To Have and to Hold

by Fern Michaels

  “How much is the rent?” Kate asked anxiously. “Yes, moving is right for us. I need to get a job, a life. There’s nothing for me at the base.”

  “He said it is negotiable, which makes me think it’ll be a real dump. But we will do what we must to get by until Captain Starr returns. Soap and water plus a little paint can work miracles.”

  Kate brushed at the tears filling her eyes. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she whispered. “I have so much to tell you, but we’ll discuss it later. I don’t want the girls to get upset.”

  Della nodded. “I bought the paper this morning thinking you wouldn’t have a chance to pick one up. Do you think you could be a receptionist? There are several girl Friday jobs listed.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never worked on the outside. But I can learn,” Kate added firmly.

  Twenty minutes later, after following Della’s directions, Kate stopped the car in front of a run-down building with a FOR RENT sign in a front yard that was more of a trash dump than a yard. She cringed at the sight. “I guess this is it.” Neither woman made a move to get out of the car. A man as unkempt as the front yard appeared out of nowhere and sauntered over to them, hitching up his pants as he went along.

  “Afternoon, ladies,” he said, tipping an imaginary hat. “Come along, it isn’t as bad on the inside as it is outside. If you decide to take the apartment, I’ll have the trash hauled away.” He gave his pants a second hitch as he shrugged his light flannel shirt into place over his skinny shoulders. Despite his youthful manner, Kate could see he wasn’t a young man; he might have been sixty. “Donald Abbott,” he said, holding the door open for Della. “I do like a woman with meat on her bones,” he said, and winked at Kate.

  “I do not like scrawny men.” Della gave him a sour look.

  “You look like a good cook. The stove in the apartment is almost new. The oven works. Everything works. Even the shower.”

  “That’s a relief,” Kate said tartly. “Is this neighborhood safe?”

  “Of course it’s safe,” Abbott said testily. “Families live here. Poor families. They all help one another. Being poor doesn’t mean the neighborhood isn’t safe. Miss Della told me over the phone you had two little girls. If it wasn’t safe, I wouldn’t have given her the address.” He hitched up his pants again as he marched behind Kate up the front walkway.

  Fifteen minutes later, her heart thumping in her chest, Kate said, “Providing you clean this place, and providing the rent is right, I’ll take the apartment. One hundred and ten dollars,” she said firmly.

  “One hundred and fifty dollars, and I’ll let you have the wringer washer in the cellar. It works. Laundry tubs included. There’s no Laundromat close by. I’ll pay the water bill.”

  Kate weighed Abbott’s words. Two showers a day for her and Della, a filled tub for the girls each day, and laundry water, not to mention trips to the Laundromat if she could find one . . . “One hundred and twenty-five with the washer and no water bill. It’s all I can afford, so I can’t counteroffer again. Oh, the rooms need painting. If you give us the paint, we can do it ourselves. It’s your decision, Mr. Abbott.”

  It was a terrible apartment, Kate thought. She wasn’t sure if paint and curtains would improve it. Maybe she could find the same green-and-white wallpaper and redo the ancient kitchen. “New linoleum in the kitchen,” Kate blurted. God, she was really considering moving here!

  “You strike a hard deal, little lady,” Abbott said, extending his hand. “Consider yourself my new tenant. Rent is due the first of the month. I normally ask for a month’s security, but you look to me like you’re strapped right now. You can pay me ten dollars a month toward the security.”

  Thank you, God. “That will be just fine, Mr. Abbott. We’ll move in the first of February. Do you need a deposit now, or is my word good enough?”

  “Five dollars will hold it. It would help if I knew your name. This pretty lady, too,” Abbott said smiling at Della.

  “I’m Kate Starr and this is Della Rafella. My girls are Betsy and Ellie.”

  “Is there a Mr. Starr?”

  “Is that any of your business?” Della snapped.

  “Yes, there is a Mr. Starr, but he—”

  “Jumped out of his plane and he’s lost,” Ellie chirped.

  “I see,” Abbott said. “Listen, you don’t have to give me a deposit now. February first when you move in will be fine with me. My boy was killed in the Korean War.” He shuffled off, his shoulders slumped.

  “It’s going to be fine,” Kate said in the car on the ride back to the desert. “We’ll make that apartment a showplace, you wait and see.”

  Della blessed herself. “They say God watches over fools and foolish women. I don’t have any bad feelings about it, Kate. I might even be able to find some baby-sitting jobs to help out, and Ellie will have someone to play with.”

  “I made some decisions this week, Della. I have to have a ... I don’t know what to call it, an agenda maybe—maybe that’s the wrong word—but I honestly believe Patrick will come back. I don’t know when. Until he does, I’ll cope rationally with the uncertainty. I’m going to stay as busy as I can and do whatever I can for Patrick, even if it’s just writing letters every day that pile up someplace I’ve never heard of. I’ll keep Patrick alive for the girls. He is alive, Della, I know he is. For now I have to be patient because I have no other choice, and when my patience wears thin, I’ll ... do whatever I have to do. What do you think?” she said breathlessly, a catch in her voice.

  “Are we really going to move into that dump?” Betsy demanded from the backseat.

  Kate’s heart fluttered. “It just looks like a dump, Betsy. It isn’t really. We are going to have such fun fixing it up. You girls can pick out the color paint you want for your room and you can help paint. When it’s all done, we’ll take pictures and send them to Daddy. He’s going to be so proud of you.”

  “Pink and red,” Ellie said.

  “If you paint pink and red, the room will be hot-looking and you’ll sweat,” Betsy said. “I think we should paint it yellow so on a cold rainy day it will seem sunny. My teacher said yellow is a sunny color. Isn’t that right, Mommy?”

  “Yes, yellow is a sunny color, but pink and red are kind of cozy. Maybe we can think about doing the walls different colors or making new bedspreads. It’s something for all of us to think about and plan.”

  “Okay,” Ellie said agreeably.

  “What are we having for dinner?” Betsy asked.

  Kate could feel the child’s eyes boring into the back of her neck. She was about to say macaroni and cheese but changed her mind at the last second. “Hamburgers and french fries.”

  “Yippee!” Betsy squealed.

  “Yeah, yippee!” Ellie seconded her sister.

  Oh, Patrick, where are you?

  Betsy squeezed her eyes shut. She should have been asleep a long time ago. She opened her eyes to see her sister roll over.

  “Ellie,” she whispered, “are you asleep?”

  “You woke me up,” the little girl whined. Her thumb went into her mouth immediately. “Now I’m scared. Can I have the night-light, Betsy? Can I sleep with your?”

  Betsy hated the night-light, it made scary pictures on the wall. “Okay, but you have to be real quiet. Mommy gets mad when you sleep with me. And you better not wet the bed,” she hissed.

  “I promise,” Ellie said, snuggling into the narrow bed with her sister. “I know a secret,” she whispered.

  Betsy wiggled on her side of the bed to make more room for herself. “I know lots of secrets.”

  “My secret is about Mommy. Is your secret about Mommy?” Ellie asked sleepily.

  Betsy’s heart thudded in her chest. She wiggled some more. “If you tell me your secret, I’ll let Daddy hug you first when he comes home. That will be a promise. I’ll even make a big red X on your tablet so you won’t forget.” Her voice was anxious when she said, “Tell me the secret.”

  “Mommy
said a bad word today. I heard her. You were in school. I’m going to tell Daddy when he isn’t lost anymore.”

  “If you do that, you’ll be a tattletale. Daddy doesn’t like it when we tell on someone.”

  “He does so.”

  “He does not. I’m the oldest, I know. He told me so. When you’re the oldest, you know more. I go to school. What’s the secret, Ellie?”

  “Mommy said a bad word. She was looking in the book for her money and she only had three. She said the bad word and then she started to cry. That’s the secret. It’s a good secret, isn’t it, Betsy?”

  “Do you mean the cookbook?”

  “It’s like the checkerboard. In the pocket.” Ellie started to cry, sniffling into her blanket. “Mommy doesn’t have enough money, that’s why she said the bad word. Maybe we won’t have any breakfast tomorrow. Will we starve, Betsy?”

  “No,” Betsy mumbled.

  “Daddy’s not here. Mommy is doing everything different. We are so going to starve.” She was sobbing now, clutching her sister’s arm for comfort.

  “We can eat berries and roots like the rabbits do. Miss Roland read us a story like that. People don’t starve.”

  “When is Daddy not going to be lost anymore, Betsy? I want him to come home. Everyone but us has a daddy.”

  “We do so have a daddy. He isn’t here, that’s all. Don’t you ever say that again. If you do, I won’t like you.”

  “Jackie Rosen’s dog got lost and they didn’t find him. He’s lost forever and ever,” Ellie said mournfully.

  “That’s different. Jackie’s dog was dumb. Daddy isn’t dumb.”

  “I bet you’re the smartest sister in the whole world. I love you lots and lots, Betsy. Tell me a story about Daddy. A nice story. I don’t want to hear a sad story. I don’t like sad stories. Maybe the Easter bunny will bring Daddy home. Is it stupid to wish for that?”

  “No, it’s not stupid. I wish it, too. Did Mommy cry hard and have to blow her nose or did she have tears in her eyes?” Betsy asked in a choked voice.

  “She put her head down on the table and made funny noises. After she said the bad word. Tell me the story, Betsy.”

  “Once upon a time there was a little baby named Ellie....”

  When Betsy was sure her sister was asleep, she crept from the bed. On tiptoes she walked over to the dresser, opened the drawer quietly, and withdrew her bank. She knew exactly how much money she had: $5.12. She had two one-dollar bills and the rest was in change. Ellie had the same amount in her bank. With the handle of her comb she fished inside the bank until she was able to pull out the dollar bills. Then she did the same thing with Ellie’s bank. She rocked back on her heels for a moment as she stared at the bills in her hand. She was stealing Ellie’s money. That wasn’t right.

  She crawled over to her desk and reached for her tablet and pencil. She wrote $2.00 and printed her name. She was borrowing the money to give Mommy. When she opened the cookbook tomorrow, she’d think the Good Fairy had left the money. Ellie wouldn’t have to worry about starving and eating roots and berries.

  Betsy wanted to cry. Everything was different now. When Daddy was home, things were good. Everyone was happy. Now, everyone was grouchy and grumpy and nobody smiled. At that moment, she settled a thought in her mind. Daddies made a big difference. When a daddy didn’t live in the house and take care of things, it went wrong. Mommies didn’t know how to do things daddies did. There was always money in the back of the cookbook when Daddy was here. He was going to be proud of her when she told him she put money in the pocket to help Mommy. He’d hug and kiss her and say she did the right thing.

  Careful not to make any noise, Betsy walked down the hall to the kitchen. She stood on her tiptoes to reach for the Betty Crocker cookbook. She carried it over to the counter under the night-light and looked into the back. Ellie was right. Three one-dollar bills were folded neatly. With chubby hands she smoothed out the four bills in her hand, laid them on top, and then folded them again. Now they wouldn’t starve.

  When her daddy came home, she’d tell him Mommy tried to do her best. She cried, then, as she made her way back to her room and crawled into Ellie’s bed. She popped out a minute and pulled the covers up to her sister’s chin. She bent over to kiss her cheek and whispered, “We aren’t going to starve. I’ll take care of you, Ellie, just like I promised Daddy. If Mommy can’t do it, I can do it. I made a promise and I’m going to keep it.”

  She buried her face in Ellie’s pillow and cried. “I want you to come home, Daddy. I love you very much. Please, God, this is Betsy Starr talking. Send my daddy home, don’t let him be lost anymore.”

  She slept then, her pillow damp with tears that continued to seep from her eyes even in sleep.

  Ground Hog Day turned out to be a beautiful, warm, sunshiny day just the way Kate had promised the girls it would be. “The day of the big move” was how she’d referred to the date. Tears sliding down her cheeks, she walked through the apartment one last time, reliving memories of she and Patrick together. When Patrick returned, they’d come back together and ask the new tenants if they would permit a walk-through.

  She was in what Patrick called her “garden kitchen.” Her eyes strayed to the phone, which had been disconnected just an hour ago.

  Telephones were the lifeline to the outside world, to the military, to news of Patrick. When her new phone was installed on Monday, she would have to start the calls all over again and leave her new number. She knew in her heart her situation would be set back weeks, maybe even months, by something as innocuous as a changed phone number.

  During the night, as she’d struggled for sleep, she’d realized she had to change her personal deadline for her husband’s return. It simply wasn’t going to happen in a matter of weeks or months, as she’d first thought. At some point during her restless night she’d extended his return to a year, possibly two. She’d cried then, begging God to hear her prayers, to return Patrick to her safe and sound.

  Her eyes still on the kitchen wall phone, she remembered in agonizing detail the last conversation she’d had with Bill Percy. She’d badgered him relentlessly to tell her how the military could keep records of Patrick.

  “If he isn’t listed as a prisoner of war, how can he be returned? If those people shot him, will there be a record? Admit to me that Patrick is on his own. I don’t want to hear excuses and lame explanations. How long is this war going to last?” She’d been furious and disgusted when Percy couldn’t give her the answers. As a parting salvo, she’d shouted, “If you can’t give me answers, then I’ll have to find someone who will.” And as she was hanging up the phone, she’d heard him say in a rock-hard voice, “Mrs. Starr, you will endanger your husband’s well-being if you start trouble. You must remain calm and let us do what we’re trained to do.” To which she’d replied, “Bullshit!” She’d found that the word no longer embarrassed her as it once had.

  Kate wiped at her misty eyes. She couldn’t fall apart now. She was on her own and she had to hold things together. It was almost a joke. What did she know about things like this? She was a mother, a housewife. Patrick had always taken care of things.

  She needed a plan. Two plans. Plan A would work for Patrick’s return and Plan B would be ... would be a means to live her life without Patrick. “I’ll learn. I’ll learn,” she muttered, locking the door, then sliding the key under the mat for the next tenant.

  The girls were settled in the car, and Della was waiting on the sidewalk. Her eyes spewing sparks, Kate exploded, the volley of words startling the housekeeper. “I am pissed off, Della! They should have moved me. Paid for this move. They don’t care. No orders. My husband is missing in action and they say they have no orders, so my move is my move, but they won’t release Patrick’s pay for me to pay the rent here. I can’t believe it!”

  “Never mind, Kate,” Della said comfortingly, ushering her behind the steering wheel. “Let’s just head for our new home. I can’t wait to see if our new landlord worke
d a few miracles on that ratty house. I’m just glad we’ll get there before the furniture. I loaded all the cleaning supplies in the trunk just in case.”

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Kate said, leaning over to hug her.

  Church bells were tolling the noon hour when Kate stopped the car in front of her new home. She was relieved to see that the pile of trash was gone and the yard was neatly raked. Grass seed had been planted, and fragile threads of green could be seen waving in the slight breeze. Even the beautiful olive tree had been pruned and clipped. Kate could feel her spirits lifting.

  Inside, her jaw dropped before she uttered a squeal of pure delight. All the walls were a pristine white. Light fixtures had been replaced, and there was a new floor covering in the kitchen. “Look, Della, it isn’t linoleum, it’s floor tile. No cracks, and there’s even a border. Ohhh, look how clean this refrigerator is, and the stove positively gleams. Shelf paper! Good Lord, there’s wax on the venetian blinds. I can smell it.”

  “The bathroom has been regrouted. It’s so clean and sparkling, you need sunglasses,” Della said happily. “The parquet floor is beautiful. And look at that fireplace! It will be wonderful on chilly evenings. We can even have dinner in front of it.”

  “Mommy, our bedroom is white,” Ellie whined.

  “Two walls are pink,” Betsy said.

  “I’m sure there’s a reason for the pink walls. Mr. Abbott was trying to be nice to us, so he painted the rooms so we wouldn’t have to do it. I think for now we should just appreciate it, and later, if he gives his permission, we can repaint it.”

  Ellie said, “Okay.”

  Betsy sulked.