by Terrie Todd
“Are you all right, Corrie?”
“I’ll be fine.” But she immediately turned around and went back to the bathroom for another round of vomiting. When she came back out, Eva invited her to sit at the kitchen table. They sat quietly, sipping tea for a few moments. Cornelia knew now was as good a time as any to tell her secret, but although she had rehearsed the speech throughout the night, her mouth felt dry, her hands trembled, and her heart pounded. She had imagined every conceivable response that Henry’s parents could offer, most of the scenarios ending with her boarding the first possible train home.
“Is there something you need to tell me, honey?” Eva gripped her teacup.
Cornelia looked up into the sorrowful eyes of the woman who had been her mother’s best friend.
“I—yes.” Tears started streaming down her face. How could she add more pain to this already hurting family? But trying to hide the truth was not going to help, either.
“I think I can guess, Corrie.”
Cornelia looked up in surprise.
“This is the fourth morning we’ve been together and the fourth morning you’ve been sick. Yet you’re always better by noon.”
Cornelia thought she had done a better job of being discreet. She cried even harder.
Eva’s eyes welled up. “Is it true, then?”
Cornelia nodded, trying desperately to hold back the flood of tears. This was the first time she had heard her secret acknowledged aloud. Until now, it had been much easier to stay in denial, even though her body gave every indication it was, indeed, carrying Henry’s child.
“Have you seen a doctor?”
Cornelia shook her head.
“Well, then, that’s the first thing. We need to confirm it. I’ll take you this afternoon. We find out for sure, and if it’s true, the second thing we do is tell Henry’s father.”
Cornelia could tell what Eva’s tone meant. She suddenly seemed so businesslike, taking charge and making decisions on Cornelia’s behalf. Surely this meant the end of the friendship that had grown through their shared grief.
“Thank you,” she managed to whisper as she stared at her shoes in shame.
CHAPTER 27
July 2006
Three months had passed since Ken and Benita took over the management of Schneider’s Corner Store. Although the owners were pleased with the state of sales and with Ken and Benita’s work, tension between the couple was heavier than it had ever been before. After the first two weeks, they’d moved into the upstairs apartment and begun to prepare their home for sale. Benita tried to convince her husband they should try renting it instead, but Ken wouldn’t hear of it.
“Even if we managed to rent it out for enough to cover our mortgage payments—and we won’t—the hassles of being a landlord never end,” he had ranted. “Things have needed repair around that place for years, but we haven’t had the money. Now we don’t have time or money. If you think for one minute that tenants will put up with that, think again. I don’t have time to keep up with everything both here and there. I want to focus on one thing, and do it right.”
Benita had to concede that Ken had “done it right” as far the store was concerned. It had never looked this clean and bright before, nor had it offered so much product variety. More important, the books had never looked this promising. With the go-ahead from the Schneider siblings, he spent every available moment repainting, rewiring, and rearranging the store. Benita suspected that after all those months of unemployment, Ken desperately needed to prove his competency, even if it was only to himself.
The frequency of their fights would have been understandable during Ken’s time of unemployment, but oddly enough, all the hostility and resentment seemed to be rising to the surface now instead. Every conversation was peppered with sarcasm or escalated into an argument, and it wore her down.
They’d held a huge garage sale to whittle down their belongings, and each of them had seemed determined to part with things the other wanted to keep. The house sold the next week. Benita struggled to wrap her head around the idea. True, the free apartment above the store would greatly reduce their living expenses and give them a chance to catch up on bills, possibly even get ahead—but at how great an emotional price? She felt like she was camping, or a guest in someone else’s hotel room. The space seemed too public and too small.
James and Katie-Lynn, accustomed to spending time with their dad, were now adjusting to a new way of life. Benita knew that if they weren’t living right at the store, James and Katie-Lynn wouldn’t see Ken at all. He went downstairs long before they rose in the mornings and came to bed long after they were settled for the night. Everything had happened so quickly and with too little discussion or preparation. Benita hadn’t had time to grieve the loss of Gram, her employers, or her home.
I know I should be thankful, God, she prayed during the silent prayer time at church. We prayed for work and you provided. Help me be more grateful.
Ken stopped coming to church after those first few weeks, declaring he needed Sunday morning to work on things at the store. Initially, Benita would have chosen to stay home herself, but the children loved attending and, frankly, it presented a good opportunity to create a little space between her and Ken for a couple of hours a week.
The precious opportunities she found to read Gram’s diary were opening her eyes to a new way of doing things, a way that included her creator in the day-to-day of life, as Gram had. And gradually, Benita was discovering the worship times at church to be more meaningful, too.
Before heading home after the service, Benita remained in her seat for a few minutes of quiet reflection.
Lord, you and I haven’t had much to do with each other through the years. Well, maybe it’s more accurate to say I haven’t had much to do with you. I’d like that to change. Show me how to do life better. Please help Ken relax a bit about the store. He acts as if he owns it, and I know that makes for a good manager, but I’m afraid for what’s happening in the family. He has changed so much. Show me how to deal with it.
She drove home with a lighter heart.
When lunch was ready, Benita sent Katie-Lynn downstairs to call her father.
“He says he’s not hungry,” Katie-Lynn reported back. “And he’d appreciate a little help.”
By the tone of Katie-Lynn’s voice, Benita could tell her daughter was imitating the inflections made by an irritated man. She sighed and sat down to eat with the children. She had really been looking forward to an afternoon of relaxation on the one day a week the store stayed closed. She was clearing lunch dishes when Ken’s head appeared at the top of the stairs.
“I need an extra pair of hands down there, didn’t Katie-Lynn tell you?”
“She did. But we were about to sit down for lunch. Why didn’t you come eat with us?”
“We’ve got more important things around here to worry about than eating every couple of hours, Benita! We won’t be able to open the store tomorrow morning if we don’t finish that new shelving and put everything back on it. Now put the kids to work on those dishes and get down here and help me!”
“But I promised Katie-Lynn I’d help her finish those cushions for her room, and James needs help with his science project.”
“Katie-Lynn can help James with his project and the stupid cushions can wait. That kid already has too much junk in her room anyway. I can’t get this done all by myself.” He turned around and stomped down the stairs.
Fuming, Benita passed the instructions on to James and Katie-Lynn and followed Ken downstairs, where they spent the remainder of the afternoon and the evening working in icy silence. Their only break came when the pizza delivery arrived, and the four of them sat around the store’s counter eating straight from the box. At nine o’clock, James and Katie-Lynn put themselves to bed, and two hours later, Benita’s weary feet carried her up the stairs.
At m
idnight, Benita climbed out of the bath, wrapped her robe tightly around herself, and sat in her bedroom with Gram’s diary again. The last entry she’d read had shaken her, and she had set the precious book aside with a sense of having intruded. Now she promised herself she could read one more entry before bed, knowing it might be a week before there would be another opportunity.
After reading Gram’s accounts of the loss of her beloved Henry and of her personal encounter with the angel, Benita found that each time she opened the diary she did so with more reverence and awe.
December 16, 1939. I have never felt so alone in my life. Eva guessed about my pregnancy and went with me to visit her doctor. Dr. Colburg is an older man, gentle and soft-spoken. He said it takes a few days for the final, official result to come back, but from his experience he is certain I am pregnant. I was certain already, so this was not surprising.
What came next I couldn’t have predicted. Eva took me home and explained it to Samuel. I find him an impossible man to read, and he sat silently and stone-faced for the longest time. Then he said “You will not bring this disgrace upon Henry’s memory,” and he went upstairs without another word. I didn’t know what to do. Was I supposed to leave right that minute? I didn’t even have enough money for train fare to get home, and even if I did, I couldn’t bear the thought of going home and telling Daddy. This will break his heart! He’ll have to find a way to explain it to Jimmy, and he’ll have to listen to Miriam’s I-told-you-so’s for the rest of his life.
Eva told me to go to bed and she would talk to her husband. But in the morning, he laid out a plan. “You will not return home to Roseburg,” he said. “If you do, my brother’s family will know. You will stay here in the city until the baby arrives, but not with us. I know of a home where you can go. You will not show up at our church or anywhere any of our friends might see you. Eva will write your father, requesting that you stay here with us for a while longer to comfort us in our grief. You will agree to tell no one and you will give the child up for adoption. In exchange, I will provide for your care until the birth and I will pay for you to finish your high school by correspondence while you wait. After that, you will no longer be part of our lives.”
And so it seems my future has been decided for me.
Benita wiped tears from her cheeks. That was the last entry for the year. She put the diary back into the silver suitcase. She knew she should get some sleep, but Gram’s story compelled her to keep reading. She picked up the next one marked 1940 and took it to bed with her. With pillows propped behind her back, she opened the diary to its first entry.
January 1. I endured the most miserable Christmas ever. My heart breaks with grief for my beloved Henry, and though I long to go home to Daddy and Jim, I remain stuck here in Winnipeg with two other heartbroken people. Henry’s parents mean well. Eva remains kind and gentle, but she will not challenge her husband’s decision. Samuel has not spoken to me since he learned of the pregnancy, except when necessary to make arrangements for my lodging. Eva wrote to Daddy, convincing him to let me stay with them “to comfort them in their grief,” and I am expected to go along with this charade.
So there was no Christmas tree, no carols, no gifts. The only thing that made it seem remotely like Christmas was the package for me in the mail, from home. Daddy sent me this new diary and Jim sent a beautiful, heart-shaped stone he found at our favorite spot by the creek. On the back, he’d drawn a tiny angel, which of course made me cry immediately. As if he knew! His note said he hoped it would help me to not feel homesick. If only it could.
I have been so tempted to run away, but where would I go? Back to Roseburg, where Daddy would have to bear the humiliation of his errant daughter and the never-ending condescension of Aunt Miriam? How could I do that to him? I have no money. I should be grateful, I suppose, for this opportunity. At least I will finish high school, even if only by correspondence. And it truly will be so much better for my child to be raised by two parents who can provide for him. Or her. So I have resigned myself to the decisions made for me, and keep telling myself it will all work out.
Then they brought me here, yesterday. Mrs. Marshall met us at the back door of her restaurant, looked me up and down, and told me to carry my bag upstairs and leave it in the room on the right. And to be quick about it. I dropped my bag in the room without really looking inside and hustled back down the stairs, my hands trembling. When I returned to the kitchen, Henry’s parents were gone. Mrs. Marshall handed me an apron and told me to go to work on the pile of dirty dishes. For the next four hours I scrubbed dishes, pots, and pans while Mrs. Marshall filled customers’ orders. How can so many people afford to eat in a restaurant during wartime, and on New Year’s Day? Another girl waited tables, and when we were finally done for the night, I learned her name is Linda and she sleeps in the room across the hall from mine.
My room has one bare window that is in desperate need of cleaning. What little plaster remains on the walls is a dull gray, with no pictures hung on it. There’s a washstand in the corner and a tiny bed with one thin blanket. When I lie on the bed, the springs sag nearly to the floor. There is no heat in the room except what comes from below through the grate in the hallway floor, so I leave my door open at all times.
My correspondence courses begin next week, and I will need to do my schoolwork around the restaurant schedule. Henry’s father insisted that Mrs. Marshall pay me a small wage in addition to providing my lodging, and for that I am grateful. There is plenty of food to eat, although I have little appetite and can’t eat anything at all in the mornings. I’m excited about starting my studies. I hope I can handle them. Those Grade Nine courses were a long time ago.
I must turn in. 5:00 a.m. will arrive much too soon, but apparently it’s my job to light the cookstove and heat water for the day’s supply.
Benita had never before possessed clues about this delicate part of Gram’s story, and she wondered whether her mother knew. She wished she could stay up until dawn reading, and she would have if she didn’t have to get up early tomorrow. But she did. So she laid the diary on her bedside table and snuggled down to sleep, leaving a lamp on for Ken, who would surely come upstairs soon.
CHAPTER 28
The next morning after the children left for school, Benita stole another look at the diary from 1940 over a second cup of coffee. She quickly became riveted to the pages.
February 24. The other girl here, Linda, expects her baby in a month. She is large and awkward, and Mrs. Marshall has her washing dishes so she can stay hidden in the kitchen while I wait tables. It gives me a little glimpse of my near future, I’m afraid. But enough feeling sorry for myself.
I completed three lessons in each of my five correspondence courses, and received an “A” on all but one. I received a B minus on a math assignment, but I’m thankful it wasn’t worse. I literally fell asleep on top of that one, slumped over at the little table in my room. When I woke up, I had drooled on the page and it was smeared and wrinkled. How mortifying! My brain was foggy, too, so it’s a wonder I didn’t get an F.
March 19. Linda had her baby yesterday. In the middle of the night I heard, “Corrie! Corrie!” When I finally woke up, I realized it was Linda calling out for me. When I went to her, she looked horrible. She was in pain, sweating, and so fearful. I ran to find Mrs. Marshall and the two of them left together. I tried to go back to sleep but couldn’t, so I stayed up and tried to study but had a hard time concentrating. I couldn’t forget that look on Linda’s face. It was frightening.
Mrs. Marshall returned in time to open the restaurant as usual and we never talked about Linda all that day. The next morning I couldn’t stand it anymore and asked Mrs. Marshall about it. All she would say was “she had the baby.” When I asked her whether it was a boy or a girl, she said, “makes no difference. Linda won’t be keeping it anyway. Best if she doesn’t even see it.”
Then she instructed me to clean out Linda’s room
after the lunch rush ended. I put Linda’s few belongings into a box and carried them downstairs to Mrs. Marshall’s room off the kitchen. Then I stripped the sheets and washed them, and hung them out on the clothesline to dry. I scrubbed the furniture, the floor, and the window as best I could.
Now it’s ready for another girl, I suppose. I wonder who she’ll be and whether I will now be relegated to dishwashing duty while the new girl takes my place waiting tables. I will welcome that, actually, because it has become impossible to hide the truth from the customers. I see their eyes wander from my stomach to my left hand, checking for a wedding ring. It’s so humiliating.
I feel so sad for Linda. We didn’t have a chance to get close, but I wish I could visit her. I don’t even know which hospital she’s in, where she’ll go from there, or whether she’ll return for her things.
“Don’t you be worryin’ about Linda,” Mrs. Marshall told me when I asked. “In her parents’ home, the only thing more plentiful than money is pride. With this little catastrophe behind them, she’ll be fine.”
That got me to thinking about Henry’s parents, of course. And Daddy too. I miss him so much! Some days I think I should get on a train and just go home. Daddy’s not a prideful man. He would take me in, I know he would. He loves me. He has never been one to demonstrate his affections, but I’ve never doubted my father would die for me if it came to it. I bet he’d defend me against Aunt Miriam, too.
So, what’s stopping me? I’ve asked myself so many times. Is it my own pride, not wanting my community back home to know what I’ve done? Or is it Henry’s reputation I’m protecting? I’m certainly protecting it for Jimmy, that much is true. Henry was my little brother’s hero—how could I crush Jimmy’s image of him? And how could I do such a thing to Daddy? Not to mention the burden of another mouth to feed after the baby comes.
