Charity at Palace Beautiful recognized Chris. First she asked after his hand, then crouched to speak to his sister. Christiana stood behind them, suddenly ashamed. These people had seen her son at his most exhausted. She had still been at home choosing clothes for a party.
After supper, Prudence took her to see the children’s room. Clean socks lay beside the beds. The window was open a little, and the air smelled of grass. Chris had put his sister’s cloth rabbit on her pillow. The stitches on its ear were crooked.
“He mended it for her on the road,” Christiana said.
“You can help her mend it too,” Prudence answered.
Those ordinary words made Christiana cry. She quickly covered her face with a cloth so the people downstairs would not see. Prudence brought a chair closer and did not pull her hands away.
“When he needed me most, I wouldn’t listen,” Christiana said. “Now the people here know more than I do about what frightens him and when he gets hungry.”
“You can begin learning those things today.”
“But am I still fit to be his mother?”
Prudence sat down and waited until Christiana raised her head a little. “You did wrong. You must admit it and change. But the Lord has not forgiven you so that you can disappear from your family. You cannot say, ‘I’m not worthy,’ and leave caring for your children to everyone else again.”
Christiana slowly lowered the cloth. The breeze lifted a corner of a sheet, and she reached out to smooth it.
Prudence went on. “The Bible says that if we confess our sins, God is faithful and just to forgive us. If you insist that he is still making you pay, you are not believing his forgiveness. When your child wakes tomorrow, you can still make his breakfast. Today you can ask him to tell you the things you don’t know.”
Back in the small sitting room, Chris was studying an old map. Christiana sat beside him. “Did you sleep well the night you stayed here?”
“Very well,” he said. “I wrote the second letter.”
“I read it. You drew such a small gate on that map.”
“I was running out of paper.” Chris smiled. Then he added seriously, “Mom, I want you to ask. But some things I can only tell a little at a time.”
“Then a little at a time,” she said.
They looked over the map together. Someone downstairs was singing a hymn. Her daughter called from bed to ask whether the rabbit could sleep outside the blankets. Christiana answered and went to see. This time she did not think that still having tears meant she could not do the small task before her.