by Ciara Knight
Vic found himself yearning for them to be in the shop with him during the day, but he still couldn’t get Davey to agree to staying at his and Rosie’s house.
During lunch break, Rosie stopped working in the back room and brought lunch to them. To his relief, she entered with a smile and a kiss to his cheek. After they ate, she held school, teaching the others the alphabet and basic words. Reggie caught on so quick, Vic snuck him some old children’s books he had from when he was a boy.
Davey stopped in the middle of a lesson and jumped off his stool. “Mr. B, look.”
Betty gasped and pointed to his leg. “You ain’t got your cane.”
The kids all jumped up and cheered. Gina threw her arms around his thigh and squeezed. “You gettin’ better.”
Rosie joined the commotion. “I’m so proud of you. I knew you’d get better if you kept working at it. You are an amazing man, Vic.”
“No, it’s you.” The compassion and love in her eyes nearly made him crumble with joy in her arms. He wanted to give her the world, and that’s when he realized he didn’t have to give her a baby to make her happy. She only needed children to care for. A plan formulated in his head. “It must be you kids making me better, too.” Although his leg ached from the cold, he had found the muscles getting stronger and he could walk relying on the cane a little less, but that was the first time he’d walked on his own. It felt like his first steps in life.
After the commotion settled, Rosie returned to work. When she didn’t come out by late afternoon, he knew she’d lost track of time attempting to fill the furniture order, so he went to the diner that had recently opened and brought back dinner.
Betty raced to the workroom door and banged her little fists against it. “Come see, come see. We got diner food.”
The door opened, and Rosie came out, her mouth open. “Oh no, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be late.”
“Don’t worry.” Vic ushered her to a stool. “We’re a team, right?”
She nodded and appeared to settle into his words with more ease and less concentration on the supposed rules of marriage.
“Let’s eat before it gets cold.” Vic ushered them all to wash up and come to the table for his favorite part of the day.
They settled around the workbench together like a family and enjoyed the delicious food. With full bellies and fluttering eyelids, the children crawled into their makeshift beds. Rosie sat at the stool and read a bedtime story, while Vic lit the old oil heater he’d managed to transport to the shop. She didn’t even make it halfway through the story before they all fell asleep. Even Rosie yawned. He worried that Rosie did too much, between her furniture making, cleaning, laundry, sewing, and cooking, but she appeared to be calmer than ever.
Vic watched the younger ones sleep for a moment. With them staying inside all day at the shop, they had managed to stay relatively clean, and the new dresses and pants Rosie had made fit them nicely. Life was peaceful. Even Davey and Rosie had warmed to each other the last few days. But despite their connection, Davey still remained distant. While the others slept, he studied the crack in the wall with such intensity, Vic worried Davey was growing restless. Rosie had warned him Davey never stayed long. Vic decided they’d have a man-to-man coffee in the morning and discuss his future.
The snow fell in sheets, so he turned off the space heater, hoping the room would stay warm enough until morning when he returned, and then ushered Rosie out the door before it became too much to make it home. She paused outside and pressed her palm to the glass. “It still doesn’t feel right having the kids here while we’re at home, but there isn’t much of a choice.”
Anyone could see Rosie had warmed to the children, so he continued to foster their makeshift family since Rosie was smiling again. “Maybe we invite them again.” Vic cuddled Rosie into his side so she would be covered by the store awning.
“No. Trust me. You push Davey too much, and he’ll run. At least they are warm and safe inside the shop.”
Vic took her by the hand, and they hurried home, leaving a piece of his heart behind. Each day they’d grown closer as they watched over the misfits and forgotten children of their town. By the time they reached home, they were damp and chilled to the bone. He quickly helped Rosie out of her coat and hung it on the rack along with his own. “I’ll start a fire while you change.”
He stripped down to his union suit and sat by the fire with a blanket, waiting for them both to snuggle under. The door to the bedroom opened, and he looked up to find Rosie standing at the edge of the hallway in nothing but a satin see-through slip that glistened in the night. He swallowed hard and allowed his gaze to follow the lace down the plunging neckline. Stunning. She was like the brightest star in the dark winter sky. Some strange sound echoed from his throat. It took a moment for him to find his speech. “Beautiful” was the only word he could manage before he stood and took her in his arms, kissing her without a thought or a care. They stood in their home, in each other’s arms, the heat between them warming him to his core. When he managed to find a sense to his thoughts, he took in a deep breath and rested his head to hers. Guilt, fear, pain, sadness all faded behind his need for his wife. “I want you, my love.”
She laced her fingers between his. “Then have me.”
With those words, he swooped her into his arms and carried her to their room. He kissed and held her on the bed until he managed to pull away long enough to retrieve the small green and white tin box. He stood looking down at her, worried for what this meant. Could he take a chance for his own pleasure?
“Don’t think. Just be with me. The pain of not being with you is worse than any fear of a baby.” Rosie’s eyes shined with unshed tears. “Be my husband.”
With her words, he could resist no longer. As the snow drifted down outside, they relished in the warmth and comfort of each other in a way that only a husband and wife could find together.
He savored her touch, tender and exploring at first and then feverish and wanting. He savored the sounds of her pleasure. He savored the taste of passion. He succumbed to his carnal desire and tumbled over the mountain of pleasure. Most of all, he savored every moment through the night with his beloved Rosie. They were finally one in body and soul.
For days, Rosie walked around in a euphoria she couldn’t explain, singing and caring for those she loved. But when Vic returned home on day three with another tin of rubbers, she wasn’t elated. Deep inside she wanted a child. A child to call her own.
One morning, she woke up feeling agitated, as if awakening from a dream to discover life hadn’t stopped while she slept. “Christmas is only ten days away, and there’s so much to do.” Rosie rubbed her temple, trying to soothe her aching headache she’d woken with.
Vic pressed his hand to Rosie’s head. “You feel slightly warm. Perhaps you should get some rest.”
“Don’t start treating me like I’m fragile again. I need to finish these new coats for the children, the furniture for my next delivery, not to mention all the food and preparations for the Christmas feast.”
“My darling, you don’t need to do so much.” Vic took her hand. “I don’t want you to overdo it. Allow me to help.”
Rosie wanted to bop him in the nose. “Seriously? Don’t coddle me. I’m strong. Have I not proven myself to you yet?”
He squeezed her hand, but his tight jaw told her how much he worried. “Of course. I see how strong you are.”
She knew he struggled to mean his words, but it was progress that he said it. “You better get back to the shop before Davey tries to open it to customers without you again. Mr. Mason is already complaining about us having those street kids around so much. We don’t want any trouble.”
Vic pressed his lips together and studied her for a moment. “Fine, but I’ll be home early, and I’ll help with the kids’ weekly bath and with dinner.”
Rosie sighed. “If I must agree to get you on your way, then yes, you can help me with the kids this evening. Do you think we c
an convince Davey to spend the night?”
“Not tonight, but I’m working on it for Christmas Eve.” Vic kissed her the way he had each morning since the night they’d first made love after his return.
In that moment, she knew this would be the best Christmas ever. If she could show Vic a Christmas Eve with those children in his home and how well she did with their makeshift family, perhaps he’d see she was ready for her own baby. One that could grow inside of her, letting her feel the kicks and fulfilling her dream of giving Victor a child of his own. A baby to fill that empty space she’d felt in her womb for so long.
She spent the day working on the furniture, but she found herself slow and required more rests than normal. She’d used the excuse of teaching the children more words and basic math skills. At one point, though, she’d fallen asleep mid-swipe with the sandpaper. At this rate, she’d never get finished.
At eleven, she abandoned her work to go home and fix sandwiches and returned to the shop. They enjoyed a lunch together, and then she returned to work until a knock sounded at the workroom door.
“Afternoon, Mrs. B. I came to see if I could help since Mr. B’s with a customer. Shop’s been so busy today. I’ve been learning to carve, but I’m afraid I still don’t do well with details on small things.”
Rosie used the excuse for his visit to rest once more. This was the most Davey had said to her since his reemergence into her life. “Don’t feel bad. That’s why I prefer to work on furniture. The details are not as intricate, and I like building something that’s structural.”
Davey removed his hat. “If Mr. B doesn’t need me—which, with all the others working, I don’t think he does—I’d likes to learn furniture making.”
She forced herself not to be too excited at his suggestion. “Sure, Davey. I’d love the help but I’m afraid it might be boring work.”
Davey wrung his hat between his hands. “Not if I’m with you.”
His words shot a strange yearning through her. He’d always remained at a safe distance. They had even reached an understanding so that Davey wouldn’t run away. She’d promised she wouldn’t mother him too much about forcing him to live with them or bathe him every night, and he’d keep the little ones safe in the shop. He’d barely spoken to her except in lessons, and he’d never said anything that sounded endearing to her before. What had changed? She knew better than to trust Davey would stick around. Yet, if only for a moment, she allowed herself to believe it.
Rosie sat him down by her side and handed him a piece of sandpaper. “Go with the grain of the wood, like this.” She showed him the proper way, and before she knew it, he’d learned to sand and paint like a professional, so she went to assembling the table and other chairs.
“I like this work. Don’t have to sit all day on a stool. I’m using my arms and legs and brain. Besides, I’m not much for learning to read. I’d rather be here than doing my words in the store.”
She chuckled. “I’m thinking you might have a lesson waiting for you after dinner tonight while the others are getting their baths.”
Davey scrunched his nose tight with that I-ate-something-bitter look. “Learning’s for sissies.”
“Learning’s important to everyone.” She watched him, making sure she didn’t overstep and send him running again.
“I guess. Fine. I’ll do my lesson, but can I help here when Mr. B doesn’t need me?”
Rosie thought for a moment about all the work she needed to finish and decided it would be beneficial for them both. She understood it was only a business arrangement for Davey, not an actual desire to be with her. “I’ll talk to Mr. B, and I’ll let you know for sure.” She tousled his hair, and they returned to work.
For three hours, they sanded, assembled, and stained wood side by side. She hummed and hammered, and Davey joined in with a happiness she’d never seen from him. As if the nightmares of the past had faded and he flourished in his new life. Did she dare believe Davey might want to have a real family someday?
The sun began to lower to the tree line. “Time to clean up and start dinner.”
Davey washed brushes, swept, stacked wood, and didn’t stop until her workshop was as clean as her kitchen. “You’re an amazing worker, aren’t you?”
“Mr. B says I’m a good helper. Even when I break his little pieces. I think I’m better with big stuff. Always have been.”
Rosie wondered if Davey was selling her on the idea of him working with her, and any doubt she had was lifted when he didn’t leave her side while they fixed dinner, he volunteered to bathe, and he set the table. The boy was a perfect little angel. She began to truly believe he wanted to be around her for now.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Rosie wiped her hands and hurried to the door to greet the first child for their weekly freshening up, but when she opened the door, she found Mr. Mason with his one brow forming an arch between his eyes.
“Ma’am, since your husband will not listen to reason, I’ll speak to you plainly. Those little street kids are chasing my customers away, thieving, and creating all sorts of mischief. I’ve notified the authorities, and they should be moved by the end of the week.”
Before she could respond, the man about-faced and tromped down the front walk back toward town. A hot madness boiled within her at the thought of that prejudiced man sending the children away.
“Will they take us?” Davey asked from behind her, staying her movement to forget she was a lady and go after the man with a wooden spoon and some choice words. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and closed the door before she turned to face Davey and his trembling lip, standing in his new clothes she’d made him. He’d even washed his hair and combed it without being reminded.
“No, my sweet boy. I won’t let that happen. This I vow.” An echo from the past sounded in her ears, and she remembered that she’d made that same promise to Esther a week before she’d died.
Chapter Thirteen
Vic spent most of the night worried for the children, and no matter how much Rosie appeared to not fret, he knew she did. Mr. Mason wasn’t a man of empty threats; Vic had no doubt that he’d called to have the children shipped off to some orphanage.
The morning sun didn’t even appear before he awoke to Rosie pacing. It was like it was when she was pregnant the second time. Always worrying, always waiting to lose the baby. Now she feared losing the street kids of Sugar Maple. What had he done, bringing little ones into her life again? He’d been so selfish. He’d watched her over the last few weeks, seeing how she attempted to show him how well she was around the children, and he knew why. But her façade had crumbled since Davey had started working with her. She’d succumbed to her love for Davey and the other little ones’ charms. It wasn’t an act anymore; Rosie had opened her heart to them.
“Darling, come to bed. Don’t worry so much.”
She collapsed by his side. “We need to hide them. If only for a while. No more staying at the store, and no more allowing Davey to speak with Melba. That’s why Mr. Mason called the state. If we tell him the children have run off, he’ll have no reason to have the social worker visit Sugar Maple. Once things blow over, we can let them be free again.”
“Davey will never agree. As he’s told us before, he’s not meant to be caged. He’s been on his own since he was barely able to walk. How will you get him to stay hidden here?”
“I’ll tell him how much I need his help with the furniture. That will buy us the rest of the week and past the time the social worker should arrive. If she comes, we’ll tell her they disappeared and we don’t know where they went.”
“Rosie, my love. I worry for you. You’ve never been a deceptive person. Perhaps we should speak to the agency about an arrangement. We could legally foster the children, and then they won’t take them from us.”
His beautiful wife abandoned his side to return to her pacing. “Will they allow us to foster children when we allow them to live in the store? They’ll never truly belong to us. Not un
less…” She swooped back to his side, her nightgown flowing around her. “Unless we adopt them.”
“Rosie, are you sure? That’s a lot to take on. I mean, five children? I know we’re doing well with the furniture business, but can we afford five more mouths to feed, bodies to clothe?”
“We’ve already been doing that.”
She had a point. Still, despite his desire to adopt the children, were they really up to taking care of them long-term?
“Davey will never risk returning to an orphanage. He says they’re far worse than any night outside. Disease, filth, starvation… There are too many children since the war for them to care for. If they try to take him, he’ll run, and who knows what will happen to him and the others.” Her dainty hands were like a bench vise, squeezing him to her will. “Please, we need to protect them.”
“I care about the children, too. However, I’ll speak to the social worker when she comes—”
“But—”
“But…” He placed a finger to her lips. “You’ll keep the children here for now so as to not antagonize Mr. Mason. The girls can help around the house, and the boys can help with the furniture. We can set up a temporary shop out back. I can move that old space heater outside to help with the cold and put up tarps to shield the wind. I won’t lie, but I’ll promise Mr. Mason that the children will no longer be around to corrupt his precious Melba.”
“Thank you. Thank you.” Rosie kissed his cheek, his lips, his neck.
“Rosie, you need to prepare yourself, though. If the social worker takes the children, there is little we can do. But this time, I’ll be by your side no matter what. You won’t have to go through any loss alone.”
She nodded. “We won’t lose them, though. I can feel it.”
