Hearts in Hiding

by Patty Smith Hall

  “The way Edie tells it, you’re the one who strong-armed Ben into actually doing something about it.”

  A few heated discussions with the man wouldn’t intimidate the telephone company into action. Edie had helped Ben to change his mind. The woman had a way of making a man think—including him. “Have you heard anything from George?”

  Her sigh tore through him. “Not since a couple of days after you left.”

  “What happened?”

  She shrugged one shoulder. “Who knows? George always wanted to be on his own ever since I can recall. Remember when he tried to sign up for the navy and Daddy wouldn’t give his permission?”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Oh, yeah. You know what I think?” Gertie asked, crossing one leg over the other. “I think that George couldn’t stand the thought of you being gone, and decided it was time to start his life, too.”

  The happy shrieks of children playing faded into the background. So Edie had been wrong. George leaving was his fault. Maybe he hadn’t encouraged his friend to leave home, but he’d talked about it enough, figured running was his only way out of the continuous battles, the constant beatings. Why would George leave a fine home with good parents if not for him and his stupid advice? “I’m so sorry, Gertie.”

  “What have you got to be sorry about?”

  Beau hesitated for a moment. “I’m the one who talked about leaving all the time.”

  “And with good reason,” Gertie whispered. “We all worried you’d come up dead one day. So when you left, every single one of us was thankful you were out of that situation.” Beau followed Gertie’s gaze over to where her parents sat, Mr. Stephens talking to a young man holding a baseball bat while Mrs. Stephens sat huddled with some ladies rolling bandages. “Particularly Mom and Dad. Look, I’m telling you here and now that you could have stuck around till the cows came home, and George would’ve still found an excuse to go.”

  Maybe Edie was right, maybe it wasn’t his fault his friend left town. He waited for relief to flood his body with a lightness, but instead he couldn’t figure out how he felt. “How’s the job search going?”

  “Slow. I’m thinking about joining the army nurse corp if nothing pans out in a couple of weeks.”

  Gertie on the front lines when the hospital needed help at home. “Why don’t I talk to Dr. Lovinggood, see if I can change his mind and get you reinstated?”

  “That man can be hardheaded.”

  Maybe, but an influx of patients and a shortage of nurses was running the staff ragged. Beau blotted a napkin to his mouth. “Oh, I think he’ll come around.”

  She hesitated. “That might not set too well with him, you nosing into the workings of his hospital.”

  “Maybe not, but hiring you back would be the right thing to do for the patients and the staff.”

  Her caramel cheeks flushed a bright pink. “You always were a sweet talker, weren’t you? So tell me.” Gertie tilted her head toward Edie and the other young women. “What’s going on between you and Edie?”

  “Nothing.” He snorted. And he aimed to keep it that way.

  “That’s not what it looked like when you came walking down the road a little while ago, holding her hand.” Her voice held a hint of laughter.

  He’d forgotten about that. “The drive has a lot of washed-out areas that sneak up on you. I didn’t want to risk Edie falling and hurting herself.”

  “She looks like she can stand pretty well on her own.” Gertie’s lips twitched. “Unless you don’t mind holding her hand.”

  “You’re still a pest, Gertie, you know that?” Beau scrubbed a hand over his face. He had liked the feeling of Edie’s hand in his, the delicate feel of her palm against his making him feel extremely male. It made him want more, to know everything about her, to earn her trust enough for her to share her secrets. And yes, to share a kiss or two. But to ask more of her meant revealing himself, and he wasn’t sure he could do that. Or could he? “It’s complicated.”

  A low-pitched humph brought his head around. “Why is it people are always making things harder than they have to be?”

  Gertie would see it that way. She’d always been loved and wanted by her mom and dad. “You couldn’t understand.”

  “What’s there to understand?” She glared at him like he was one egg short of a dozen. “Do you realize you look at Edie like she’s the Christmas display over at Saul’s Mercantile? And she watches you the same way when she doesn’t think anyone is looking. What in blue blazes is complicated about that?”

  His eyes shifted to where Edie sat shaded under a large water oak. A gentle smile had settled over her face as she bent over a small bundle of cotton and uncoordinated limbs. She pursed her lips as if to coo at the infant, sending a tiny set of arms and legs flailing into a jerky dance. His pulse thundered in his veins, every nerve ending in his body popping and hissing as if an electric switch had suddenly been thrown.

  But Gertie didn’t know the entire story. The letter Edie had dropped, the German writing. He wanted to hear her side of the story, needed to confirm that everything his heart was telling him, about Edie’s compassion, her selflessness toward others, her loyalty, was true.

  But would Edie be able to forgive him once she learned the truth of his deception?

  * * *

  “Tell me another story!”

  Beau looked up at Claire, the thin pieces of pink yarn keeping her pigtails in place flying behind her as she ran into the dining room like a tattered flag in a brisk wind. The look of adoration in her pale green eyes as she climbed up in his lap made his breath catch in his throat. He’d only known his baby cousin a little over two months, and his heart was already wound tight around her stubby little finger.

  Beau smothered the chuckle rising up in his throat and struggled to put on his most serious face. “Didn’t anyone tell you it’s polite to say hello first?”

  “Oh.” Her pale red eyebrows scrunched together, then she smiled. “Hello.” She glanced around. “Where’s Ms. Edie?”

  “At work.” It was natural his cousin thought he’d know where the beautiful brunette was. In the last few weeks, he and Edie had spent most evenings together, either at the hospital or on the front porch, planning out the details for the work on his dad’s house.

  Or at least, that’s how it was supposed to be. Then he’d come across her in the hospital’s break room, skimming the sports page for his old high school’s baseball scores, and his determination to keep her at arm’s length evaporated. She had got him thinking about what a man like him should expect out of life, especially with the mistakes he’d made.

  But then, why would the Lord waste the incredible gift of healing people on him, unless Beau intended to use it?

  He touched the tip of Claire’s nose. “What have you been doing today?”

  “Momma dropped me off at Katie Lawson’s house on her way to Uncle Jeb’s.” The words rushed out of her like Sweetwater Creek after a spring rain. “Me and Kate decided to collect old tires and stuff for the rubber drive so we can get our Red Feather badge. Her dad has all this junk out back.”

  “And you girls thought what better place to start than the Lawsons’ garage,” Beau replied, pulling the loose yarn from one lopsided pigtail. He studied the girl from head to toe. “Did you get Mr. Lawson’s permission before going through his things?”

  Claire’s smile dimmed. “Kate’s dad is in the Pacific, but Mrs. Lawson said it was okay.”

  “Then that’s okay. Just as long as you got permission.” Beau handed her back the piece of yarn, then cupped the child’s face in his hands and studied her, angling her head this way and that. “You know what you need? A water hose and a cake of soap.”

  Claire’s lips twitched. “You’re funny.”

  “And you’re filthy as a little piglet. Are you going to my ball game like that?”

  “No!” Her childish giggle made him laugh out loud, enjoying the simple pleasure of his younger cousin’s compan
y. Merrilee had done a good job of raising her daughter into a sweet little girl.

  John would adore her. If he knew. The letters he and Edie had found weighed on him more with each passing day. He’d prayed for an answer.

  And still nothing.

  “Beau?”

  He cleared his throat and focused his attention back on Claire. “What is it, pumpkin?”

  “I was just thinking,” the young girl replied, her usual happy-go-lucky voice suddenly serious. “If I had anything of my dad’s, I don’t think I could just give it away, not even for the war.”

  Beau’s heart lurched in his chest. “But you do have something of your dad’s. You and your momma have this place.”

  Claire tilted her head back and looked up at Beau. “Daddy must love us a lot to buy us this house.”

  “Of course he does.” He brushed a kiss across her forehead. “What has your mom said about it?”

  “That’s the thing. Every time I ask about Daddy, Momma gets all sad-looking, like I’ve hurt her feelings or something. I think Momma misses him.”

  “You do?” He’d thought that was a possibility, but he wasn’t good with situations like that. Maybe he’d ask Edie.

  Claire snuggled against Beau’s shoulder. “Do you think Daddy loves me?”

  The fear threaded through Claire’s voice twisted in his gut. What had his father been up to, keeping Merrilee’s letters from John? But it didn’t take much thought for Beau to figure it out. Plain and simple greed.

  Had Dad known Merrilee was expecting a child? Had he thought about the price Claire would pay, growing up without her father? And what about John, never getting the chance to know his own flesh and blood?

  Beau cradled Claire close to his chest. “I think your dad loves you very much.”

  “Really?” She looked up at him with such longing in her eyes, a knot formed in his throat. “Then why hasn’t he ever come to see me?”

  Her innocent question plunged through Beau’s heart like a knife, ripping it to pieces. He glanced toward the door. If only Edie was home. She had a way with Claire, a manner he’d seen repeated with the children at the hospital, a calm truthfulness that soothed a child’s unease without bruising feelings.

  Was that what Claire needed, honesty? Beau gathered her little body close, resting his cheek on a pillow of reddish-blond curls. “Well, he can’t come home right now, sweetheart. You see, your daddy is so good at building things that the navy asked him to train other men to build roads and bridges. He’s over in the Pacific right now, doing just that.”

  “John is in the Pacific?”

  They both turned their heads toward the doorway. Merrilee leaned against the door frame, her hands fisted into the apron she was wearing. Tiny lines worried the area around her eyes and mouth while sadness cast long shadows across her pale green eyes. Was Claire right? Did Merrilee still have feelings for her former husband?

  “Claire, I’ve got your bathwater running.”

  “But Momma…”

  “No buts, young lady. Get on upstairs.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Claire snuggled into Beau’s side, her warm body flush against his. “I’m so glad you’re here. You’ll tell me everything I want to know about Daddy.”

  “If you want to go to the game and see Beau play…”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The young girl’s expression fell as she scooted off Beau’s lap onto the floor.

  Merrilee placed her hand on Claire’s tiny shoulder as she started to walk past her. “Maybe Beau can tell you another story if you do an extra special job cleaning those dirty nails.”

  “Really?” Claire answered, then turned back to Beau. “Could you tell me about how my daddy built that big old dam on the Colorado River?”

  Would he ever get enough of his cousin’s smile? “You mean Hoover Dam? I think your daddy had some help on that particular one.”

  Claire’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Why?”

  Beau gave Claire a loving swat on her backside. The joy John was missing, watching his daughter grow up. “Go take your bath, brat.”

  The young girl giggled, skipping off, then flashed a bright smile at her mother before bounding up the stairwell, stumbling once or twice but always bouncing back up like a punching bag. Claire wanted anything she could find out about her father, and there wasn’t much Beau could do about it. Not yet, at least.

  Merrilee walked across the room and pulled together the blackout curtains. “I would’ve thought you’d be on your way to the ball field.”

  “Not yet.” The truth was he’d been hoping to catch Edie, maybe talk to her about her letter. Beau watched his aunt work her way around the room. It was beginning to look like there were a lot of things he needed to come clean about, starting with his uncle. “I should have told you about John being overseas.”

  “Why?”

  Her reply threw him for a long second. “I don’t know. Maybe because you might want to know. For Claire’s sake.”

  “Oh, I didn’t think about that, Beau. If something should happen to him…” Her voice drifted off, a shadow falling across her face for the briefest of moments before she gave him a tentative smile. “Claire’s been curious about her father lately. And goodness knows, I don’t have any new stories to tell her.”

  Her voice trailed off, as if that fact bothered her more than she cared to admit. Beau watched his aunt move from one window to the next, her movements purposeful as usual but with a slight hesitation. Maybe the munchkin had made the right diagnosis. Maybe his aunt missed John Davenport more than she’d let on.

  Smoothing her apron, she walked over and dropped down into the chair beside him. “Do you keep in touch with him much?”

  Stretching out his arms in front of him, he laced his fingers together in a steeple. “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten anything from him.”

  “He never was one for writing.”

  Her little snort of a sad chuckle drew his attention. What would Merrilee say to the dozen letters—letters she’d written for John—that he had stashed in his dresser upstairs? Would she welcome them? Or had he found them too late to repair his aunt’s life?

  “I ran into Hessie Cantrell at the grocery store today.”

  Ben Cantrell’s wife? From the tone of her voice, Beau knew he wasn’t going to like this. “How is Ms. Hessie?”

  “She’s fine, maybe a bit rattled.” She hesitated. “Did you know that Edie paid Ben to put phone lines into the Stephenses neighborhood?”

  If Merrilee worried about her lovely boarder, he could calm her fears. “Ms. Hessie left out the part that I went with Edie to make the request.”

  “Why would you let her do that?”

  Beau stared at his aunt. Merrilee couldn’t mean what her question implied, could she? “You don’t think the Stephenses deserve to have a phone?”

  “Of course I do. Even if the phone is the most confounded irritating thing, it’s good to have around in case of an emergency.” She gave him a silly frown. “I should smack you for asking me such a question.”

  “Then why are you so concerned that…”

  “I’m worried about Edie. You know as well as I do how some folks around here are about…folks like the Stephenses.”

  “You mean Negroes.”

  Merrilee’s face paled beneath a sprinkle of brown freckles. “Everybody seems keen on dividing folks up into groups so we know who to hate. Whites, Negroes, Japs.” She swallowed. “Germans.”

  Beau blinked. He’d been going on the assumption that Edie had kept her German heritage from Merrilee. But as he stared into his aunt’s face, he knew the truth. “You know Edie’s German.”

  Merrilee pressed a finger to her lips and glanced toward the door. When she was satisfied they were alone, she turned back to Beau. “I was told in confidence.”

  “Edie?”

  She nodded. “Yes, then Major Evans. He wanted me to know in case I had a problem with it.”

  It bothered him that the military was
involved. Or was it the slightest twinge of jealousy? “Why is the major so interested in her?”

  She gave him a gentle smack on his arm. “I don’t know if you noticed, but our Edie is a very talented architect. So much so, Bell considers her essential personnel.”

  Beau blinked. Essential personnel! “But she was Abner Ellerbee’s secretary.”

  Merrilee gave him a proud smile. “Only until her security clearance went through.”

  Thus, Edie’s recent promotion to the drafting department. She wasn’t just an ally—the United States felt her necessary in the fight for freedom.

  “What I’m surprised at is how you know about her background.” Merrilee gave him a knowing smile. “But then, the two of you have been spending a lot of time together. She probably feels she can trust you.”

  Beau swallowed against the hard knot in his throat. He’d only held on to Edie’s letter until he could learn the truth about her. At least that’s what he’d told himself. But he’d known she was no more of a spy than he was, ever since that day at the hospital when she’d passed out giving blood to a Negro soldier.

  I’m no better than my father.

  The truth slammed through him. And he’d been trying to do better, be the man God wanted him to be for his family. For Merrilee and Claire.

  Maybe, one day, for someone like Edie Michaels.

  It mattered that he correct this wrong he’d done her. Not just because he’d been stupid in keeping her letter, but because he’d completely misjudged her without even knowing her. And what he knew of Edie, he liked. A lot.

  If we confess our sins, He is faithful.

  God may have forgiven him, but what about Edie? Could he make her understand why he had kept her letter? Probably not, but he had to try. “Has Edie come in yet? I know she had to work late.”

  “Not yet.” Merrilee glanced up at the mantel clock. “In fact, I’m expecting her any time now. Why?”

  “I think I’ll go and walk her home.” Beau pushed back the chair and stood, not sure what he would say to Edie when he met up with her. But he would apologize. Give her back her letter. And start rebuilding the trust she’d placed in him. Let the Lord handle it.