“Was it worth it?”
“Oh yes,” enthused Mrs. Muir. “St. Paul’s is everything we’d hoped, and more. They played some Christmas carols, and we all came out feeling quite jolly and ready to return home for our own little celebrations. But apparently that was not to be. Not this morning, anyway.”
Grace’s attention was distracted by the sound of Perry’s laughter and the sight of little Mark resting against his leg as he spoke intently to the older man.
“Young Mark seems quite forthcoming,” she observed.
Mrs. Muir sighed. “A wee bit too forthcoming, we think, since he’s barely five years old. But then again, none of our family is shy.” She paused. “Well, except Elizabeth. She and Mark are twins, you know. ‘Tis possible she received all the shyness and he all the open and trusting exuberance.”
Grace grinned. “Or he could just be a typical boy with a sunny nature.”
“Indeed. I do hope that may be the case.”
As if she’d heard her name, Elizabeth walked shyly over and stood close to her Mama, looking at Grace.
“Hello Elizabeth,” she smiled. “Have you warmed your toes yet?”
The little girl nodded, and stepped closer to the chair. “What are those funny marks?” She pointed at Grace’s face.
Mrs. Muir gasped as her daughter stared at the scars marking Grace’s cheek. “Elizabeth, no. That isveryrude of you…” Anguish and embarrassment flooded her voice.
“’Tis all right,” reassured Grace, although inside she wanted to seize the nearest shawl and wrap it around her head. She’d forgotten—forgotten—the damn things.
Howcouldshe?
Her mind flashed back to what she and Perry had done in this very room, and how distracted she’d been when the carriages collided outside the window. She hadn’t been thinking about her scars at all at that moment and it seemed the events that followed had continued to distract her.
Damn it, damn it.
She fought down her ingrained urge to cover the marks with her hand, and dredged up a smile for the innocent little face looking at her. “They are scars, Elizabeth, from something that happened a long time ago.” She took a breath, feeling that the whole room had stilled in order to listen.
“If you’ve ever skinned your knee or accidentally cut your finger, you’ll understand what I mean. Sometimes, the marks left behind go away. These didn’t.”
“Do they hurt?”
“Elizabeth, I swear I shall put my hand over your mouth any moment,” squawked Mrs. Muir, flushed and reaching for her blunt-spoken daughter.
“Hush,” Grace lifted her hand. “Children deserve honest answers to honest questions, Mrs. Muir. I’m sure you believe that as much as I do.”
She returned her attention to Elizabeth who was now standing at the arm of the chair and leaning over it, curiously examining the side of Grace’s face.
“When it happened, yes, Elizabeth. It hurt quite a bit. But now? No, I do not feel them at all.”
“You have a pwetty smile,” commented the little girl. “I’m glad they don’t hurt because you wouldn’t smile if they did, would you?”
“No, that’s quite right. And thank you for saying such a kind thing.”
Elizabeth pirouetted on her toes and danced over to her Mama. “Don’t you think she has a pwetty smile, Mama?”
By this time, Mrs. Muir didn’t seem to know how to reply, or what to do with her little daughter. She nodded, agreed and then grabbed Elizabeth’s arm, suggesting in no uncertain terms that she return to Nurse and sit quietly for a while.
Grace was amused at the mix of love and menace in the words; a balance that only a mother could achieve.
She caught Perry’s eye, noting his subtle wink of approval.
For once, her scars hadn’t caused any whispers, or looks of pity. In fact, they’d been mentioned, discussed, and dismissed, as the conversation in the room had now moved on to other things.
She wished she dared believe that they were as unimportant to the rest of the world as they were to this tiny gathering. But that was a step she couldn’t find the strength to take.
Not yet, anyway.
