TDTLBU Chapter Six

"Rob? Rob! If you don't hurry up and get out of bed, we'll miss the train!" Already up and dressed for an hour, Myra tugged impatiently at her husband, who still refused to move… or even so much as open his eyes.

"It's five o'clock in the morning, Myra." he mumbled. "The train doesn't leave until seven thirty… and it's only a ten minute drive to the station." so saying, he pulled the covers over his head.

"But you have chores to do," Myra pulled them back down.

"Yep." he appeared unconcerned.

"Well? Aren't you going to get up and do them?"

"Nope."

"Why?" Myra frowned.

"Ronnie said he'd do them. Said he'd do it because he doesn't know what to get for the baby."

"Ronnie's going to do them? All by himself?"

"Sure, why not? He's done them before… when we went up to Niagara Falls last summer. Remember? After all, it isn't that much. Milk Dolly, feed the chickens and gather the eggs, feed and water the horses, feed the hogs and the rest of the cows… and that's all. And he's fourteen, you know. Should be able to handle it."

"Well then." Myra grinned. "In that case, I guess you can stay in bed. But just until six! I want you to have enough time to get ready. You'll have to wear your suit."

"Really, Myra?" Rob groaned. Shaking her head, Myra slipped out into the living room, intending to spend time in prayer and reading before they left. It was a serious thing they were about to do. There was no way she was going to take this step without the proper guidance.

oOo

By the time Rob and Myra left home, Ronnie was heading back from the barn, having finished in record time.

"You want the milk in the icebox, Mrs. Hayes?"

"Just some of it, Ronnie," Myra answered, holding on to her hat in the swift breeze that was swirling through the barnyard. "I only want about a gallon. Take the rest home. You youngsters drink an awful lot more milk than we do, and I don't want to have to dump it to the hogs."

"Mama will be grateful for that," Ronnie grinned, wiping his hand against his jeans and pushing his glasses back. "Hope everything goes well today, Mrs. Hayes. And Mama said to tell you she's praying for you both. Emma is too."

"Tell them I appreciate that," Myra called back, turning to wave as Rob started up the car and turned it slowly out of the drive.

If the morning had seemed long, the train ride was forever… to Myra, at least. She twisted her hands in her lap until she nearly wrung them out, watching nervously and impatiently at the scenery slowly flashing by. She had tried to read, but Anne of Avonlea lay neglected in her lap. Rob was frowning to himself over the newspaper, seeming not to notice her plight until the book slid to the floor with a thud. Leaning over to pick it up, he turned it over in his hand, inspecting the cover before handing it back to Myra.

"How many times have you read this one?" he grinned.

"Oh, about once a year since I was old enough to read… It's not working out for me this time though," she smiled wanly. "Can't seem to get into it. That's about the first time that's ever happened to me… almost." she sighed, remembering her futile attempts to read during her convalescence. "Too much on my mind, I guess."

"You're just nervous," Rob folded up his newspaper and stowed it away in Myra's purse. "So am I."

"You are? You didn't seem to be…"

"That's because I was trying to hide it. I'm supposed to be the head of this family, you know… if I act nervous, that'll make it worse, won't it?"

"Actually… it's nice to know," Myra laughed and Rob took her hands in his.

"Maybe we should pray about it."

"My thoughts exactly."

oOo

The Cincinnati Children's Home towered high above its surroundings… an austere and imposing building of solid brick, with too many windows to count. And at every window, a flurry of activity.

The Hayes were ushered in by a pleasant looking woman, rather plump and Victorian-looking in a long black dress with a crisp, ruffled white apron and a little cap perched atop her graying hair.

"Mr. Solomon has been expecting you," she smiled as she paused before a sturdy oak door to the side of the dimly-lit stone foyer. "Good luck," she lowered her voice, smiling encouragingly.

Mr. Solomon looked to be the male version of the woman at the door… just as plump and Victorian-looking in a suit thirty years out of the fashion. His eyes were kind… blue and twinkling in a grandfatherly fashion… and Myra felt glad that her baby had been raised in a place run by such people as these.

"You must be Mr. and Mrs. Hayes," he rose from his chair as they entered, leaning across his oaken desk to shake hands. "Please, be seated. I'll have your boy brought in straightaway. I'll give you a chance to get to know him and you can make a final decision before we sign the papers. What, nervous, Mrs. Hayes?" He smiled kindly at Myra, who realized, rather uncomfortably, that she was twisting her hands again… and biting her lip. "Don't worry, it'll be fine, I promise. I've had dozens of parents in here… never had a problem yet!"

"So… no strychnine in the well?" Myra laughed nervously as Mr. Solomon shot her a startled glance. "Never mind… it was… a joke…" her voice faded away and she swallowed hard. She noticed from the corner of her eye that Rob was trying to suppress a grin, and not succeeding.

"I'll be back in just a moment," Mr. Solomon answered as he turned toward a side door in the office. "Just make yourselves at home."

"Really, Myra," Rob laughed as soon as the door had closed safely behind Mr. Solomon's retreating back. "Strychnine?"

"Well according to Mrs. Lynde, it is a valid concern," Myra shot back. "Oh dear… he's coming back." Ignoring the intense beating of her heart, she sat up straighter, trying to look as pleasant as possible as the door swung open.

"Well, Mr. and Mrs. Hayes, here he is," Mr. Solomon smiled. Myra's mouth fell open in surprise and she half-started from her chair. The boy standing before her, with his unruly dark curls and green eyes was nothing like the chubby, dimpled baby that she had in mind. Why this boy must be… at least thirteen years old!

"I… I don't understand," she faltered. "I had thought… that is, they told us that…" she paused, turning to Rob.

"They told us that he was thirteen months old." Rob added slowly.

"Thirteen months?" Mr. Solomon frowned, confused. "I'm so sorry... there must have been some mistake. I thought…"

"Wait a moment," Myra said softly. The room fell silent as she turned to look at the boy. There was something in those eyes of his… eyes just the same color as Rob's… that touched something deep inside of her. He looked so forlorn... so lost and lonely. She smiled... instinctively sympathetic and motherly... and he smiled back. It was a fleeting smile, fading fast into an almost sullen expression. But in that brief moment, she caught a glimpse of a kindred spirit in him.

"What's your name?" she asked at last.

"Josh," the boy mumbled, almost indistinctly. Myra started, turning to Rob again.

"His name is Campbell," Mr. Solomon interjected. "Joshua Campbell."

"Joshua." Myra whispered. "Oh gracious. Don't you see? Oh Rob, there's no mistake… this is our boy!"