“You brought cookies,” he said.
“Not cookies but Jenna’s cookies. I told you we found her recipe box.”
He took the box and inspected it as if it were a great treasure. “I used to love her cookies.” He bit into one and closed his eyes, savoring more than the flavors but the memories they evoked. I could see him traveling back in time to Old Town Alexandria. He would have been wearing his Marine uniform, sporting his cap and walking with a spring in his step.
“It’s delicious.”
“I made you a couple of dozen and wrapped them in small packages in case you have to hide them from the gatekeeper.”
His grin turned devilish. “She’s never admitted to it but I know she searches my room. She never takes nothing. She just moves my things a little. I’m old but I know when my stuff has been touched.”
He’d been a warrior, and he couldn’t count on privacy in his own room. “We’ll hide these all over the room before I leave.”
“It’s a date, doll.” He offered me a cookie and I took it. One bite and I relaxed.
“Not bad.”
“You couldn’t miss one of Jenna’s recipes. She had an angel’s touch when it came to baking.”
I glanced at the box in his lap, wanting to ask but deciding this was his to share and he would explain when ready. “We reopened the bakery today. It was crazy but busy, and busy is good.”
“You’re a smart gal. I can see that. And I bet no one can resist you.”
I laughed. “Oh, you’d be surprised.”
“So did you make good money?”
“Not bad. Made about a thousand dollars today, which will put a dent in the debt we racked up while we were closed.” I’d not spoken about the debt to anyone. Candid talk about the bakery business stressed out Rachel and Dad, so more and more I kept details to myself. It was good to speak openly.
“You’ll make it work.”
“I hope.”
“Hope ain’t part of the equation. It’s hard work, elbow grease, and know-how that gets the job done. You’re a go-getter and you don’t shy from work, I can tell. You’ll make it happen.”
His confidence bolstered my spirits and nervous laughter bubbled inside of me. “I sure hope you are right. There’s a lot riding on the bakery.”
He smoothed his hand over the box. “You haven’t asked about the box.”
My gaze flickered quickly over it. “I’ve been waiting for you to tell me.”
“I almost gave it to you yesterday but then decided to think on it. Parting with the Bible was hard enough.”
“It’s in a safe place. And my sister is working to find Jenna’s child. She can find anyone. She found you.”
Through thick glasses his eyes twinkled. “Did she?”
“She’s like a ninja historian. She’ll find Jenna’s family.” I nodded. “What’s in the box, Joey?”
With a trembling hand he removed the top. “These are Jenna’s letters to Walter.”
A rush of cool air brushed up my spine. “What?”
“They was in his effects. They’d meant so much to Walter, and I couldn’t let them go. Made me feel like I had them both with me. I figured I’d give them to her in person like the Bible but, well, you know the rest.”
“Did you read them?”
“I wasn’t going to at first but in the days after Walter’s death I was pretty low. Didn’t see much reason to go on. And so I read the first letter. Didn’t sit right at first but then the more I read the closer they was to me, and the easier it was to pretend she was writing to me. She had a way of speaking that made me feel at home. I read them all except the last. Came after Walter was killed, and it didn’t seem right to read what he couldn’t.”
“What was she like?”
“The nicest girl. But strong. She worked hard and said one day she wanted to own her own business.” His gaze seemed to go out of focus as he seemed to fall back in time. “She had a wicked sense of humor, and she loved to dance.”
He held a yellowed envelope in his hand. Jenna’s handwriting, reminiscent of the recipe cards, was bold and clear, and her lines were straight as if she’d put great care into addressing it. “Did she tell Walter about the baby in her letters?”
“Not in the ones I read. But she was always telling him not to worry about her. The folks at the bakery were good to her, and she’d wait for him as long as it took.” A half smile tugged his lips. “She was smart not to tell him. He’d have worried. He’d have wanted his baby to have his name but with thousands of miles between him and Jenna there was no fixing the problem. She knew that and that’s why she kept quiet. Every time he wrote her he asked her to marry him.”
“And then he died.”
He nodded. “Walter was like a brother to me. I know he went to his grave kicking and screaming. He wasn’t so worried about himself but Jenna.” He shook his head. “She was like him. She’d have fought for her life even after losing Walter, for the baby’s sake. Would have taken a force of nature to drag her away from this world.”
I thought of my own baby and the anguish I would feel if I were forced to leave her behind. I sat straighter, not wanting to travel that dark path. “I don’t know why she put the recipe box, picture, and his dog tags in the wall.”
“Maybe she had a sense something was gonna happen. If she left a piece of her and Walter behind then she figured they’d never be forgotten.” He smiled at me. “And she was right.”
“How could she have known?”
“Walter said he thought she might have had the Sight. She seemed to know when events was gonna happen.”
That could explain the odd energy in the bakery. Jenna hadn’t really left. She’d stuck around. Waiting.
Joey glanced at the letters and then nodded. “Seeing as she sent you to me, I think you should have these letters.”
Rachel had had odd sensations in the bakery while she’d been pregnant. And now I was pregnant, seeing and feeling things always closed to me before. “You really think Jenna sent me to you?”
“I know she did. You didn’t find me on your own. She sent you.”
My skin tingled. “How can you say that?”
“When you get close to death the line between the living and the dead thins. You see things.”
“Like Jenna?”
He grunted and met my gaze direct. “It ain’t like she strolls in here and we have conversations.”
“No. No, of course not.” I smoothed my hand over the letters. “Kinda like a whisper. A feeling.”
He nodded. “Yeah. And I feel her presence. Began weeks ago. I wasn’t sure why I thought so much about Jenna and Walter. But they’ve been on my mind.”
“I keep sensing I need to find him. Do you suppose you are that him?”
“No. She liked me well enough but she loved Walter and she’d have loved their baby. Knowing Jenna she’d want you to find her kid.”
I glanced back toward the door, hoping no one was close to hear me. “What about Walter? Have you, well, heard a word from him?” I could not believe I was having this conversation.
He chuckled. “That poor slob wasn’t much of a talker when he was alive. Great solid guy, always a good soldier, could follow and give orders. But when it came to conversation he wasn’t the best. More of a listener. Jenna was the go-getter. The one that took risks. Knew no strangers. She went her own way otherwise she’d have lived her life on that apple farm. If we’re hearing from anybody, it’s gonna be her.”
The only person alive now to tell the story of Jenna and Walter was Joey, and his days on this earth were very numbered. If I was going to find Jenna’s child, I had to hurry.
“Have you read her letters recently?”
“Not since she died. When I saw her grave I put them away. Didn’t seem right to read them no more.”
“Do you mind if I read them? They might help me find her boy.”
He nodded. “She sent you here to get them. She wants you to find her baby. So you go on and read all you want.”
I took the box, feeling as if I’d been given a great treasure. “I’ll take extra good care of these, Joey.” A frown furrowed my brow. “And if I don’t find him I’ll bring the letters back to you.”
“No. Keep them for good. With you at least there’ll be someone alive to remember them. To remember Walter and Jenna and me.”
He settled back in his easy chair as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He appeared lighter as he nibbled his cookie.
“So can I come see you again? I want to come back.”
“I wouldn’t mind a visit. Wouldn’t mind it one bit. But I can’t promise I’ll be here.”
“Where would you go?”
He winked. “Kid, I’m ninety-seven. I ain’t gonna be anywhere for much longer.”
I laughed. “Yeah, but it’s not like you’re gonna die real soon.”
“It’s gonna be like that, kid. I can go any minute.”
A deep sadness rose up in me, and I had the sense that I was losing an old friend. “I’ll be back real soon.”
“You got your bakery to run, and if I ain’t lost my touch you got a kid on the way. You got a full life.”
“And you are a part of it now.”
His chin trembled a little. “That’s nice. Real nice. But don’t get too attached.”
I thumbed through the letters, anxious to find a quiet place to read. “Too late.”
He grunted. “Now I’m tired, and you got to go.”
He didn’t sound tired. He sounded energized. “But I thought I could stay and visit. Thought we could talk about Jenna and Walter.”
“Naw. I’m not much of a talker. Hell, we covered seventy years’ worth of my stored-up thoughts in two conversations. It’ll take me another ten years at least to come up with more conversation.”
More laughter bubbled. “My dad is like you. Doesn’t talk much.”
“Looks like you didn’t inherit silence from him. Bet you could talk a man’s ears off if you got rolling.”
“Actually, I’m adopted. So I didn’t inherit anything from him.” Dad and I were wired much the same but I’d always likened that to luck or chance.
He cocked his head. “I wasn’t adopted. But I was an orphan. Spent my first sixteen years in a home.”
Behind the faint smile, I saw sadness. “What happened to your parents?”
“Died, from what I was told. Both caught the fever. Died when I was one or so.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No need to be sorry. The home wasn’t so bad. And I got along fine. Then when I had enough, I lied about my age and joined the Marines. I’m guessing that’s why Walter and I got on so well. We had each other and the Marines.”
He’d not been protecting the cherished items of old friends but of his family. “They were lucky to have you in their lives.”
For a moment he pursed his lips as if he struggled with emotion. He cleared his throat. “Naw. I was the lucky one.”
Fresh tears welled in my eyes.
He cleared his throat. “And don’t you cry, because I don’t like a woman’s tears. Upsets my day.”
I sniffed. “Sorry. It’s the baby’s doing. I’m not much of a crier.”
He looked at me with such tenderness I almost cried. “Now, you really do have to beat it.”
I rose, leaned forward, and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll see you soon.”
He patted my shoulder with his bent hand. “Sooner’s always better than later with me.”
* * *
The bakery was quiet when I returned. The front end of the shop was clean and ready to receive guests, and the front display case sparkled waiting for Rachel and Jean Paul to fill it again. I pushed through the saloon doors and dropped my purse on the counter. As I crossed to go upstairs there was a fresh loaf of bread. The handwritten note on it read, Daisy, this is for the baby. Eat. JP.
I smiled as I tore a piece of bread and bit into it. The crust was crunchy and the interior soft. A touch of salt brought out the qualities of the wheat, creating a magical blend.
The box of letters tucked under my arm, I headed to my new basement office and flipped on the lights. I wouldn’t miss running up and down these stairs every day with baked goods. Carrying up bottles of wine was far more preferable than lugging one-hundred-pound sacks of flour and sugar or heavy trays of baked goods. No, I would not miss the old arrangement.
In my new basement office, I stared at the receipts piled on my desk. Good to have the paperwork—it meant the bakery was coming back to life. I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was already after eight, but I could squeeze out a little time working.
Sitting at the desk, I reviewed receipts that showed we’d had a good day. A good day. Laying the slips of paper down, I leaned back in my chair. Was today good enough?
I thought about my earlier conversation with Rachel. She had said she needed a change. That she could no longer keep the pace she’d maintained for the last couple of years. And I also feared with a baby on the way I might not be able to balance the life this place required.
When I’d first come back to the bakery, I’d been thinking in temporary terms. I thought I’d have this place shipshape by now and be on my way to the next high-powered job. And then the bakery had wormed its way under my skin, proving it was indeed a jealous and selfish master. But I’d expected I could handle the bakery’s demands as I had handled so many difficult clients in the financial world. And then Gordon had come waltzing into the bakery, and I’d thought maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be such a bad life. No huge paychecks but satisfaction.
Now with no Gordon and a baby on the way I wasn’t so sure a handful of receipts and satisfaction were going to cut it. I needed more time and money.
Suddenly, too tired to work on the accounts, I shut off the lights, leaving the paperwork until tomorrow. Holding the letters close, I climbed the stairs to my room, where I flounced back on my bed and kicked off my shoes and lay very still. My body pulsed with fatigue. Glancing at my feet, I could have sworn they’d grown two sizes since yesterday and my belly, no longer a letting-yourself-go pouch, was now a full-fledged baby bump.
“Jenna, how did you do it?” I muttered. “How did you bury the man you loved and find the strength to bring your baby into the world?”
By all rights I should have fallen asleep, but thoughts of Jenna’s letters to Walter had unwanted energy surging. I didn’t need to read letters. I needed to sleep. I needed to block out the world and the worries so I could recharge and find a way to set my sights on tomorrow.
But as I glanced at the letters, overwhelming curiosity struck. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and reached for the box of letters. “Just one. I’ll read just one.”
I thumbed through them and realized Joey had kept them in chronological order, leaving me with the decision of where to begin.
I’m one of those people who reads the last page of a book before I buy it. Annoying, I know. Blame it on abandonment and adoption but I like to know where the path trails before I take it.
And so I reached for the last letter. The envelope was yellowed and the paper brittle. Unlike the other envelopes, this one was sealed and had never been opened. I studied the postmark over the stamp. It was dated July 2, 1944. July. When his letter had been stamped by the post office, Walter lay critically injured, his body badly mangled. Jenna’s pregnancy would have been evident, and she’d have been so afraid.
Carefully, I ran my thumbnail under the flap that hadn’t been opened in seventy years and pushed it back. The faint scent of cinnamon rose up and greeted me as I peeled back the flap. Joey had said Jenna had always smelled of cinnamon.
&
nbsp; Removing the letter, the deeply lined folds cracked as I opened the one-page letter to find Jenna’s neat script. Without reading a word, I knew she’d taken great care when she’d written this letter.
Dearest Walter,
It’s after two in the morning, and I can’t sleep a wink. I’ve been dreaming about you—about us—that last night you were in town. Remember how we’d walked along the banks of the Potomac, hand in hand, and you’d told me that when you came home we’d marry? I cherish that moment and I hang on to it. I live for the day you return.
I’ve a beautiful secret to share with you. I’d hoped you’d return in time but now realize I must take this moment to tell you that I am pregnant with our child. Now, please do not worry because I know how you worry. We are fine. Mr. and Mrs. McCrae have been so kind to me and tell me the baby and I will always have a place here.
The baby grows and kicks often. The doctor says the child will arrive in late December or early January. That’s a mere six months away but I confess I cannot wait. I ache to hold my child, our son.
Yes, I said son. I am now certain I’m going to have a boy. Perhaps I simply want a little version of you for I’ve often imagined lately you as a little boy. I dare say you were cute.
Despite the kindness of Mr. and Mrs. McCrae, I’ve written to my sister Kate and told her about the baby. This is a time for family. She’s already promised to smooth the waters between my father and me. She tells me not to worry, and I will take her advice and keep good thoughts.
I’m hoping you’ll be home by spring so you and I and our child can enjoy the apple blossoms. There is no lovelier place than the Shenandoah Valley in the spring.
Do not worry about us. We will be fine. When you write again, don’t send your letter care of the bakery but to my sister’s farm. Kate Davis, Rural Route 10, Winchester, Virginia.
I send you all my love and wish you a speedy, safe return,
With all my love,
Jenna
I sat back on the bed, staring at her neat, clear handwriting. Had she felt his life seeping away on that far-off island as she’d written a letter no one opened?
Sweet Expectations (A Union Street Bakery Novel) Page 28
