The Best of Intentions

by Susan Anne Mason

  Next door, a woman stepped out onto the front porch.

  Grace’s steps slowed. Perhaps a neighbor might know something about Rose or her landlady. She headed across the lawn.

  The plump woman wearing a flowered dress shook a mat over the railing. She glanced up as Grace approached. “Good afternoon. Can I help you?”

  Grace put on her friendliest smile. “I hope so. I’m looking for Mrs. Gardiner. She doesn’t appear to be home.”

  The woman’s hands stilled. “I guess you haven’t heard. She moved to Vermont to live with her daughter. I’m keeping an eye on the house until it’s sold.”

  Moved to Vermont? What about Rose and the baby? Surely she hadn’t put them out in the street. “Do you know if Rose Ab—I mean Easton—is still living here? She and her baby have been boarding with Mrs. Gardiner for a few months now.”

  The woman paused. “I remember a young woman and a baby, but I don’t know what happened to them after Cora took ill. I’m sorry. Wish I could help you, dear.” She laid the mat over the railing. “Why don’t you try Reverend Burke, the rector at Holy Trinity Church? He used to visit them quite often. He may know where they went.”

  “Thank you. I’ll do that.” Grace bit her lip, realizing she had no idea how far away that might be. “Can you tell me where to find the church?”

  “It’s about ten blocks away.” The woman pointed to the next crossroad. “Just follow Sherbourne Street. You can’t miss it.”

  Grace held back a sigh. Ten blocks sounded far, but it might be good to get some exercise after all the time spent on trains lately. “Thank you again,” she said, and with a lift of her chin, set off.

  The ten blocks didn’t take nearly as long as she’d imagined. When the landscape changed from residential to urban, the streets became more crowded. People walked at a fast pace and jostled Grace, who struggled to keep up with the flow. A flash of homesickness went through her as she thought longingly of the uncluttered roads in her village where the only obstruction to a pedestrian’s stroll might be a farmer’s cart halted by a stubborn mule.

  As she fought to navigate her way through the newness of the city, worry for her sister plagued her. What had happened to Rose and little Christian? Surely Reverend Burke had found them an alternate place to live. Perhaps with another kind soul from his parish.

  A church tower came into view, and as Grace got close enough to read the sign, she was relieved to find it was indeed Holy Trinity. She stepped out of the flow of pedestrians onto the church walkway.

  Would anyone be here on a Wednesday afternoon? She tugged the handle of the large wooden door. It gave easily under her hand, and she entered the building. Once her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she moved farther into the church and scanned the rows of pews. A few women sat scattered throughout. Nowhere did Grace see a clergyman. She was about to leave when someone touched her shoulder.

  “Can I help you, miss?”

  Grace turned to find a regal-looking woman staring at her with undisguised curiosity.

  “Yes. Do you know where I might find Reverend Burke?”

  “At this time of day, he’s probably at home.”

  “Oh. I see.” Grace felt suddenly foolish. She had no idea of the etiquette involved in calling on a minister at his place of residence, but since she couldn’t afford to wait until Sunday, she’d have to figure out a way to see him.

  “Would you like me to take you to the rectory?” The kind woman smiled.

  “Yes, please. If you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Not at all. It’s right next door. Follow me.”

  She led Grace to the little bungalow that sat back from the street, almost hidden from view. The woman marched up to the front door and knocked.

  Grace’s heart began to thump when the door opened, and a rather rumpled older gentleman answered.

  His gaze toggled between the two women. “Mrs. Southby. This is an unexpected surprise.” His eyebrow raised in a question.

  “This young woman would like to speak with you, Reverend. I offered to bring her over.”

  The minister looked down at Grace’s suitcase, then back at her face. “Are you here about our Newcomers Program?”

  “N-Not exactly.” Her tongue seemed to tangle as she searched for a way to begin. She’d hoped for a little privacy, not eager to spill her story on the minister’s stoop.

  “One moment,” he said. “Let me get my jacket, and we’ll go across to my office.”

  Mrs. Southby smiled at her. “You’ve come to the right place. Reverend Burke is a godsend for so many people new to our country. I’m sure he’ll be able to help you too.”

  Grace supposed that because of her suitcase and her British accent the pair had jumped to a logical, albeit erroneous, conclusion.

  Five minutes later, Reverend Burke said good-bye to Mrs. Southby and offered Grace a seat. He then took his place in the wooden captain’s chair behind the cluttered desk. “Now, what can I do for you, my dear?”

  On the wall, a cuckoo clock struck the top of the hour. Every chime jarred Grace’s nerve endings. She must be tired from the long trip or unsettled over the unexpected turn of events.

  She licked her dry lips and attempted to pull herself together. “My name is Grace Abernathy. I’m Rose Easton’s sister.”

  Instantly, the man’s smile fell away, and sorrow filled his blue eyes. “Oh, my dear. I wondered if you’d come when you received my telegram.”

  “Telegram?” Icy prickles rippled down Grace’s spine, erasing all thoughts of what she wanted to say.

  “Yes. The one I sent to your mother in England.” The chair creaked as he leaned forward. “Did she not receive it?”

  The sudden desire to bolt seized her, but her feet seemed glued to the wooden floor. “No, she didn’t. I’m here because Rose asked me to come.”

  He stood and came around to sit in the chair beside her. A loud sigh escaped his bulky frame. “There’s no easy way to say this, Grace. I’m sorry, but Rose came down with the Spanish flu. She passed away about three weeks ago. It was all very sudden and tragic.”

  Grace’s throat constricted, the air backing up in her lungs. “No,” she whispered. “It can’t be true. Someone would have . . . I would have known. . . .”

  He shook his head sadly. “I sent a telegram to the postmaster in your village as soon as I could. I don’t know why you didn’t receive it.”

  Grace tried to recall where she’d been three weeks ago. That was about the time she’d moved Mum to Aunt Violet’s where she would stay while Grace was away.

  “I . . . it . . . no, it can’t be.” She covered her mouth with her hand to still the trembling of her lips. “I was supposed to bring Rose home. Home to Mum.” Her whole body began to shake. The thought of her mother receiving such terrible news without Grace there to comfort her brought the hot rush of tears to her eyes.

  “I’m so very sorry, Grace.” A warm hand squeezed her shoulder.

  She stared at a knothole in the wooden floorboard. The handle of her purse bit into the flesh of her hands.

  All her plans to take Rose and little Christian back to England, to reunite their family and make them whole again, vanished in an instant. Her chest filled with heat that burned up her throat and clogged her airway. With shaking fingers, she pulled a handkerchief from her purse and wiped her streaming eyes. “What am I going to do now?” she whispered. “I planned to stay with Rose at Mrs. Gardiner’s. She wanted us to be together. . . .” A strangled sob escaped.

  “This has come as a terrible shock.” The minister went to the credenza, poured a glass of water, and handed it to her. “Might I suggest that I take you to my friend, Mrs. Chamberlain? She runs the boardinghouse where Rose first lived when she came to Canada. I’m certain Harriet will be able to offer you a place to stay while you decide what to do next.”

  Grace could only blink as tears continued to blur her vision, her mind too fuzzy to absorb his words.

  He must have taken her silence fo
r agreement, for he nodded. “Right. I’ll telephone Harriet and let her know we’re coming.”

  Grace sipped the water and fought to gain control of her emotions. Amidst the haze of grief, one question screamed through her mind. Why had God brought her all this way, only to learn that her sister was gone? That little Christian had lost his mother?

  Grace snapped to attention, her fingers tightening on the glass. “What happened to the baby? He’s not in an orphanage, is he?” She would never allow her nephew to be raised in such a place. He belonged with his family—or what was left of it.

  Reverend Burke paused, the telephone receiver in hand. “No need to worry. Christian is being well cared for.”

  But the guilty expression on the man’s face did nothing to reassure Grace.

  “Who’s looking after him? Someone from the church?” It couldn’t be Mrs. Gardiner if she’d moved to Vermont. Grace’s hands shook, sloshing the water as she set the glass on the desk. “Tell me and I’ll go and get him right away.”

  She had no idea how she’d care for an infant, but she would figure it out soon enough. And in the meantime, Christian would be safe with someone who loved him.

  The minister set the receiver back in the cradle with an apologetic shrug. “The hospital officials were going to call the Children’s Aid Society unless I could provide a family member to care for him. With you and your mother so far away, I didn’t have much choice.”

  A sickening sense of dread formed in the pit of Grace’s stomach. Not Rose’s dreaded in-laws. The ones who had disowned their son because he married Rose. The ones Rose specifically tried to hide the baby from after her husband’s death.

  She squared her shoulders. “Tell me where he is.”

  “I did the only thing I could. I contacted the boy’s grandparents.” A look of regret crept across his broad features. “Christian is living with the Eastons.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Andrew Easton peeked into the open doorway of the second-floor nursery and held back a grin. His usually ladylike younger sister was bent over the crib, making ridiculous faces at her nephew in a blatant attempt to make the child laugh.

  “Take care, Ginny. Your face might stay like that if you’re not careful.” Andrew laughed as he stepped into the room.

  Virginia’s head snapped up, two patches of red blooming in her cheeks. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough to see your eyes cross.”

  “Hmph.” She wrinkled her nose, one dark ringlet falling over her forehead. “Well, Christian likes it. He gave me a big smile. Didn’t you, sweetheart?” Virginia reached into the crib and lifted him out. When she bent to kiss his cheek, the child made a grab for her nose and squeezed.

  “Ouch. For a little one, you sure have an iron grip.” She shifted the boy in her arms. “What brings you here at this time of day, Drew? Shouldn’t you be at the office?”

  “I’m working at home this morning, so I thought I’d see how our nephew is doing.” He crossed the carpeted floor. “Does he seem to be adjusting to his new home?” Christian had been with them for three weeks now, ever since the flu had taken his mother’s life. For a child to lose his father before he was born, and his mother shortly thereafter, was a tragedy Andrew could barely comprehend. Frank’s son deserved a carefree childhood and a happy life, and as the boy’s newly appointed guardian, Andrew was determined to provide it for him.

  Virginia handed Christian to him, then moved to open the draperies at the window. “He’s slowly getting used to us, I think. But he still wakes up crying for his mama at night. Poor little darling.” She came back to stroke the boy’s head, smoothing down the tufts of dark hair. When she raised her head, tears filmed her gray eyes. “I wish Frank could have seen him.”

  “I know. He would’ve been so proud.” A rush of sadness tugged at Andrew’s chest. Would he ever accept the fact that his brother was gone?

  She let out a sigh. “If only his wife could have come here after he died. Maybe then . . .”

  Andrew stiffened. Ginny knew their father would never have allowed such a thing. Not when he blamed Rose Abernathy for ruining Frank’s life. “There’s no use wishing for the impossible, Gin. Let’s be glad we have a chance to get things right with Frank’s son. We’ll do our best to make sure he has a happy child-hood.”

  “On that note, I have something I’d like to discuss with you.” She plucked Christian from his arms and bounced the tyke on her hip.

  “What is it?”

  “I’ve been thinking about my plans for the summer, and . . .” She drew in a breath. “I’ve decided to cancel my trip.” She darted a nervous glance at him, then turned back to the baby who had grabbed a fistful of her long hair. With a playful tug, she pulled the strands free and went to sit in the rocking chair.

  Andrew followed her over, studying her face for some clue to this sudden change. Did it have anything to do with her new attachment to their nephew, or were there deeper motives at play? “You promised Basil you’d accompany him and his family to Europe. He won’t be happy if you back out now.”

  “But I’m needed here. I can’t abandon Christian just when he’s getting used to me. It’s too cruel.”

  His sister was anything but cruel. Andrew had never encountered a kinder young woman.

  “Children adjust quickly to new situations,” he said soothingly. “And hiring a nanny is at the top of my list. If we find a suitable person soon, you’ll have lots of time to ensure a smooth transition before you set sail.”

  Unshed tears brightened her eyes, highlighting the golden flecks within the gray. “I hate to leave him, Drew. He’s captured my heart already. If only Basil would consider—”

  “Ginny.” Andrew bent to gaze directly into her anxious face. “I know you love Christian, but you can’t give up your entire future for him.”

  “Why not?” Her eyes flashed in challenge. “Aren’t you planning to do just that?”

  “Not at all. I’ll have the help, and if I marry—” Why did he hesitate every time the subject of marriage arose? “When I marry,” he said more forcefully, “my wife and I will assume the role of his parents. And Christian will have the continuity of the same nanny.” He did his best to smile. “It will all work out for the best. You’ll see.”

  Virginia rested her chin on the boy’s head. “I hope you’re right. Though I can’t help thinking I might be better off to raise him on my own.” She stared across the room, her wistful expression tugging at his heart.

  “Is this about Christian?” he asked gently. “Or about your relationship with Basil?” He’d sensed his sister’s less-than-enthusiastic feelings about this match, one that their father clearly wanted. Yet Andrew doubted she would ever go against Father’s wishes. Not after the disaster that had ensued when Frank had done so.

  She lowered her gaze to the floor. “Perhaps a bit of both.”

  Andrew rose from his crouched position. “That’s something you’d best resolve before you agree to marry him, sister dear. If he ever gets off his duff and proposes, that is. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to ensure our advertisement for a nanny will run in the newspaper for another week.” Laying a soft kiss on his sister’s head, he straightened and moved to the nursery door.

  “Drew?”

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t find a nanny too soon. I still have eight weeks before we sail, and I want to spend as much time as possible with this little one.”

  Andrew’s heart melted at the sight of her rocking the child, a breeze stirring the curtain at her back. She would make a wonderful mother one day. Too bad Basil Fleming couldn’t see how much it would mean to Virginia to raise the boy. Not only would it be better for Christian, who would surely thrive under Virginia’s devotion, but it would solve Andrew’s issues with Cecilia as well. “Don’t worry. You’ll have plenty of time alone with him. Finding a nanny who meets Mother’s standards could take some time.” He sent her a wink before closing the door behind him. />
  On his way downstairs to the library, he offered a silent prayer that the Lord would provide the perfect candidate for his orphaned nephew. Someone who would give the child all the love and attention he so rightly deserved.

  After a brief stop at the newspaper office, Andrew steered his automobile toward the Easton Towers Hotel. How he loved this city, the wonderful mix of old and new. It never failed to inspire him. As he motored past the college buildings on University Avenue, a wave of nostalgia hit him. Even years after his graduation, he still missed his time on campus and the camaraderie of his fellow students. But those carefree days had ended with the onset of the war that summer. Andrew had no way of knowing then how much his life would change.

  A few minutes later, he pulled his car to a stop outside the front of the hotel, set the brake, and got out. As he entered through the revolving doors into the lobby, his chest filled with pride. The Easton Towers Hotel was the epitome of elegance, Oscar Easton’s pride and joy. Sometimes Andrew thought his father cared more about these bricks and mortar than he did his own family.

  Nevertheless, Andrew had to admit the hotel was indeed an outstanding achievement.

  He nodded to the staff behind the reception desk on his way to the elevator that would take him up to the company offices on the tenth floor.

  Once there, Andrew knocked on his father’s door and waited for an invitation to enter before stepping into the opulent office. “Good afternoon, Father.”

  “Ah, good. You’re here.” Oscar Easton looked up from the papers on his desk. “I didn’t realize you’d stayed home this morning. Is everything all right?” The overhead light glinted off the silver threads running through his father’s dark hair, another sign of the toll that recent events had taken on him.

  Yet Andrew wasn’t fooled by the false concern, for he understood the veiled criticism beneath the words. Why weren’t you at your post where you should be?