Friday night, Paul came for supper. His step dragged a bit, and his smile seemed forced when she met him at the door.
“What’s wrong?” She brushed the roguish lock of hair back from his forehead.
“I got a telegram. Some art’s coming available that a client wants. I need to leave as soon as possible. I’ve booked passage on a ship that sets sail tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Disappointment flooded her. “You haven’t been home long at all—only nine days.”
“I know.” He came on into the house. “Good evening, Mrs. Ainsley, Valerie.”
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard you. I’ll be going home in the morning. Perhaps Rosemary can drive you to the port.”
“You’re welcome to stay here, Mrs. Ainsley.” Rosemary turned to him. “But I’d love to drive you.”
“How about if I come here and pick you up for lunch? We could spend a few hours together. My ship sets sail at four.”
“I’d like that.”
Paul dialed again and drummed his fingers as he waited for the call to go through. He’d been trying to reach Rosemary all morning. Bad enough he was making another trip this soon, but if he stood her up for lunch, then left—well, he didn’t want to think of that.
Lord, please help me get ahold of her.
All morning long, the phone had been busy. He had several uncharitable thoughts about Myrtle what’s-her-name being such a phone hog. The one time he got through, the phone rang and rang. Rosemary was probably taking Mrs. Ainsley home.
She’s got to be home by now.
The phone rang.
Lord, thank You—now please let her be home.
“Hello?”
“Rosemary! Listen, sweetheart. I’ve gotten tied up in a meeting and have to go to the museum, then the bank. I’m afraid I’ll have to cancel lunch.”
“Oh.”
“I know. I’m disappointed, too. I wanted to spend more time together before I had to leave.”
“I guess I’d better get used to you popping in and out. It’s part of your job.”
He could hear the sadness in her voice, but Paul admired how she wasn’t kicking up a big fuss. Rosemary’s serenity was one of her best traits. “There are supposed to be a few big lots for me to cull through. If I find the right pieces, I might be able to satisfy my stateside clients for a while.”
“I’ll be thinking of you and praying for you. Do you need me to go to your place and pack for you?”
“No. Not at all.” He kept his voice level, but alarms inside jangled. He’d left home in a hurry after receiving an emergency call from Bill. If anyone else saw what was on his desk, it wouldn’t be a big deal; if Rosemary did, he’d have a huge problem on his hands. “I packed last night. I’m an old hat at it.”
“I suppose as often as you travel, you have to be.”
He forced a laugh. “Actually, Valerie’s probably right. I might not have things matched up.”
She laughed, too—a slightly thin sound. “I’d love it if you didn’t have to go back for a little while after this trip. I noticed your blue suit’s getting a little shiny. When you come home, we’ll go to the tailor.”
“And you’ll help me pick out ties that don’t all look the same?”
“I like your ties. You just don’t put them with the right suits.”
“That’s proof that I’m in desperate need of a wife. Want the job?”
“More than anything in the world!”
They clung to the phone and spent every last second of the time his nickel bought. She told him she loved him half a dozen times in as many ways. He assured her of his devotion and love, too. He promised to pray for her, and she committed to praying for him. One last “I love you,” and the phone clicked.
The empty sound echoed in his heart and mind. He already missed her.
Rosemary’s Pierce-Arrow purred to a stop in Paul’s driveway. She couldn’t bear to think of him leaving without them saying good-bye. Besides, after he’d left last evening and she’d tucked Mrs. Ainsley into bed, Rosemary and Valerie had stayed up most of the night, making more dolls. They’d worked like crazy and made six more. Added to the ones they hadn’t been able to sneak out to his car, that would be twenty-two—maybe not a lot but certainly better than what he’d expected to take.
A whirlwind trip through her garden yielded lettuce and tomatoes for BLTs. She packed a picnic lunch including his favorite oatmeal cookies and tossed the dolls in the car.
Paul would come home to a surprise.
Thrilled, Rosemary slipped out of the car and headed toward the house with the wicker laundry basket full of dolls. No one ever locked the door in this neighborhood. She knew she could slip in, put the dolls in his study, and come back outside to spread the red plaid blanket in a shady spot beneath the tree. It was a perfect day to eat outside, and it was also a wise move. They weren’t married, and avoiding temptation and preventing gossip were important for their witness.
The wooden floor echoed with her footsteps, then the Persian rug in his study muffled the sound. He’d mentioned this was where he usually kept the crate of dolls, so it seemed like the natural destination for her now.
She liked his study. Shelves of books lined two walls, and a solid-looking desk commanded the wall by the mullioned window. A large oil painting of Christ kneeling at Gethsemane hung on a wall. When she’d first seen it, she gasped and Paul wrapped his arm around her. “I prize it. It’s not by anyone famous, but of all the works I’ve ever seen, it speaks to me the most. It makes me reflect on the cost of my salvation and the depth of His love.”
As soon as she set down the basket of dolls, she’d spend a few moments admiring that painting again. Paul was right—it did make her reflect on God’s infinite love. But Rosemary didn’t get that far. She stopped cold when she saw what was on the desk.
A needle with a length of tangled thread had been jammed into a sponge—which was odd enough—but alongside it were two of her dolls. The seam along the head had been carefully snipped open.
Chapter 8
The wicker basket made a squeaky creak as Rosemary set it down. Actually, it tumbled to the side and dolls spilled across the floor. She didn’t pick them up. She couldn’t stop staring at the table. Surely she was mistaken.
Maybe a seam had come loose.
No, it couldn’t have. I’m careful, so careful. And even if a seam did come loose, it would be on one doll—not two.
She picked up the first doll. A pair of manicure scissors lay on the desk blotter beneath where it had lain.
He did it. He cut her open. Why? What kind of stupid question is that? The answer is obvious. He’s smuggling something.
Pain speared her heart.
Smuggling. But what? Why? She could barely breathe. What has he gotten me into as well? I’ve been making these! The next thought made her knees go weak. Lord, help me. Oh, please, God, help me. Valerie has made them, too. And we’re sending them to Axel.
Wildly, she looked around the room. Everything looked so ordinary, so orderly. Tears made her focus waver as she stared at the picture of Christ. Was that just part of Paul’s ruse? How deep did his deception run? Had he merely bought a religious painting to use as a prop in his home?
“You never really know a man.” Her sister’s bitter words echoed through her memory. Elsa was a loving wife, a good housekeeper, a fine mother to Axel and Annelise, yet her husband, Frederick, had abandoned the family and run off with another woman. Years of trust had been shattered in a single night.
Do I really know Paul?
Rosemary carefully set down the doll. The gaping seam taunted her.
He’s not the man I thought he was. How could I have let him sweep me off my feet? Is it love or loneliness that made me promise to marry him? How did I ever think I knew him well enough?
As she pivoted, her toe nudged one of the rag dolls on the floor. She stooped and picked them up one at a time. With each doll she placed into the wicker basket, her hear
t tightened more.
Lord, I thought this was Your will. I thought I was doing something to help all of those poor, frightened children. I thought I was helping my man with his business. It was all so clear, so simple. I’ve been such a fool! Show me what to do. Help me …
Tears slipped down her cheeks as she held the last doll to her aching heart.
Paul glanced down at his watch. If he grabbed his luggage and took the shortcut, he’d still be able to squeeze in almost an hour-long visit at Rosemary’s. He refused to leave without seeing her once more. He turned the corner onto his street. Her car was parked at the curb.
The flash of joy dissolved at once. She’s inside. What if she found the dolls?
Paul parked and immediately headed for his home, for Rosemary. He didn’t know what to expect from her. An oppressive silence filled the house. He went from room to room, looking for her. Then he saw the wicker basket full of dolls right by his desk. One of the dolls on his desk had been moved, and the scissors lay in plain view.
She knows.
Everything inside rebelled. What would this revelation cost? Their love, their future? Would she understand? Would she forgive him for keeping such a secret? If she told anyone, lives hung in the balance. He had to find her.
As he stepped into the hallway, Paul felt a draft. The kitchen door was ajar. He walked through it to the backyard and spotted her sitting on a blanket. Rosemary tensed, and he knew she’d heard him, but she didn’t look up. Each step he took, he prayed. Lord, I love her. Make this right. Father, please …
No one in the neighborhood had fences, and Mrs. Sawyer was out at her clothesline, taking down her laundry as J.J.’s kids scrambled in and out of their tree house. They were out of earshot, but he couldn’t be sure what Rosemary would do.
Paul disciplined himself to stroll over to her instead of yielding to the temptation to sprint. He halted at the edge of the blanket and cleared his throat. “I planned to whiz over to see you before I left. Why don’t we go for a drive?”
She tilted her face up to his. Her red-rimmed eyes made his heart lurch. “Rosemary—”
“I’d like to speak first.” She gestured toward the picnic blanket. Anyone who cared to look would see a casual invitation. Paul saw how her hand shook—from fear, or from anger?
He nodded. He owed her the right to speak her mind. “Maybe we ought to go inside.”
She arched a brow. “I don’t think so. No one will overhear us in your backyard, but anyone who cares to can see an engaged couple having a pleasant meal. You’re very good at hiding in plain sight. This is in keeping with your style.”
He winced. Her words carried accusation, and rightly so. From the start, he’d discovered Rosemary was an intelligent woman. He needed to find out just how much she suspected or knew, then proceed with damage control—if that was possible. Slowly, he sat opposite her.
She looked directly at him. “You’re smuggling.” Her words hung between them as she drew in a deep breath. “I saw your desk. You’re using the dolls.”
When he didn’t give any reply, she handed him a sandwich. “Eat that. It’ll help keep up pretenses. That’s all a part of the game, isn’t it?”
The serenity he cherished about her was gone. Rosemary hadn’t fled upon seeing the doll’s tampered seams. Clearly she planned to give him the opportunity to explain himself. Even now as she asked for information, he would dole out as little as possible. Keeping secrets from her went against his grain. But he didn’t have a choice. This underground operation was all that stood between those children and disaster.
“I never meant for you to be hurt.”
“I have a lot of questions. I’m upset. I deserve to know what you’ve involved me in. It’s not just me. You’ve drawn in my daughter and my nephew, too. You came to me asking for dolls for children. What are you really doing?”
“I’ve left you in the dark on purpose, Rosemary.”
“No more. I expect answers.”
“I’m not supposed to discuss this. I’m breaking confidentiality to say anything at all.” He stared at her, willing her to open her heart and know the truth even though he’d have to limit his words. “The dolls are going to children.”
“But what are you doing with the dolls? What are you putting in them, and why?”
He couldn’t lie. In fact, he couldn’t ask for more dolls if he didn’t confess the truth. Most of all, he simply didn’t want to conceal things from the woman he loved. “I’m inserting a little bit of gold or a small jewel. They go to a contact who uses that to fund forged documents and bribe or buy children’s freedom.”
“The Jewish children in Nazi Germany,” she deduced softly.
“Yes.”
“No one would expect you’re carrying out this plot because you have the ability to travel under your Swedish passport and have a legitimate business. Your art purchasing serves as a perfect cover.”
He gave no reply. He didn’t need to. Sitting there, he could see her mentally shuffling the facts and reasoning out the puzzle.
Her eyes narrowed. “Axel?”
“Rosemary, I need to protect you and others. I can’t reveal anything that would endanger any part of the operation. It’s why I never said anything in the first place.”
“On no account would I ever tell anyone.”
He reached over and took her hands in his. “I trust you for that. When we started out, you were a mere acquaintance. I couldn’t risk letting you know. Even now, we have to keep this between just the two of us.”
“Promise me you won’t involve Axel without his full knowledge.”
“You needn’t fret on that score.”
Rosemary shook her head and let out a mirthless laugh. “No, I suppose not. I ought to know better. If anything, my mother or Annelise is just as involved.”
He gave no reply.
“How bad is it?”
Paul looked down at their intertwined hands. “Very little is being revealed about the Nazis’ actions. Jews’ passports are stamped with a J now. They can’t own businesses or eat at cafés. Torahs are being burned. They’re rounding up Jews from several cities in conquered countries and shipping them into the interior of Germany. They’ve slaughtered all of the men in at least two villages and many women, too.”
Rosemary’s fingers tightened around his. “Why aren’t people doing anything about it?”
“Nazi cruelty is unspeakable, and their capacity for evil is boundless. Jews, gypsies, people who are mentally or physically ‘inferior’ … they’re all being mistreated or shipped to unknown destinations.”
“Shipped?”
“Rounded up and put in trucks or railroad cars. I’m not talking about a onetime occurrence, though that would be bad enough. Amsterdam, Poland, Romania—every country that’s been conquered by the Reich.”
He saw the dawning horror in her eyes and hated stripping away the innocence that insulated her from such ugly facts. It sickened him to make her aware of the depths of evil in their world. She’d asked for the truth, and he prayed she was strong enough to handle it. Now that she knew, she also had to understand the risks that came with her knowledge.
“Warfare between the soldiers—I don’t like it, but I understand that much. But they show no mercy to civilians?”
“None. Hitler’s reign owes as much of its success to fear as it does to power or might. Europeans are frightened. If someone tries to be a good Samaritan and help what the Nazis term an ‘undesirable,’ they themselves are punished. Some people are trying to hide Jews; most won’t.”
“If a neighbor tattled …” Her voice died out.
He nodded. “Everyone lives in terror. Denmark is doing better than other countries at trying to shield the Jews, but I can’t be sure how much longer they’ll succeed. Sweden is one of the last safe holds—and that’s because the Germans need Sweden’s iron to make steel for their war.”
“How can you make a difference, Paul?”
“One person can mak
e a difference, and if I had to do it alone, I would. Praise God, there are others. Several people have organized. There’s an underground.”
“Like the Underground Railroad that helped Southern slaves to freedom?”
The faint twinkle in her eyes that accompanied the question made hope flicker in his heart. “Yes, Rosemary. We’re doing our best to spare lives.”
The twinkle disappeared, and wariness replaced it. “It’s dangerous for you.”
He hitched a shoulder. “I can’t say there’s no danger. I can’t live with myself if I do nothing, though. Innocent children deserve mercy and help. I can’t close my eyes to the need, Rosemary. As a man, as a Christian—I have to be involved.”
“Don’t you think I’m willing to—”
“Rosemary.” He sighed her name. “It wasn’t a matter of whether I thought you’d be willing to take part. Fact of the matter is, I came to see very quickly that you’d jump in with both feet. But I wanted to shield you. The German Bund is exceptionally active in the States. We have no reason to believe they’re on to this—it’s a tiny operation. On the other hand, we don’t want to underestimate their network. I didn’t like withholding facts from you, but it was for your safety. The dolls are just a simple cottage industry—nothing more.”
“I know that look in your eyes. I’m every bit as stubborn as you are, Paul Kincaid. Everything hinges on appearances. I’m making innocent dolls; you’re an art dealer. I can play that game just as well as you can.”
He watched her pick up a cup. “We need to end the conversation. I can’t reveal any more details. I’ve already said far too much.”
“I’m not a security risk, Paul.” She tilted the cup to her lips.
Paul knew the cup to be empty. She was carrying on a charade, and the least he could do was play along. He picked up his sandwich and took a big bite. Something told him the matter wasn’t settled yet.
A Sentimental Journey Romance Collection Page 24
