The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb - Melanie Benjamin [86]
“I know, dearest, and we don’t want to hurt you. That’s the last thing we want to do.”
“But you have, you have, and I don’t know why!”
To my horror, I began to cry, and Minnie, alarmed, placed her doll carefully down on a chair and ran over to me to pat my hand; she soon had tears running down her own rosy cheeks, although she had no idea why I was crying.
“Vinnie.” Papa was suddenly kneeling next to me, carefully pulling up his new trousers so as not to tear them. “Blame this all on me. I’m the one who’s a country fool, not your mother. I’m the one who asked to go right back home. Don’t blame her—blame me.”
“Oh, Papa!” I looked into his sweet, simple brown eyes, those eyes that had never understood me, never known what to do with me—but had never gazed upon me with anything other than pure, unselfish love. And I knew that he was not telling the truth. I knew that it was my mother who had made this decision. A lifetime of worrying about me, about all her children, had made its mark upon her so that now her handsome face was falling, as if under the weight of it all—me, Minnie, my brothers off fighting in a war. She was dear, she was sweet—but she was also far more knowledgeable about the world than Papa was. She had never trusted Mr. Barnum, and now some of that distrust was throwing its shadow across me as well. I did not know what I had to do to win back her trust, and at that moment, frankly, I did not much care to learn. I was simply stunned, my heart pierced by the sting of her rejection.
“It’s all right, Papa,” I said, stroking his large, weathered hand; my small white one looking like a delicate glove against it. “I understand. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“Good,” Mama said, clearly relieved that I appeared to believe him. “Now, Vinnie, after the honeymoon I want you and your Charles to come home for a nice long visit. I mean it. Delia and I are planning for it; you’re going to get the boys’ room, we’ll spruce it up, we’re already sewing some new curtains, and I’m going to have a lovely at-home to introduce you all to our neighbors. I’m sure that you have plans with Mr. Barnum, but he’ll allow you that time with your family, won’t he?” Mama looked anxious; I knew she was apologizing in the most meaningful way she knew how—by diving into a cooking and cleaning extravaganza. I had seen her attack a floor with a brush and a bucket of soap as if she were scrubbing the deviltry from Lucifer himself; I suspected she needed to scrub away some of her own demons right now.
“Of course, Mama.” I wiped away my tears and smiled at her. “I can’t wait. And I’m sure Charles will be pleased as well.”
“I’m so glad.” Mama nodded, reassuring us both. “Now, you’ll take good care of Minnie, won’t you? You know we’d never think of leaving her with anyone but you. You’re the only one we trust—and you’re the only one she trusts, as well!” Mama smoothed Minnie’s curls and planted a kiss atop her head.
“Of course! I won’t let her out of my sight for a moment! I have so much planned for the two of us, Charles will get very jealous, indeed!” I seized upon this request, fell upon it as a soldier might fall upon his own sword. This was how I could recapture Mama’s trust: by caring for Minnie as if she was my daughter, too. Nothing bad would come to her, no harm, no disappointment, no pain or sorrow. Not as long as she was with me.
“And I’ll take care of you, too, Vinnie,” Minnie assured me solemnly. “So Mama won’t have to worry at all!”
“We’ll take care of each other,” I agreed. “I’ll begin by moving you into my suite right away. You can’t stay down here by yourself.” I rose, happy to begin my rehabilitation.