But village life had never been the equal of my stay in Tinker Town, where I felt like I might actually fit in. The biggest component of that was Mrs. Penn, who was someone I adored, which is why I couldn’t bear to see her feeling poorly.
If she should become gravely ill and even worse, die, I’d never be able to remain in Tinker Town. Another loss like Old Mother’s would undo me in the worst of ways. I’d become a hermit like Mr. Cutworthy, unable to speak a single word. Or perhaps I’d turn grouchy as Mrs. Fedner, the one that people called the Mean Queen.
Maybe I’d even turn into old drunk Mr. Barner, who stumbled in a wavery path as he walked, sometimes even falling down to snore away the alcoholic spirits in his body. (Of course, the latter was the least possible since I’d never drunk anything stiffer than stale water, which had made me sicker than Dr. Peter’s old wolf hound the time he’d managed to dig out some rotted meat from a village garbage can.)
I suddenly realized that Carlo had been tugging at my shirt, frantic with worry. Frances was next to him, his jaw clenched, his lips pressed tight. He was staring at me with uncertainty. I guess I’d temporarily turned into someone with the staring disease, those mentally unbalanced who went inside themselves and never came back out.
How could I have gone off into my own world and left these precious boys on their own? It was cruel of me to have worried them. I circled my arms around the two of them and drew them closer. “I’m sorry,” I said. “My mind slipped back into something painful, something from my childhood. I was remembering Old Mother.”
“Our mother?” Carlo said, crawling up into my lap as assuredly as if he knew it was the safest place to be in times of confusion.
“I pulled Frances up, too. He didn’t pull away. He wrapped his arms around my neck and kissed me on the cheek.
“You were sad. Did your mommy die, too?” Carlo asked, laying his head against my collar bone.
“I never knew my mother. Remember, I was an orphan. Old Mother was the woman who took me in. She loved me, and I loved her. But then she . . . well, she was old. Really old, and the doctor said she had pneumonia.”
“So, she died like our mother did. I miss my mommy. We can be sad together. Okay?”
Frances was being very quiet, but he chimed in then. “Frank says we’re going to be a family. A new family.”
I looked up and across the table. Frank turned red. He mouthed, “sorry.” But there was something good in what he’d promised the boys. Frances and Frank were right. We were forming a new family. But we needed Mrs. Penn to be part of it.