Love Finds You in the City at Christmas

by Anna Schmidt

  Nothing.

  Perturbed, he walked into Arnie’s shop midday and ordered a bagel loaded with cream cheese, olives, and pastrami. And while Stan put his sandwich together, Mike nonchalantly approached Arnie. “Have you seen our Salvation Army ringer this morning, Arnie?”

  Arnie turned from the boiling pot, surprised. “It’s Sunday, Mike.”

  It was. Mike nodded.

  Arnie’s expression said Mike was a little slow on the uptake. “Salvationists don’t work on Sunday. Unless it’s a necessary job like yours.”

  She wasn’t there.

  Queer how his heart tightened in disappointment, knowing he wouldn’t see her today. Or tomorrow. He was off tomorrow, and he’d be spending his morning checking out how to take care of Mary Lynn’s situation. Finding a doctor.

  “Here you go, Mike.” Stan handed over the bagel sandwich. Mike handed him a five, accepted his change, and started to walk out the door.

  “Mike?” Arnie’s voice made him pause.

  “Yeah?”

  “Our bell ringer.” He pointed toward the shopping district corner Karen had been assigned. “You think she is all right after yesterday’s scuffle?”

  Mike didn’t want to admit he’d been wondering the same thing. Mental trauma sometimes reared its head well after the fact. “I don’t know. But she’s feisty, so I’d say yes.”

  Arnie shrugged agreement, but his face still showed concern. “Feisty, yes. And beautiful. With a story, I think, which is why she rings the bell.”

  Mike moved closer. He had no idea why people rang the bell, just that they did. Christmas bell ringers had been around as long as he could remember shopping Midtown at Christmas. Just another holiday tradition, right? “You need a story to ring the bell? Is that like a prerequisite?”

  “It is a payoff,” said Arnie.

  “Payback,” Stan corrected him.

  “Ach, yes, payback.” The older Mencher made a face. “If the army helps you, you help them.”

  Karen had needed help? For what? Mike wondered. He knew the army had actively helped troops in Europe and Asia. Did they do the same here, for those left behind? He filed the information and held his sandwich aloft. “Gotta go, guys. See ya.”

  “Thanks, Mike.” Stan’s voice followed him out into the cool day, but it was Arnie’s words he focused on. If Karen was paying back for kindnesses rendered, what had the army done for her? He didn’t have the least idea, and there was no one to ask but Karen herself, and she wasn’t there.

  * * * * *

  “Mommy, may I ring with you tomorrow?” Laurie hopped onto the bed they shared in their army-provided studio apartment on Sunday morning.

  “And miss school? I think not.” She grinned at the little girl, shooed her off the bed, straightened the covers with a few quick flicks, then extended a hand. “Grandma has invited us to go to their church today. Would you like that?”

  Laurie eyed her, suspicious. “My real grandma?”

  Laurie’s tone said she hadn’t forgotten the last time they’d visited her grandparents. The only time, actually. Karen nodded. “Yes. The grandmas around here just like to remember their grandchildren, so they like it when you call them grandma.” A few of the local volunteers at the Booth Memorial Home had semi-adopted Laurie.

  “Like a game.”

  “Yes.”

  “But my real grandma will be there.” Laurie hemmed and hawed, indecisive. Her hesitation meant she’d held that wretched day in her mind all this time. Karen hated that. She’d been so careful to keep Laurie’s life free from grown-up drama, but that day Karen’s father had greeted them in rare form, spewing four years of pent-up anger.

  She’d vowed to stay away forever, but her mother’s call sounded sincere, as if willing to fix broken fences. Make amends. Karen’s spiritual heart welcomed the overture. Forgiveness was of God. She understood the command of “seventy times seven,” but understanding and acting were sometimes at odds.

  Her mother heart said nothing was more important than protecting Laurie from the bitterness Karen knew as a child. But if God was truly a God of second chances, shouldn’t she follow along?

  Yes. As long as her parents were nice in front of Laurie. And Karen wasn’t sure that would be the case.

  “Do you think we should go?” Laurie asked. “I’d rather go see our new friend Mike.”

  Mike’s image came to mind. More than his image, his kindliness tempted her. And it shouldn’t. Couldn’t.

  Why? Her conscience scolded. A nice man, sweet and caring. Upright and honest. A policeman, a protector. Why is that bad?

  Not bad, Karen decided. Risky. Mike’s goodness might disappear in a puff of disappointed smoke once he realized she was an unwed mother. She’d seen him study her hands, looking for a trace of a ring. Here at the home, the girls believed she was a war widow and she let the assumption slide. Laurie didn’t need the details of her birth discussed around impressionable ears.

  But she wouldn’t lie to Mike when he asked, and she had a solid feeling he’d be asking. Probably soon. And she wasn’t sure she could bear the expected look of disenchantment she’d see in his eyes.

  “I love you, Mommy.” Laurie reached up and grabbed Karen, and that childish embrace bolstered Karen’s strength and her faith. “But I don’t want to go to Grandma’s church.”

  “Then we won’t.” Karen hugged her, then waved toward the closet. “Find your navy blue dress, your white tights, and your white shirt to go underneath, please. I’ll call Grandma and tell her.”

  She went downstairs to use the communal hall phone. When her mother’s voice came through the line, she sounded surprised that someone was calling her. “Hello?”

  “Mom, it’s Karen.”

  “Oh!” A momentary pause stretched, then her mother’s voice came back, sharper. “You’re not coming.”

  “Not this time. But I’d like to come another time if I may.”

  “Without Laurie.”

  Karen hadn’t said that, but it’s what she meant. She nodded, unseen, and added, “She’s a little nervous, still.”

  “Because your father yelled at you.”

  Screamed, berated, raged. Karen had left all that behind when they kicked her out of the house as a pregnant teen. “Laurie’s life has a gentler focus. She’s not used to people yelling. And she’s smart as can be, so she remembers for a long time.”

  “Your father had his say. You had yours. I say that’s the end of it.”

  How Karen wished that were true, but she knew her father’s temper. A dogged Christian and long-time alcoholic, he’d quoted chapter and verse about her loose morals. At the top of his voice. Meeting her mother at church was a better choice than their walk-up in the Meatpacking District, but still . . . not today. She refused to force Laurie into an uncomfortable situation. “Maybe you and Laurie and I could have lunch together sometime? My treat,” she added, because she understood her mother’s tight financial circumstances.

  “I’ll have to think on that. Good-bye.” Trudy O’Leary hung up without waiting for Karen to reply.

  “Bye, Mom.”

  Karen re-cradled the phone. A noise behind her made her turn, surprised. “Major Flora.”

  Major Flora eyed the phone, then her. “I heard. A difficult circumstance.”

  It was, but . . . “Made more so by a lack of tolerance and love for the bottle.”

  Major Flora accepted the words with her typical grace. “Then we shall cover them with prayers and give God gratitude that He brought you to our door all those years ago.”

  “Amen.”

  Major Flora stepped to the phone, then waved Karen away. “If you’re staying here for service, that’s lovely, but if you’d like to take a few girls to the Catholic church down the road, I’d be grateful.”

  “Glad to. I’ll just finish getting Laurie ready and round up the girls.”

  “Perfect.”

  It wasn’t perfect for the girls, Karen recognized that. Going out in p
ublic pregnant and unwed gave some folks reason to stare. But the beautiful church dedicated to Francis Xavier had a lovely staff of good people, staunch believers with kind hearts. And that made taking the girls to church there so much easier.

  Chapter Five

  • • • • • • • • • • • •

  “You have returned.”

  A strong Yiddish voice drew Karen’s attention Monday morning. She turned and shared a smile with Arnie. “I have. Did you miss me?”

  “I did.” He handed her a wrapped bagel and the customary mug of fresh-brewed coffee.

  “You spoil me.” She laughed but couldn’t hide her enjoyment. “You know you don’t need to do this every day, Arnie. You have been too kind already.”

  “Bah.” He made a face, and a wealth of wrinkles creased his cheeks, his forehead. “One thing I know. There is no such thing as too much kindness, and we are instructed to help others, be kind.” He pointed upward, giving God credit for the rule. “Who am I, a simple man, to argue?”

  His words made her smile, and when he saw that, his face went a shade more serious. Almost fatherly. “And while today is nicer, you will be here in many days of cold and maybe even snow.” He met her gaze and creased his brow again. “You feel the need to do service. So do I. We both do good, right?”

  “Yes. And thank you.”

  “You are welcome.” He started to move toward his narrow store, tucked amid a collection of big, sprawling establishments, then turned back. “Mike came looking for you yesterday.”

  Karen’s heartbeat spiked. She missed Mike this morning, and while she hated to admit it, she’d been ringing the bell with one hand while trying to spot the patrolman with her eyes. “We don’t ring on Sundays.”

  “And that is what I explained,” Arnie said. “I don’t think he knows a lot about your army, but he served ours in the war.”

  “A soldier.” That knowledge stirred memories she’d pushed aside on purpose. A young woman, seventeen, thinking she fell in love with a soldier, a full-grown man. She’d been so foolish. Young. Naïve.

  But from bad came wondrous good in the form of her daughter, and she’d helped serve the war effort in her own way by being accepted into the Cadet Nurse Corps. The war had ended by the time she graduated, but the government-funded training set her on a path to independence. A career, not just a job. A way to care for her child without relying on anyone else.

  “I think he is off today.” Arnie called the information over his shoulder as he crossed the busy road, eyes darting right, then left. “I will see you when you drop the mug off.”

  “Gladly,” Karen replied. She sipped the coffee and swallowed the sweet, hot brew with appreciation as she shoved disappointment aside. She hadn’t seen Mike yesterday. She wouldn’t see him today.

  But she longed to see him, and that was ridiculous. Wasn’t it? Weariness assailed her by noon. She’d be able to get back to the home, catch a quick nap, and have dinner with Laurie, then sleep for three hours before her night shift began. She sipped the last of the now-cool coffee, gathered her wrap closer, and smiled as her replacement ringer approached. “Helen. Good to see you. Merry Christmas!”

  “And you.” The older woman moved somewhat slowly, but she reached out and gave Karen a hug as she took her place opposite Macy’s department store. “This is your assignment each day?”

  “Yes.” Karen swept the bright, busy streets a quick look. “Isn’t it marvelous? I am surrounded by so much beauty. And with so many people passing, our kettle fills quickly.”

  “While you have so little.” Helen’s expression disparaged their surroundings, the wide store-front windows filled with tempting treasures. “I hate being in the middle of things I can’t have. It’s annoying.”

  Helen was wrong. The sights and sounds surrounding Midtown at Christmas made Karen sigh with delight, not envy. Ornaments strung overhead. Christmas lights festooning windows along the shop-filled streets. Decorated trees, bright and winsome, marking each empty nook. Window displays artfully designed with lovely settings and moving figures. One clever group of windows was set up as windows of a traditional New England home. Shoppers walking by peeked through lace-curtained, colonial-style panes at children trimming a tree. A family seated at dinner. Tiny tots tucked into a sweet, comfy bed, sound asleep. Reindeer, heads bowed, seemed to munch sweet hay in another window frame. The next held a toy factory manned by hardworking elves, tiny wooden people swinging mallets and plying paint. She loved the whimsy, the sweet promise of childhood dreams fulfilled. No matter what Helen said.

  “Karen?”

  Mike’s voice called to her. She turned, surprised, and nearly dropped Arnie’s mug to the concrete. Mike wasn’t in uniform today, but he held himself square, tall and mighty, a man who carried his strength with ease.

  He grabbed the mug, held it close, and gave her a smile that made her think of long walks. Holding hands. Exchanging looks. All things she’d sworn off.

  But here and now, with this man?

  It all seemed so possible.

  “You’re done?”

  She nodded, then remembered her manners. “Mike Wolzak, this is Helen Gearing. She’s my replacement so, yes. I’m free to go.”

  Mike reached out a hand to Helen. “Nice to meet you.”

  Helen ignored the gesture and aimed a sharp gaze at Karen. “You got a boyfriend?”

  Karen started to shake her head, embarrassed, but Mike put a single hand on her shoulder and looked down at Helen. “Maybe.”

  His single word, quirked smile, and hiked brow eased Helen’s chronic frown. She half nodded, smiled slightly, and took the bell from Karen’s outstretched hand. “Well, good.”

  Good? It wasn’t good, nor was it something Karen bantered about. Romance, love, life . . . Those were serious issues. She moved to cross the street, ready to return Arnie’s mug, but then stopped. Mike had the mug and when she turned, the smile he sent her was about the nicest thing she’d ever seen. “Forget something?”

  “It seems I did.”

  “I’ll walk you up to Arnie’s. And then the subway,” he decided as he fell into step beside her. “That is unless you have time to grab a cup of coffee with me? I could wrap my hands around a hot mug of coffee about now.”

  She shouldn’t. She was short on sleep already, and she recognized the sparks of attraction she felt for this man. Two good reasons to offer a polite smile and decline.

  One glance at his face negated her decision.

  Sadness deepened the gaze behind the smile. Loss furrowed his brow. He’d been at war and recently lost his mother. His need called to the caretaker in her, and his ruggedly handsome face wasn’t anything to dismiss casually.

  Yes, she should go back to the home and catch a nap before Laurie got home from school, but the idea of sharing coffee and a conversation with Mike rejuvenated her. “I’d like that.”

  “The tea room in Macy’s?”

  She loved Macy’s. Who didn’t? Laurie had begged to see the summertime movie about a little girl who didn’t believe in Santa Claus, but somehow the real Santa had ended up working at Macy’s and helped the child and her mother know the true meaning of Christmas: faith.

  But money had been tight, and Karen couldn’t justify the cost of admission. Not when her nursing uniforms set her back a pretty penny and Laurie’s school clothes put a similar bite on her finances. “That would be lovely, Mike.”

  The store was quieter today than it had appeared the two days following Thanksgiving. They picked a table, and when Mike held out her seat, a sigh of pleasure rose within her.

  “Two coffees,” Mike told the waitress when she stopped by. He switched his attention to Karen, one brow thrust up. “Are you hungry? They make great sandwiches here.”

  “I’m not, but thank you. Arnie sent me a bagel.”

  “Of course he did. He’s a good man.”

  “He is.” Karen accepted her coffee from the waitress and stirred milk and cream into the tall
stoneware mug. “He told me he’s known your family for a long time.”

  “Yes.” Mike grimaced, then smiled. “He’s known us through good times and bad times. He had a shop in Brooklyn, not far from our place in Flatbush. Stan and I played street ball together as kids, but then things changed.”

  Karen arched a brow, inviting him to continue.

  “Not everyone in the neighborhood made the Menchers feel welcome.”

  “Because they’re Jewish.”

  Mike frowned, eyes down. “You’d think that wouldn’t matter, wouldn’t you? In America, where there are so many people, so many choices. And we just fought a war because one group hated and distrusted another group.” His face said he hated the war but believed in the cause, and Karen recognized the true man’s struggle within. “Arnie and his family moved to the Brighton Beach area. He ran the Flatbush shop with his cousin until the one over there”—Mike hooked a thumb toward Broadway—“got established. Then he had a cousin take over Flatbush. It’s okay if they work in the old neighborhood because everyone loves their bagels. It just wasn’t okay that they lived there.”

  Karen touched her hand to his. “People get foolish and protective with little cause. But I believe things will get better.” She shrugged. “They must, because we’re all more connected now. Automobiles. Phones. Radio. And now television. Just look at baseball.”

  Mike sat straighter and squared his shoulders. “You know baseball?”

  She sent him a sharp look as she sipped her coffee. The creamy deliciousness kick-started her sleep-deprived brain. Although with Mike, she didn’t feel tired. She felt warm. Happy. Energized. “I don’t just know baseball. I love it. My aunt and uncle were huge Yankees fans. When I was little, they took me to games. It was crazy, so many people. Such a big stadium. I was scared they’d lose me and kind of excited to think what adventures I’d have if they did,” she confessed, laughing. “The major had seats for one of the World Series games this past October, donated by a businessman in Lower Manhattan. She invited me to go because she knows I love the game, but I sent one of our girls instead.” She leaned forward. “Although I longed to see Jackie Robinson play. Having him on the Dodgers, giving him a chance to shine in the major leagues?” She pressed her hand to Mike’s and gave him a warm smile. “If you want proof things are changing, it’s in your own back yard. Ebbet’s Field.”