It was several weeks before Jonas finally asked Miss Ringworthy to have coffee with him. They spoke often in the meantime, but they were blessed with an early spring so Jonas organized the men to begin working on the house. They worked from sunup to sundown. They were all grateful that the house had been built with solid oak and they would not need to rebuild. They sanded and painted over the weathered exterior boards, replaced parts of the porch, oiled and rubbed the inside floors and cabinets, and re-shingled the roof. They put a thick layer of insulation in the high attic ceiling and placed thin oak planks over that to make a new ceiling. They replaced the windows, the shutters, and flower boxes, painting them the same festive colors they had been during the Kindfellows’ day.
The women gravitated to the fallow gardens and orchards and raked and hoed and aerated the soil. They brought their own compost to mix with the soil, and threw seed about. They pruned back the trees in the orchard, so many of their branches having grown spindly and weak. They laid out the vegetable garden for planting, believing that whoever would come to live in the house would likely participate in their market days. Among themselves the women all agreed to take turns tending the gardens and orchards until the new family—whoever they may be—moved in.
Most of the children remained behind to tend to their own family’s gardens and woodworking, except Hannah and Jemima who still sought to redeem themselves. On a Saturday morning, Mrs. Heartswell brought her daughters with her and stood by while they shyly walked up to Mr. Buckthorn, a brightly wrapped bundle in their arms. They managed the courage the look up at him while he smiled fondly down at them.
“Mr. Buckthorn,” began Hannah, “since we couldn’t come back for while, Jemima and I decided to make a quilt, just the two of us, by ourselves.”
Jemima continued, “We wanted to do something to show that we regret what happened last time we were here. We wanted to make a gift of atonement to the house.”
Mr. Buckthorn chuckled a little, amused that the girls would think of giving a gift to the house itself, but as he gazed on their stern little faces, he realized that they were utterly serious. It wasn’t their lively imaginations at work here; it was their own firm belief that the house created that image which had frightened them so. They had never stopped believing it. He took a deep breath, wondering whether he should make light of their desire of “atonement” and risk offending them like he had the last time, or simply accept the bundle without any commitment on his part that the house had anything to do with their scare. Before he could say anything, Miss Ringworthy suddenly appeared at his side.
“Oh, wonderful, Hannah and Jemima, you brought the quilt,” she exclaimed. “I’m sure the house will be very pleased and forgive you.” Mr. Buckthorn looked at Miss Ringworthy sharply. Why was she humoring the girls, he wondered. As if reading his thoughts, Miss Ringworthy looked up at him with a great toothy smile.
“Don’t you agree, Mr. Buckthorn? Hannah and Jemima want the quilt to go into the master bedroom and give rest and comfort to any unhappy spirits that still may be there.”
Again, Mr. Buckthorn was shocked by Miss Ringworthy’s address of spirits in the house. He looked over at Mrs. Heartswell, but she had been standing too far from them to have heard their exchange and, in any case, her husband had gotten her full and undivided attention, apparently needing to talk to her at this very moment.
“Don’t you agree, Mr. Buckthorn?,” said Hannah and Jemima in unison.
He jumped slightly and blushed when he heard Miss Ringworthy stifle a giggle.
“Well, my good ladies,” he addressed the girls with a short bow and then held out his hands for the bundle. “I am honored to accept this quilt on behalf of the family, as yet unknown, who will eventually reside it. I say with the utter most confidence that they will cherish this quilt, the very first housewarming gift.”
Hannah and Jemima both scowled slightly and then glanced at Miss Ringworthy. Mr. Buckthorn assumed that she must have nodded her head because then they placed the bundle in his hands.
“May we resume helping at the house, Mr. Buckthorn?,” asked Hannah.
“We thought we could help our mother with the gardens,” said Jemima.
Mr. Buckthorn felt relief wash over him. Thank goodness they did not ask to go back into the house, he thought. “Of course,” he said with forced cheeriness. “We have missed you both very much, and you’ll be a wonderful helpmeet for your mother. I will see if the closet in the master bedroom is ready to receive this generous gift.” He gave a little bow again. The girls just looked at him blankly, turned, and set off after their mother who was now heading toward the gardens.
Mr. Buckthorn let out a long sigh and then turned to Miss Ringworthy with some irritation. “Miss Ringworthy, pray, why were you encouraging such young girls to believe that they had to not only “atone” for their behavior but had to “atone” to the house? Who will want to live in this house if there are rumors about it being haunted?”
Miss Ringworthy smiled demurely. “Mr. Buckthorn, I have known Hannah and Jemima since their birth. I watched them grow up. I nursed them when they both came down with the flu and their mother could not tend them because she was carrying their youngest brother, Josiah. I have taught them formally now for three years. I know them very well.” Miss Ringworthy emphasized the “very” and Mr. Buckthorn realized that she was a bit irritated with him, too.
She continued. “Not only do they have vivid imaginations. Upon that, you were quite perceptive. But they are also stubborn and often implacable. That you did not perceive. The more you resist their version of reality, the harder they will cling to it. If you humor them, they will eventually grow out of their stories.”
Mr. Buckthorn blushed slightly, feeling rather like a schoolboy who had just failed a simple test. She would know better than me, he thought. However.
“I see the logic of your reasoning, Miss Ringworthy, and, trust me, I respect your understanding of these girls as much I would their mother’s. Still, I wish you had given me some warning. I was completely unprepared for their little speech.”
“And so I must beg your apology for my oversight. Like Hannah and Jemima, I am too often presumptuous. Please forgive me, Mr. Buckthorn.” Miss Ringworthy lowered her head and made a little courtesy but there was humor in her voice and Mr. Buckthorn understood that they had regained their friendly terms.
“On one condition. You must call me Jonas,” he said jovially and then added quickly, “at least when it’s just the two of us together.” He longed for the day when he would know Miss Ringworthy well enough to good-naturedly tease her without worrying over when he had instead offended her.
“Yes, we must be discreet,” and added with an playful smile, “Jonas.“
“Excellent,” Jonas returned. “And will you agree to have coffee with me, at Mrs. Goodbread’s café, after church services tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Miss Ringworthy replied with delight, “but on one condition.”
“Anything,” Jonas said with mock solemnity.
“You must call me by my Christian name—Mariah.”
