Love Finds You in the City at Christmas

by Anna Schmidt

  Not Karen. And Mary Lynn’s expression told her that no matter how nice a family seemed, they most likely had some problems. But after the rigors of World War II, who didn’t?

  “Have you ever been to the Christmas Spectacular?” Mike asked when they turned into Rockefeller Center.

  Karen shook her head but kept her gaze ahead. “I haven’t.” Making eye contact with Mike right now would be like begging an invitation to the pricey production. Going to the theater required a great deal more thought than walking the free streets of Christmas Manhattan.

  “Oh, Mommy. Have you ever seen anything so beautiful in your life?” Laurie breathed the words on a gasp as the great tree rose before them. Skaters circled the recessed courtyard ice below, while lights and decorations guided the path to the glorious Norway Spruce.

  Mary Lynn reached for Mike’s free hand. “I’m amazed every time I see this.”

  “And you’re not alone.” He squeezed her hand, then reached down and picked Laurie up high. “I know the odds of you getting lost in this crowd are slim, but they’re slimmer yet if I’m carrying you, kid.”

  She laughed and cupped his face between two tiny gloved hands. “Thank you, Officer Mike.”

  He bumped foreheads with her gently. “You’re welcome.”

  “It’s huge,” Karen breathed. She’d seen the tree twice before. Once as a child with her aunt and uncle, then again as a teen with her high school choir. But tonight the tree seemed even more splendorous. Was it the tree itself or the company she kept?

  The company, she decided as Mike moved forward. “I’m always amazed when I come here,” she told them.

  Mary Lynn turned and nodded. “Me too. My dad patrolled this area when they were doing construction.”

  A family of tradition. Worth. Substance. Faith. Those were the things of Karen’s childhood dreams. Parents, treasuring a child. A clean place to come home to. “What a wonderful heritage.”

  “Dad got to see the first tree here,” Mike went on. “It was a scruffy little thing decorated with cranberries and foil. The workers put it up as a way to remember Christmas and better times.”

  “The Great Depression.” Karen considered the lack of that decade, the drinking and anxiety that went along with joblessness, homelessness, and little hope. “I didn’t know they did a tree then.”

  “It started the tradition,” Mary Lynn added. “Dad said people laughed at the idea of putting such a grand building here during hard times.”

  “But that construction brought a lot of jobs,” Mike added. “And those laborers were grateful for the chance to work again.”

  “From humble beginnings,” Karen breathed, seeing the Biblical analogy clearly.

  “Born in a manger.” Mike smiled at her. “God with us.”

  “May we go closer?” Laurie wondered, because while history lessons were all well and good, what a five-year-old wanted was to draw close to the majestic spruce and gaze upon the lights surrounding her.

  “Yes!” Mike laughed and led the way up the steps to the closer viewing area. “How’s this?”

  “It is so very beautiful,” Laurie whispered, eyes wide.

  “I agree,” said Mike, but he wasn’t looking at the tree, or the spectacle of the skaters below, or the lights channeling people into the well-lit square. His gaze was on Karen, as if willing her to read beyond the words.

  She smiled and lowered her gaze, but he tipped it back up with the edge of one gloved finger, just enough to smile down at her briefly. “Absolutely lovely.”

  She fell completely at that moment, the gaze, the touch, the words a perfect blend of romance and timing.

  Mary Lynn drew their attention to Laurie’s yawn. “I think we’d better head back toward the station if we’re going to be awake enough to see Santa.”

  “Yes.”

  They made it back to Macy’s just in time for the girls to stop by Santa’s chair, then stopped for food at a nearby diner. By the time they walked through Penn Station, Laurie was half-asleep in Mike’s arms. They boarded the downtown train, but as it rumbled to Karen’s stop, Mike frowned, protective. He stood as the train slowed for her station, and Karen waved him off.

  “This is nothing I haven’t done many times over,” she scolded him as she took Laurie into her arms. “Being a single mother isn’t easy, but Laurie and I have had a great deal of practice, haven’t we?”

  Laurie cuddled into Karen’s coat. “Will we be home soon?”

  “Very soon.”

  Laurie’s elongated yawn spurred Mike to action. “We’ll walk you, then catch the next train to Brooklyn.”

  “Mike, it’s late.”

  Karen’s protest fell on deaf ears. “Exactly why we’re walking you home. It’s only a few blocks and I’ll feel better.”

  Mary Lynn hopped off the train as the doors slid open. “There’s no use arguing with him, Karen.”

  “I see that.” Karen scolded him with a look, but the dark streets of Union Square would feel better with Mike and Mary Lynn at her side. A woman alone with a child was not exactly an ideal circumstance at this hour.

  “And here we are,” Karen announced a few minutes later. She pointed to the steps leading into the home. “Home and safe.”

  “You live in a hospital?” Mary Lynn’s quizzical look said that was an odd circumstance.

  “I’m a nurse, and I work here, but they have a few tiny apartments they rent to employees. And that makes life more affordable.”

  “A widow’s pension isn’t enough to live on,” Mike agreed, and his sympathetic words held up a mirror Karen didn’t want to see. She was living a lie, a falsehood he accepted easily. As did others. Knowing how many were deceived drove the guilt deeper.

  “It’s good to have a career,” she added, not agreeing with Mike but not telling the truth, either. “Thank you, Mike, for this night. And you too, Mary Lynn.”

  “It was fun.” Mary Lynn reached down and hugged Laurie.

  Mike did the same to Karen, and in the warm embrace of his arms, the feel of his breath along her hair, against the sensitive skin of her neck, she knew a moment of wondrous assent. She belonged there, in this man’s arms. By his side. It couldn’t possibly feel so right and be wrong. Could it?

  Would he hate her for being an unwed mother? Would he decry her lack of morals? Laugh at her naïveté?

  He will do what any man of good moral sense would do: run in the opposite direction. And that would leave her and Laurie high and dry, hopes dashed. Risking her own grief was one thing. Laurie’s? Quite another.

  The internal scolding refused to abate as she tucked Laurie into bed a few minutes later. In the darkened apartment, the tiny Christmas bulb that lit her manger scene reminded her of the true meaning of Christmas. Lights and pageantry were wonderful, but the season of gifts lay before her in the poverty of a stable.

  A knock on her door surprised her. She hurried to the door, sure she was being called on duty for an emergency. Louise stood there and gestured down the hall. “A phone call for you.”

  At this hour?

  Karen hurried down the cool hall and lifted the phone. “Hello.”

  “I just wanted to thank you again for tonight.”

  Mike’s voice, thoughtful and rich. Deep and commanding. Thanking her, welcoming her. Embracing her.

  Embracing a lie.

  She sighed and smiled while emotions struggled within her. “Thanks should be coming from my side. It was a lovely night, Mike.”

  “Are you working tomorrow?”

  “Yes.”

  “So am I, but I was wondering if you and Laurie would like to take the train out here some night this week. When are you off duty?”

  “Not until Wednesday.”

  “I’m done at three on Wednesday. How about if I meet you and Laurie and we take the train to Brooklyn? We can watch the lights of Manhattan come on together.”

  Her aunt had spoken of this tradition, as if she never grew tired of watching the nighttime is
land come to life. When one lived in Manhattan, the tall buildings blocked vantage points to see the array.

  Off the island?

  The beauty of the Manhattan skyline at night was world famous. But should they go? Should she accept the invitation? “Yes.”

  She committed before common sense could talk her out of it, and Louise’s smile of approval said the teen agreed. “We’d like that, Mike.”

  “Me too.”

  She said good-bye, re-cradled the phone, and stood silent, staring, for just a moment.

  She had to tell him. She knew that.

  But was it wrong to dream a little while longer? To elongate this attraction a few days more? A week?

  A lifetime. That is your wish, admit it. You have fallen for this warm, loving man and want a lifetime with him.

  She walked back to her room, torn. Once again her eye was drawn to the manger, the tiny image of Mary, arms out, waiting for the promised child.

  She’d been alone.

  God had provided.

  Most likely scared.

  God offered comfort and protection in Joseph.

  She’d been tired and worn, her long journey to Bethlehem accomplished while great with child.

  The Lord welcomed their son with angels and stars and a gathering of shepherds. Isaiah’s prophecy, God’s fulfillment. Emmanuel, God with us.

  God had sheltered her this far, giving her a wondrous child, friendships, and a career she loved. She had much to be grateful for, she knew that. But she fell asleep thinking of Mike.

  Chapter Eleven

  • • • • • • • • • • • •

  Mike put in a call to Reverend O’Krepky early on Sunday. “Reverend, I know you’re busy, but I wanted to call and check on little David. Is he still with us? With the church, I mean.”

  “He is.” The older man’s voice went soft. “I will have to call in the authorities, Michael. We can’t wait longer for the mother to return. Already they will have my head for keeping him this long.”

  “Then I’ll contact my cousin,” Mike promised. “I’ll call you right back.”

  “I will be in church,” the reverend replied. “But Mrs. Janas is here, caring for the boy. She’ll answer your call.”

  Mike bit back a sigh. Of course the reverend would be in church. It was Sunday morning, after all.

  He grabbed the phone line while he could and called Maggie. Luckily most of his neighbors were churchgoers, so getting the party line on Sunday morning wasn’t too long a wait. “Maggie? It’s Mike. I need to talk to you and Ben. Can I come out there today?”

  “We’re actually coming to Brooklyn,” she told him. “Mom and I are baking kuchens while Dad and Ben take Joey to Billy Carmichael’s birthday party.”

  “Can I see you guys alone before Ben heads out? It’s important.”

  “Of course,” Maggie replied. “We’ll stop over after we drop Joe off. That will give Mom some time to spoil him.”

  “Perfect.” Mike hung up the phone. Was it perfect? Or was he butting in where he had no business going, and would his idea cause more pain?

  “Are you coming, Mike?” Mary Lynn came down the stairs half an hour later with her coat buttoned, ready for church.

  He should go. He knew it. What was the harm in walking her to church? Going inside? Pretending?

  Honorable men don’t pretend.

  He shook his head and motioned to the back room. “I’m cleaning out that old pantry today. You go ahead.”

  She left, but not before he sensed her disappointment. In him? Probably. And that made two of them these days.

  * * * * *

  “So.” Maggie and Ben stepped into the Wolzak brownstone a short while later. “Joey’s eating apple pancakes with Mom and Dad. What’s going on, Mike?”

  Feeling awkward, Mike motioned them in. “Sit down, okay?”

  “Sit down?” Ben eyed him. “What’s wrong with you, Mike? Spit it out. I promised your uncle I’d help him fix a leaky faucet while the kids play at Billy’s party. What’s up?”

  “A baby.”

  “A . . . ? What?”

  Maggie frowned. So did Ben.

  “I found a baby.”

  Maggie’s cautious scan of the house questioned his sanity. “Where is it, Mike?” She rendered the question softly, as if ready to phone mental health services.

  “At the church with Reverend O’Krepky.”

  That tidbit of information drew Maggie’s brows closer. “You’re serious.”

  Mike stopped pacing and stared at her. “Of course I’m serious. Would I bring you over here if I wasn’t serious?”

  “I, umm . . .” She grimaced and raised her shoulders. “You’re right, of course. I thought . . .”

  Her rueful gaze said what she thought, that Mike was losing it. But he wasn’t, not about this at any rate. He sank into the seat opposite them. “I was walking to the train the other day and heard a sound. Someone had abandoned a baby in a basket outside the church.”

  “Oh, Mike.” Shock and sorrow filled Maggie’s face. “How sad. Who could do that?”

  “Someone wanting her child to have a better chance at a solid future,” Ben told her. “That’s a pretty amazing sacrifice right there.”

  Mike couldn’t think of a way to make this easier, so he waded in. “I wondered if you and Ben ever thought of adopting a baby. This baby, actually. His name is David.”

  “David?” Maggie’s eyes softened. “My grandfather’s name.”

  “And my brother’s,” Ben added.

  “It probably sounds stupid,” Mike went on. He ran his hand through his hair and clasped the nape of his neck. “It’s just, I kind of felt like it was meant to be. That I was walking by right then, the baby cried, and there we were, together, right after you and I talked at Thanksgiving.”

  “This is a big conversation to be having right now,” Ben said.

  Maggie looked straight at him. “Will it grow less big for waiting?”

  Ben gazed at his wife, and in that look Mike read the pain and sorrow of those lost babies. The nights of weeping, days of waiting, weeks of nothing.

  “Is it of God?” Ben wondered. “Or our sadness?”

  “Can’t it be both?” Maggie replied. “Can we see him, Michael?”

  “Yes. Reverend O’Krepky said it would be fine to bring you over after church today.”

  Ben reached for the phone. “I’ll call your father, Maggie. He can get Joey to the party without us.”

  The line was open again, and Mike counted that as a small miracle. They walked down the street together, and he’d have been foolish not to read the anticipation in Maggie’s expression. Her footsteps, pushing the pace. When they arrived at the rectory, Mike pushed the doorbell and prayed.

  And when he realized he was praying, a hint of warmth stole through him, as if a light that had been quenched in the trenches of war flickered to life again. The door opened and the aging rector aimed a smile at them. “Reverend O’Krepky, you remember my cousin Maggie, don’t you?”

  “Of course!” He swept the door wide. “And your husband, Ben. Reverend Tomer married you.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you have a son, Michael tells me.” The reverend led the way into the rectory office. Mrs. Janas smiled a greeting and stood, then moved to the small room beyond her desk. “And some sadness.”

  “Yes, again.” Ben acknowledged the words with a grimace, but his gaze changed as Mrs. Janas reentered the room. A look of awe took the place of sorrow in his reply, but it was Maggie’s face that struck Mike’s heart.

  Blessed.

  His cousin looked blessed.

  Mrs. Janas brought the baby toward them and held him out. “Would you like to hold him?”

  Maggie paused. She turned to Ben, and the question in her eyes said that if she held that baby, she would not want to give him back. Ever.

  Ben’s gaze offered encouragement and acceptance.

  Maggie reached out her arms and the
older woman settled the sleeping newborn into Maggie’s embrace.

  “Oh. Oh. Oh.” Tears slipped down her cheeks, one after the other, quick tears, a mix of happiness and wonder.

  Maggie sank into the chair the reverend offered. Ben sat beside her, and the way his big hand dwarfed the infant’s tiny fingers showed Mike the power of love and life: the gift of a child.

  “Would you like me to contact my friends at the Children’s Aid Society?” The reverend leaned forward in question, but his look said he knew the answer already. “I think they will accept my recommendation for you to take little David home.”

  “Reverend, would they really?” Maggie turned surprised eyes to his. “They’d let us keep him now? Care for him while the legalities are straightened out?”

  The rector’s gaze tightened. “Foundling resources are strained at present. The homes are bursting. And we gave the mother several days to come back, and she hasn’t.”

  “Yes. Call, Reverend.” Ben nodded, then palmed the newborn’s head with a big, gentle hand, a benediction. “We want him home, with us.”

  “And if God does send another child to you, in the old-”fashioned way?” the reverend inquired, solicitous but firm. “What will become of young David here?”

  Maggie smiled up at the rector and held the baby tighter. “He will become a big brother. Just as it should be.”

  Reverend O’Krepky smiled and stood. “I will make the call.”

  “And you better call Uncle Reggie,” Mike reminded Ben. “Because I think you’re going to be a little too busy today to fix anyone’s sink.”

  Reality hit Ben. “We have nothing ready. We’ll have to find Joey’s old clothes. . . .”

  “Clean and stored in the attic,” Maggie told him.

  “The crib . . .”

  “The cradle will do for a month or so,” she went on. “It’s wrapped in sheets, also in the attic. We will wash the bedding and the clothing when we get home. But we will need more rubber pants.” Her knowing gaze met Mrs. Janas’s. “Those don’t stand the test of time well. And formula.”