Rags to Rubies

by Annalisa Russo

  He continued to move within her afterward with slow, careful movements until the spasms abated and an intense satisfaction swept over both of them. He settled into her softness, exhausted, feeling his pounding heart slow, her skin moist against his. Her warmth poured into him, filling all the dark empty places that had been so cold.

  He held her very close for a long time. “I love you, Grace,” he whispered, “I can’t live my life without you.”

  When he finally withdrew to lie beside her, he tucked her to him with tenderness. Grace snuggled closer and closed her eyes. Soon his rhythmic breathing cut through the silence as he slept peacefully, his arms wrapped around her.

  ****

  Grace woke slowly and languidly. Dawn emerged, providing a dim light to the room. Since the fire had become glowing embers, she knew she had to get up soon and put another log on to take the chill from the room.

  Soon, she thought with a smile, and snuggled back to the warmth of Jared’s arms that were still about her. Jared woke and pulled her closer without opening his eyes. She watched as a grin spread across his face.

  “I love you, Grace. Merry Christmas.” He kissed the nape of her neck and stretched. His eyes opened and he yawned. “I suppose that fire needs attending,” he said, propping himself up on one elbow to look past her body to the rustic fireplace.

  He noticed a manger scene at the foot of the hearth, made of papier-mâché figures arranged carefully around a wooden manger. “Why is Baby Jesus missing from the manger?” he asked.

  Grace ran her fingers down his jaw. “Traditionally, my family hid Baby Jesus somewhere and cleared the manger of straw,” she explained. “During Advent season, we would try to do anonymous good deeds for each other, leaving behind a piece of straw for each deed, which the recipient of the kindness would then place in the manger.”

  Grace wound her legs around his and snuggled closer. “The idea was to have a nice warm bed for Baby Jesus by Christmas morning, when he would miraculously appear along with mountains of presents.”

  Jared’s silence made her realize that he had never had any memories of a Christmas surrounded by family. Her childhood had been so full of love, where his had held only emptiness. She rolled over to face him. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think.” She cupped his face with her hands and kissed him gently.

  “Don’t be sorry, Grace. It’s a beautiful tradition. I love it and I love you.” He kissed her back. “But could you please find the babe and replace him in the manger? I hate to think of him somewhere alone and cold.”

  Grace slipped from the bed and walked across the room. Jared followed every naked movement. “Aren’t you even a little embarrassed by your...uh...concern for Baby Jesus,” she teased glancing toward the bed sheet that covered his rising passion.

  “Not in the least,” he replied with a wicked grin.

  Grace pulled out a drawer, retrieved the figurine, and placed it in the bed of straw. Quickly she threw a few logs on the fire and slid back into the warm bed. “Is that better?”

  “Immensely,” he smiled putting one hand on her backside and pulling her closer. He kissed her ear and nuzzled her tousled hair, inhaling her scent.

  “I have a Christmas gift for you, if you will take it.” He removed a gold ring from his little finger. Two hearts overlapped and bound with a curling vine. “This ring belonged to my mother. My aunt thought I might like it since I have so little of her.”

  He rose up on one elbow. “Will you marry me, Grace? Will you have me as husband? Will you take this gift? I give it with all my heart.”

  She stared at him, then at the ring he held in his hand.

  He studied her face. “I’m so sorry, Grace. I shouldn’t have assumed...” He swallowed with difficulty.

  Grace jerked her eyes away from the ring and cupped his face. “Jared, no, you misunderstand. I love it! I love you!” She realized that, along with the photograph, the ring was very precious to him. That he would give it to her touched her in a way no other gift could have. “And yes to everything!”

  He slipped the band onto her ring finger. A perfect fit.

  “I also have a gift for you.” Grace smiled.

  “But how could you possibly...?”

  Grace rested her ringed hand on her abdomen. “However, you may have to wait a few months to collect.”

  Jared looked from her face to her hand, then back to her face.

  Grace nodded yes to the question in his eyes.

  Then the silence of the forest was broken by his shout of gladness as he gathered her and his babe close, knowing for certain he would never be alone again.

  Epilogue

  Ravenhall

  December 1931

  Life is good, Grace reflected, as she rubbed her round belly through the thick woolen blankets tucked about her body. She shifted on the hard bench and stretched her lower back. Perhaps she should head back toward the warmth of the fire Henry tended on the edge of Frog Pond. Her son skated across the ice on metal two-bladers as quickly as his stubby little legs could carry him, with his doting papa close behind. How she would love to join them! But no amount of begging had changed Jared’s mind, and she was to be content sitting on the sidelines watching the merriment.

  Young Billy held Patty’s hand as they slid across the ice, the boy oblivious to the hero worship in Patty’s bright eyes. Billy had assumed the role of protector when Donagon married Jane and built a cozy cottage for his new wife and family on a parcel of Ravenhall’s vast grounds.

  If Billy became half the man his stepfather was, he would turn out just fine. Henry’s background in finance had helped Jared save most of his fortune during the hardships of the last year. Jared’s investments had proved solvent, and though there had been some losses, their future was secure. Henry had won himself a trusted place in Jared’s business and immediately asked for Mary’s hand in marriage.

  But there was so much to do yet. So many families destroyed, so little work, so much suffering. The country would survive, but the cost of the frivolity of the last ten years had been high, a lesson that would not be soon forgotten.

  “Here you go, lass,” Donagon said as he handed Grace a steaming mug. “Chocolate fine as frog’s hair. Me Jane’s secret recipe.” He winked and cocked his head toward his wife, who waddled toward them, one hand on the small of her back, almost as big around as Grace herself.

  A silly thought popped into Grace’s mind. She laughed aloud thinking of Will and Agnes, Sallie and Teresa, arriving next week with their families to join in the Christmas festivities. Both women were hugely pregnant with a third child. “Lord and butter, we are all as round as Santa! Didn’t anyone get any sleep last spring?”

  Donagon blushed and seemed at a loss for words for a moment. “Aye, an’ Henry’s playing catch up, he is. Mary’s three months along. How fittin’ after all these years...” His voice trailed off. “Saints and crooked angels! I’d be forgettin’ me own head if it weren’t attached.” He reached into a pocket and withdrew an envelope as he started toward Jared, who carried his exhausted son in his arms.

  “Your son fell asleep the moment his head hit my shoulder.” Jared looked down at the small boy nestled in the crook of his arm. He tenderly kissed a nose now berry red from the cold. “I’ll take him in and put him down for a nap.” He cupped Grace’s cheek in his palm. “Are you cold, sweetheart?”

  “Yes, but I’m enjoying being outdoors for a change. I’ll stay until I’ve finished my chocolate.”

  Donagon pulled Jared aside and spoke quietly to him, placing the envelope in his hand. He gave him a familial pat on the shoulder, then strode away to distribute the rest of the steaming mugs of chocolate.

  Grace watched as Jared’s face scrunched up in thought. He flashed her a quick smile and turned toward the manor house. His purposeful stride faltered slightly, and she noticed he hugged his small son to his chest in an almost forceful embrace.

  Their son bore both their names, Matthew Hathaway de Warre, so there would
never be a question of where he belonged, his father had announced only moments after his son’s entry into the world.

  Grace leaned back against the bench and sighed. Jared took such good care of all of them, working day and night to secure their future when the crash had come, and now doing what he could for those not so fortunate. She was a lucky woman, but one who realized the road of her life would have many corners, and she would trust that all would be for the best.

  ****

  When Grace entered the library, Jared sat before the crackling fire in the comfortable wingchair, the opened letter on his lap and a pensive look on his face.

  “What is it, Jared?”

  He looked up. “A report from Mr. Thomas,” he answered and then added, “You remember Thomas. The firm I hired to look for my mother.”

  It had been over two years. “He wants to meet with me tomorrow morning. It has taken so long I’d no longer held out any hope for it.”

  Jared frowned—trying to conceal his apprehension, she suspected. If she could take this trial from him she would; it would be his to bear, but not alone. No, never alone.

  She padded over to him and settled onto his lap. Her fingers were cold as she placed them around his cheeks warmed from the fire. “It will be fine, darling. You’ll see. It will be better to know, won’t it?”

  Jared pulled her close and kissed the pulse point at the base of her throat. “Matthew is sound asleep, and our friends are preoccupied...”

  She laughed. “How can you find me even remotely attractive now?”

  Jared ran his palm over her milk-filled breasts. Even now, in her swollen state, she would not deny him. She’d never denied him, but she knew he would be content to lie beside her, inhaling her scent and filling his arms with her softness.

  “Graciella, my beautiful treasure,” he murmured into her ear.

  ****

  Mr. Thomas ushered the de Warres into his well-appointed office, looking very pleased with himself, and planted his stout frame on the corner of a broad oak desktop.

  He smiled generously and began in a soothing voice, “I have good news. Your father and mother arrived in America at Ellis Island in the autumn of 1893. This information has been difficult to obtain, for all records of the time period from summer of 1892 to 1897 were destroyed in a fire. However, medical records of examinations were kept in a different location and showed that a young doctor named Primiano examined both your parents and found them fit. Your father was released when he produced the required fifty dollars to prove he wasn’t entering the country penniless, but your mother was detained.”

  “Why?” Jared asked, his voice low and thick.

  “She was unmarried and not allowed to enter the country unless retrieved by a male relative.”

  Mr. Thomas leaned forward and smiled even more broadly. “I thought we had a dead end until I located Dr. Primiano, not an easy task, since he’d retired to the balmy climate of California.”

  Thomas cleared his throat and continued, “Lo and behold, the good doctor remembered your parents because he had been instrumental in obtaining your mother’s release from the Island.

  “It seems the doctor had friends visiting from Illinois, a young Italian couple, who took an interest in the plight of your parents and agreed to stand in for Geni’s relatives. The man who signed for your mother was Cesare Unti, but unfortunately he moved from Chicago years ago and died some five years back.”

  Jared sank back in his chair, looking tense and exhausted. He raked his fingers through his hair and looked from Mr. Thomas to Grace and back. “But your letter said you found...”

  “Yes, yes, let me continue. Mr. Unti is deceased, but his wife, a godly woman of seventy-five now, is still alive. I found her in a deplorable place.” Thomas grimaced. “In a county nursing home in Alabama, one pathetically overcrowded with many dependent and ill people.

  “Mrs. Unti, Lena, was overjoyed to meet with me, for she’d been waiting thirty-five years to fulfill a promise she made to a friend as dear to her as her own sister.”

  Mr. Thomas’ smile faded as he placed a beautifully carved wooden box on his desk and looked apprehensively at his client’s somber visage. “I’m afraid the tale grows a bit more grim now, Mr. de Warre.”

  Grace glanced at her husband, who reached for her hand and wound his fingers through hers. She patted his hand and gave Mr. Thomas a valiant smile. “We’re ready, sir,” she said.

  How she loved this man beside her! How she wished with all her heart this tale would not bring him more pain than he’d already had to bear.

  Thomas took a deep breath and raised the lid to the box. He took an aged and crackled picture out and handed it to Jared, who took it in a steady hand. Grace bent over the photograph to see a happy couple in the typical marriage pose of the time, a handsome man seated in a straight-backed chair, his hands resting on his knees, looking incredibly like her husband.

  She squeezed Jared’s hand.

  Standing beside the man and slightly behind him with her hand on his shoulder was the beautiful woman Jared knew to be his mother. She wore a simple white gown, with a lace veil covering her fair hair and flowing down her back. She held a floral bouquet in one hand.

  “They were married,” Jared whispered and Grace realized when she saw his expression of quiet gladness that all these years he had feared his parents had never married, that he was illegitimate. Now she knew the root of most of the brutality he’d faced at such a tender age, cruelty that he’d revealed to her in bits and pieces over the last two years.

  “Mrs. Unti filled in all the gaps to the story. The two couples were friends, living across the hall from each other in an apartment building in Chicago. Your father worked as a laborer while he studied at night to become an accountant. Your parents were overjoyed when you were born.”

  Mr. Thomas paused here. He took a deep breath. “Your father died from an accident on the job when you were two years old. Lena told me your mother was devastated but determined to make a life for you. Unfortunately, what little money they had was quickly spent, and your mother had never learned enough English to secure a good paying job.

  “Within a year, she was destitute and talked to Lena for the first time about going back to her family. Lena only knew that they were Italian and wealthy, and that your mother feared she disappointed them so badly they wouldn’t welcome her back. You see, she’d taken a family heirloom with her when she fled.” Mr. Thomas reached into the box, removed a few papers, and withdrew a ruby-and-diamond necklace, a match to the earrings that made up the lost set.

  “Why didn’t my mother sell this to save herself?” Jared asked as he took the valuable gems in his hands.

  “Perhaps because, after she took it, she thought it wasn’t hers to sell,” Grace said softly.

  “Perhaps,” Jared said, as he rose and walked to the window. After a while he asked, “Mrs. Unti. You say she is old and ill and not well taken care of?”

  “Yes,” Mr. Thomas replied.

  “She could have sold this necklace many times over in the last thirty-five years to help herself. We will have to see to her needs, Grace.” He gazed out the window again. “Continue, Mr. Thomas.”

  “Yes, well, Mrs. Unti said a great epidemic hit the area. A killing influenza ran rampant, and she and her husband left Chicago to care for ailing relatives. When they returned two weeks later,” Mr. Thomas paused to clear his throat again, “they found your mother delirious with fever. You were nowhere to be found, and your mother never regained consciousness. She died within hours after Lena returned and found her. She was never able to tell Lena where she had taken you.”

  Mr. Thomas looked extremely uncomfortable. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of such troubling news. Perhaps you would like a few moments to yourself?”

  “No...no, I want to know the rest,” Jared said.

  Thomas continued, “As I said, Lena didn’t know what Geni had done with you, so she opened the two letters in the box she found lyi
ng on the bed next to her friend and read them, hoping to glean some information. One letter is to your grandparents, telling them what had transpired to date. She begs their forgiveness for taking the necklace and tells them she must sell it now to save her son. She writes that she will come to them soon, as she is not well enough to travel but soon will be. As you can see the letter was never mailed and there wasn’t an address on the envelope for Lena to send it.”

  Jared held up a hand for Mr. Thomas to pause in his story and turned back to the window.

  Grace saw him swallow several times.

  Mr. Thomas busied himself by taking a handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and polishing his wire-rimmed glasses.

  Finally, Jared clasped his hands behind his back and asked in a steady voice, “Do you know where Lena and her husband buried my mother?”

  Mr. Thomas responded gently, “Beside your father in a tiny cemetery on a farm outside Chicago, owned by a relative of the Untis.” He reached into the box. “This second letter is to you from your mother, Mr. de Warre.” He handed the letter to Grace and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Grace joined her husband at the window, winding her arms around his waist and laying her cheek against his chest, the steady beat of his heart in her ear. Pulling back to smile up at him, she stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips against his, then handed him the letter.

  She turned to leave, but he caught her hand and said, “No, stay, please.”

  Jared turned the envelope over in his hands a few times and ran his fingers over the browned paper reverently, and then with an intake of breath he opened it and looked the letter over quickly. He handed the paper to Grace and pulled her into his arms, pressing his cheek against her temple.

  “Read it to me, Grace.”

  Grace looked down at the letter he had pressed into her hand. The shaky writing was no doubt penned when his mother finally realized she would not survive her illness. Grace translated the Italian script.

  My Beloved Son,