“See, this place needs a woman’s touch,” Sterling said, and Evelyn heard more than his words, felt the implications as she looked around the house.
“You’ve done a good job. It’s clean and neat.”
He paused, and Evelyn recognized the longing in his eyes. She met his gaze until her throat felt tight with emotion and she squeaked out, “Can I help you with anything?”
Sterling furrowed his brow. “I had a little trouble with the gravy.”
Evelyn walked over to the stove, where he lifted the lid off a pot containing some thick gray mush. She giggled, “If you have some butter and a bit of the drippings off that chicken, I can whip up a cream sauce that will be great for chicken or potatoes.”
“Really? That sounds delicious.”
“A little flour, too.” She noticed the flush of pink on Sterling’s cheeks as he handed her some flour in a cup.
“I think that might’ve been where I went wrong—too much flour.”
“A common mistake,” Evelyn said. “I’m impressed you even attempted gravy. It took me a lot of practice to get it right, and I still think my mom’s is better.” She whisked the ingredients together. “See, you have to make a roux with the butter and flour.”
Sterling stood behind her and peeked over her shoulder. “A roux?” The warmth of his breath tickled her neck.
“Yes, a roux is a smooth mixture of flour and butter—no lumps. Then you add the liquid. Are you paying attention?”
“Yes, I’m trying, but you keep distracting me.” He slid his hands around her waist and kissed her cheek, leaning against her.
Evelyn felt her body tense and reminded herself it was Sterling, he wouldn’t hurt her. Swallowing her fears, she leaned her head back onto Sterling’s shoulder and smiled. “A good cream sauce is just like gravy. Now if you’ll take note, I’m trying to teach you something that will put some meat on your bones.”
“Can’t I just keep you forever?” Sterling murmured. “You could make me gravy any time you like.” He moved aside a tendril of her hair and planted a kiss on the back of her neck. “What is this necklace you always wear?” His fingers traced the thin chain of gold attached to her locket.
The whisk clattered against the pan and fell onto the stove—droplets of cream sauce splattered the counter. “Oh, I’ve made a mess.” Evelyn moved out of Sterling’s grasp and mopped up the spill with a dishrag. “I think it’s ready.” She turned and stopped short as Sterling put his arms around her again.
“Thanks, Evelyn, for giving me a chance,” Sterling whispered.
She knew he wanted to kiss her. He’d been testing her reaction to his closeness, and she’d been biting back her fear. But his notice of the locket had unnerved her and before he could attempt a kiss, she hugged him and stepped around him toward the table. “I’m starving, how about you?”
Sterling recovered quickly with a smile, and they dished up their plates. As they sat down, a gust of air from the kitchen window passed over the flickering flames of the candles. The firelight swayed and sputtered.
“I forgot I left that window open a crack. I was getting hot working over the stove.” Sterling jumped up and closed the window, but not before one of the candles went out.
Evelyn stared at the dying flame and pressed a hand over her chest where the locket rested. She glanced at Sterling, at the question in his eyes and her lips lifted in a tentative smile. “I’ll light it again.”
With trembling hands, she held the smoking wick over the other candle and let it catch fire. Then she sucked in a breath as the full force of the situation hit her. One candle couldn’t withstand the wind, but when joined with the other candle a fire could burn again.
She gripped the front of her blouse, fingers closing over the locket beneath the fabric. “I need to get this cream sauce off my blouse before we eat.”
She hurried to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror of the sterile room. White walls, worn towels, scissors, and shaving equipment in a blue glass, everything seemed to indicate how alone Sterling was in the world.
Grabbing her lipstick from her handbag, she reapplied it and adjusted a wavy lock of auburn hair. Her dark eyes flashed as she reached for the locket under her blouse. The heart-shaped necklace felt heavy in her hand and she flipped it open with her thumb and gazed at Jim’s picture.
She had promised him several times already that she would go on living and remember the message from the music box, but this time would be for real. Her fingers fumbled at the clasp on the chain, and the wind rattled the pane of glass in the bathroom window.
Biting her lip in concentration, she undid the clasp and pulled the locket from her neck. She clenched her fingers around the locket and dropped it into her handbag. Straightening her shoulders, Evelyn closed her eyes and pulled courage from deep inside—courage to share her heart. Then she opened her eyes and walked out of the bathroom toward the waiting smile of Sterling Dennison.
The wind could howl at the windows all it wanted, but she wasn’t turning back.
“Sounds like quite a storm brewing,” Sterling said. “We might just get our first big snowstorm of the season tonight.”
Evelyn rubbed her arms against the chill, wondering if it was more from the shock of taking off the locket or from the wind sneaking around the window frames. “I’ve always liked the first snow, but at the same time it’s sad to leave autumn behind.”
Sterling nodded. He stared at her for a moment. “You are so beautiful. I could watch your smile all evening.” He motioned to the food. “But if we wait much longer our supper will be cold.”
She smiled and sat down, and arranged the dark green napkin on her lap. “Thank you for making tonight special.”
“It wouldn’t be the same without this wonderful roux or is it a sauce now?” Sterling handed her a spoon and winked.
She laughed as she ladled the cream sauce over her potatoes. The food tasted delicious, and Evelyn found herself making eye contact with Sterling, her heart warming at the effort he had made to help her escape the painful memories of the past.
When Sterling finished eating, he leaned back in his chair and stretched. “Would you like to listen to the radio before we have dessert?”
She nodded. Sterling stood and took her hand, helping her from the chair and leading her into the front room. He switched on the radio and then pulled Evelyn into his arms. The music caught her attention and she listened to the swaying sounds of Perry Como singing “Till the End of Time.”
She sensed Sterling wanted to say something to her, so she hugged him. “Do you want to sit for a while and talk?”
He took a couple of steps toward a worn sofa. Leaning back against the dark blue patterns crisscrossing the tan fabric, he patted the cushion beside him and Evelyn smiled. She sat down right next to him; her shoulder fit perfectly under his arm as he reached around her and ran his fingers over the softness of her shawl. She leaned her head on his chest and felt his breath still.
Of course he would be surprised at her willingness to be close. She had always been reticent, and after Harlan’s attack she had put a wall between herself and any type of affection. But now the shackles of terror had been broken by her own resolve. Evelyn had made a decision, and however weak she felt on any given day she’d always been able to make choices and stick with them.
“Thank you for being patient with me,” she murmured and tilted her head to look at him.
“I could say the same for you,” Sterling said. “I just want you to be happy. To smile like you did when you sang your song. To be unafraid like the first night you sang to me.” He lowered his dark lashes. “I want you to be happy because I love you.”
The words seemed to echo in the stillness and Evelyn’s throat tightened. She willed her voice to work, to create the words Sterling wanted to hear, words that if she was keeping with her resolve she must find a way to say. “I think . . .” she swallowed. “I think I love you, too.”
Sterling’s eyes spa
rkled as he pulled her close and kissed her. He leaned back and smiled at her. His eyes glistened with moisture. “I love you,” he said again, and this time he moved carefully toward her. Evelyn allowed herself to enjoy the feel of his mouth against hers. His lips caressed hers and she felt the heat of the kiss increase, the intensity of the moment pulling them together.
He pulled the pins from her hair and let it cascade down her back, running his fingers through the dark strands glinting with auburn. She breathed in the scent of him and was surprised to find she knew his smell. The sharp scent of soap mixed with the heavy musk of motor oil that seemed to cling to his hair.
Sterling kissed her again and again and nuzzled her neck until she giggled. She pushed her fingers through the coarseness of his black hair and leaned into him. He held her so close their hearts seemed to beat in tandem and his breath tickled her ears, her throat, and the tops of her shoulders as he removed her shawl. The roughness of his skin caught on the smooth silk of her blouse, his fingers trailed down her back and his hands reached around her waist.
The heat in her body seemed foreign as her heart pumped warmth across her skin. She felt alive again for the first time in years.
Sterling kissed the hollow of her neck and planted a trail of kisses past her ear, across her cheek and around her lips. She surprised him by kissing him deeply, her fingers tracing the back of his neck. He leaned against her, and she reclined on the sofa, his breath felt hot on her cheek. Every fiber of her being seemed electric with his touch and each kiss lasted longer than the one before.
He kissed her jawline, her neck, her collarbone, and moved aside the collar of her blouse. When she felt his mouth below her breastbone, she inhaled sharply and he pulled back with wide eyes.
“Are you okay? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have kissed you like that.”
“It’s okay.” Evelyn reached for him, bringing his face closer. She kissed him again and put her hand on his cheek. “I love you.”
Sterling smiled and wrapped his arms around her. “I love you, too. I love you so much.”
He held her for a moment and neither of them spoke of the desire that still lingered in the air. Evelyn knew that Sterling respected her and would never do anything to make her uncomfortable. At that moment, it made him all the more desirable. Her eyes met his and she smiled, lowering her lashes as she kissed him again. His mouth was soft against hers and she parted her lips. His tongue sought out hers and she felt the heat of his body pressing against her.
Sterling kissed her ear and whispered, “You are the most beautiful woman in the world, which makes me the strongest man in the world to be able to stop kissing you.”
He leaned back and Evelyn could see the passion in his eyes. She sat up and touched his cheek. “Thank you for being so strong for me.”
Sterling stood and took her hand, pulling her up and into him. He held her and hummed a few bars. “Promise me you’ll get back on that stage at the Silver Lining and sing your song one more time.”
Tears welled up and her eyes glistened, but she smiled anyway. “I promise.”
Later that night Sterling walked her to the doorstep and kissed her again before wishing her good night. Her lips still tingled several minutes later as she lay in bed listening to the wind outside. The storm was coming and the weatherman had predicted snow by morning. She closed her eyes and saw Sterling’s face, the happiness radiating from his eyes when she’d told him she loved him. Then Jim’s face came to mind with such clarity that she whimpered. She hadn’t been able to picture his face clearly for several months. What did it mean? Would Jim be happy with her choice?
Thinking of Sterling’s kisses helped her remember how much she wanted to forget the past. Not necessarily Jim, but the heartache involved, and she definitely wanted to forget Harlan. Clenching the sheet in her hands, she bit her lip and forced the awful image of his face from her mind. She thought of the gentle way Sterling held her and kissed her. His desire was clear, but it wasn’t the raw hunger she’d felt from Harlan’s rough hands. Sterling’s love for her was evident in everything he did.
Danny cried out and Evelyn hurried to his room. He stood in the crib holding onto the rails and looking toward the doorway, waiting for his mother to come.
“Did you have a bad dream?” She scooped Danny up and sat in the rocking chair. He sniffled and rested his head on her shoulder. The dark locks of hair gleamed in the light of the streetlamp filtering in through his window.
Danny had long outgrown the beautiful cradle for which Evelyn had traded the music box, and it stood in the corner filled with extra blankets and a stuffed bear. Harold even said Danny was getting too old to sleep in the crib. Marie said Evelyn had slept in her crib until she was two and a half ,and that Danny was still a baby. Evelyn smiled, thinking how lucky she was to have her parents there to help raise her son.
Her heart lurched as she considered all the precious memories she and Danny had shared. His first step, the way he sucked his thumb when he was tired, how he pushed a toy truck and made motor sounds with his lips. “Oh, Jim,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry you had to miss the best part of us.”
Danny’s eyes fluttered and he looked at her. “Mama,” he said. Evelyn knew what he wanted. It had been several weeks since Danny had awoken during the night—almost as if he was giving her a reprieve to come back from the terror-filled days after Harlan’s attack. Before that, whenever she rocked him, she sang the song from the music box and now his eyes seemed expectant, waiting to hear the familiar tune. Cuddling him close, she hummed and began singing
There’s an angel on my shoulder . . .
When she finished singing, she continued rocking Danny, holding him close and feeling his steady breathing against her chest. The windowpane rattled with another angry gust of wind and then the night was still. Easing her little boy into his crib, Evelyn saw the first shimmer of snowflakes outside. She stepped closer and pressed her fingers against the freezing pane of glass.
Fluffy snowflakes floated from the sky and danced in and out of the glow of the streetlamp. Evelyn smiled as memories of happy holidays past enveloped her. This Christmas, Danny would be old enough to help set out cookies on a plate for Santa.
Only two weeks until his second birthday and Evelyn thought about the cake she wanted to make. She’d seen a picture of a round cake decorated with coconut flakes tinted with orange food coloring and a darling lion’s face complete with black licorice strands for whiskers. Marie had traded a neighbor for a bit of extra sugar so they could celebrate. Danny would love it.
Glancing at the crib, her hand moved to her abdomen and she felt the flat, tight space where Danny had grown in her womb. When they were planning their wedding, she and Jim had talked about filling a house full of children, close enough together to be best buddies. Now Danny was left an only child without a father, unless her future changed. Evelyn’s heart rate quickened as she thought about Sterling—based on the comments he’d made earlier in the evening surely he was thinking about marriage.
She shivered and stepped away from the window. Her fragile heart was just getting used to the idea that she might be able to love again, but did she have the courage to attach her happiness to the fate of another man—a wounded soldier, no less?
She struggled to remember the resolve she had felt earlier in the night when she’d removed her locket. Shivering again, she padded softly back to her room and pulled an extra quilt from the foot of the bed, arranging it over the bedspread. She was about to get back in bed when she remembered the locket in her handbag.
It would be terrible to lose it among the miscellaneous items floating around in her purse. She crept over to the bureau and opened the bag. Her fingers moved across a lipstick, compact, handkerchief, and nail file before closing around the fine chain of the locket.
Pulling it out, she extended her hand and let the light catch the glint of metal. The drawer where she kept her wedding ring squeaked when she tugged on the handle. Evelyn hesitated
, gazing at the locket swinging from her palm. With her thumb, she flipped open the locket and squinted in the semidarkness to make out Jim’s familiar smile.
The wind gusted outside and a flurry of snowflakes fell. They were smaller now but came down furiously to cover every surface with a blanket of white. She hurried to her bed and climbed between the thick blankets. If it continued, they might be snowed in by morning.
With eyes closed, she listened to the snowstorm outside, picturing how the wind pushed the flakes in swirling motions before setting them haphazardly on the ground. It wasn’t until she reached to pull the covers up that she noticed she still gripped the locket tight between her fingers.
Chapter 17 ~ Remembering
November 1945 ~ Emika
The first day the man heard the music, he had smiled at Emika and examined the secret messages inside. The next day she watched him shuffle back and forth across the room with a walker. When her mother wound the music box for her, he stopped and gripped the walker until his fingers turned white against the metal. The third day, he maneuvered his wheelchair close to Emika’s bedside and watched as the ballerina danced.
When the song ended, he nodded his head and smiled. “I was a soldier in the war. Some bad people took me and hurt me until I almost died.”
Emika wadded up the edge of the bedding and stared at the dingy white sheet.
“They hurt my head.” He turned to the side and Emika shrank back at the sight of several ugly pink scars that ran from the top of his head, past his ear, and down his neck. He turned back and smiled at Emika. “I didn’t know my name, but when you shared your music with me, something happened. I’ve been dreaming of a beautiful woman.” He pointed at the ring on his finger. “I think she’s my wife.”
“Does she know you’re here?”
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