If You Keep Me

by Knight, Ciara

“Please, I want to go see him.” She didn’t wait for an answer before heading for their room.

  “No, but I’ll send him here. Perhaps you can get him to take a nap by the fire.”

  She nodded and hurried to change. “And a warm breakfast.”

  He smiled and went to the guest room, where his clothes still remained since he hadn’t had a chance to return them yet. Before he could finish tying his tie, a pounding at the front door startled him into movement. Certainly it wasn’t Ms. Cramer come to take the children. He wouldn’t have it. He’d fight with everything they had. If not for himself, then for Rosie, to fulfill her need to give him children.

  Dressed and hair done, Rosie raced from their room on his heels, fear in her eyes but fists at her side.

  “Stay calm,” he assured her. “Everything will be fine.”

  Pound. Pound. Pound.

  He opened the door to see Miss. Alberts, owner of the soda shop. “Hurry, sir. Your store… It’s on fire.”

  “The children!” Rosie screeched and took off out the door, but he grabbed her before she made it down the first step and held her to him.

  He knew there’d be no way of keeping her inside safe while the children were in danger, but he could at least try to delay her. “Stop. Get your coat, hat, and gloves before you come. I won’t have you sick again.”

  With his own coat and hat in hand, he ran all the way to the shop, slipping and sliding along the sidewalk. Gray smoke plumed from inside. His lungs stopped, the world stopped, but his feet did not.

  Mr. Mason stood at the front of the drug store, shouting, “I told you those kids were nothing but trouble. I told you they set that fire. Now you’ll cost us both our shops!”

  Melba stood near the store front whimpering, and her tiny voice asked, “Is Davey inside?”

  Her father snatched her by the collar and shoved her along the street, away from danger of fire and a homeless boy.

  Vic pulled on the door, but it was locked. His keys were still at home. He eyed the area and didn’t see anything to break the window, so he wrapped his hand in his handkerchief and punched the glass. It shattered, allowing him to reach through and unlock the door.

  “Davey! Eva! Betty! Gina! Reggie!”

  Rosie arrived and began to race inside, but he caught her at the threshold. “No, stay here. I’ll pass the children to you. It’s too smoky to see. I can’t find you, too.”

  He didn’t wait for a response. “Davey! Answer me!”

  The smoke rushed at him from the corner. He knew instantly what it was. Dear God, the old space heater.

  “Gina! Anyone! Say something!”

  The only answer was the crackling sound from the heater.

  Chapter Twenty

  Smoke stung Rosie’s eyes. She blinked through the watering and searched the grayness, waiting for a child to come running into her arms.

  “I told you those kids were bad news.” Mr. Mason stood at a safe distance, not offering any help but close enough to offer his opinion. “That fire best not reach my store!”

  She turned on him. “I’m sorry you care more about a building than the safety of a child.”

  Mr. Mesa lifted his cane. “Best move out of the way if you won’t help.”

  Miss Alberts and Mrs. Hetland ushered Mr. Mason back. Mrs. Slaughter joined Rosie but didn’t say a word.

  She held her breath and prayed and prayed and prayed.

  A cough. It was small. So small she wasn’t sure she heard it correctly. “Victor,” she called out in hopes he’d answer, but smoke continued to pour through the door without a word.

  Bang. Thump. Scraaaape.

  A dark object appeared, smoke billowing from it. She grabbed hold, but the heat burned through her mittens. She removed her coat and used it to tug and yank as someone pushed until it reached the doorway. The space heater sputtered and croaked its final breaths before she managed to wrestle it outside. “Get the children. I’ve got this.”

  All of her focus remained on Davey, the others, and her husband inside. Mr. Mason continued to snap orders about getting the contraption away from his store but from a distance.

  Vic’s coughs echoed from inside, but the smoke began to dissipate now that the contraption was outside. She waved her hands, swishing the grayness to make out Vic carrying the two younger ones. She grabbed them, ran to the street, and fell to the ground, still a little too weak to continue any farther. Their little eyes were watering.

  “Davey? Where’s Davey? He put water blankets over us, but then he was gone,” little Gina cried.

  Two more little bodies were passed to Mrs. Slaughter, and she settled them by Rosie.

  “Davey!” they all cried out.

  Rosie had no doubt that boy would give his life for these children. She looked to the winter sky. “Please God.”

  The children in her arms coughed and wheezed and sobbed.

  Vic burst through the smoke and brought Davey to her but didn’t stop. “Bring them to the doctor,” he said between coughs.

  “What about that contraption?” Mason hollered after, but the friends and neighbors of Sugar Maple ignored him. Mrs. Slaughter, Miss Alberts, and a younger man Rosie hadn’t seen around town carried a child and followed Vic to the doctor’s home at the edge of the square. Rosie managed to stand and lift tiny Eva.

  Her legs wobbled, but she didn’t waiver. Anxiety rolled through her, but she held tight to the little one, focusing on what she could handle, not on the idea of losing another child.

  They reached Dr. Anderson’s home, and he ushered them inside. “Put them on the couch, that one the kitchen table. All of you out while I work.”

  Eva squeezed Rosie’s hand. “No, don’t leave, Mama.”

  Rosie collapsed by her side. The word Rosie thought she’d never hear stole her breath. She rocked Eva in her arms. “I’m not going anywhere, sweet girl.”

  Vic remained at Davey’s side. “Neither will I.”

  “Fine, the rest of you out.” Dr. Anderson worked on Davey while the other children huddled around Rosie on the couch. They clung to each other with damp hair and clothes but appeared to be fine. Davey had done it. He’d protected the children with wet blankets and his bravery.

  For the time it took the clock to click two hundred and thirty-two times, there was no noise from Davey. On the two hundredth and thirty-third, time he coughed like a hundred-and-twenty-year-old coal miner. But it was the most beautiful sound Rosie had ever heard.

  “Davey… That’s it, boy.” Vic’s voice sounded hoarse, but she thought it was more from emotion than from smoke. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve never put that old space heater in that store.”

  “My fault. You trusted me, but I turned it on in the night. Eva was cold,” Davey managed between staggered breaths. “Thought I was grown up enough to handle it.”

  “No, you did nothing wrong, only tried to help. I should’ve never let you stay there.”

  “Better than outside.”

  “Not outside. Home. You should all be at home. No more sleeping outside, or in the store, or anywhere but at home. Our home.” Vic’s words sent tendrils of love through Rosie like she’d never felt before for her husband. She’d always loved him, desired him, but something had changed. It was more than physical or emotional attraction. It was respect and a deeper, different kind of love a person could only get by surviving the bad times. She saw that now. And she knew she never wanted to give up on having her family.

  Once the doctor pronounced Davey okay, she lifted Eva into her arms and went to Davey’s side. “Mr. B’s right. We want you to live with us.”

  “How will you pay? Heard woman wants thousands of dollars.” Davey wiped his red, running eyes and nose.

  “Don’t worry about the money. Because you didn’t just save all of them.” She pointed to the pile of children on the couch peering over the back. “You saved the day. Davey, all that work you did to get the furniture done, and you kept up on your studies. No parent has ever been so p
roud of their son.”

  Davey’s eyes ran more, and he swiped the boy tears away and sat up man tall. “I don’t need no parents. Had them and didn’t like them.” He pointed one finger out from his coat. “Those do, though.”

  Eva whimpered. “Don’t leave us, Davey. Mama’s nice. Not like your papa was.”

  Davey hopped down and straightened his dark-stained collar. “I’ll get you all settled, and then it’s time for me to go and make my way in life.”

  Vic looked to Rosie for guidance, but she had none except to hope to change Davey’s mind. “Davey, will you at least stay through Christmas? As your gift to us?”

  He lifted his chin. “Yes. I can do that for a gift.”

  Vic nodded his acknowledgement of Rosie’s efforts, and they gathered their gaggle of children and headed home. A home she knew would only ever be complete with Davey. And hopefully, someday, a baby.

  * * *

  The next forty-eight hours Vic spent rearranging the house to fit all the kids, cleaning the store up from the smoky heater, and making calls to other local orphanages in hopes of finding some answers. Rosie kept Davey in her sight when he wasn’t helping Vic, and they made beds for the children together. They would need to add on to their home someday, but for now, the kids only wanted to sleep piled together. In time, they would trust and feel safe, but they’d have to take it one day at a time.

  As Christmas Eve approached, Rosie worried and prayed more and more for Davey to trust them to be good parents. She knew she should be overjoyed to have these children in her life, and she was. She was happier than she could ever remember being, but when she spotted the green and white tin on the nightstand that night, she resented ever bringing it into their marriage. In the mirror, she looked at her belly, rubbing it as if a magic lamp. She longed to feel that first flutter, a kick, the rollover, and to finally give birth to her own baby. Someday, she hoped Vic would understand that she could do it. That she could survive another pregnancy. And she knew next time she’d have a healthy child.

  On Christmas Eve day, she and Davey finished the last order of the year. The order that would finally provide enough to purchase two of the children. She only hoped it would be enough to satisfy the most insane request for adopting a child, but she wouldn’t make waves since she had to beg them for more time.

  The day they delivered the last order, the entire trip back from Clinton, Davey appeared to be contemplating his future. “Do you think they’ll hire me in a factory?”

  “No, I don’t think so. You’ll need a couple of more years.” That’s when the idea popped into her head. “You know, with all these orders, I’ll need to hire someone when you leave. Even if I’m able to come up with the rest of the money for the other children. I still need to make over two thousand dollars.”

  He snapped up with a smile and then covered it. “Well, if it means that Reggie, Gina, Betty, and Eva can stay and be adopted, then I’ll have to help. I’ll work for room and food.”

  “It sounds like a deal.” They pulled up to the house, and the others were having a snowball fight. Davey looked as if he wanted to join them and be a kid. “Why don’t you play?”

  “No time for play.”

  Rosie tapped his cap. “There’s always time for play. Come on.” She bolted to the snow and rolled up a ball, grateful all her energy had returned. Before she could throw one to Davey, he lobbed one straight to her chest.

  “You got quite the arm there, son,” Vic called out. “Ever think of playing ball?”

  Davey rolled another snowball and threw it at Vic, who returned fire. The snow began to fall once more, and the radio had announced a blizzard would hit, so she ushered the children inside to decorate the tree they’d cut down together the day before.

  Popcorn and berry strings were on the table, waiting to be strung. “Wow, you all did this?”

  “Dad helped,” little Eva said. The term caused Vic to light up brighter than any Christmas lights.

  “Well, we best get started. But first, we need to hang up our stockings for Santa.”

  Betty blinked at her. “Stockings? I don’t have no stocking.”

  Rosie went to the kitchen and retrieved the hidden box and opened it in front of the children.

  “It has my name!” Gina squealed, took it from the box, and danced around the room as if the stocking was a fairy prince.

  Eva pulled out the tiny one that Rosie had forgotten to hide. “Is this tiny one for me?”

  Rosie snatched it, but not quick enough that Vic hadn’t seen it with a disapproving frown. She tucked it under her cushion of the chair and found the one that said Eva. The little girl threw her arms around Rosie’s neck and kissed her cheek.

  All the children giggled and hung their stockings. Even Davey joined in with a sideways remark, “So the others don’t feel silly.”

  Vic patted him on the head, and they all decorated the tree, drank hot chocolate, and settled in for a beautiful, exciting evening. Rosie wished she could freeze the moment in time before the magical evening turned to darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Vic cuddled Reggie and Betty into his sides and listened to Gina attempt to read The Little Drummer Boy. At Rosie’s suggestion, the children passed the book around, each attempting to read a page. When it reached Davey, he stood as if to recite Shakespeare to the Queen and read with inflection and tone. The boy was a quick study and enjoyed the attention he received.

  After a great applause and a bow, they all settled onto the couch and listened to the radio until the sound of screeching tires shattered their evening.

  Vic stood and settled Betty on the couch next to Reggie. “Wait here.” He went to the window and looked out to discover two police cars and Mr. Mason marching up the front walk.

  He turned to face the others to tell them to run. But where would they go? Davey saw his expression and grabbed his coat.

  Rosie quickly scooped the pile of kids closer to her. “No, don’t run, Davey.”

  Davey blinked at her, and Vic took him by the shoulder. “Mrs. B is right, there’s no place left to run. When I was in the war, we would advance and retreat until we had nowhere else to hide, and then we would make our stand. Today, that’s what we’re going to do.”

  He took Davey by the hand and sat him on the coffee table by his side facing the others.

  Bam. Bam. Bam.

  The knocks were urging Vic to speak quickly, but he forced himself to remain calm. “I want each of you to listen to me. No matter what happens next, you will all be calm. We vow that we will fight each and every day until we have you all home. If they’re able to take you from us today, we will get you tomorrow. Never, ever stop believing that we will fight to have you here with us. You all understand?”

  “I never had no one fight for me before,” Eva said.

  Bam. Bam. Bam.

  “Davey, we need you to stay, too. I know if they send you to an orphanage, you will hate it, but you have to stay where we can find you. Do you trust us?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Bam. Bam. Bam.

  “Open up or the police will break down the door,” Mr. Mason yelled.

  Vic went to the entryway, took one more glance at Rosie, and found Davey sitting by her side where he belonged. He unlocked the door, and it swung open on him with Mr. Mason pushing through to the children. Vic grabbed his shirt and yanked him back. No way that man was going to threaten his kids.

  “No,” Rosie scolded. “The children.”

  Vic took in a long breath to soothe his anger and let the man go. Mr. Mason rounded on him, an expression more of panic than anger. “My daughter. My Melba. She’s gone.”

  “What?” Davey asked, jumping to his feet. “Where’d she go?”

  “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be here. But I know you did this. I told that social worker you were nothing but a thief and a mongrel. Where did you take my Melba?”

  Rosie scooched the children together on the couch and rose with a calmne
ss Vic had never seen from her. “Mr. Mason, I can assure you Davey had nothing to do with your daughter disappearing. He’s been with me all day.”

  “You’d say anything to protect that heathen. He’s just like the man who took my wife away. That smooth tongue that convinces a girl to do wrong. I know the type. You’re dangerous, boy.” He pointed at Davey, but before Vic had a chance to lose his temper, Rosie grabbed Mr. Mason’s finger and pushed it away.

  “I’ll tell you this once, Mr. Mason. We are happy to aid in the search for your daughter, but you will stop being rude to my boy. Today, now, and forever, you will treat these children with respect.”

  Officer Walker stepped inside Vic’s home. “Mr. Bessler, we apologize for the interruption.” He removed his hat and nodded to them. “Happy Christmas.

  “Mr. Bessler, you’re doing a fine thing here with these children. We don’t mean to interrupt your time, but we did want to ask if anyone had seen Melba Mason today.”

  Everyone shook their head.

  “Thank you for your time. I apologize again for the intrusion.”

  “Wait. That’s it? Arrest that boy. Make him talk,” Mr. Mason spit, and his face scrunched together in red lines. “I know he knows something.”

  Davey stood with his blank face, the one he used when he was hiding something, but Vic knew it wasn’t a good idea to question the kid in front of Mr. Mason. Instead, he said aloud, “As you can see, no one knows anything.”

  “I know they do. Last I saw her, she ran off toward the woods.”

  Davey’s expression cracked, and his gaze darted to his coat and hat. Before Vic could ask, Davey grabbed his stuff and raced out the back door.

  “I told you he knew. Go after him.”

  Rosie was already at the back door, hollering for him to return.

  Officer Walker backed out of the door. “I’ll get my flashlight and gear; I’ll help you look.”

  Vic took his and Rosie’s coats, hats, and mittens from the rack. “You kids remain right here.”

  Four little faces looked up with fear in their eyes, their perfect Christmas unraveling like a bad bow.