by Lynn Austin
“I assure you that won’t be a problem.” He opened his mouth as if to say more, then hesitated for a long moment. “May I just say, Mrs. Barrett . . . I am very impressed and amazed by your resolve. You’ve faced unimaginable suffering without self-pity, and you know beyond any doubt what you want in life. Not many people our age have that much insight. I admire your courage and your determination, and I wish you well. With your career and with raising your son. He’s fortunate to have such a remarkable mother.”
“You’re kind to say so.” She felt the heat in her cheeks again. “Now, about the loan . . . ?”
“I’ll be happy to approve your application. I’ll put it through myself, in fact.” He bent to open a drawer in his desk and pulled out some papers. “The first step is to fill out this standard form. Later on, the bank will require a home inspection to assess the value of your property. It won’t be much of a hurdle since I understand you live in a newer home in a nice neighborhood.”
Audrey wondered how he knew where she lived. “Thank you. I’m very grateful for your help, Mr. Hamilton.”
He slid the papers and a pen over to her side of the desk. “I’ll start the rest of the paperwork while you fill this out. And don’t worry about the bottom part where it says, ‘other assets.’ We have your trust fund figures on file.”
“Will this paperwork take long? Bobby and Harry are due home from kindergarten a little before noon.” And she had no desire to stay in Mr. Hamilton’s office a moment longer than necessary.
“Just write in your personal information and I’ll do the rest. We’ll need your signature, but that can come later.”
She finished several minutes later and passed the papers back to him. “Am I done for today?”
“Yes.” They both stood, and he reached to shake her hand. “It’s been a pleasure, Mrs. Barrett.” He came around the desk to help her with her coat. “I see that it’s snowing again. I imagine you don’t often get this much snow in London.”
“Not often, no.” London seemed very far away at the moment, as if it were a place she had only dreamt about.
Audrey made it home in plenty of time before the boys’ school bus arrived. She took off her hat and changed from her suit into slacks and a sweater. When she glanced at herself in the mirror, she noticed that Eve had tucked the letter with her college marks in a prominent place beneath the frame. We need to celebrate! she’d scribbled on the envelope.
Audrey smiled. Eve was such a good friend, encouraging her studies and cheering her success. Audrey hadn’t been entirely certain that she could return to school after all these years, wondering if she could even do the work and if she would feel awkward to be in class again at age thirty-two. But there were other adult students at the junior college, mostly men studying on the GI bill.
Tears filled her eyes, and she had to sit down on the edge of the bed. Robert was supposed to be sharing this bungalow with her and their son. They were supposed to be pursuing their dreams together. When the war ended and she’d kissed Robert goodbye before he shipped home, she’d never imagined that she was kissing him and holding him for the last time. He had made her feel cherished and adored for the first time in her life, and she feared she would never feel that way again.
She drew a ragged breath and stood. The boys would be home soon. She must pull herself together and fix lunch. She reached to wipe her tears and noticed that her hand still carried the lingering scent of Mr. Hamilton’s cologne from shaking his hand. She went into the bathroom and scrubbed it off.
Audrey was making grilled cheese sandwiches when the boys clomped through the door, their galoshes dripping water on the linoleum, their wet mittens and snow pants piling up in a sodden, untidy heap.
“Hang everything up on the hooks, please,” she told them.
Bobby tugged her apron afterwards. “Can we have the book now, Mummy?”
“What book?”
“The Wish Book.” He pointed to the top of the Frigidaire, where she’d put it that morning. “You promised we would write a letter to Santa Claus, remember?”
“Did the mailman come yet?” Harry asked. “Is it too late to mail it?”
“There are still nineteen days until Christmas. You’ll have plenty of time to write and mail your letters.”
Bobby tugged her apron again. “But can we have the book now?”
“After lunch. And then I think you should narrow down your list to a few favorite toys. You don’t want Santa to think you’re greedy, do you?”
“But, Mummy, they’re all my favorites!”
She exhaled. This was getting out of control. She regretted that they’d ever found the Wish Book in the first place. She turned to get milk from the refrigerator and heard Harry say in a low voice, “We’ll show Nana the book. She’ll buy us everything.”
Audrey recalled her conversation with Mr. Hamilton at the bank. She’d gotten through to him and made him understand her thoughts about overindulgence and managing wealth, but the bigger job would be to make the Barretts understand. And Bobby. She and Eve had been trying to do that by giving the boys chores to do and a small weekly allowance. But the unchecked flow of toys from Nana would have to stop. Audrey pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down at the table to face them.
“Listen, you two. Nana isn’t going to buy you everything in the Wish Book. I don’t want to hear you pestering her, either.”
“Why not?” Bobby asked.
“It’s Christmas,” Harry added. “She always buys lots of toys for Christmas.”
“Because we don’t demand gifts from Santa or Nana or anyone else, even when they’re as generous as Nana is. Christmas is about more than getting presents.”
“Like what?” Bobby asked.
Audrey had no idea where to begin. She and Eve would need to come up with a plan. And soon! “We’ll finish this conversation when Harry’s mum gets home. Now, eat your lunch before your sandwiches get cold.”
They nodded solemnly and bit into their cheese sandwiches. But when Audrey returned to the kitchen after going outside to empty the rubbish bin, she saw that they had scraped a chair over to the refrigerator and rescued the Wish Book.
After lunch she found the boys inside a fort they’d constructed on their bottom bunk, half-hidden beneath a tent of blankets. They had the Wish Book open to the toy section and were whispering, “I want this army set . . . oooh, and these Lincoln Logs, too . . .”
Chapter 3
17 DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS
On Saturday morning, Eve and Audrey lured Harry and Bobby away from Sky King and their other television shows to drive out to Tom Vandenberg’s farm to cut down a Christmas tree. Eve loved the farm and the rolling countryside, which looked quaint and charming beneath a blanket of fresh snow. It had always reminded her of the rural area in England where she had grown up, first living in a cottage with Granny Maud and later as a servant at Wellingford Hall, Audrey’s family’s great manor house.
Granny loved telling stories about how Eve’s daddy, who had died before Eve was born, used to tend his flock of sheep on the farm. Sometimes one of them would squeeze under the fence and wander away. And Daddy would go looking for it, bringing it home just like the shepherd in the story Jesus told. Eve had seen Tom care for his newborn lambs the same way.
Silvery icicles dangled from the roof of the farmhouse like jewels. Sheep in their thick winter coats waddled in the snowy barnyard, while black-and-white cows lined up along the fence, a brown-eyed welcoming committee. The woods beyond the farm had been Eve’s refuge, and Tom her closest friend, during the years when she had pretended to be Audrey. Harry called Tom’s parents Grandma and Grandpa Van. His mother had become like a second mother to Eve. Thankfully, Eve’s friendship with the Vandenbergs had survived after she’d confessed, but she still felt a cloud of shame following her and darkening her way forward.
Her sins were piled a mile high—the adultery that had led to Harry’s conception, the way she’d deceived everyone she had come to
love in America, and the money she’d stolen from Audrey during the years she and Harry had lived off the life insurance and trust fund that Robert Barrett had intended for his family.
Tom and his mother both assured her that God would forgive her if she asked Him to. She had asked, and she knew He had. Just as the Vandenbergs and Barretts—and even Audrey—had done. Tom said that once Jesus took away her guilt, she could start all over again. God forgave and forgot Eve’s past. If only Eve could fully forgive herself and forget how she had hurt the people who meant the most to her. Paying back Audrey’s money was her way of facing the consequences for the wrongs she had done.
The boys leaped from the backseat of the car to run to Tom as he emerged from the barn with a long wooden sled. “Is that for us, Uncle Tom? Is the sled for us?” Harry asked, bouncing up and down.
Tom crouched to show it to them. “Yep. This sled was mine when I was a boy. Your father used to ride it, too, Bobby. I just finished waxing the runners, so it should glide like the wind.”
Kind, patient Tom had been one of Robert Barrett’s closest friends and a man Eve knew she could always rely on. She gazed across the pasture at the distant trees and inhaled the fresh country air. Whenever she came here after a hectic week at work, she felt as though she could breathe again. The farmhouse, always warm and cozy inside, was more than 150 years old in its oldest sections, and it was filled with comfortable furnishings, family heirlooms, and mementos from generations of Vandenbergs. It felt more like home to Eve than the bungalow she shared with Audrey, and yet it seemed wrong for her to ever consider it her home. Each time she visited, her heart was torn between her longing to enjoy this farm and the people she loved, and her guilt in knowing that she didn’t deserve such contentment.
“I thought you boys might like to go sledding before we picked out your Christmas tree,” Tom said. “That hill over there is the perfect place for it.” He stood again and turned to Eve and Audrey. “Would that be okay with you ladies?”
“I’m sure they would love it,” Audrey replied.
“I think my mom has plans to feed them afterwards,” he added.
“That sounds wonderful,” Eve said.
“I want a sled for Christmas!” Harry said as they tromped through snowdrifts to the sledding hill.
“Me, too! Me, too!” Bobby said.
“We didn’t write our letters to Santa Claus yet, so let’s add sleds to our list.”
“Write down two sleds,” Bobby told his mother. “Okay? Don’t forget.” Eve looked at Audrey and rolled her eyes.
“You’re making a list for Santa Claus, huh?” Tom asked.
“We’re picking out all the toys we want from this.” Bobby stopped walking and pulled the Sears Wish Book from inside his jacket.
Eve groaned. She had frisked Harry before leaving the house but didn’t think to check Bobby.
“You brought it with you?” Audrey asked. “I don’t believe it! Such cheek!”
“They want everything in the toy section,” Eve explained to Tom. “It’s getting a little out of hand.”
Bobby yanked off his mittens to show the catalogue to Tom, who squatted down to see. It fell open to the toys.
“We want rifles like these for Christmas,” Harry said. “They shoot corks for bullets.”
“And we want the gun and holster set on the next page, too,” Bobby added.
“You have the book memorized?” Eve widened her eyes in disbelief.
Tom patiently studied the pages as the boys chattered on and on about rifles and cap pistols with leather holsters.
“Will you teach us to shoot, Uncle Tom?” Harry asked. “You know how to shoot because you were in the war, right?”
Tom stood without replying. He never talked about the war or about being wounded in Italy. “Hey, I forgot to ask,” he said. “How was the Christmas parade the other night?”
“Very bad, at first,” Harry said. “We needed a daddy.”
“So we asked Mr. Hamilton to be ours,” Bobby said.
Tom gave Eve a questioning look.
“Mr. Hamilton was kind enough to lift them up so they could see over everyone’s heads,” she explained. “He’s their Boys’ Club leader at church, and he happened to come along at the right time.”
Harry tugged Tom’s hand. “Maybe you could be my daddy next time, Uncle Tom, so Mr. Hamilton wouldn’t have to hold both of us. Please?”
Eve held her breath, dreading Tom’s answer. Again, he didn’t reply as he continued walking toward the sledding hill on the other side of the farmhouse. He whistled for his dog, who came bounding over, tail wagging. “There you are, Champ. You forgot to say hello to Harry and Bobby.”
Eve pulled the Wish Book from Bobby’s hands as the boys fell all over the friendly mutt, hugging and petting him. Their jackets would smell like a wet dog afterwards, but they both loved romping with him. She was relieved that the conversation had been diverted from her son needing a daddy, but then Harry suddenly said, “What I really, really want for Christmas is a dog.”
“Let’s ask Santa for one!” Bobby said.
Eve met Audrey’s gaze, shaking her head in frustration. Tom’s dog followed them to the top of the rise, jumping and frolicking while Tom loaded the boys onto his sled. After showing Harry how to steer, he gave the sled a running start and a hearty push, and down the hill they went, laughing and whooping. The dog raced behind them, barking and prancing, then it panted back up the hill with them as they pulled the sled to the top.
“Let me steer this time,” Bobby said.
“Such boundless energy,” Eve marveled.
Eventually, after several trips up and down the hill, the boys were tuckered out. Their snow pants were soaked; their cheeks glowed. Tom loaded them onto the sled again and pulled them across the pasture to the edge of the woods in search of a Christmas tree. Eve inhaled the scent of pine carried on the breeze. “I always hate the thought of cutting down a tree,” she said. “It’s a living thing that took years to grow.”
“I know,” Tom said, grinning. “You tell me that every year.” He turned to Audrey. “And every year I tell her that my great-grandfather started this grove just for Christmas trees. He would plant a half-dozen new ones every year so our family would always have a supply.”
“It takes foresight to be thinking that far into the future,” Audrey said.
“Buying a tree from a lot just isn’t the same as cutting one yourself and bringing it home,” Tom said. “I’ve continued the tradition. I planted these last year.” He gestured to a row of trees barely three feet tall. “For my grandchildren, I hope.” He looked at Eve when he said it. His hand rested gently on Harry’s head. Eve had to turn away before the love she saw in Tom’s eyes swallowed her whole.
They walked through the grove of trees for several minutes, analyzing each tree, trying to choose the perfect one. Harry stopped beside one that was taller than Tom by at least two feet. “We need this big, big tree, Uncle Tom, so there will be room for lots and lots of presents under it.”
“It’s much too big for our little bungalow,” Eve said. “We’d never get it through the door, and even then it would scrape the ceiling.” Most of the other trees the boys chose were also too big, but at last Tom helped them select a lovely Scotch pine that seemed just the right size.
“Can we help you chop it down, Uncle Tom?” Harry asked.
“We’ll be careful,” Bobby added.
“I don’t know . . . This ax is pretty heavy,” he replied, much to Eve’s relief. “Maybe next year, okay? I’ll bring a hatchet that’s more your size.”
Eve’s toes felt frozen by the time Tom finished chopping down the tree and loading it onto the sled for the trip back to the farmhouse. “I think Grandma Van has chicken noodle soup and hot chocolate inside,” he told the boys when they reached the farmyard. Eve started to follow them but Tom stopped her. “Eve, wait. Can we talk?”
She feared she knew what was coming.
Tom chew
ed his lip, staring at the ground as if searching for a place to begin, before looking up at her again. “Eve, it makes me so frustrated to hear Harry talking about wanting a dad. You know how I feel about you. I would like nothing more than to be Harry’s dad and your husband. And unless you’ve changed your mind for some reason, I’m pretty sure you love me, too.”
Eve did love him. And her heart ached from holding the words inside every time she saw Tom. “You know why I can’t get serious with you,” she said instead. “Not yet. Not until I’ve paid back all the money I spent when I was pretending to be Audrey.”
“That was more than a year ago. Surely you’ve paid that debt by now.”
“Hardly! Not on my secretary’s salary. I lived off Audrey’s insurance money for four years.”
“She isn’t demanding it, is she? How long are you going to punish yourself?”
“There are still plenty of people in this town who know what I’ve done. I can’t bring my shame to you and your family until I make up for it and prove that I’m not a bad person.”
“It doesn’t matter to me what people think. It shouldn’t matter to you, either.”
“Besides, Audrey needs my help. I owe her that much. The boys will be in school all day next year, and she’s going to take college courses full-time. I need to help with the household expenses and the chores and taking care of the boys—”
“Excuses, Eve. And not very good ones.” He lifted the tree off the sled and hefted it onto the roof of Audrey’s car. “You can still keep working to repay Audrey after we’re married, if that’s what you think you need to do. And we could both help her with Bobby. I want to be with you. All the time.” He pulled Eve close, and she laid her head on his chest. He smelled of pine and the outdoors. She loved being in his arms and was continually amazed that Tom knew all about her—not only her lies and deceptions, but also that she’d had Harry out of wedlock, fathered by a married man, no less. And yet Tom loved her. Forgave her.
