Page 63 of The Seaside Homecoming
A favorite teacup.
A small vase of flowers Georgie had picked for her ... from their neighbor’s garden.
An attempt to sketch from memory the face of Sarah’s betrothed after he was gone. Not terribly successful.
Viola’s hands. At the time, her hands were all her reclusive sister had allowed Claire to draw. Yet hands had proven rather difficult.
A watercolor of an orange tabby that kept coming to the garden door. Despite Mamma’s refusals to let the cat inside,Emily and Georgie had conspired to sneak out bowls of cream to the charming creature.
A still life of Papa’s pipe atop a favorite book.
Claire smiled even as tears stung her eyes. She lightly ran a finger over the lines, then closed the sketchbook and set it aside.
The door creaked open, startling Claire. Hand to her chest, she searched the darkness until Mira’s small form appeared.
“Miss Claire? I had a bad dream.”
“I am sorry to hear that.” She spread her arms, and the girl hurried into them. Claire held her close and patted her back. When she had calmed, Claire said gently, “You really should not wander around alone in the dark, though. Don’t forget Sonali is in the room next to yours.”
“She got cross the last time I woke her.”
“I am sure she does not mind. Not if you are scared. Come. I will take you back.”
Mira nodded. Claire picked up her candle lamp and led the girl upstairs.
Sonali stood outside her bedchamber door with a candle of her own. “There you are, Mira! I worried when I came to look in and you were not there.”
Claire said, “She had a bad dream.”
“I see,” Sonali replied a little stiffly. “Well, come, let’s go back to bed.” With a curt nod to Claire, the woman put a gentle arm around the little girl’s shoulders and shepherded her into her room.
The next morning Claire rose early, washed, and dressed. Mary popped in to lace her stays and fasten the back of her dress as usual. Together they helped with breakfast, carrying up the serving dishes for the sideboard and family table: fresh bread rolls and butter, cold ham, and boiled eggs. Mrs.Ballard said she would send up the hot coffee and tea in a few minutes.
Finding everything ready ahead of schedule, Claire took the sketchbook and drawing pencils into the morning room, where the light was better.
The pencil quickly and naturally slipped into position, as though only a few days had passed since she’d drawn something instead of two years.
For lack of a more inspired subject, she began sketching the items on the desk: brass wax jack, ceramic ink well, bone-handled seal, and powder jar.
A short while later, Mira bounced in, doll in arms. “What are you doing?”
“Just drawing while I wait for everyone.”
“Can you draw me?”
“I’m afraid I am not very good at drawing people.”
“What about Dolly?” Mira held up her doll with its painted porcelain face atop a soft body.
“I suppose I might be able to draw your doll.” Claire began sketching.
Mira lifted the doll’s miniature dress hem with a pout. “It’s still torn. And Sonali says she is too busy.”
“I am sorry, Mira. I would be happy to mend it, but I’m afraid I don’t have my own sewing things. Perhaps I could borrow some.”
“What’s this?” Mr. Hammond came in at the tail end of this conversation.
“Miss Summers promised to repair Dolly’s dress, but she has no sewing things.”
