A deep, sickening, sinking feeling overcame him.
The baby may not have been hers, but this little girl was Jenny’s. His gut, his mind, said there was no doubt. She must have given birth within the year after she’d left Rochester.
There was no way it could be his child. Their relationship hadn’t gone to that level. But it had gone to that level with someone else. Shortly after he’d gone to New York City. No wonder she’d left without saying a word.
His throat burned as if it was full of shards of glass, and his heart felt like someone had just stomped on it. Just like years ago.
Locking his jaw as anger began to rise inside him, Connor started his car and hit the gas so hard gravel spewed from beneath the tires.
* * *
Jenny flinched as the car spun away. There was a limit to her endurance, and she feared hers was close. That couldn’t happen. After all she’d been through, Connor McCormick would not be the cause of her to break down. Not again. She’d hit a breaking point once because of him, and wouldn’t—absolutely would not—do that again.
Why couldn’t he have just left? The second she’d seen his car on the side of the road she’d known what had happened.
He’d seen Emily.
Her heart felt as if a huge fist was squeezing the blood right out of it.
“Mommy? Why are we running?” Emily asked.
Jenny forced her footsteps to slow and eased the grip she had on her daughter’s hand. “Because I have chores to finish.” That was an excuse, and very unfair. Stopping, she knelt down, took Jenny’s lunch box and kissed her forehead. “But I am sorry. I didn’t mean to make you run. How was school today?”
“Teddy Wright found a frog and put it in his pocket.” Emily’s brown eyes glowed with golden highlights as they did when she was excited. “And it kept croaking to get out!” Her giggle filled the air. “It made everyone laugh.”
“I’m sure it did.” After another peck on Emily’s forehead, Jenny stood, and holding Emily’s hand softly, walked slowly toward the house. “What happened then?”
“Mrs. Whipple made him take it outside.” Emily sighed. “That made Teddy sad.”
“Poor Teddy, but frogs don’t belong in school,” Jenny said, smiling down at her daughter.
Emily nodded, but was still smiling. “That’s what Mrs. Whipple said, too, but Teddy wasn’t sad when he got on the bus.”
“Oh, why is that?”
“Because he found the frog again!”
Jenny giggled along with her daughter. She couldn’t help but think about all the names Connor had brought up. Some of those people she hadn’t thought about in years. Others, mainly him, she’d thought about many times and had wondered how and what they were doing now.
The small school in Twin Pines was so different from the one she’d attended in Rochester. There were only sixteen children in Emily’s school. Mr. Whipple drove the bus, and was the school principal, while his wife, Mrs. Whipple, taught all six grades, from first through sixth. Children attending higher grades were transported to Syracuse. Some stayed all week with families in Syracuse, returning home only on weekends. She couldn’t imagine being separated from Emily like that, seeing her only on weekends.
The Whipples also managed the post office and delivered the mail. Often sending it home with the children. Jenny didn’t need to ask if there was any mail. When that happened, Emily was always waving it as she climbed off the bus.
“What did Mr. Whipple think about Teddy’s frog?” Jenny asked as they arrived at the house.
“Mr. Whipple doesn’t know about the frog,” Emily said. “The bus was too noisy for him to hear it croaking. He really is a nice frog, Mommy. Teddy let me pet him.”
“He did?”
“Yep.”
Certain Teddy’s mother would insist that Teddy let the frog go once he arrived home, Jenny changed the subject. “Well, let’s go get your clothes changed and then you can help me hang clothes on the line,” she said, not mentioning the handwashing that would happen first. Teddy was the only other first grader. Therefore, he and Emily had become fast friends. Jenny did wish that Emily could have other friends, especially some that lived nearby so they could play together outside school. There were a lot of things she wished. Things that just couldn’t be.
They had a good life here, with everything they needed. A solid home, food, clothing. She couldn’t complain. Nor would she. She was extremely thankful for the life she and Emily had here with Gretchen. It was fulfilling, too. Helping other girls who were caught in the same situation she had been.
With an apron covering her rounded stomach, Rachel was in the kitchen. William was sitting in the highchair, munching on a cookie, and a plate holding two cookies and a glass of milk awaited Emily at the table. “Lora is hanging up the rest of the laundry,” Rachel said, quietly.
Jenny nodded as she led her daughter to the sink and helped her wash her hands thoroughly. “Eat your cookies then go change your clothes.” As Emily skipped to the table, Jenny patted Rachel’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
Petite, with a host of curly blond hair and big green eyes, Rachel was showing signs that her time of delivery could happen any day. Jenny had come to recognize even the most subtle of changes, from how they carried the baby lower, to a burst of energy that often happened right before labor would set in.
Lora’s time was fast approaching, too.
Both girls had been with them for several months, and Joyce had been with them for over a year. Her baby, William, had been born just weeks after Joyce had arrived. No one was ever asked to leave, or to stay. Those were decisions they made on their own.
For the briefest of moments, Jenny thought about a telephone, and how beneficial that could be to some of the girls.
Resigned to not think about Connor in any way, Jenny shook her head to dispel all thoughts, including those of telephones, and walked to the back door. After the clothes were hung, and others that were dry were carried in and put away, she spent a few hours in the greenhouses, snipping and pruning the carnation plants that would soon be transplanted into the ground behind the house. Carnations were one of Gretchen’s bestsellers, and once planted outside, they grew quickly, providing dozens upon dozens of lush, big and colorful flowers to be shipped regularly to the shops in Syracuse and Albany.
May was a tricky month. There were days like today, where the sun was shining and so warm it felt as if summer was right around the corner, however, there was no guarantee that the overnight temperatures wouldn’t reach freezing levels. Therefore, the transferring of plants from inside the greenhouses to the fields behind the sheds wouldn’t come until closer to June.
Jenny hadn’t known anything about growing flowers before coming here. Her mother hadn’t grown so much as a vegetable garden. She would soon be planting one of those, too. On the west side of the house, and once it started producing, she’d be busy canning vegetables to fill the pantry for winter.
Looking back, she had to admit that she didn’t know much about anything when she’d arrived here. At that point in her life, it had been about saving her baby, Emily, from adoption, or worse.
They’d tried to make her sign those papers, even promised she could go back to her family if she did. That had been the last place she’d have returned to, still was. Her mother and stepfather had disowned her, and she’d disowned them.
Jenny was still in the greenhouse when she heard the rumble of a truck coming up the driveway. The flowers Gretchen and Joyce had delivered today had been mostly tulips and lilies of the valley. The tiny lilies were her favorite. They smelled so wonderful and their precious little white bell-shaped flowers were so pretty. She loved walking outside in the morning and catching a whiff of them. Very seasonal, the flowers didn’t last long. Soon the large beds of them surrounding the house would be nothing but lush, green leaves. At that point, they’
d dig up clumps and sell them as starters for those looking to start their own flowerbeds.
“How did everything go?” she asked as the truck pulled up next to the greenhouse.
“Better than expected!” Gretchen climbed out and shut the truck door.
Joyce’s red hair bobbed as she climbed out of the passenger door, grinning brightly. “Willingham’s Floral bought the entire truck load. They needed them for several weddings this weekend, so our timing was perfect.”
“Wonderful!” Jenny was truly pleased. Although several shops purchased flowers regularly, there were still times that Gretchen would take to selling flowers along the side of the road in order to return home with an empty truck. That tended to happen more during the summer months, when flowers were more plentiful.
“Yes, it was,” Gretchen agreed, walking to the back of the truck.
“There are enough tulips and lilies for another trip tomorrow.” Jenny grabbed two wooden crates out of the back of the truck.
Gretchen nodded while taking more crates. “I promised Wells Hansen I’d be there first thing in the morning. Of course, he wants glads, but I told him they won’t be ready for a month or more.”
Wells was the funeral director in Syracuse, and preferred gladioli for funeral arrangements.
“He’ll be happy when they do start blooming.” Jenny had planted several rows of the bulbs earlier in the month, and was watching them carefully because the deer and rabbits didn’t mind eating the tender leaves as soon as they popped out of the ground. She would continue planting the bulbs for months, so they would have fresh gladioli until fall.
The three of them talked about flowers as they unloaded and carried all of the empty crates into the greenhouses, and then Joyce excused herself, anxious to see her son, and walked over to where William and Emily were sitting on the ground, playing with a ball.
“How did things go around here today?” Gretchen asked.
“Fine.” Jenny kept her gaze on Joyce and the children.
“No visitors?”
Jenny’s spine shivered even as a heat flushed her face. “Yes, he was here.”
“He’s been staying at the Bird’s Inn.”
“Selling telephone lines.”
“Is that what he said?”
Jenny’s throat grew thick as she turned, looked at Gretchen. “That’s why he’s in the area.”
Gretchen nodded. “Until he’d found you.”
“He won’t be back.”
Gretchen had the grace to not laugh out loud, but the challenge in her smile said she didn’t believe Connor wouldn’t be back.
Jenny did. He’d seen Emily.
Holding on to that thought like it was a lifeline, the only thing saving her from drowning in a raging flood, Jenny forged forward, day after day. Each night, she’d say a prayer of thanks that Connor hadn’t returned, and then fight against the tears she refused to let flow because he hadn’t.
Over the years, she’d felt every emotion possible for Connor. From love to hate. And was going through each one all over again as she lay in bed, staring out the window at a sky full of stars.
It had been over a week since his last visit, and Gretchen had said he’d checked out of the Bird’s Inn. She should be happy about that. He had no right to come back into her life. Making her laugh just like he had years ago. It had been so easy, laughing, while they’d been talking about people she used to know, while he’d told her what those people were doing now, how they’d married, had children.
She had a child, and had never been married. Emily asked about that, about her father, especially since starting school. Jenny had told her the truth. That she didn’t know where he was, but that it didn’t matter because they had each other.
There was more truth to it than that and the thoughts swirling in her mind, of how young and foolish she’d been, made her throat burn and her eyes sting.
Still, she refused to cry. She’d cried enough years ago and those tears hadn’t changed anything. If only Connor hadn’t lied to her about going to New York. She would never have agreed to go out with Donald. Would never have tried so hard to forget Connor.
Connor and Donald had not been friends. More like enemies. Connor had never said much about Donald, who had been a year older than him, three years older than her, but Donald had said plenty about Connor. Especially after the play. Donald had been the leading man in the play, and had been very mad that Connor had stolen the show.
She threw back the covers and leaped out of bed before any more memories could form. With her mind not full of thoughts, her hearing kicked in, and she went to the door, pulled it open.
Long black hair glistened in the moonlight near the top of the stairway.
“Lora?” Jenny asked, stepping into the hallway.
Holding on to the rail post, Lora slowly turned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t wake me.” Jenny moved closer. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, just hungry.”
Jenny grinned. “Thinking of that chocolate cake Rachel made?”
Lora covered her mouth with one hand and nodded shyly.
“Me, too.” Jenny hadn’t been thinking about the cake, but stepped forward and took hold of Lora’s arm to guide her down the steps. “When I was expecting Emily, I ate nearly an entire cake, all by myself.”
“I could do that tonight.” Lora rested a hand on her stomach. “I’m starving and supper was only a few hours ago.”
“That has a little to do with cravings,” Jenny assured. “And it’s best to feed those cravings, otherwise you’d lie awake half the night, thinking about how delicious that cake will taste.”
“I am sorry for disturbing you.”
Jenny continued to hold on to Lora’s arm as they stepped off the stairway that led into the kitchen, where the light was on. “You didn’t disturb me, but we might be disturbing someone else.”
“Just me,” Rachel said from the kitchen. “I had a craving for cake and milk.”
Laughing as she and Lora walked around the corner, Jenny said, “Us, too. Is there any left?”
“Right now, there is,” Rachel replied. “I can’t say that will be true in a few minutes.”
“You sit down,” Jenny told Lora. “I’ll get us some plates before it’s all gone.”
The house was quiet, except for the three of them, eating the delectable and moist chocolate cake, heavily slathered with a rich chocolate frosting, and taking sips of cold, creamy milk.
“I do hope you are willing to share this recipe,” Jenny told Rachel. “It’s sinfully delicious.”
“I’ll try and write it down,” Rachel answered, beaming at the praise. “I don’t measure anything, just sort of dump in amounts that look right.”
“It’s right, that’s for sure,” Lora said, scooping up a second piece of cake from the platter in the center of the table. “I’ve been thinking about a second piece since eating one for dessert after supper. I just couldn’t stand it any longer.”
“Me, too,” Rachel said, her green eyes still shimmering. “And I’m glad it turned out exactly as I remembered.”
“Is it another cake your grandmother who owned the bakery in Queens made?” Lora asked.
“Yes,” Rachel replied. “Grandma Nina. We lived with her until after my father died, up until my mother remarried. That was four years ago. I haven’t seen my grandmother since then.” She sat back in her chair and placed a hand on her stomach. “I’m going to write to her, after my baby is born, and if she agrees, go live with her.”
Through discussions they’d had since Rachel had arrived several months ago, Jenny was aware of Rachel’s plans, and once again thought about how nice a telephone would be for Rachel to call her grandmother.
Lora huffed out a long breath. “I still don’t know what I’m g
oing to do after my baby is born. My family disowned me when I ran away with Ellis. You know, the one my father called a scoundrel. By the time I figured out my father had been right, I was pregnant.”
“We all make mistakes,” Jenny said, patting Lora’s arm.
“I made more than one,” Lora continued. “Ellis didn’t do anything except visit speakeasies, spend the money I’d made doing odd jobs to feed us. So, I went home. My parents said I was a bad example for my younger siblings, and took me to the home for unwed mothers in Albany. I suppose they were right about that, too, but I didn’t have anywhere else to go. Then the home said I had to give my baby up for adoption...” Lora shrugged. “I couldn’t do that.”
Jenny had long ago set her fork down and reached over, taken Lora’s hand. “You can stay here as long as you need. There’s no rush or pressure.”
Lora nodded, and then frowned. “Will you stay here forever, Jenny?” She blushed slightly. “I mean, don’t you think about getting married someday? Having more children?”
Jenny swallowed hard and gathered the empty plates, carried them to the sink. “No. I like it here.” Forcing herself not to think about anyone, especially one specific person, she turned to the table, and smiled. “I like helping all of you.”
“If it wasn’t for you and Gretchen, I would have ended up back at the home,” Lora said. “I know I would have. I’d have had to give up my baby.”
Jenny went back to the table and gave Lora a quick hug. “Well, you don’t have to worry about any of that. Just think about the precious little baby you’ll soon have.” Tears were threatening to form as Jenny reached over and squeezed Rachel’s hand. “You both will have little babies.” Releasing both of them, she picked the glasses off the table. “I’ll wash these dishes. You two go back to bed. You’ll be able to sleep now that you’ve had your fill of cake.”
Yawning, they both agreed, and Jenny filled the sink with soapy water. Dozens of girls had stories like Lora and Rachel. Including herself.
Harlequin Historical May 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Page 50
