A Birthday Surprise

Phoebe’s birthday dawned, and she greeted it lying on her back with open eyes. She didn’t feel any different, though she was an entire year older. And for the first time in her life, at the age of seventeen, the thought of being older made her sad.

Aunt Dottie had taken the post of vigilant that night and was still asleep. Phoebe sat up and looked at her foot. At no surprise to herself, it still looked ill and bruised, and she wondered if she would ever be able to walk again. Today, it did not seem possible.

She laid back and waited for everyone else to wake up.

Five minutes passed, and it felt like an eternity.

She then picked up a large book she had already read four times in the past three weeks and was thus occupied an hour later when Aunt Dottie rose and stepped across the room.

“Happy birthday, darling,” she said.

Phoebe had not noticed that she was awake, and she put down her book. “Thank you, Aunt Dottie.”

“Are you ready for breakfast?”

Phoebe nodded, and Aunt Dottie went to see if Mrs. Dillon was awake.

Phoebe resumed her book and was interrupted by a more conspicuous greeting from Fiona. She flew into the room and lit upon the sofa to wish her a happy birthday.

Phoebe thanked her, and Mrs. O’Malley followed, leading a toddling Jack in front of her.

“How is our birthday girl?” she asked, checking Phoebe’s foot as a matter of habit.

“Better, I think,” said Phoebe, hoping Mrs. O’Malley might notice some miraculous improvement, but she tsked her tongue as usual.

Aunt Dottie entered the room with Phoebe’s breakfast. To her surprise, it was not the usual porridge with broth, but a dish of scrambled eggs, a cup of hot chocolate, buttered rolls, and cantaloupe.

Phoebe, pleased as she was, was hardly half as delighted as Fiona, Mrs. O’Malley, and Aunt Dottie were for her as they joined her for breakfast.

Phoebe didn’t see much of them after breakfast. Fiona had already given her her present. It was a headband of sorts, decorated with beads and small seashells. Phoebe was delighted with it, and Fiona happily arranged it in her hair.

All was quiet for some time, and Phoebe had begun to drift into a nap when the quiet turned into loud whispering—which somehow gains better attention in silence than normal conversation—and murmuring outside the door, followed by stirring in the foyer.

Phoebe was only half conscious of this before hearing her name questioningly pronounced by Mrs. O’Malley and opening her eyes to see a familiar face.

It was Thomas’s face! Mrs. O’Malley had quietly knocked on the door and opened it to see if Phoebe was awake, and Thomas, unable to wait for a more ceremonious entrance, stood smiling at her from the doorway.

“Happy birthday, Phoeb!”

“Thomas!” she cried, forgetting her injury.

For half a second, she put both her feet on the ground to run to him, and Mrs. O’Malley gave a cry of horror. Thomas thought ahead of his mother and ran to stop Phoebe.

After giving her the expected embrace, he quickly propped her feet back on the sofa and covered her with the blanket, saying, “Oh no you don’t! You’re not going to ruin your chances of having a few larks before summer’s over.”

He busied himself tucking the blanket into the cushions around her and she threw her arms around him and kissed his head in excitement. He returned the gesture, tousled her hair patronizingly, and went back to tucking. “We’ve gotta get you well in record time,” he continued, “and we’re not going to do that if you jump off this couch every time you see one of us. Now, you’ll have to prepare yourself ‘cause Da and the twins and Betsy came too.”

“They’re here? Where are they?” shouted Phoebe, grabbing his sleeve and jumping up and down as best as she could with her now restricted movement.

“Now, don’t you get up again! I’ll go get them if you promise to stay where you are like a good girl.”

Phoebe nodded excitedly, and he left the room, smiling from contagion. Poor Mrs. O’Malley, still recovering from her fright, sat down in the chair next to Phoebe without taking her eyes off of her.

Phoebe, sorry as she felt for Mrs. O’Malley, could not keep her shoulders from shaking in inward laughter at the wonderful surprise.

Thomas brought the others in, and a flood of birthday wishes, hugs and kisses, and inquiries for each other’s health went around the room, accompanied by cautions of safety from Mrs. O’Malley about Phoebe’s foot. The world felt complete. Phoebe was overcome with joy and happily hated her injured foot and the couch to which she was confined.

The family spent nearly two hours catching up after a month’s absence. Since Thomas had taken literally what his mother said to him before leaving, he had set about easing his father into the idea of having help around the farm. At first, he had a hard time of it, but upon hearing about Phoebe’s injury, Mr. O’Malley became more pliant towards the idea and took his wife’s advice about hiring Bill Morrison. And since Betsy wanted to come along as well, Mr. Morrison’s wife agreed to look after the house until they came back.

Mrs. O’Malley, though slightly ruffled that someone else was looking after her home, was impressed by her son and husband and was flattered that Seamus had taken her advice at last.

As they all continued speaking to one another, Phoebe kept looking at each and every one of them, trying to believe that they had really come, and the others were so happy that they would have forgotten about another surprise if it hadn’t been for a reminder from the twins.

This caused another stir among the family, especially in Aunt Dottie.

Phoebe was at a loss to know what was happening until she was told to cover her eyes as Georgie and Jimmy watched intently to make sure she wasn’t peeking.

Strange noises ensued, more whisperings, and some scraping noises, and something was moved close to where she sat.

The noise subsided, and Mrs. O’Malley told Phoebe to open her eyes.

She did so, and right before her was a wheeled wicker chaise parked next to the sofa.

“It’s beautiful,” said Phoebe. “But doesn’t it make the room a bit crowded?”

“Only temporarily, dear,” said Mrs. O’Malley. “Your Aunt Dottie thought you might like a chance to get some fresh air.”

Phoebe smiled in thanks at Aunt Dottie, who was beaming with pleasure.

Mr. O’Malley and Thomas helped her into the chaise and wheeled her onto the terrace to greet the ocean air.

Lunch was served outside, and Mrs. Dillon joined them. The events of the day had taken Phoebe from despondent to overjoyed, and she was thinking to herself what a perfect day it was and how she couldn’t have asked for anything more when the opening of presents was suggested.

Phoebe said from her heart that she didn’t need any more presents, that their being there was enough for her. And Thomas, who was walking into the house with the twins to get her gifts, said, “All right then. The twins and I will split your presents among the three of us.”

Phoebe replied that they would not and quickly charged Fiona with making sure they didn’t.

Fiona took this charge seriously and ran after her brothers to carry it out. She successfully returned with the presents, and after some argument as to which one should be opened first, Phoebe unwrapped her gifts. But it did not matter what they were, for the presence of her family was enough to make her feel loved. She thanked them all and was so pleased with her birthday that she forgot about cake.

Nevertheless, a cake of beautiful decoration and sizable dimensions was set forth by the proud Mrs. Dillon, and Phoebe then decided that it was the best birthday of her life. Candles would have been futile, as it was a windy day, but the thought was still there, and everyone asked for the biggest piece, except Aunt Dottie, who was watching her figure.

The excitement dissipated after several slices of cake had been disposed of, and the twins, with permission from their mother, went to look for crabs while Fiona and Betsy walked. The others sat in mutual silence until Jack wanted to play on the beach, and Mrs. O’Malley obliged him as only a doting mother could.

Mr. O’Malley had fallen asleep, and Aunt Dottie watched George and Jimmy from the terrace, thinking how quickly they were growing up. Phoebe was reading a book that Thomas had given her for her birthday, and he was reading the one she had grown tired of during the last few weeks.

A few moments passed, and Phoebe’s attention started wandering to her surroundings. It was too wonderful a day to spend in a book, so she imitated Aunt Dottie and observed her family.

She then spotted an addition to the company on the shore. It was the Davies. Phoebe sat up and caught Tillie’s attention by waving to her, and Tillie didn’t bother waving back but ran as fast as her little legs could carry her across the sand, up the steps to the terrace.

“How are you, Tillie?’ asked Aunt Dottie.

She didn’t receive an answer, for Tillie was busy depositing some shells in Phoebe’s lap and taking her customary place at her side.

“Happy birthday,” she looked up and whispered bashfully.

“Thank you, Tillie,” Phoebe replied, and Tillie began playing with her shells.

“Who’s this?” asked Thomas, putting down his book.

“This is Miss Tillie Davies,” answered Phoebe with dignity, “our neighbor of forty-five years old—”

“Forty-six yesterday,” said Tillie quietly.

“Forgive me, forty-six.”

Thomas kept a straight face as he shook Tillie’s hand, “How do you do, Miss Davies?”

Seeing that he had a kind face, Tillie asked, “How old are you?”

“Let me see,” he said. “I lose count sometimes. Um, two hundred and seventy-one in October.”

“What sort of game is this?” asked Aunt Dottie over Tillie’s giggles.

“I think I understand it,” interjected Mr. O’Malley. “And if I do correctly, wouldn’t that make you, sister, about two thousand ninety-eight?”

Thomas snuffled a laugh, but Phoebe didn’t think it was very funny.

Aunt Dottie caught the joke and nodded knowingly. “Perhaps,” she said. “But I dare not calculate your age, sir. We mustn’t boggle the little one’s mind.”

Phoebe laughed this time.

“May I join the fun?” came Mr. Davies’ voice from the terrace steps.

“Mr. Davies,” said Aunt Dottie enthusiastically, “how kind of you to grace us with your company! I’d like you to meet my brother-in-law Mr. O’Malley, and his son Thomas.”

“How do you do?” he said to one, then the other, shaking hands as he went.

He then paid his birthday respects to Phoebe as Emily made her entrance.

“Miss Davies,” said Aunt Dottie, “how nice to see you! This is my brother-in-law Mr. O’Malley and his son Thomas.”

She barely acknowledged the customs of introduction before going directly to Phoebe.

“Oh, my dear Phoebe,” she said, “how well you look! I’m so glad to see you out in the fresh air again! I now truly believe it does wonders!”

“Yes,” Phoebe smiled, “it seems we’re all firm believers in fresh air.”

“My father isn’t,” said Emily dejectedly. “Mr. O’Malley, perhaps you can talk some sense into him. Mother and I simply cannot, and he does as he likes. What’s the purpose of going to the seashore,” she asked generally, “if one never actually visits the seashore?”

“I’ll pay him a visit first thing tomorrow, if it’ll be of any use, Miss Davies,” said Mr. O’Malley.

“Oh, thank you, yes. That would be so kind of you! Well, Phoebe,” she said, turning to her friend, “do you feel as well as you look? Oh, of course you do, it shows in your eyes, and such pretty eyes you’ve got! Don’t you think so, Ed?”

Mr. Davies was smiling at Phoebe as if he agreed, but he was caught unawares by the sudden attention directed to himself.

“Why, yes, of course,” he said uneasily.

Phoebe averted her eyes to something besides the principal speakers and caught Thomas’s amused expression. She then looked safely down at what Tillie was doing with her shells and tried to ignore the conversation as best as she could.

“What color are they, Phoebe? Hazel? No, they’re bluer than hazel. What do you say, Ed?”

“I must say I’ve never thought to name the color, sister.”

“I know!” said Emily. “They’re aquamarine like the gem!”

Phoebe was now blushing painfully.

“What about moldy gray?” said Thomas, who, in this sudden insult, attempted to divert Phoebe’s embarrassment.

Phoebe was the only one grateful enough to laugh at such a comment, and the conversation dwindled for a moment.

“Oh, Ed!” said Emily, jumping up. “I almost forgot! Some brother you are, forgetting to remind me.”

And, clearing her throat, she stood ceremoniously before Phoebe and retrieved something from her pocket.

“On behalf of the entire family of Davies, I present to you, with many good wishes, a gift on your birthday.”

She offered a package to Phoebe, who smiled her thanks as she accepted it. By this time, Mrs. O’Malley, Jack, Betsy, Fiona, and the twins had returned for their guests.

Phoebe opened the package to reveal a small, hand-painted teacup that displayed the scenery of Whitecrest.

“It’s beautiful,” said Phoebe.

“Our mother painted it,” said Emily.

“You’ll thank her for me, won’t you? And I thank the whole ‘family of Davies’ as well.”

“It’s our pleasure,” said Emily

Edward smiled and nodded in response.

“You’re welcome,” said Tillie.

The Davies soon took their leave, and after enjoying the sunset a few moments, the O’Malleys and Aunt Dottie returned into the house. Phoebe was wheeled back to her sofa, and Fiona took a turn on the settee that night.