Eve scrambled to her feet and raced to their neighbors’ cottage, her legs like clumsy logs. She didn’t knock. “Mrs. Ramsay! Come quick! Something’s wrong with Granny. She won’t wake up.”
Mrs. Ramsay wiped her hands on her apron as she hurried after Eve. “Wait out here, child,” she said when they reached the cottage door. Eve shook her head and followed her inside. Mrs. Ramsay crouched beside the chair and covered Granny Maud’s wrinkled hands with her own. Tears filled her eyes as she gently stroked Granny’s face. “She’s gone, Eve. I’m so sorry.”
“No! She . . . she can’t be! She wasn’t even sick!” Eve’s heart tried to squeeze out of her throat, choking her.
“She passed on peacefully, dear.”
“But she was fine when I left this morning!” Eve’s thoughts whirled like windblown leaves. She longed to start the day over again and do everything differently so it would have a different ending. This was her fault. “I—I should have come home sooner! I shouldn’t have left her all alone!”
“I don’t think it would have mattered. It was her time, Eve.” Mrs. Ramsay reached to take her hand but Eve pulled away. She dropped to her knees in front of the chair, resting her head on Granny’s lap as she loved to do. It no longer felt soft and warm. Eve buried her face in Granny’s skirt and sobbed.
Mrs. Ramsay stroked Eve’s hair. “I’ll send Charlie up to Wellingford to fetch your mum. Come to my house and I’ll fix some tea.”
Eve shook her head. “I need to stay here with Granny Maud. The fire went out. I need to take care of it.”
Mrs. Ramsay opened her mouth as if she might argue, then closed it again. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Everything seemed unreal. Mum arrived home and it wasn’t even a Sunday afternoon. She cried with Eve and rocked her in her arms. For as long as Eve could remember, Granny Maud had taken care of her while Mum worked up at Wellingford Hall. Granny kept house, cooked Eve’s meals, darned her socks, mended her clothes, took Eve to church, and made sure the cottage was warm all winter long. Granny told Eve how much she loved her every day of her life. How could Eve live without her?
Everyone came to Granny Maud’s funeral in the village church. They loved her as much as Eve did, and they talked about how quick she’d been to help anyone in need, even if it meant going without herself. The sun shone as they buried her in the graveyard, and it seemed unfair that the sky didn’t rain down tears. She was laid to rest beside her husband, the grandfather Eve had never met. Mum picked up a fistful of dirt and dropped it onto her coffin but Eve couldn’t do it.
The villagers gathered in Granny’s cottage afterwards, sharing food and stories. “You’ll always have us as your family,” the vicar said. But nobody’s hug was as wonderful as Granny Maud’s. When the last person left and Eve and Mum were alone, the cottage felt dark and empty, as if Granny had been the source of light and warmth.
“Do you think she’s in heaven, Mum?” Eve asked.
“Of course she’s in heaven. She loved Jesus—you know that.”
“So she’s with my daddy now?”
Mum nodded. “Yes. And they must be so happy to be . . .” Tears choked her voice before she could finish. She sank down in Granny Maud’s chair as if she lacked the strength to stand. Eve lifted the framed photograph of her mum and dad from the dresser and sat on the floor with it beside Mum’s chair. Mum looked young and pretty, Daddy handsome in his uniform. “You get your love of the outdoors from your father,” Mum said. “You’re so much like him. You have the same color hair and freckles just like his.” Mum brushed her fingers across Eve’s face as if she could feel them. Granny Maud said each freckle marked a spot where an angel had kissed her. Pain twisted through Eve’s stomach. Granny was gone. Gone! Just like her daddy.
Eve often dreamed of what her life would be like if he hadn’t died. She would live on the farm with him and Mum and Granny Maud. Daddy would tend his sheep and cows and Mum would stay home with Eve instead of working at Wellingford Hall. She would sing as she worked in the kitchen the way Granny used to do.
“We need to decide what to do next,” Mum said. “You can’t live here all by yourself while I’m working at Wellingford or staying up in London with Lady Rosamunde.”
Eve knew her childhood in this little cottage had ended. And even though she couldn’t imagine leaving the only home she’d ever known, Eve didn’t want to live here all alone where every sight and scent reminded her of Granny. “I want to work at the manor house with you.”
“Oh, Eve. No.” Mum pulled her into her arms and held her tightly. “I never wanted you to go into service. Never. So many things changed after the war, and now there are much better jobs for smart young girls like you besides being maidservants. I had dreams of you taking a typing course someday or maybe working in a shop. But you’re only twelve—still too young for either of those.” She released Eve again and stroked her hair. “I hoped to leave Wellingford Hall myself someday, but there was never enough money left over after paying the rent.”
“We’ll have more money now that we aren’t living here. We can save up.”
“That’s true, but—”
“Besides, I don’t mind going into service. You’ve done it all these years, so I can, too.”
“Maybe for just a few years. And we’ll save all our money for your future.” Eve saw the sadness in Mum’s eyes despite her attempt to smile.
“I’ll get to see you more often,” Eve said. “And I won’t have to wrestle with this cranky old stove anymore.” She gave the range a kick.
“They’ll make you work very hard up at Wellingford until you prove yourself. And you’ll have to take orders from Mrs. Smith, the housekeeper.”
“I know. Just until I’m sixteen, right? Just until we save enough money.”
Tears filled Mum’s eyes again. “All those years that I spent downstairs in that dark servants’ hall, I was able to imagine you running outside, climbing trees, and playing in the woods. You’re so free-spirited, Eve, and I never wanted you to work in that cold, dark manor house. Now you won’t even be able to go to school . . .” She couldn’t finish.
“I don’t mind, Mum. Really, I don’t. Granny Maud used to say, ‘Rain or shine, just take the day the Lord gives you.’ Remember?”
Mum nodded. She wiped her tears. “I suppose we’d better start packing. We don’t have very much, do we?”
“Our job will be easy.” Eve swallowed the tears that were trying to escape and lifted the framed picture of Jesus from the nail in the wall. He carried a lamb on His shoulders, and “The Lord is my shepherd” was printed across the bottom in gold letters. Granny loved telling stories about how Eve’s daddy used to tend his flock of sheep on the farm. Sometimes, one of them would squeeze under the fence and wander away. And Daddy would go looking for it, bringing it home just like the shepherd in the story Jesus told.
“You remember these words, Eve,” Grandma would say, pointing to the picture. “You may not have a father here on earth, but you have a heavenly Father. And the Lord will always be your faithful shepherd.” Eve wrapped the framed picture in one of Granny’s afghans to take with her to Wellingford Hall.