by Rebecca York
Christmas Miracle 1935
A Romantic Suspense Novella
REBECCA YORK
Ruth Glick writing as Rebecca York
Copyright © 2020 Ruth Glick
Published by Light Street Press
This is a work of fiction, a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental. This novel may not be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior written permission from the author.
Howard County, Maryland, 1935
Chapter One
“Dear, Santa. I don’t want any toys or stuff like that for Christmas. All I want is for you to get my daddy out of jail.”
Sophie Garrett choked back a sob as she read the letter one of her little brothers had hidden. She had the same desperate wish, only she knew Santa wasn’t going to help with a problem that was in the hands of the tough-as-nails Howard County police chief.
She’d been searching for dirty clothing on the floor of the tiny room that her two brothers, Harold and Evan, shared. Looking down, she spotted something white peeking from under the edge of the mattress. When she pulled it out, she discovered the heartfelt plea.
She flattened her right hand and pressed the fingers against her mouth, fighting not to weep. She’d thought things couldn’t get any worse for the family. Now she realized how much this was affecting the boys. They were just little kids who only knew their dad was in jail. At eighteen, she was all too aware of how bad his situation was—for their father and for them.
Sophie stole a quick look outside the window. Momma had already hitched up Becky and Melinda to the farm wagon. These days, a lot of families had a motor car or truck, but that had been beyond the Garretts’ means, even before Daddy had landed in jail.
With no other way to support the family, Momma was taking in washing, and Sophie was dreaming of getting a more permanent job that would let them get some store-bought food. There was no question of any new clothes, which was why the bottoms of the boys’ shoes were padded with newspaper.
It took several moments before Sophie was feeling in better control. Carefully, she slipped the note back where she’d found it—on Harold’s side of the sagging bed. Probably, he had written it. He was eight and Evan, at age six, was still using big block letters.
Daddy had been gone almost a month now since a cop car had jounced up the rutted road to their little house.
The family had been eating a supper of canned beans, bacon and stewed greens for supper, and Harold was just relating how he’d made a home run when he’d been up to bat in a softball game on the playground.
In the middle of his story, an insistent pounding startled everyone. When Daddy opened the door, a big policeman holding a gun pushed his way into the room. Momma started screaming, and the little boys began trembling and shrank into their chairs at the table.
Even though she was as scared as everyone else, Sophie managed to ask, “What is this about?”
The policeman holding the gun looked her up and down—from the top of her blond head to her breasts to the work boots on her feet. “The jewelry your papa stole and the man he hit over the head.”
He waved a bag that he’d retrieved from the back of the Garrett farm wagon. He gave Daddy a scornful look. “You didn’t even have the sense to hide this stuff.”
“Because it’s not mine,” Daddy protested.
The officer laughed. “Damn right it’s not yours.”
“I found that bag behind a pile of hay, and I didn’t know what to do with it.”
The officer scoffed. “Oh yeah. Tell it to the judge. And tell him why you assaulted one of the homeowners you robbed.”
Well, Daddy hadn’t seen a judge. He was still in that awful fortress of a jail down by the courthouse. They couldn’t get Daddy out on bail because they had no money. When Momma and Sophie had visited him at the jail, it had been a shock to see him in a striped prison uniform, with his hair a shaggy mess and his skin an unhealthy pasty color.
“Why did you bring that jewelry home?” Momma demanded.
“I didn’t know what else to do with it. The hay hadn’t been moved in months. I was starting to clean it up when I found that stuff against the wall.”
“You should have told Mr. Peters right away,” Momma said.
He looked down at his cracked fingernails. “I know that now. I was scared they’d blame me. I didn’t know what to do, so I put the jewelry in the wagon.”
“And someone must have seen you,” Sophie said.
He seemed to sink into himself and nodded.
Sophie wanted to scream. She knew Daddy had been afraid because it was so easy to lose even a menial job at the feed store when the whole country was in the middle of hard times. But she also knew he’d made the wrong move.
She longed to get the whole mess straightened out. She wanted to tell the police that her daddy was no criminal. But who was going to take the word of an eighteen-year-old girl from a dirt-poor farm? And she had no way to prove his innocence. If she told the authorities that he had been home with his family every night and not out robbing people’s houses, they’d just say it was a likely story.
Men out of work were standing in lines for bread these days or living in hobo camps. And some probably did steal to feed their families. But not Bradley Garrett.
“Sophie, where are you?” Momma called out.
She snapped to attention, remembering what she was supposed to be doing. Quickly, she gathered up the pair of pants and two shirts that were on the floor and tossed them into the hamper she’d set beside the door. Then she stepped from the bedroom into the vestibule. Her mother was standing just a few yards away in the kitchen of the tiny house, her hands on her hips.
“We gotta get going,” she said.
“I know. Sorry. I was just looking for dirty clothes in the boys’ room.”
They were at school now, and she and Momma would pick up laundry from several of the more prosperous farms in the neighborhood. She wasn’t sure if their clients really needed someone to wash their clothes or if they had hired the Garrett women because they knew they needed work.
Chickens scattered as they crossed the yard and climbed onto the wagon seat. Thank God, they had the chickens, Sophie thought. Plus, the ducks down by the pond and the two milk cows in the barn.
As Momma drove the team, Sophie slid her a sidewise glance. She had so much on her mind now, doing her work and most of Daddy’s around the farm. The strain was showing in the lines at the corners of her eyes and the new creases in her weathered skin. And her hands on the reins were red from all the washing. Sophie was trying to help as much as she could.
They stopped first at the Ferguson place where Mrs. Ferguson already had a basket of laundry waiting by the back door.
Clad in a faded work dress with her long hair hidden by a scarf, she was waiting for the Garretts to arrive, and Sophie saw her mother stiffen, probably wondering if Mrs. Ferguson had decided she couldn’t afford to have her clothing washed by someone else.
Thankfully, the neighbor had another reason. She cleared her throat as Momma put the laundry behind her in the wagon bed.
“I was goin’ through stuff in the house, and I noticed I have some clothing that my boy Frankie has outgrown. He’s a few years older than your Harold. Everything’s in pretty good shape, considering. Could you use any of it for your boys?”
Momma breathed out a sigh. “Why, thank you. That would be a big help to me,”
“I’ve got a bag right by the door.” The other woman disappeared inside and came out with a full feed sack.
“You’re sure?”
“Of course, dear. Times are hard for everybody. My sister Ida sent me some of those things, and
I was glad to get them.”
Momma made a sound of agreement. “I’ll have the laundry back to you next week as usual,” she said.
“That’s fine.”
As they headed from Highland Farm, Sophie silently rehearsed the speech she was planning when she saw Mrs. Conway. She was Mr. Conway’s new wife, and everybody in the neighborhood knew she had inherited some money—which was how her husband had been able to make some improvements at their horse farm. She was a nice woman, and Sophie was praying that she’d consider the proposal she was going to make—although she didn’t have a lot of hope, not with Daddy in jail.
Chapter Two
Hannah Conway smiled to herself as she checked the shelves in the pantry off the Highland Farm kitchen. She’d only been married to Matt for four months, but she’d been living on the farm for two more. She’d started off taking care of Matt’s precocious daughter, five-year-old Jenny, whose mom had abandoned the family for greener pastures, so to speak—and left both her husband and her daughter in the lurch.
Then a frightening incident with their former handyman, Billy Ludlow, had propelled her into Matt’s arms. And in the aftermath, Matt had admitted his feelings for her.
Now here she was—with a husband and daughter she loved dearly.
She heard voices outside and figured it was the Garrett women picking up the laundry. She expected her housekeeper, Dora, to take care of it, until she heard a throat-clearing noise outside the pantry. Looking up, she saw Sophie Garrett standing with her hands clasped in front of her and an uncertain expression on her pretty face.
Hannah’s chest tightened as she looked at the young woman. She knew why Sophie might be worried. He father had been accused of burglary and assault. With Mr. Garrett in jail, the family had to be suffering—not just financially.
“Sophie, what can I do for you?” Hannah asked, making her voice soft and sympathetic.
“I hate to bother you, but I wanted to ask. . .” She stopped and swallowed hard, “About a job.”
“What kind of job?”
“Well, Dora has been telling us how her arthritis is acting up. And I was wondering if maybe she could use some help in the kitchen or around the house. I know I could help her.”
Taken by surprise, Hannah considered the idea. “What do you know about cooking?” she asked.
“I don’t know everything, but I help Momma prepare the meals,” she continued eagerly. “And I’m a fast learner if Dora wanted me to cook things I haven’t done before.”
Hannah listened to the girl. Probably she was worried that her offer would be rejected because of her father. But Hannah knew what it was like to be judged for the wrong reasons. After her own father had died, her only alternative was moving in with her aunt and uncle, who were not very prosperous farmers in the county. And she knew people had started seeing her as a member of their family, not as the daughter of a respected carpenter.
When Hannah didn’t reply at once, Sophie filled the silence. “I understand why you might not want to have me around here on a regular basis.”
“I know you’re a hard worker. But I can’t make a hiring decision on my own. I’d have to ask my husband about it,” she answered.
“And he’ll probably turn me down,” Sophie blurted.
Hannah smiled. “I have a way of getting him to see my point of view.”
Sophie’s expression turned eager. “You’d ask him?”
“Yes. And I’ll let you know as soon as I can.”
Chapter Three
That evening, as Hannah helped Dora prepare supper, she noticed how the older woman was moving more slowly than she used to. And she winced when she started peeling potatoes. She’d never complained to Hannah about her health, but now that Sophie had mentioned it, it was easy to see that the housekeeper could use some help—in the kitchen and around the house.
After the family ate dinner together in the kitchen, Hannah took Jenny up to get ready for bed. Bath time first and then a chapter from another Oz book. When Jenny was all tucked in, she’d come back down to talk to Matt.
###
Matt Conway was in the middle of going over his balance sheets. Since his wife had come into the Golden Legacy money, he was no longer worried about expenses on the farm. And it was amazing how you could increase your bottom line if you had some money these days. He’d made a survey of what products were still selling, checked out the companies’ finances and invested in Procter and Gamble, Standard Oil, Coca Cola, Zenith Radio, and a power tool company called Black and Decker, among others. All were paying good dividends, which meant Highland Farm no longer had to turn a profit.
He’d upped his payroll by hiring several men who lived in the area. He’d given his long-term farmhand Leland Calvert a raise and promoted Leland’s son Jack to farm manager—with a substantial increase in salary over what he’d been making just a few months ago. Jack had grown up on the property, and he knew the place as well as Matt did himself. Plus, he’d been an outstanding student in high school and had the knowledge to oversee all aspects of day-to-day operations—which left Matt free to focus on training horses for local races and eventually the Triple Crown. He’d already bought a promising two-year-old stallion named Warlord and was working with him daily, getting him ready for the Preakness.
Hearing a noise in the hall, he looked up to see his wife standing in the doorway, a tentative expression on her face.
Since she didn’t usually interrupt when he was working after dinner, he asked, “Is anything wrong?”
“Not with me,” she said quickly. “But I wanted to talk to you about something I’ve noticed recently.”
Crossing the floor, she sat down in the chair across the desk. After clearing her throat, she said, “I’m concerned about Dora.”
“What’s the problem?”
“I can see her arthritis is bothering her.”
He pursed his lips. “Has she been complaining?”
“No, but I was thinking she could use some extra help in the kitchen—and perhaps with the housework.”
“You mean hire someone to help her?”
“Yes. On a part-time basis.”
“Did you have someone in mind?”
“I was thinking of Sophie Garrett.”
Matt reared back in his chair. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
“But her father. . .”
Hannah must have been anticipating his reaction, and she began to speak rapidly. “He father may have been accused of a crime, but she’s not involved. Her family is suffering because he’s in jail. I know she’s a hard worker because she and her mother have been taking in laundry in the county.”
Matt closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. “After Billy Ludlow, you’d take a chance on Sophie Garrett?”
Hannah leaned forward. “Matt, you know Sophie has nothing to do with Billy.”
“I know that. I’m just pointing out that we’ve had one dangerous episode here. I don’t want another.”
“You think Sophie is going to steal your mother’s silver?”
Matt clenched his hand under the desk. Ever since his former hired hand had tried to get revenge for being fired, Matt had been super-tuned to anything that threatened his family. Yet he recognized that in this instance he wasn’t exactly being logical. Before he could speak again, his wife pressed, “I’d like to give the girl a chance.”
Matt dragged in a breath and let it out.
###
In the hall outside Matt’s office, farm manager Jack Calvert tensed. He’d come to tell Matt he’d found a rotten section of siding at the back of the stable behind Lucy’s stall and needed cash for a trip to Talbot’s lumberyard first thing in the morning.
When Hannah had come into money, Matt could have brought in a highfalutin new manager, but he preferred to keep the business in the family so to speak. And Jack was determined to live up to his boss’s faith in him. He was on top of day-to-day operations, and he was als
o trying to head off problems—which was why he’d been inspecting the stable.
At 25, Jack had made himself an integral part of the farm operation. In the hallway, he held his breath, waiting to hear how his employer would answer his wife. He knew why Matt had mentioned Billy Ludlow. They had all been on the scene when Hannah had started shouting for help as she kept Billy from striking a match to the gasoline he’d sloshed on the stable. Jack and Matt had both heard her cries and come running.
Matt wrestled the former handyman to the ground. And Jack delivered a disabling kick to his head before bringing the rope to tie him up. While Matt tended to an injured Hannah, Jack called the police and guarded Ludlow until they arrived.
Jack had assumed the three of them wanted to avoid more trouble—at all cost. Now Hannah was asking her husband if she could hire the daughter of a known criminal to help Jack’s mother around the house.
Matt had given his wife the right answer. But Hannah hadn’t let it go at that. She’d started picking away at his point of view.
In the office, Matt spoke. “I guess we can try her out. But at the first sign of trouble, she’s out.”
“Of course. Thank you for trusting my judgment.”
Jack wanted to shout “No” and charge into the room. How could they trust Sophie Garrett? What if her father had transferred his violent tendencies to his daughter? And now she was going to be working side by side with Jack’s mom. Perhaps being suspicious wasn’t fair to the girl, but better safe than sorry.
He clenched his teeth, struggling to get control of his emotions. Jack had never paid much attention to the Garretts. He tried to recall Sophie. She must have gone to the same schools as he, but she must be younger, and he couldn’t form a picture of her at all. He wished he’d paid attention when she was delivering laundry with his mother. Now he was going to have to be on the alert for any sign of trouble.
But until he could come up with something concrete, he didn’t have a vote in the matter. He might be the manager of Highland Farm, but it was Matt Conway’s business. And who was Jack to challenge him?