by Ciara Knight
Wayne chuckled. “I’ve never been one for typical.”
“I didn’t think so.” The rest of the ride to Nashville, Mr. Bessler opened up about everything with his family, and Wayne wished he had his pencil and paper to take notes.
It had taken longer than he thought, but then he started to realize this was the perfect story for the first post-war Valentine’s Day. He wanted to write more than a sweet story. He wanted to show the truth. It was time for him to come clean. He couldn’t lie to the man any longer, so he started planting the seed to grow the idea as if it were his own. “Have you ever thought about sharing your secret with the world? The Bessler truth about how love is stronger than loss?”
“No, because it’s not a secret or special to the Bessler household. Anyone can conquer loss with love.”
Wayne opened the thermos, poured coffee into the top, and then handed it to Victor. “I don’t know if I agree with that. Nothing can overcome certain losses.” He looked out the window once more and knew no matter what, he had to keep Davey from being shifted from home to home with no love in any of them. Wayne would never want the boy to suffer. Not when he knew how his life would be if he was ripped from the Besslers. He wouldn’t wish his childhood on anyone, especially on someone who’d found their forever home.
Chapter Thirteen
Rosie paced the floor and eyed the front door. “They should be back anytime now, right?” She bit her nail and stood at the window looking out.
Shirley wanted to ease her anxiety but understood how it was to wait for someone who held your future in their hands to return. She’d waited for four months while she hid her pregnancy. And then again while in the nunnery, sure Harry—a man who’d promised to marry her when he returned from war—would return. And yet again when she lived in that awful home for unwed mothers. She waited until the news reached her that he’d remained in Europe to marry another woman. She’d never wait for any man to walk through the door again.
Davey went to Rosie’s side. “Don’t worry. Those knuckleheads can’t take me. I’ll run right back.”
Rosie pulled him into her side. “That means more to me than anything that you want to stay here with us, but we need to do this the right way. And I promise I’ll never stop fighting for you—or any of you.” She held her belly, and tears pricked her eyes.
Shirley had to do something. She couldn’t watch these sweet people suffer. “How about we all sit and play a game?” she offered. “Gina, why don’t you get Monopoly?”
Davey huffed. “Don’t wanna.”
The clock ticked away on the mantel, and Shirley knew there wasn’t much she could do to help pass the time for Rosie and Davey, but she could for the other children. “Who wants to help me make cookies?” This would be her first time making them alone, but she felt ready and confident, and she knew there had to be something she could do to help the family that had provided a home for her daughter. “What do you say, Davey?”
Davey didn’t have a chance to respond before Rosie spun around with what appeared to be a happy smile, but Shirley could tell it was forced. “Yes, let’s make some cookies so that we can have a celebration when the men arrive home with good news.” Rosie took little Ava by the hand, and they all waltzed into the kitchen.
Shirley removed the cookbook she’d been studying at night after Beth had gone to sleep and turned to the basic dough recipe. “Let’s make special cookies.”
Betty held Beth’s hand and sat on the floor next to her. They’d become so close in only a couple of weeks. “Special cookies? What’s that?”
“Those are cookies you make from your heart. I’ll make and roll out the dough, and then you all cut them into whatever you want. It can be letters or shapes or anything.”
“I know my letters now,” Reggie said pridefully.
“Fun.” Beth clapped her hands and squealed. Her speech was improving since they’d arrived. Shirley had worried her child was slow, but Beth was blossoming in front of her eyes now.
Shirley put her apron on, and Rosie pulled out the ingredients and then situated all the kids at the big dining room table. Once Shirley mixed up the dough to the point she thought it should be, she took sections and rolled little balls and put them each on their own plate and then set them in front of the children. “Now you have to mash the dough down flat then make a shape.”
“I’m not allowed to touch knives,” Ava said, sniffing.
Rosie was by her side before Shirley could answer. “Just this once and with my help.”
“I’ll help Beth,” Betty said.
Shirley hoped she hadn’t overstepped with the idea, but by the time they finished making the cookies and Shirley baked them in the oven, made frosting, and decorated them, the lights flashed through the windows and the truck rumbled up to the house.
Rosie hugged Shirley. “Thank you. That was the most brilliant idea. I’m so glad you’re here with us. I would’ve fallen apart without you.”
“No, you wouldn’t have. I only hope I can be as strong and capable as you someday.” Shirley looked to the floor and studied the scuff on her shoe she should have cleaned off last night.
Rosie stood back and studied her for a moment as if looking for answers to a question that hadn’t been asked. “Shirley, you’re far braver and more talented and beautiful and capable than anyone I’ve ever met. You’ve come in here and taken over the chores, the laundry, the shopping, the cooking.” She paused. “Even learned how to cook in only a matter of weeks. That’s something to be proud of. It took me years to not burn or undercook something.”
“You knew?” Shirley asked, shame flooding her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know cooking would be required, or I wouldn’t have applied for the position here. And then, when I arrived, you were both so nice, I didn’t want to let you down. And I needed the job.”
Rosie only patted her shoulder. “The Lord works in mysterious ways. He brought you to us for a reason. I’m guessing it’s to keep us all together and happy through this troubling time.” She rubbed Shirley’s upper arm. “And dear, you don’t have to worry. You can tell me anything, and I’ll never share or judge. Whatever you’re hiding from, you’re safe here.”
Shirley opened her mouth but didn’t know what to say, so she shut it again. Rosie was right, though. They’d be safe here as long as no one uncovered her identity or told her family where she was.
Rosie leaned in and whispered, “I know you were raised with considerable wealth and class. I don’t know why you’re here, and I don’t care. I just want you to know that you’re safe with us.”
Shirley’s lungs seized. Her mouth went end-of-life dry.
The front door opened, and Rosie raced to Victor. The kids all flooded around him except for Beth, who ran to Wayne. Shirley remained near the kitchen, still processing Rosie’s words and taking slow, deep breaths to calm herself. How had Rosie guessed? Was it her accent that slipped at times? The fact she didn’t know how to cook?
“Are they takin’ me? I’ll run if they do,” Davey said with that old man look on his face.
Mr. Bessler chucked his jaw. “No, son. I won’t let that happen.”
“Come eat cookies.” Ava grabbed Victor’s hand and yanked him to the long table.
“Cookies? But I haven’t eaten dinner yet,” he teased but settled in with the children.
They looked like the perfect family. It hardly seemed fair that these two people who hadn’t sinned the way Shirley had still suffered. She knew her suffering was because of her own actions and would spend the rest of her life keeping Beth from being held accountable for her sins.
Beth ran back to Shirley. “Cookie, Mommy?”
“Sure, darling.” She sat down and held Beth in her lap, relaxing a little more despite her secret being semi-unveiled. The comfort of her child in her arms brought joy and a little less fear this time.
Rosie and Victor sat with all the kids crammed in around them and Shirley and Beth, too.
“Look up,” W
ayne called.
When Shirley did, she spotted the camera up near his face, and she froze for a second. She’d spent so long hiding from the world, she hadn’t expected a camera pointed at her in the living room of the Bessler house. She hid behind Beth as he took a few more. When he finally folded the camera back up and set it on the table, she was able to breathe again.
“Looks good. Can I have one?” Wayne sat next to her and tried to playfully nibble at Beth’s cookie, but she snatched it away with a giggle.
“No, Daddy.”
The room fell silent. Shirley looked to Rosie, who resumed eating her cookie while stroking Ava’s hair as the little girl sat in her lap.
Shirley bent over and whispered, “He’s not your daddy, honey.”
Beth stuck out her bottom lip. “Who Daddy?”
All gazes flew to Shirley, and she wanted to run again, but there was nowhere else she’d want to go after living with the Besslers.
Chapter Fourteen
The morning sun brought a touch of light into Wayne’s room, coating his skin with warmth. He stood at the window with his eyes closed, feeling the heat. The temperature had dropped a little the night before, but not a surprise since they were headed into late January. It would be frigid and windy in Detroit by now, almost unbearable for his sister-in-law and the kids to leave the house.
He eyed the paper on the desk. He’d started a letter three separate times in the night, inviting his sister-in-law to come to Sugar Maple. He raved about the town and how much the children would thrive with the other kids. He specifically spoke of the Besslers and Shirley and Mrs. Slaughter. It would be the right thing to do, even if he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay. He’d at least know someone who could care for his brother’s family would be close by.
There was only one problem. He had to tell the Besslers about why he’d come to Sugar Maple in the first place. He’d already received two letters from his editor inquiring into his story and meeting his deadline. His only response had been that he was onto the best Valentine’s Day article of the century. He only hoped the Besslers would still welcome his sister-in-law and the children after they discovered that he wanted to write a story about their family. He hadn’t meant to keep the truth of his profession from them for so long, but the time hadn’t been right to approach the subject. Knowing the Besslers, they would understand. They were a special kind of people.
He readied the letter to be mailed and headed into town to have his film developed. He’d already figured out how to help the Nashville adoption agency expedite their process. They’d been inundated with adoptions in the last couple of years, and they didn’t have the manpower to keep up with the demand. If he could find the uncle, or if someone knew of him in New York, then he could end the nightmare for the Besslers.
At the end of the stairs, he saw Mrs. Slaughter with her foot up, and it appeared even more swollen. “Please, stay off your foot today. I’ll help Shirley in the kitchen, and you can tell us what to do.”
“I already told Shirley that I wouldn’t be able to work with her today, and she said she was ready to cook on her own.” Mrs. Slaughter pointed to the table. “Breakfast is only eggs and sausage, but it’ll be good to help start your day.”
He attempted to hide his disappointment that he wouldn’t have his afternoon playtime with Beth and have the pleasure of watching Shirley cook. The way she concentrated with her brow crunched together as she mixed something, or when she held her wrist up in a dainty sort of way as she chopped was adorable. The way she moved about the kitchen, or anywhere, was like watching an angel glide through the air.
“I know what you’re thinking about. Or who. Why don’t you go see if you can help out with Beth while she’s cleaning and cooking on her own today?”
He ignored her remark and redirected the conversation. “Please, don’t feel like you need to cook for me. I can make my own food.” Wayne went to the kitchen and ate what she’d prepared, not because he was hungry but because she’d done it despite her discomfort. “I have a question for you.”
“Yes, I think Shirley is perfect for you,” Mrs. Slaughter said loud and clear.
He decided to ignore her since he’d discovered arguing his point didn’t get him anywhere. “How do you feel about renting a room to a woman and her two children until I can find them a home of their own?”
“I have two rooms, and I’ll do it for the price of one,” she said with a smile. “I miss having little ones around.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Slaughter.” He eyed her foot. “Should I call the doctor?”
“No, it’s just because I need to rest a bit. I’ll be fine in a couple of days.”
“Listen, I’m going to run into town to send this film and a note to a contact I have at The New York Times. I’m hoping it’ll help with Davey’s adoption.”
“Sounds like a great idea. I hope it helps. I wish I could do more,” she said but only picked up her knitting, this time working on what appeared to be a dark blue wool scarf.
“Can I get you anything before I leave?”
“Don’t you dare worry about me. Go get that mailed out.” She shooed him away. “Then go visit with Shirley and Beth. She wants to see her daddy today.”
He chuckled. “That child is persistent. No matter how much Shirley tells her not to call me Daddy, she only says it louder.”
“Maybe because you both aren’t listening and she’s the smart one.”
Mrs. Slaughter went on knitting, so he scooted out the door and down the street with his coat tight around his neck and his hat pushed down on his head. He slowed his pace as he walked by the Besslers’ house, but he didn’t see anyone through the window and the truck was gone. He decided that Mrs. Slaughter had made an excellent suggestion, though. He should check on Shirley and see if she needed anything on his way back.
He wanted to tell her the truth before he told the Besslers. He’d wanted to tell her for so long, but it wasn’t until the thought of losing Davey that he realized how wrong it was for him to manipulate the family in any way. It worked during war, but this wasn’t a fact-finding mission to help troops. This was a loving family who didn’t deserve deception. His editor would never understand his change of heart. Wayne wasn’t the type to put the wellbeing of others before a story.
After mailing the film and message to his contact at The New York Times, he ran into Dr. Anderson out front of the general store. “Can I trouble you for a moment?”
“Yes, of course. What can I do for you?” Dr. Anderson tightened his coat around his neck.
Wayne tipped his hat up despite the wind so he could see the man eye to eye. “It’s not me. It’s Mrs. Slaughter. She says she only needs to rest for a few days, but I’m worried her foot is awful swollen. And if I’m not mistaken, her fingers are a little, too.”
“She’s a stubborn one. I’ll stop by this afternoon to check on her. Maybe with you there, she’ll actually listen to my professional opinion.” Dr. Anderson shivered. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Wayne allowed the man to duck into the general store for warmth while he went down to visit with Victor for a moment. He was inside, bent over like a man twice his age. When he looked up at Wayne’s entrance to the store, Wayne saw the dark circles under his eyes.
“Good morning, Wayne.”
“Good morning. I’m sorry to intrude, but I wanted to let you know that I’ve sent some information to a contact at The New York Times. I’ve requested that he post a message to Davey’s uncle, and I provided the film from the pictures I took last night showing your lovely family. I’ve requested that the uncle contact the Nashville adoption agency and release any guardianship so that you and Rosie can adopt him.”
“Thank you. That’s good news,” Victor said in a low voice, as if he were too exhausted to speak.
Something told Wayne there was even more bothering Victor than Davey’s adoption. “I noticed the truck was gone. Is Rosie out delivering furniture?”
“I’m
afraid so. I tried to go in her place, but she wouldn’t hear of it, and she promised she wouldn’t be moving the furniture around.”
Wayne didn’t follow why that was a problem. “Did she get hurt? You should have told me to go. I would’ve been happy to help.”
“You’ve already done so much.”
Guilt grabbed hold of Wayne’s throat and squeezed. “Victor, I wanted to come by tonight to tell you something, but I don’t think I can wait. I only ask that you don’t tell Shirley until I have the opportunity. I plan on going by your home after here to tell her the truth.”
“Sounds serious.”
Wayne picked up a small toy and turned it to analyze all sides. “It is.” He placed the small carved puppy back where he’d found it and cleared his throat. “Mr. Bessler, I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely honest with anyone here in Sugar Maple, and it’s been weighing heavily on me. I hope you will forgive me. I never meant to deceive anyone.” He pressed his lips together as if to stop the words that could ruin his story, end his career, and send him from this great town. A town he’d only planned on staying long enough to get a story but now wanted more. What, he didn’t know, but all he did know was that he couldn’t even figure it out as long as the lie was in his way. “I’m not only in communications. I’m—”
“You’re a journalist,” Victor said as if speaking about the weather.
“You knew?” Wayne sat down on the stool near him, as if he couldn’t stand another second. The weight he’d been carrying fell from his shoulders, and that knot in his gut loosened.
“Yes, I’m afraid you’re not great at hiding the truth.”
Wayne laughed. “I used to work for the United States gathering information from the Nazis during the war and reporting the details back to the front. I fooled them for a long time. How did you know I wasn’t being honest?”
