If You Keep Me

by Knight, Ciara

  Sometime in the early morning hours, a strangled cry woke her from a blissful sleep.

  “No. Don’t want to kill you.” Vic cried out in a sound Rosie could only describe as animalistic.

  “Darling. Wake up. It’s okay. You’re here, home, with me.” She sat up to hold him in her lap and stroke his damp hair. “You’re safe in our home. The war’s over.”

  He bolted awake, his head turned wildly in all directions until he let out a long gust of air and held his head in his hands. As if he remembered where he was, he snapped to attention, jumping from the bed and landing in an awkward position down on one knee, far from her arms. “Did I hurt you?” His gaze traveled wildly over her face, neck, arms, body.

  “No, you’d never hurt me.” She waved him to her. “You had a bad dream. That’s all.” She scooted to the edge of the bed to be closer to him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  He shook his head, eyes wide.

  Rosie didn’t want to cause him any more undue stress, so she offered her hand. “Then come.” She guided him up onto the bed to rest his head on her lap while she stroked his hair once more. “Rest. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.” She kissed his forehead and shhhhed softly in his ear until his body relaxed. His eyes popped open and he jolted several times until his body released all tension and he slept once more. Rosie leaned back and held him, realizing she wasn’t the only one with fear in her heart. Was this the reason he’d slept in the other room since he’d arrived home? Did he finally trust her enough to share his wounds with her, the kind that he could only face in the night?

  She sat up and watched the sun rise until it was time to make coffee, and then she reluctantly slipped from his arms. Before she could finish in the kitchen, the shower cut on, and she knew he’d be racing for the store and Davey. She’d known he’d been sneaking out to check on him each morning.

  She poured two cups, made some toast and eggs, and then placed everything on the table to wait for him and to discuss his dream. For the first morning in weeks, she was gifted with the sight of Victor before the sun rose in the sky. “Good morning, my love. I made breakfast.”

  He stood at the crossroads of the front door and desperation. “I-I’ll be right back. I’ve forgotten something at the office, but I’ll return soon.”

  She stood and blocked his exit. “It’s Sunday. Certainly you don’t need to rush off. The store’s closed. We need to get ready for church.”

  The ticking of the clock on the mantel and the way he eyed it told her he was calculating his options. She could stand in his way and quarrel, or she could let him go but with a compromise. “Promise me you’ll return for church and that we can talk more then.”

  A quick kiss to her cheek was her only answer before he fled from the house. She settled into her seat and stared across the table at the emptiness of the room. She could remain here and fret over him caring more about Davey and his shop than her, or she could join him, showing him she was healed and ready to move on with their lives together. With forced courage, she decided to dress and make her way to face Davey and her past. She only hoped Davey didn’t send her away, but she had to face the possibility of rejection if she were to move forward.

  A dusting of snow floated in the sky, reminding her of the cold night she’d spent waiting for Davey and Esther to show for her to clean them up and get them fed. Like most nights, she figured Esther would spend the night and Davey would go on his way, never willing to stay with her. Well, today was no different. She’d offer Davey a spot at their dinner table tonight. The frost on the window made it difficult to see into the store, so after a deep breath, she marched inside to face Vic and Davey but found much more. A gaggle of children stretching, folding blankets, and rubbing their eyes.

  “This is why you’ve been running off every morning?”

  Vic took her elbow and led her toward the front door. “Please, I’ll be home soon. We’ll talk then.”

  No, she wouldn’t be so easily turned away. “If this is part of your life, then it’s mine, too.” She slid her purse off her arm and set it on the front table. “So, you’ve all been sleeping in the store?”

  A little girl with red hair swished back and forth with the blanket wrapped around her neck. “Last night was the first night. It was warm. I’d like to stay again.” She was so young, possibly the age Esther was when she’d died. Rosie’s heart ached to hold the child.

  Davey tossed his blanket aside and marched to her. “I ain’t doing nothing wrong. And we’s helping watch the store to keep it safe.”

  Rosie could feel Vic’s analyzing gaze on her. Despite the voice in her head wanting to scream at the injustice, despite how many times she’d blamed herself for Esther’s death—and she’d always feel responsible—logically she knew it wasn’t her fault. It was time for Davey to see that. Although, it stung that Davey slept here, considering he’d never agreed to stay the night with her. Now wasn’t the time for hurt feelings. It was time to help these lost and forgotten children. She couldn’t turn them away, not if she wanted to prove to Vic how much stronger she’d become, so she forced a friendly smile. “Well, then. I guess my offer for Davey to join us for dinner has to be changed.”

  Davey licked his lips and then glanced over his shoulder before straightening his coat and lifting his chin. “Guess so.”

  “Guess you’ll all have to come.”

  The redhaired girl clapped and jumped up and down, her hair bouncing like a rag doll.

  Davey cleared his throat. “What’s the catch?”

  “Catch?” Rosie looked to Vic and then to the children. “Well, nothing. I mean, you’ll have to come to Sunday dinner in your best.”

  Another young man scratching his head vigorously paused for a second. “But this is our best and only clothes.”

  “I can clean them for you before we eat. Come by an hour before dinner, and we’ll get you suitably dressed.”

  “No way. Not gonna bathe me and put that stinky stuff in my hair. Not again.”

  That’s when Rosie knew how to snag Davey into coming. “I’m making fried chicken.”

  Davey jolted as if the announcement of his favorite food changed him into a willing participant.

  “And apple cobbler,” she added for extra ammo.

  The little ones surrounded Davey. “Please. I’ll take a bath; I’ll even comb my hair for apple cobbler,” the other young girl said. The tiny child with a coat that draped over her body couldn’t have been more than four or five.

  “Shush up,” Davey ordered, and they all fell in line. “Fine, but no gobbledygook in my hair.”

  “Deal.” She spun, grabbed her bag, and faced an open-mouthed, large-eyed husband. “See you in twenty for church?”

  He only nodded, as if a tomcat had scratched his tongue. The wind picked up, but she tightened her jacket and headed home to get ready for church.

  They went to church and returned with barely a word between them. She only hoped for once his silence was a good thing, seeing how much she’d changed and grown.

  When she went to change out of her Sunday best, she took the little tin can and placed it on the bed. Vic entered the room, his gaze dancing all over the room and trying not to settle on the rubbers. “Darling,” she said in the softest, most sultry tone she could manage.

  He bolted to the bathroom and shut the door, ending any further conversation.

  His rejection stung. Tears threatened, but she wouldn’t let her emotions rule. It would only give fuel to Vic’s fear that she wasn’t ready for a baby.

  The front door opened and shut, and she assumed he’d left to check on the children. After picking up the wood she needed to fill the next order for Mr. Richards, she started dinner. She’d been so focused on her marriage that she’d neglected work, so she’d have to work twice as hard tomorrow if she was to get the order done by next weekend. The money was good, and if she kept up the pace, they wouldn’t lose Vic’s family store. They’d finally be able to pay rent and all
the other bills in the same month. Vic had mentioned a slight increase in customers with the holiday season, but how long would that last? She knew he wanted his family business to survive, and she wanted that for him too. It was all he had left of his parents.

  The kitchen was a place she could think without interruption since Vic never entered when she was cooking. The image of that little girl stuck in Rosie’s heart like a thorn, one she couldn’t remove. Would Davey keep her away and living in the streets instead of letting her remain in Vic and Rosie’s care? Did she want to care for another child who reminded her so much of such a great loss?

  Before the sun dipped below the trees, a light knock sounded at the front door. She opened it to find Davey, who removed his hat and stepped inside.

  “Mrs. B—I mean Mrs. Bessler, I don’t want to ruin the chance for a good meal for the others, but I don’t want to upset you neither. I’ll make some excuse when we get here, and you can accept it with no questions.”

  Rosie looked at the little man who she’d once held in her arms as he cried. “Nonsense. You’re not getting out of a bath that easily. Now get to the bathroom and toss your clothes out to me so I can get them mended and cleaned for dinner. You’ll wear one of Mr. Bessler’s long shirts while you wait for your clothes to dry.”

  “You sure?” Davey asked.

  She scooted him toward the bathroom. “Better get to it, or I’m going to scrub you myself.”

  “I’m a man now. You can’t do that.”

  “Then you best get to work.”

  Davey quickened his pace and shut the bathroom door. After a few minutes, the door cracked, and he tossed his clothes out and then slammed it shut.

  She washed them in the hottest water possible and hung them up to dry, hoping she’d killed any lice. Once Davey finished his bath, she came in and cut, shampooed, and combed the lice from his poor, itchy head. Thank goodness it wasn’t summer, or she’d be dealing with fleas, too. For a few moments, it felt like old times, bringing him and his sister inside when Davey would declare his father having a bad moment, cleaning them up, only to have him decide to return. Her eyes stung with tears at the memories, so she was thankful when a front door knock came again. After two hours, she’d managed to de-lice, clean, cut hair, and had all five of the children sitting at the table. A sight that made her feel full of unexpected joy.

  The one she’d learned was Gina spoke. “But Mrs. B, we can’t eat like this. We need better clothes. This ain’t proper.”

  “Well, they’re not dry yet, dear girl, so we’ll have to pretend. Hopefully they’ll dry next to the fire by the time the evening ends.”

  Vic sat across from her with the firelight glowing from behind. The man looked nervous yet happy. He took Davey’s hand, and they each took one another until the circle wrapped around the table. Little eyes all blinked up, waiting for Vic, who took his cue and prayed. Little heads bowed while Vic spoke, and at the end, they all declared, “Amen.” And the children dug in with no manners whatsoever. Rosie sighed and deemed it a lost cause to teach children manners in one evening, when she’d barely taught Esther and Davey in months. She was pleased to at least see Davey use a fork.

  “I forgots how good you cook,” Davey said with potatoes falling from his mouth.

  Vic watched them all tentatively and then looked to Rosie and mouthed Thank you.

  The thought that she’d done something to please him strengthened her resolve to show him that they were ready to be man and wife, but for now, she only nodded. The children were in need, and she was on a mission to prove she could handle having them in her life again.

  When not a morsal of food remained, Davey scooted his chair out. “Let’s go. Don’t want to overstay our welcome.”

  Rosie pointed to the fireplace. “But your clothes haven’t dried. Besides, you can’t leave without helping clean up. Clear the table and go sit by the fire.”

  Vic took hold of her, hugging her tight. “I’ll take care of the dishes. You go work on the clothes. And Rosie… You are more amazing than I even remembered.”

  With those words in her mind, she settled herself by the fire, and only a few minutes later little snores echoed through the house.

  All but Davey slept. He stood and snagged his shirt from where it hung. “I best be going. I’ll wake them after I dress.”

  “No, let them sleep,” Rosie said.

  “I can’t. I’m in charge of the store. I need to keep people from stealing from Mr. B.”

  Vic poked his head out from the kitchen. “No need tonight, Davey. I’m working on something, so I’ll be there all night. You rest for now.”

  Davey settled back down with a yawn. “Only for a minute. Then we go.” His head fought to remain upright, but it kept bobbing back until his little eyes finally gave up. But only a minute later, he shot straight, grabbed his damp clothes, and raced to the bathroom.

  “Where are you going?” Rosie asked.

  “Not here,” Davey said.

  His words were like daggers to her soul. Did he hate her for not saving his sister’s life? Before she had a chance to ask, he bolted from their home, and Vic followed, leaving her behind once more. Somehow, he’d bonded with Davey in a way she never had, and as much as that hurt, she was glad for it. She watched the others sleep and knew she’d spend most of the night mending and sewing to provide better clothes for the children.

  Vic returned an hour later but didn’t say a word about Davey. He kissed her on the head. “They look so peaceful. Can we let them stay? Only for tonight? Their clothes haven’t dried and probably won’t by morning.”

  She nodded but didn’t love the idea. Because in the morning, she knew the truth: Davey would return, only to disappear once more, and this time he’d take the rest of them with him. He never wanted to stay with Rosie, not even when she begged him.

  And in the morning, she saw she’d been right. Davey and the others, their clothes, and all sign of them were gone, except for the folded blankets on the floor.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sleep remained unattainable for a week for Vic. He feared he might wake and find himself crying on the floor, and he couldn’t break down like that in front of Rosie again. Or worse, he worried he might be so lost in a dream he’d wake to find Rosie harmed.

  But each night he began to relax a little more as Rosie stroked his hair and held him tight. On day seven, he slept like he hadn’t in years. For the next week, a routine formed. Each evening he found the rubbers resting on the night side table, he’d slide them into the drawer and take Rosie into his arms. Each night his will deteriorated, and he knew something would have to change. He’d move into the other room again before he’d chance Rosie dying from a bad pregnancy again.

  Each morning, he’d rethink moving from the room when he woke with his beloved wife in his arms. “You are the most beautiful creature ever to walk this world,” Vic whispered before leaving her with a kiss to her head.

  She watched as he dressed. The way she looked at him intensified his yearning for her. “I love you, Victor Bessler. Not in the way I did when we first married, yet something grows deeper between us. I can’t explain it.”

  He returned to her side. “I, too, feel the same way, my love.” He cupped her hands and kissed each knuckle. “I want you so much, Rosie. I’m torn between my desire and the chance we take with your life.”

  “I’m stronger now. You can trust me to handle anything. Haven’t I’ve shown you how strong I am?”

  He cupped her cheek and rested his head to hers. “Oh, Rosie. I never doubted your strength. It was a reason I used to keep the distance between us. I do understand how dark times were for you, and you are not the only person to grieve so deeply you couldn’t see light ahead. I don’t blame you for what happened.” He pressed his lips to the scar on her wrist.

  “Then what keeps you from making love to me?” Rosie asked in a tone of such need, he questioned his resolve.

  “I know how you had complications after
your miscarriage. Mrs. Slaughter sent me a letter after her husband perished overseas. She told me that she found strength in you, Rosie, after you’d had the miscarriage complications and you almost died of infection.” His voice shook, his chest burned.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Rosie asked.

  He blinked at her. “Because I’d hoped you’d tell me yourself when you were ready.”

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have told you, but you were already so nervous about the risk of pregnancy that I didn’t want to complicate things further.” She pointed to the drawer that housed the rubbers. “But we have a solution for now. You don’t have to worry about another baby. Not until we’re ready.”

  “Not until? Are you saying you still want to try for another child of our own?” Conflicting emotions collided inside him of hope and despair.

  “Yes. Not now, but someday.”

  Vic slipped from her arms, needing to escape the turmoil inside him. “I need to check on the children.”

  Before she could argue further, he slipped from the room. He paused in the hallway to gather himself and find a calmness he didn’t feel. After a moment, he made his way to the shop, where he was happy to discover Davey hadn’t ushered the others outside into the cold. They stood and folded their blankets and headed for the door, but Vic couldn’t allow it. Not anymore. “Today, I need extra help. I expect more customers, so that means I can’t keep up with the cleaning and sanding and staining some of the toys. Do you think we can work out an agreement for some extra help through the holidays? Davey, I’d like you promoted to my full-time assistant. Reggie, could you do the staining, Eva some of the painting, and Gina and Betty do the cleaning?”

  The two little ones looked to Davey with large eyes Vic didn’t think any man could refuse, and to his relief Davey offered one nod of approval. They all jumped in and worked harder and better than any grown man or woman.

  Vic found himself yearning for them to be in the shop with him during the day, but he still couldn’t get Davey to agree to staying at his and Rosie’s house.