The Christmas Child (Christmas Holiday Extravaganza)

by Penny Musco

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  Thank you

  You Can Help!

  God Can Help!

  Free Book Offer

  The Christmas Child

  Penny Musco

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  The Christmas Child

  COPYRIGHT 2018 by Penny Musco

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Pelican Ventures, LLC except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  eBook editions are licensed for your personal enjoyment only. eBooks may not be re-sold, copied or given to other people. If you would like to share an eBook edition, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.

  Contact Information: titleadmin@pelicanbookgroup.com

  Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated are taken from the King James translation, public domain.

  Excerpts from “The Overcoming Life” by D. L. Moody, Fleming H. Revell Company, 1896, public domain.

  Cover Art by Nicola Martinez

  White Rose Publishing, a division of Pelican Ventures, LLC

  www.pelicanbookgroup.com PO Box 1738 *Aztec, NM * 87410

  White Rose Publishing Circle and Rosebud logo is a trademark of Pelican Ventures, LLC

  Publishing History

  First White Rose Edition, 2018

  Electronic Edition ISBN 978-1-5223-0168-4

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To my husband, partner in our own struggle with infertility and to our brown-eyed girl, our happy ending.

  1

  Another month. Another disappointment.

  Hannah stared at the small calendar on her desk. After two years of disappointing months, it should be easier, but it wasn’t. The tiny spark of hope that sometimes consumed her like a blazing fire flickered feebly this morning. A certain coolness would soon settle in around her heart until the next month. And the next.

  With a swirl of her taffeta underskirt, Hannah left the parlor. Breakfast waited. Robert undoubtedly was already at the table. There would be no child in the Jessup household in 1891 after all.

  “Good morning, darling.” Her husband’s cheerfulness almost brought out the tears that threatened to break the surface. But she would say nothing. Their childlessness remained an unspoken subject.

  The door from the kitchen swished open as Hannah took her place, Rosa’s timing impeccable as usual. Hannah glanced around the table. Precisely laid dishes, attentive husband, efficient maid. The familiar morning routine. Everything as it should be. Except—no baby.

  Rosa’s hands trembled slightly as she poured the tea, and a few drops spilled on the white damask tablecloth. The girl hurried to blot the stain with her apron.

  “Leave it for now. I’ll take care of it later.” Hannah’s gaze moved from the mark to her maid’s unusually pale face. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Rosa’s voice, with its mere hint of Italian accent, wavered. “Everything is almost ready.” She hurried out, the smell of bacon on the verge of burning wafting in from the kitchen.

  “Well, things are off to a poor start all around today, I’d say.” Robert’s warm gray eyes smiled into hers. “What’s the matter, darling?”

  “I’m just a little...off this morning.” She bit her lips and nodded toward the door. “I’m concerned about Rosa, though. She hasn’t been herself for the past week or so.”

  “Then you should get to the bottom of it if it concerns you so much.”

  “I suppose so.” She reached for the sugar bowl. “But nothing I say or do seems to make any difference to anyone in this house these days.”

  A flush crept up Robert’s face.

  Hannah instantly regretted her words. Still, at least this was one topic out in the open.

  “Hannah, you do a fine job taking care of the house. I meant no criticism.” Robert’s tone remained even. “But I can manage myself quite well, thank you. I’d think you’d be glad that at least I go with you to your new church.”

  Hannah stirred her tea. “I do appreciate you accompanying me every Sunday these last months. But this isn’t a passing fancy with me, as you seem to feel.” She took a sip of the steaming beverage. “You’re correct about one thing, though. I’m sorry. I don’t have the right to impose my beliefs on anyone, even you.”

  Robert was prevented from answering by the return of Rosa with their meals and the newspaper. Not wanting to press the matter further, Hannah busied herself with eggs and toast, noting that the bacon was only slightly darker than normal.

  Robert pulled out his pocket watch. “Look at the time,” he murmured, obviously just as happy to leave the subject alone. He scanned the paper as he hurried through his own breakfast. Ten minutes later, he gulped the last of his tea and pushed back his chair. “Remember, I’ll be home early tonight, since we’re having dinner at the Duffs’ at six then going on to the opera with them.”

  Hannah nodded. The evening with the president of the bank where her husband worked and his wife was not something she particularly looked forward to, even if she was curious to see their new home near Central Park. “My outfit is being delivered this afternoon. I just have to go to Mr. Macy’s store to pick up a few things.”

  “Ah, so there is a new dress!” Robert bent over her, and Hannah caught her breath. He took both her hands in his. “Have a pleasant day, my love.” Then he gently kissed her palms and was gone.

  Hannah squeezed her eyes shut. It wasn’t fair to take out her unhappiness on him. Never once had he said anything about not having children, never hinted that it was her fault. But…did he even care? She wished she knew.

  Rosa peered around the dining room door.

  “Yes, you may clear away the dishes. I’m finished. On second thought,” she said, rising, “come upstairs with me for a moment.” Now was a good time to find out what was troubling her maid.

  The weak sunlight of the early spring day spilled across the parlor’s parquet floor and scattered rugs. This was her favorite place in their modest Fifth Avenue brownstone, steps from Washington Square’s soaring arch. Contrary to current fashion, it wasn’t stuffed with furniture, ornaments, and prints to occupy every inch of space. Not only could the Jessups not afford it, even though they were what was commonly known as “comfortable,” but neither of them wanted it. The room offered her a tranquil serenity, something she badly needed this morning.

  Hannah unconsciously trailed a hand over the back of the gilded love seat and scrutinized her small, dark-haired maid. She knew little of Rosa’s background, except that at eighteen, she was surprisingly well educated for being the daughter of immigrants. “You’re usually so cheerful,” she said at last, “but I’ve noticed you look…upset and unhappy lately. Are you ill?”

  Rosa balled her fist at her side, and she struggled for composure. “It’s the morning sickness, ma’am,” she said after several moments. “I am with child.”

  Hannah’s fingers gripped the sofa’s delicate fabric. “When?” she finally managed to croak out.

  “Natali. Christmas.”

  “What...wi
ll you do?”

  The girl gave a short, bitter laugh. “Why do you care?”

  There was an element of truth in Rosa’s candid reply. Hannah’s old self would have sent a pregnant maid packing without a moment’s hesitation. The entire household, Robert most of all, was still trying to absorb the changes that the Spirit of God had brought to the mistress of the house. She swallowed hard. “Jesus says to love your neighbor as yourself. You’re in trouble: you’re having a baby and you don’t have a husband. Unless you got married and didn’t tell me?”

  “No, I am not married, but I am a good girl!”

  Hannah rubbed her forehead and sat down. “Perhaps you’d better explain.”

  Rosa’s words spilled out in a torrent. “You don’t understand the world I come from. You don’t know us! Have you seen Mr. Riis’ new book, How the Other Half Lives? Sí, he came and took pictures of our homes, and he calls us ‘gay’ and ‘lighthearted,’ but he also says we’re ‘the utterly wretched, the hopelessly lost, on the lowest slope of depraved humanity.’”

  She defiantly lifted her chin. “Maybe others, but not me, not mia famiglia! Mia madre e mio padre, they wanted their children to have a better life in America. They were grateful I was born at the hospital at Castle Garden just after they stepped off the boat because that meant I was an American right away. Papa worked at a barbershop. Then there were more babies, and we all squeezed into a small place on Elizabeth Street. Have you ever been to Elizabeth Street?”

  Hannah shook her head.

  “It is dirty and noisy and crowded, full of children playing, selling newspapers, and sí, even fighting and gambling. But my parents protected us, and even though they didn’t have much school, they insisted I go. I graduated and now I work so my sisters can go, and so I can attend college next year and become a teacher. I even have a scholarship at Barnard, the new school for women at Columbia University. But now...” Rosa faltered. “Now I am...I am...” She buried her face in her hands and wept.

  After a moment her crying subsided, and she pulled a handkerchief from the waist of her apron and dabbed her eyes, avoiding Hannah’s sympathetic expression. “But I haven’t told you how it happened,” she whispered. “Mama isn’t well. She had tuberculosis several years ago. She’s better now, but her lungs are no good. I had to do most of the work at home. It was hard, going to classes and taking care of everything, but I did it. I didn’t think I’d be able to go on in school after all, but then I didn’t count on mia migliore amica.

  “Caterina is not like me. She doesn’t care much for learning, and she doesn’t care much for her family either. I can work here and earn money while she does my job at home. She does it to help me, but also to escape. Her parents treat her bad while her brother, Vittorio, has everything. On one of my afternoons off two months ago, I went to visit Caterina. She was out, but Vittorio was there. He...” Rosa’s mouth folded into a grim line, and she twisted the handkerchief, her gaze riveted to the floor. “He...had always...liked me, but I had no more use for him than Caterina did. He...tried to kiss me, but I slapped him. That made him angry, so he threw me down and... and...”

  Hannah’s nails dug into her palms, and she could scarcely breathe. “He should be in prison!”

  “You wouldn’t understand,” Rosa said, her bitterness and anger returning. “La polizia, they don’t care about us. They think we’re all bad, and that any woman that happens to, she must have done something to deserve it. Now, Vittorio is gone. Caterina hasn’t seen him for a while, and her parents are very worried.”

  “Do they know?”

  “You and Caterina are the only ones I’ve told. Would you like me to leave here right away?” she asked quietly.

  “No, at least not yet,” she said. Her voice strengthened as she made up her mind “Of course, you’ll have to take care of yourself and not do any heavy lifting, but I—“

  “You don’t have to worry about me.” Rosa looked up eagerly. “Mama carried six babies and worked all the time. Like I told you, I was born after her long voyage from Sicily.”

  “Yes, but I’m also thinking of Mr. Jessup. He...won’t look as kindly on your condition, I’m afraid. Not that he’s unfeeling. It’s just that he’s very concerned with appearances and so...” She thought quickly. “Perhaps you could work until you begin to show?”

  “Then Caterina could come, while I go back home. If that is all right with you.” Rosa obviously had thought things through.

  “It will have to do.”

  “Sí, signora.”

  “I’ll handle my husband. You do your work and take care of yourself.”

  “Sí.”

  “How will you tell your family?”

  “They will believe me because they love me, and they know Vittorio.”

  “And...what about the baby?”

  Rosa’s eyes filled again. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I have thought of many things, including going to a place where they take care of unwanted babies. But I could never do that. It’s a sin against il Signore.”

  Hannah bit the inside of her cheeks to keep from showing her shock and horror. “Isn’t there someone among your relatives who could care for your baby?”

  Rosa shook her head. “Already there are too many mouths to feed on Elizabeth Street.”

  “You...don’t want to raise the child yourself?”

  “If I don’t go to college next year, I will lose my scholarship.” Her voice softened. “I would like mio bambino to have a nice home, though. I don’t want him to go to a Randall’s Island orphanage.”

  The truth of what Rosa had said earlier struck her. Though their homes were not that far away in distance, the two women facing each other in the comfortable parlor were still miles apart. While it would be entirely unthinkable for Hannah to give up her own flesh and blood, her circumstances were very different from Rosa’s. Impulsively, she grasped her maid’s hands. “I’ll pray for you, Rosa. God will make a way.”

  Even as she said it, she wondered what He could possibly do in such a hopeless situation.

  Hannah’s thoughts tumbled in a thousand different directions as she mechanically went about her morning routine. After lunch, she boarded the Fifth Avenue bus and alighted at Fourteenth Street, weaving her way through the crowd of shoppers at Rowland H. Macy’s Department Store to make a last minute purchase of a pair of gloves to complement the gown she was wearing tonight. She didn’t linger over the other display tables in the vast emporium or treat herself to an ice cream at the store’s soda fountain.

  Later, seated at her desk, she tried to deal with correspondence and the household accounts but found her mind wandering. The sad and painful irony of her frustrated desire for a child and Rosa’s unsettling news weighed like a stone in her heart.

  She finally gave herself over to the silent agony. Why, God? What have I done, or not done, to deserve this? Why her and not me? A single tear slid down her cheek and on to the creamy white stationery, blurring the blue ink of the few lines she’d written.

  Finding no answer, Hannah crumpled the sheet of paper into a tight ball and threw it into the wastepaper basket. Robert would be home soon, and she must prepare herself for the evening ahead.

  2

  “Hello, darling!” Robert strode into the bedroom, flung his coat onto the massive walnut bed, and planted a perfunctory kiss on Hannah’s cheek. “I won’t get too near you until I’ve had my bath. The streets seemed more crowded than usual today, thanks to the warmer weather, and I left the office later that I wanted to and had to hurry. Is the water ready?”

  Hannah fussed with the brush and comb on her dressing table. “Yes, and I’ve put out fresh undergarments for you.”

  “I won’t be long.” He picked up his clothes and disappeared down the hall, whistling to himself.

  Hannah turned back to the glass over her dressing table. The green eyes that stared back mirrored her inner turmoil, and she wondered how she would ever keep all her secrets from Robert. Sighing, she
picked up the heavy curling iron. Rosa had helped pin her hair up in a simple topknot, and now Hannah was trying to coax the shorter hair in front and on the sides into soft waves with little success. She went to work on the wayward tendrils once more. She finally achieved the desired effect and considered a touch of rouge.

  Robert spoke from the doorway. “You don’t need to add a thing more. You look perfect.”

  Her heart beat a little faster as he came into the room, his broad shoulders and chest covered only by a sleeveless, lisle undershirt tucked into slim black trousers.

  He tossed aside his soiled clothes and bent his head toward hers.

  Hannah wove her hands through his thick brown hair, savoring its cool dampness.

  Robert brushed her cheek with his mustache and murmured in her ear. “Perhaps we should give our excuses to the Duffs because we find ourselves suddenly taken ill. I, for one, am sick with love.”

  Hannah’s feeble laugh came with an effort, and she withdrew her hands. “But I thought this was an important evening.” Hannah toyed with the various toiletries on the dressing table, not wanting to meet his glance.

  “We’ll have to be ready soon if we want to reach their house in time.” He began to pull on his starched linen shirt, his tone cool.

  Hannah slipped off her robe and reached for her new dress, a light green, chine satin brocade woven with a pattern of morning glories and deep red roses. She had planned to ask Rosa for her assistance with the numerous buttons in back, but it was impossible to call her now with Robert still dressing in the same room. She waited for him to adjust his wing collar and tie. “Would you do me up, please?”

  “A husband’s prerogative.” He came up behind her and hesitated, his hands hovering near the base of her spine. Then he quickly fastened the gown and spun her around to face him.