“Yours,” Joy affirmed. “And no textile mills in sight,” she added with a wink, knowing the common fate of orphans Maddie’s age.
“Thank you,” Maddie whispered. “I won’t let you down.”
“The only thing we expect you to do is to be yourself,” Thomas assured her.
“Exactly,” Joy agreed, wrapping an arm around Maddie’s shoulders. “Now, why don’t we give you some time to settle in? There’s much to explore, and dinner will be ready before you know it. Margaret’s cooking is something truly special.”
“Or to write in your new journal,” Thomas added, nodding toward the desk where a leather-bound book awaited its first entry.
Maddie’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, a mixture of joy and overwhelming relief. “I think I’m going to like it here,” she said. “Where is the kitchen? I’ll go down and help with dinner.”
Joy smiled. “They won’t even let me help with dinner. I can promise you, they won’t allow a child in their precious kitchen.”
“But…You’re keeping me from the mills. I need to earn my keep.”
“You’re our daughter now. No need to earn your keep. We’ll enroll you in school after the holidays are over,” Thomas said.
Very softly, Joy whispered, “Welcome home. I hope you’ll love it here as much as we do.”
“Then I reckon I’ve come to the right place,” Maddie said.
Maddie stood in the middle of her new room, clutching a rag doll, which she’d brought to the orphanage with her after her parents had died when she was only four. The wallpaper was a soothing shade of sky blue, and the bedspread featured a delicate pattern of wildflowers that reminded her of Joy’s smile—warm and welcoming.
Joy smiled. “We’ll leave you to settle in. We’ll be downstairs in the parlor. If you can’t find us, just call out.”
“Thank you,” Maddie said, her voice a whisper of awe. “I always…I wanted to be a teacher. But I thought…”
“Thought what?” Joy prodded gently.
“That it was impossible,” Maddie sobbed. “That I’d never have the chance.”
Joy patted her back, a twinkle in her eye. “Well, life’s full of surprises. You’re in a house where impossible is just another word for ‘not done yet.’ You can be anything you want to be.”
*****
The days following Christmas passed like pages in a storybook, each moment filled with newness and light. Maddie, determined to prove her worth, threw herself into helping with every chore, from dusting the bookshelves to helping in the greenhouse.
Her eagerness was met with raised eyebrows and amused glances among the staff, but no one could deny the joy that seemed to dance in her steps.
“Reminds me of Joy when she first arrived,” Thomas mused aloud to Jonathan Pierce, who had stopped by for an impromptu visit.
“Ah, yes, a whirlwind of curiosity and barefoot wonder,” Jonathan agreed, leaning back in his chair and sipping his tea. “Madelyn appears to be cut from the same cloth.”
“She really is,” Thomas said, watching as Jonathan paused to admire a portrait of Joy and himself. “Though I suspect she’ll keep her shoes on more often.”
“I would hope so,” Jonathan laughed. “Easier on the feet.”
Joy, meanwhile, found Maddie’s company a refreshing change of pace. The girl’s laughter was infectious, and her desire to help, albeit occasionally clumsy, was endearing.
“Maybe tomorrow we can pick out some fabrics for new school clothes?” Joy suggested as they sat together in the parlor.
“Really?” Maddie’s face lit up like the sun breaking through clouds. “Oh, Mrs. Worthington, I’d like that very much!”
“Call me Joy,” she corrected gently. “Or I could take you to my modiste and have the dresses made for you. I think maybe that’s what we’ll do. I want to spend my days digging in the dirt, not sewing.”
“Joy,” Maddie repeated. “Thank you, Joy.”
*****
