A Haven for Her Heart

by Susan Anne Mason

  “But it’s a rewarding life as well.” He set down his cup, his expression suddenly serious. “I saw you at my ordination, Liv.”

  “I thought so, but I wasn’t sure.” Olivia offered him a plate of biscuits, which he declined. “I didn’t want to ruin your special day, but I had to see you, even if from afar.”

  “I felt terrible that I didn’t acknowledge you. Like I was betraying my own sister.” Lines marred his forehead, his dark eyes anxious.

  “It’s all right. With Papà there, you couldn’t risk causing a scene in front of everyone.” She smiled. “I’m just glad you’re here now. I’ve missed you so much.” Her throat cinched closed. She would not cry any more tears today.

  “It took me a while to get Mamma to admit why you went away, and when I found out what Papà had done . . .” His jaw clenched. “I’ve never been so angry with anyone.”

  Relief spilled through her, so incredibly thankful that her brother didn’t despise her as she’d feared. “I know,” she said softly. “I’m trying hard to forgive him for what he put me through, but it’s not easy.”

  Sal shifted to face her, his expression solemn. “What about the baby? What happened to him?”

  She drew in a breath, steeling herself against the pain that caught her unaware at times. “Children’s Aid took him. I imagine some couple has adopted him by now.” She swallowed hard. “I can’t believe Matteo’s over a year old already. I only pray he has parents who will give him the love he deserves.” Her voice broke.

  Sal reached for her hand and squeezed. “Oh, Liv. That must have been so hard.”

  “Harder than anything I’ve ever had to do. Even harder than saying good-bye to Rory.”

  He let out a sigh. “I heard what happened to him too. Such a shame the way things turned out.”

  Shame didn’t begin to describe the situation. “I have to believe that God has a reason for everything,” she said. “And that one day it will all make sense.”

  Sal nodded and squeezed her fingers again. “I’ve been praying for you and your son every day since I found out. And I want you to know that no matter what Papà says, I will never disown you.” His brown eyes grew damp. “I love you, Liv. You’re my sister, and I will always be here for you.”

  She reached over to wrap him in a hug. This boy—now man—who’d shared her childhood and was now an ordained servant of God. “I love you too, Sal. Just knowing you’re on my side makes all the difference.”

  He cleared his throat and looked around the room. She tried to picture the house as he was seeing it. The rich carpet, the fancy furnishings. What would he think of all this luxury?

  “Are you happy here?” he asked, his eyes searching hers.

  “I am, Sal.” Despite her heartache over Abigail, it was true. “Ruth has been so kind, and helping these women makes me feel useful. Like something good has come from my ordeal.”

  He nodded. “Serving others is a good step toward healing. I’m proud of you, Liv.”

  “Thank you.” Her lips trembled. “It’s been a long time since anyone said that to me.”

  He gave her another quick hug, then got to his feet. “I should get back to the rectory now.”

  Reluctantly, she rose as well. “I wish you could stay longer, but I’m so happy you came.” She managed a faint smile. “When you see Mamma, tell her I’m all right and that I love her.”

  “I will.”

  In the front entry, Sal paused. “Who was that Darius fellow you were with? Is he a suitor?”

  Her cheeks burned at the memory of the kiss they’d shared. “I’m not sure. Right now, he’s a good friend.”

  “Friends are important.”

  “Especially ones who know your mistakes and accept you anyway.”

  His expression turned grave, his brows scrunching together. “I’d be neglecting my duty if I didn’t ask you this.” He looked her in the eye. “Have you been to confession, Olivia?”

  If anyone other than Sal had asked her that question, she’d have unleashed her Italian temper. But she knew her brother’s heart, knew he was genuinely concerned for the state of her soul. “Yes, Sal, I have.” She didn’t tell him how unpleasant the experience had been and that she hadn’t been back to their church because she no longer felt welcome there.

  “Remember, Liv, God loves you no matter what. I hope you believe that, because you deserve to find happiness in your life.”

  “Thank you, Sal. And who knows, maybe I’ll come to hear you say Mass one Sunday.” She winked at him.

  “I’d like that.” With a laugh, he bent to kiss her forehead. “I hope to see you again soon.”

  After Olivia had walked him down the sidewalk, she returned to the house and let out a sigh. “Thank you, Lord, for your gifts today,” she whispered. “It was just what I needed.”

  She touched her lips with a smile, the memory of Darius’s kiss spreading warmth all the way to her core. And for the first time in a very long while, Olivia dared to believe that her shattered heart might survive after all.

  The next morning, Darius walked into the kitchen, filled with the delicious scent of bacon and freshly brewed coffee, and grabbed his mother in a bear hug. “Good morning, Mamá. Isn’t it a beautiful day?”

  “Darius, you squeeze me like a lemon.” She batted him with a dish towel, but her eyes danced with delight. “Why are you so happy today?”

  Because I kissed Olivia. And she kissed me back.

  “Do I need a reason?” He tossed her a grin.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “You have a new girlfriend?”

  He ducked his head into the icebox and took out the orange juice. “Just because I’m in a good mood doesn’t mean I have a girlfriend.” But his pulse scrambled at the image of Olivia’s warm brown eyes and full lips.

  “Sofia says you were kissing a lady in the park yesterday.”

  He choked on a swallow of juice, and liquid spilled down his chin. He grabbed a cloth from the sink to wipe his face, and when he turned around, his mother was watching him, one hand on her hip.

  “Sofia needs to learn when to keep quiet,” he muttered.

  “Sofia’s papá shouldn’t kiss strange women in front of her.” Scowling, she waved a spatula at him.

  Warmth bled into his cheeks. “I didn’t intend to. It just sort of happened.”

  “Who is this woman?” She went back to the stove, where eggs and bacon sizzled in the pan.

  “Her name is Olivia.” He wiped the counter, trying to act nonchalant. “She helps women at a local maternity home.”

  “Is she Greek?”

  “She’s Italian. She comes from an immigrant family like ours.”

  Mamá pursed her lips. “She sounds . . . all right.”

  His lips twitched. That was high praise coming from his mother.

  “Are you going to marry this Olivia?”

  “I don’t know, Mamá. We were just friends until yesterday. Then things changed and we haven’t had a chance to talk about it.”

  Mamá flipped the eggs and peered over her shoulder at him. “You bring this Olivia to dinner one day soon.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The telephone rang, and Darius rushed to answer it. Anything to escape his mother’s scrutiny.

  “Can I speak to Darius Reed, please?” a deep voice said.

  “This is he.”

  “Darius, this is Horace Cheeseman.”

  Chills of foreboding raced along Darius’s spine. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Why would Mr. Cheeseman be phoning him at home on a Saturday? At seven forty-five in the morning?

  “I’m sorry to bother you, but I have some bad news about Meredith.” The man’s voice cracked.

  “What is it?” Maybe Mr. Cheeseman was just learning that Meredith hadn’t gone out west after all. That she’d found somewhere else to spend her confinement.

  “My daughter is dead.”

  The blunt words struck Darius like a blow to the chest. He sank onto a chair, his
mind spinning. That wasn’t possible. The man had to be mistaken. “I don’t understand. She told me she was going to a maternity home in Ottawa. How could she be dead?”

  “She didn’t go to a maternity home.” Mr. Cheeseman sounded gritty, as though he’d swallowed sandpaper. “She went to some back-alley quack and paid him to take care of her problem. But she developed a serious infection and ended up in the hospital, too afraid to call her mother or me. At least that’s what the nurse at the hospital told us when she called with the news.”

  Darius raked a hand through his hair. “I . . . I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe this. . . .” His throat seized up. Meredith was gone? Lovely, vivacious Meredith . . .

  “Since you cared for my daughter once, I felt you should know.”

  “I’m so incredibly sorry for your loss, sir.”

  “The funeral will be on Wednesday morning at St. Cornelius Church. Eleven o’clock.”

  “I’ll be there, sir. If there’s anything I can do—”

  The connection cut out, leaving nothing but silence buzzing in Darius’s ear, along with the sinking sensation that he may have somehow played an unwitting part in Meredith’s demise.

  Olivia tried not to let the fact that she hadn’t heard from Darius since their kiss in the park disturb her. He took classes on Saturday, she remembered. And Sunday was spent with his family, going to church, and then having Sunday dinner. But by noon on Monday, while she helped Mrs. Neale make sandwiches, Olivia couldn’t help but wonder if he regretted his impulsive action and was now too embarrassed to call her.

  Margaret entered the kitchen with her son on her shoulder. “I think we’ll have to call Mrs. Dinglemire soon,” she announced. “Cherise has been complaining about a sore back. That’s how my labor started.”

  Momentary anxiety hit Olivia at the thought of another baby coming, but she forced herself to breathe. She would have to get used to this happening on a frequent basis and not panic every time. She cut the last sandwich and placed it on a plate. “Thanks for telling me. We’ll be sure to keep a close eye on her.”

  Margaret bounced the baby, who had started to squirm.

  Olivia took a closer look at Margaret, noticing the fatigue around her eyes. “Why don’t I take Calvin for a bit while you get some rest?” She wiped her hands on her apron.

  Margaret’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.” She held out her arms. “I’m feeling a lot better now. I can handle a baby again.”

  Margaret still seemed uncertain as she handed over the red-faced bundle. “I think he needs a diaper change.”

  “I can do that. You go take a bath or a nap. If he gets hungry, I’ll come and find you.”

  Relief flooded Margaret’s features. “Thanks. I could use a nap. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “Go on then. We’ll save some sandwiches for you.”

  Two hours went by in a flash. Tending to the baby kept Olivia occupied, with no time to dwell on Darius. She tried to sit with Cherise in order to keep an eye on her, but the girl wanted no part of her company, preferring to be alone with her discomfort. So instead Olivia rocked little Calvin in the nursery. She had just decided that it was near his feeding time when a groan sounded from the next room, followed by a string of French words that Olivia didn’t understand.

  She took the baby into the next bedroom. Whether Cherise wanted company or not, she was getting it.

  The girl was bent over the bed, one hand at the small of her back.

  “Bonjour, Cherise. Looks like you’re having contractions. Remember to breathe through the pain.”

  Cherise glared over her shoulder. “How can I breathe when it feels like a knife is stabbing me in the back?”

  “I know it’s hard, but it does help.” Olivia could recall the discomfort of her contractions in vivid detail and had blessed the nurse for helping her manage the pain. “I’ll call Mrs. Dinglemire and be right back.”

  “Wait.” Cherise huffed. “Promise me something, Olivia.”

  “Of course. What is it?”

  “Promise you won’t let that woman near my bébé.”

  Cherise didn’t need to elaborate. Olivia knew exactly whom she meant. She walked over and laid a hand on Cherise’s shoulder. “I promise no one will take your child. Mrs. Dinglemire and Dr. Henshaw both know your wishes, as do Ruth and I.” She shifted Calvin in her arms. “Keep breathing. I think your little one might be making his or her grand entrance very soon.”

  Olivia’s prediction proved correct. A beautiful little girl was born just after midnight. Olivia cried tears of joy along with Cherise at the first sight of her. Cherise named her baby Angelique, and indeed the infant looked like an angel.

  Olivia helped Mrs. Dinglemire get the pair cleaned up and settled. By the time they finished, it was one o’clock in the morning. The midwife then shooed everyone out of the room.

  Bone-tired herself, Olivia was all too happy to leave Cherise in the midwife’s capable hands and flop into bed with no worries to hinder her rest. For the first time since Abigail had left, Olivia believed she would truly sleep well.

  As her eyes drifted closed, her gaze fell on the picture Sofia had drawn for her, and she floated off to sleep with a smile on her face.

  33

  On the morning of Meredith’s funeral, Darius trudged downstairs to the kitchen, certain he would need a cup of strong coffee to get him through this day. But no enticing aroma met his nose.

  He pushed through the swinging door and stopped short. Mamá was dressed in her going-out clothes, a small hat perched on top of her hair.

  “Mamá? Are you going somewhere?”

  “I have to take Helena to the emergency department. I’m going next door to wait with her for the taxi.”

  “What happened?”

  “She fell down the basement stairs. Her arm might be broken.” Mamá snapped her handbag closed. “I’ll do my best to be back in time for you to go to the funeral.”

  Darius held back a sigh. Already this day wasn’t going his way. But his mother couldn’t refuse to help her friend, a recent widow who was having trouble coping with life alone.

  “You go on,” Darius told her. “And don’t worry about Sofia. I’m sure I can find someone to watch her for an hour.”

  Mamá tugged on her gloves. “You can always take Sofia to the church with you if you must.”

  True. Sofia knew how to behave in church, having attended the Greek Orthodox service every Sunday since babyhood. But he didn’t want to expose her to this tragedy if he could help it. With her curious mind, she would likely ask all sorts of uncomfortable questions that the Cheesemans didn’t need to hear on this terrible day.

  Once it was late enough that people would be up, Darius took out his list of usual babysitters and began calling. Half an hour later, he hung up the telephone with a loud exhale. Every possible person he could think of was busy. Granted, it was last minute, but surely someone was available. He even thought of asking his father to come home to watch her, but he knew Papá would only take Sofia back to the garage while he worked, and that was not a good solution.

  Guilt churned in his stomach. He needed to attend this service, needed to make peace with God and with himself for his part in what happened to Meredith. If he hadn’t been so judgmental, if he’d married her as promised, she and her baby would still be alive.

  He dragged a hand over his jaw. The only other option he could think of was Olivia. Before he could change his mind, he dialed Ruth Bennington’s number. As he waited, he realized he should have called Olivia sooner to let her know about Meredith, but he hadn’t been thinking straight, still attempting to come to grips with the tragedy.

  “Darius. It’s good to hear from you.” Olivia sounded cheerful, if not a bit wary.

  A new tug of guilt hit him. He hadn’t talked to her since their kiss in the park. What must she think of him? But he had no time to worry about that now.

  “Hello, Olivia.
I have some unfortunate news to tell you and a favor to ask.”

  “Oh?”

  He hated the trepidation in her voice. But could he blame her for being distrustful? He sighed. “I don’t know how to say this. . . .” He paused. “Meredith passed away on Saturday.”

  Silence pulsed over the line.

  “No.” Her whisper was barely audible. “What happened?”

  Darius looked around the kitchen to make sure Sofia wasn’t within earshot. “She went to some back-alley doctor to take care of her . . . situation and developed a terrible infection. She never recovered.”

  “Oh, Darius. I’m so sorry.” He could hear the tears in her voice.

  His throat constricted. Somehow, her sorrow made the tragedy even harder to bear. “I want to attend the funeral this morning, but my mother had a bit of an emergency come up. I was wondering if I could impose on you to watch Sofia for an hour or two?”

  A beat of silence passed, then, “Of course. I’d be happy to.”

  “Thank you.” His shoulders sagged. “I’ll be over soon.”

  While Olivia waited for Darius to arrive, she paced the parlor floor, battling to control her grief at the loss of such a lovely young woman as well as her anger at the unnecessary waste of a life. She kept picturing Meredith on the day she’d met her, the pretty but nervous girl who had so much ahead of her. What had made her seek such a dangerous solution to her problem instead of finding another maternity home like she’d intended?

  If only Olivia had been able to convince Meredith to come to Bennington Place. At least then she and her child would still be alive.

  Olivia blinked back her tears, determined to be in control when Darius and Sofia arrived. The little girl didn’t need to know anything about this. And Olivia needed to be strong for Darius. She could only imagine how he must be feeling. After all, he’d been planning to marry the woman not that long ago.

  When she heard Darius’s car pull up, Olivia went to greet them at the curb. As he got out, she wasn’t prepared for the haggard lines hugging his face or the hollowness shadowing his eyes. Going on instinct, she stepped up to wrap him in a hug. His arms came around her, and a shudder of emotion rumbled through his chest.