excitement about being with her “aunts” and “uncles” and the contrast to her sobs of sadness and listlessness ever since.
The love and staunch protectiveness formed by a circle of friends who were practically family, who would stand between the child and any who dared to judge, criticize, or reject her.
That Jewel must be lonely without realizing it, for she’d never even seen another child, much less interacted with one.
In the company of other children, Jewel would no longer be limited to solitary play.
If only Torin would meet with the Nortons and Bellaires.
Even the school mistress, Mrs. Gordon, of whom I’ve heard only good reports.
And then there’s the Swensens, who live right there.
She glanced up the mountain, as if to spy their house.
Mrs. Swensen checked on Cora and Brian during his recuperation.
The daughters are sweet girls, according to Elsie and Cora.
The fact that Inga faithfully carries our correspondence up and down the mountain speaks well of her character.
Ivy wholeheartedly believed if positive results came from Torin taking the first step, that success would lead to more—one at a time. Both his life and Jewel’s would open up. And so will mine.
For the third time, Jewel tried to raise two pieces of wood to use as corner walls to hold up a piece of moss roof, only to have them fall.
Ivy admired the child’s persistence.
Her pupil tried again with the same results. This time, though, Jewel burst into tears. “Broke,” she wailed. She looked pitifully up at Ivy, her blue eyes drenched. “Can’t.”
“Oh, darling!” Concerned, Ivy swooped to kneel next to the girl and put an arm around Jewel’s shoulder. It isn’t like Jewel to cry when she can’t do something. She chastised herself for not paying closer attention and intervening. Of course, the pile of stones and sticks wouldn’t make a hut!
“You tried hard. You just need more building materials. When Papa gets back from his walk, we’ll ask him for some. Then you’ll be able to make your little house.”
Jewel stilled. But tears continued down her cheeks.
Her heart aching for the girl, she kissed the top of Jewel’s head and stood. “Come on, sweet girl. Let’s go home. Maybe Papa is back already, and he can help you.”
Jewel sniffed and rose, leaning against Ivy’s leg.
Pulling out her handkerchief from her sleeve, Ivy wiped the child’s face. Then she held out the square. “Blow your nose, darling.”
Taking the handkerchief, Jewel obeyed, and then handed it back.
Keeping a careful eye on her listless charge, Ivy balled the handkerchief and tucked it into her apron pocket.
She let out a slow breath, wondering if the child was coming down with something or just moping.
To check, she placed her palm against Jewel’s forehead.
But her skin didn’t feel warmer than normal.
Although relieved Jewel wasn’t ill, Ivy was only slightly reassured. Sometimes, heartsickness is harder to heal.
After picking up and folding the blanket, she decided to head home using the meandering forest path, rather than the quicker walk on the road. Hopefully, there’d be enough flora and fauna to distract Jewel from her broken house.
Today, though, Jewel trudged, seemingly unseeing, her shoulders drooping, so their walk took half again the usual time. They came out where the path through the woods ended.
As they moved onto the road, Ivy saw three stair-stepping blonde girls walking their direction. The Swensens!
She froze. Her first instinct was to grab Jewel and duck back into the trees. But she moved too late.
Brave didn’t, skittering into hiding.
The youngest took dancing steps over, stopping in front of Jewel. “Hello. Who are you? I’m Krista.”
Jewel gaped at her. “I Jewel.” She patted her chest.
The other girls followed. They all shared a strong likeness—pretty and blue-eyed, their hair in pigtails.
The oldest tapped her chest. “I’m Inga.” She touched the remaining one’s shoulder. “This is Elsabe. We didn’t know a girl lived here.”
“There!” Jewel pointed to the house. As she tended to do in times of excitement, she raised both arms.
Krista clapped her hands and bounced on her toes. “Would you like to play with us?”
Smiling, Jewel vigorously nodded, and clumsily clapped her hands.
Flabbergasted, a word Ivy never thought would apply to her. Her thoughts ran clickety-clack like wheels rolling over a railroad track.
Too late. Can’t go back now. What’s done is done. In for a penny, in for a pound.
“We have little sisters and a brother,” Inga told her, waving a hand at her sisters. “So we play London Bridge Is Falling Down. Do you know it?”
Jewel’s tongue poked out.
Ivy came to her pupil’s rescue. “She doesn’t know that one. But I bet she’d like ring-around-the-rosy. She knows the rhyme. Why don’t you all move over there.” She pointed to a patch of grass near the porch.
Throwing up her arms again, Jewel chanted, “Ring round wrow-see. Poc-et full pos-ee. As-ez all fall down!”
Elsabe tilted her head. “You talk funny. But that’s all right. My pa talks funny too because he’s Swedish.”
Laughter bubbled up in her chest. Ivy put a hand over her mouth to hide her reaction. She had to take a breath before she could talk again. “How old are you girls? Jewel’s twelve.”
Inga touched her chest. “I’m thirteen, Elsabe’s eleven, and Krista’s nine.”
Stair-steps, indeed. Ivy wondered about the rest of the children, but now wasn’t the time to ask.
Krista held out her hand to Jewel and extended the other to Elsabe. “We all join. Like this.”
With a wide smile, Jewel took Krista’s hand and followed as they shifted to play on the grass.
Praying this would work, Ivy tried to prepare the other girls. “Jewel can’t move that fast, especially sideways, so go slow at first and be careful.” She sank down on the porch steps.
The girls joined hands and started to chant the rhyme and move in a clockwise circle. Jewel was clumsy and took several attempts to learn to circle. But after a few false starts, the Swensen girls adjusted their rhythm to Jewel’s awkward sidestepping.
After about four rounds, Jewel grew more confident, and they slightly picked up speed.
Jewel let out happy squeals, shouted the words, and plopped herself down when the others did. Amid lots of giggles, the three helped her stand, and they’d start all over again.
As she watched, tears of joy came to Ivy’s eyes. Another milestone.
This is the proof Torin needs. Jewel has been so sad and look at her now. He can’t deny playing with these girls is good for her.