“I have three younger brothers that I’ve been raising since I was ten years old.”
Myrtles dark eyebrows shot up, and she shook her head, making her black curls shake like dark leaves on a tree. “What? That’s something else. Did you lose your mother at that age?”
“Yes, she died in childbirth. I raised my brothers from that point on. Dave is 21, he’s five years younger than me. Oscar is 19 and Al, he’s the baby. He is 16. My mother died giving birth to him. She had a bleeding problem.”
“I am so sorry to hear that, Ella.” Myrtle placed a hand on hers and gave her a sympathetic look. Ella just shook her head.
“It’s been a very long time now, Myrtle. I feel very little pain at the loss now. I took this position and decided to be Andrew’s bride because I have a lot of experience with boys.”
“Did your brothers ever put frogs in your bed or spike your coffee with lemon?”
Ella laughed softly. “No, they didn’t. But I’m not afraid of frogs and a bit of lemon might pucker my lips but won’t kill me. I’m sure I will be fine.”
Myrtle’s smile made her brown eyes sparkle. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear you say that, my dear. I have been praying for a long time that someone would come along to help my brother out. He has been very stressed since Liz passed away five years ago. He hasn’t been doing well on his own at all. He took Raymie and Freddie out of school, which I objected to but he wouldn’t listen to me. And he never sent them back. I don’t know why because all they do is run around her like wildmen.”
“I will see that they return to school,” Ella said. “An education is very important. Those boys need it to succeed in life.”
“Try convincing my brother of that. I would like to see it.”
Chapter Four
Myrtle had been correct when she told Ella that the boys were unruly. She was actually a little surprised by how little discipline Andrew had given them in the last five years. She was somewhat surprised they didn’t all have hair down to their waists and no bathtime each week. She had quickly discovered during the first week that bathing and rubbing their teeth clean were two things Andrew insisted on. He regularly emptied the chamber pots and kept the house as aired out as possible. He was a stickler for trying to make things as clean as possible, which pleased her. But the dust had always gotten away from him. Opening the windows invited in more dust from the air and their clothes and shoes did the rest.
She didn’t mind the constant dusting. It became part of her routine when she wasn’t trying to keep the boys under control. The lemon in her coffee and frogs in her bed that Myrtle mentioned were pranks that the boys had apparently used before so she was expecting them. She scolded the boys but was never harsh, leaving them thinking of more things to do to her. She wasn’t sure how to put a stop to it.
On her third Monday morning as their new mother, she woke to the usual morning scent of coffee. Andrew never woke her before he left and he was not talkative when he came home. He had not told her about any of his days or the creations he was working on in his business though it was something she would have been interested in hearing.
Andrew never discouraged Ella from reading her books. In fact, Myrtle had even bought her a new one when she finished Sherlock Holmes A Study in Scarlet. It was a fantastic book and had become one of Ella’s all-time favorites. She was looking forward to reading more about the British detective at 221B Baker Street. So far, she had only had a chance to read to Carl. The other boys refused to sit long enough to listen.
This morning, she heard a crash downstairs and immediately jumped up from her bed. She pulled on her robe and slid her small feet into a pair of slippers Myrtle had also purchased for her. She hurried down the hallways to the den and pushed the door open.
“Raymie? Peter? Fred? Carl?” She said each of their names, even though there was no one in the room. She glanced around for hiding places and scanned the curtains and furniture for little feet or tufts of hair so she could see where they were. In the corner of the room, a large vase had fallen to the floor, shattering it into a million pieces. She was instantly afraid, thinking of what her father would have done if something like that had happened in his house.
But she wasn’t caring for her father’s house anymore. She was caring for her husband’s, a man she barely knew, even two and a half weeks in.
“Oh dear,” she said loudly so that small listening ears would hear. “Oh, my! Andrew will be so unhappy about this. I can’t imagine who could have done it!” She silently picked up a small hard ball that was still rocking in place under a table near the smashed vase. She slipped the ball into her pocket. “Oh dear.” She shook her head. “Could this have been a ghost? Oh, how will I tell Andrew there is a ghost in this house!”