The Best of Intentions

by Susan Anne Mason

  He threw out his hands. “I can’t just stand at the altar and pretend nothing’s wrong. I have to look for him.”

  Her nostrils flared, red patches of anger staining her cheeks. “Is it really the baby, or are you more upset that Grace is gone?”

  Guilt and frustration bubbled up, because he couldn’t totally deny her accusation. Still, it was Christian he cared about most. “Can’t you understand that in every way that matters, I consider Christian my son?”

  “He’s not your son.” Her shrill voice echoed through the chamber, loud enough to be heard outside, he was certain. “He’s the son of that English whore and your faithless brother.”

  The bitterness of her words struck him as hard as a slap. “Is that why you wanted no part of him? You blame an innocent child for something he had nothing to do with?” It all made sense. Why she wouldn’t even attempt to bond with Christian.

  Her chin darted upward. “That doesn’t matter. Right now, we have five hundred people out there waiting for us. So it comes down to this. What do you choose to do, Andrew? Marry me—or give up everything to run after the nanny and that child?”

  The smug look on her face indicated she thought she knew his answer. She didn’t realize that she’d bluffed and lost.

  “I’m sorry, Celia. But if you force me to choose between you and Christian”—he shook his head—“I choose Christian.”

  She gasped, and tears pooled in her eyes.

  Knowing there was nothing he could say to fix the situation, he pulled the door open.

  A jumble of wide-eyed stares flashed before him.

  “I’m terribly sorry,” he said to no one in particular, “but due to a family emergency, I’m afraid I have to cancel the wedding.” Over the heads of the guests, Andrew met his father’s agonized gaze. “Could someone please notify the authorities? I believe my nephew has been kidnapped.”

  CHAPTER 37

  January 5, 1919

  Motherhood is hard, Grace, harder than I ever imagined. The baby cries for hours at a time. I feel like such a failure. What kind of mother can’t comfort her own child? The noise is disturbing the other tenants at Mrs. Chamberlain’s. I fear I must find somewhere else to live, and a means of making a living. If I could, I’d come home to England. But even if I had the money, an ocean voyage is extremely dangerous for an infant. I can’t risk Christian’s health. I beg you, Grace, please come to Canada. We need you.

  “Are you sure this is the right address?” Grace peered out the window of the taxi cab at the tall building across the street.

  “Yes, ma’am. Sixty-nine Yonge Street. The Canadian Pacific building.”

  “I thought this was the telegraph office.” She rechecked the address on the business card Ian Miller had given her months ago. The information matched the number on the sign.

  Grace’s stomach fluttered at the risk she was taking, coming here in the hopes that Ian had meant what he said about helping her if she ever needed it.

  “The telegraph office is on the second floor.” The cab driver grinned over his shoulder. “Handy thing, actually. You can buy your train ticket on the first floor and go upstairs to send your telegram right after.”

  “Handy indeed.” Grace’s heart picked up speed. That was perfect. She’d come to ask Ian’s assistance in obtaining a train ticket for her. He wouldn’t even have to leave the building to do so—if he was working today. Being a Saturday, she wasn’t sure he would be.

  “Do you know if the telegraph office is open?” She fished for money in her handbag.

  “I believe so. Would you like me to wait for you, just in case?”

  Grace shifted Christian on her lap as he bounced and squirmed. “No, thank you.” She passed the driver the bills to pay her fare and included a nice tip.

  He pocketed the money and jumped out of the car. “Let me help you with those bags.”

  He hefted them out of the back seat while Grace got out with the baby. Then they crossed the street and the man accompanied her inside the main door.

  “Thank you,” she said as he set the bags down. “You’re very kind.”

  “No trouble at all, ma’am.” He tipped his cap. “Good luck with sending your telegram.”

  She was about to correct him, but thought the better of it. Instead she thanked him again, then waited until he’d gone before looking around in awe at the two-story marble lobby. At the far side, several people stood in line at the ticket office. Grace could buy her own ticket, but hoping to stay as inconspicuous as possible, she’d decided that it would be better for Ian to purchase one on her behalf. That way, if anyone questioned the ticket sellers, they wouldn’t remember a woman and baby.

  The large brass clock on the wall chimed quarter past the hour, startling her. Andrew’s wedding would have started by now. She couldn’t waste any more time. She picked up her bags, shifted Christian on her hip and walked to the elevator. A directory on the wall indicated the telegraph office was indeed located on the next floor. She took a deep breath as the elevator opened and stepped inside.

  A man in a suit got on with her. He smiled. “Let me help you with those bags. You have your hands full with that little one.”

  “I’m only going up one floor,” she protested, though Christian was growing heavier in her arms.

  “So am I. I work in the office there.”

  Seeing no way to refuse, she simply smiled. “Thank you then.”

  The elevator soon stopped and the doors opened. She stepped out and the man followed.

  “Do you by any chance know a Mr. Miller who works here?”

  “I do indeed. His office is right next to mine.”

  “Would he be in today?”

  “Knowing Ian, I imagine so. Follow me.”

  Still carrying her bags, he led her down a long corridor to an open door. He knocked and entered without waiting for an answer.

  Grace’s palms were damp, and she was very glad for the gloves she was wearing. What would Mr. Miller think of her showing up unannounced at his workplace? But he had insisted that if she ever needed help with anything to call on him.

  “Ian, you have a visitor. A mighty pretty one at that.” The man’s laughter boomed through the hallway.

  Heat rushed in Grace’s cheeks, but she held her head up.

  Seconds later, Mr. Miller came into the hall. He wore a striped shirt and bow tie, and a pair of red suspenders held up his pants. A quizzical smile lit his face when he saw her. “Miss Abernathy! This is an unexpected pleasure.” He glanced at the baby and frowned. “What brings you by?”

  She glanced at the man behind Ian, who had deposited her bags on the floor. “May we speak in private?” she asked.

  “Of course.” He turned around. “Thanks, Richard. I’ll handle it from here.”

  Richard nodded at Grace. “Have a pleasant day, ma’am.”

  “Please come in.” Ian gestured for her to enter his small office, which held a desk and two chairs. “And who is this young man?” he asked as he plucked his jacket from the chair and slipped it on.

  “This is my nephew, Christian.” Grace took a seat and began to undo the ties of the baby’s bonnet. “Do you remember me telling you about my sister, the one I came to Canada to see?”

  Ian’s face clouded. “The one who had recently passed away.”

  “Yes. Well, this is her son.”

  He took a seat behind the desk, still watching her with a curious expression. He glanced at the bags inside the door and back at the baby. “It looks as though you’re going somewhere. Is that why you’re here? You need to send a telegram?”

  Grace swallowed and pasted a smile on her face, praying he wouldn’t detect her heart nearly thumping out of her chest. “Actually I was hoping to take you up on your offer.”

  “My offer?”

  “You said if I ever needed help with anything to call on you. Well, I really need your help now.”

  An hour later, Grace paced the small office, bouncing Christian on her sho
ulder. He’d grown tired and fussy, and she was about at her wits’ end. If Ian didn’t return soon with the tickets and the food he’d promised to get for her, she doubted she’d be able to keep the child from screeching.

  “Shh, sweetheart. I promise this is only temporary. Once we get through this, everything will be fine.”

  She tried giving him a bottle, but with nowhere to heat it, he’d objected to the cold milk. She hoped Ian would be able to procure something the baby could eat, some applesauce or pudding perhaps. Then, as soon as he got back, she would either head right to the train station or if the earliest train to New York wasn’t leaving until tomorrow, she’d find a room for the night and set out in the morning.

  Fortunately, Ian seemed to accept her story that the boy’s family had allowed her to take him on a trip and hadn’t questioned her overly about why she was heading to New York. She’d told him that she’d always wanted to see the Statue of Liberty and the Brooklyn Bridge, which in itself was a true statement. She simply left off the part about catching a steamship to England once she got there.

  She figured that by sailing from New York instead of Halifax, the way she’d arrived, she might throw the Eastons—and whoever else might be looking for her—off her trail.

  Tension screamed in her shoulders and neck. This small space was feeling more like a prison cell by the moment. But would a ship cabin be any better? How would she keep an active baby occupied, fed, and happy during an entire ocean voyage? Her stomach twisted. She really hadn’t thought this plan through. Once again, she’d reacted in the panic of the moment and let her impulsive nature take over.

  The door opened, and Ian entered the office. Her immediate relief was short-lived because of the bleak expression on his face.

  “Were you not able to get the ticket?” she asked.

  He set a grocery bag on the desk, then turned to look at her. “Please forgive me, Grace, but you were acting so strange, I felt something was wrong. So I brought someone to speak with you.”

  Chills broke out over Grace’s body. Surely he hadn’t contacted the police?

  “Hello, Grace.” Reverend Burke removed his hat as he entered the office. “Ian feels you might be in some sort of trouble and asked me to come.”

  She whirled to face Ian. “I trusted you,” she hissed. “Why wouldn’t you help me like you promised?”

  “I’m sorry.” His features were etched in misery. “I’ll let you two have some privacy.” He shot the minister a troubled look, then walked out and closed the door behind him.

  Grace’s whole body began to shake. Blood pounded at her temples, giving her an instant headache.

  Reverend Burke lifted the baby from her arms. “Have a seat, dear.”

  With her legs so unsteady, she had little choice but to comply.

  “Ian tells me you’re taking a trip.” Reverend Burke’s brows rose in question as he sat down with Christian.

  “That’s right.” She lifted her chin, still unwilling to admit defeat. “I’m bringing Christian home to Mum.”

  “Without the permission of the boy’s guardian, I take it.” He studied her with no hint of judgment, only curiosity.

  Her shoulders slumped, as the full magnitude of her actions hit home. “Yes.”

  “The last I heard from Harriet, it seemed things were going well at the Eastons’. What brought you to this point?”

  She drew in a shuddering breath and released it. “Andrew is getting married today to a woman who is cruel and selfish. Last night, she told me she would ship Christian off to boarding school as soon as he was old enough. That she would never be a mother to him.” She gripped her hands together. “I couldn’t let that happen. Not when I can give him all the love he deserves.” Tears blurred her vision, but she held them back.

  “Tell me, Grace, what do you think it means to really love someone?”

  She glanced over at him, then back at her lap. “I suppose it means you want the best for them. That you put their life and their happiness ahead of your own.” Something no one except Peter had ever done for her.

  “And is that what you’re doing for Christian?” he asked gently.

  “Of course.” She bristled at his insinuation that she was being selfish. “I’m doing this for him.”

  “But have you thought about what his life will be like with you? I gather money isn’t too flush back home. How will you support the child? Your mother is too ill to care for him. Who will watch him while you work?”

  Grace closed her eyes. She’d never really thought past the moment when she would place Christian into her mother’s arms, at last fulfilling her promise, releasing her from her guilt. Had she really been putting Christian first or had her actions been fueled by her own selfish need for her mother’s absolution?

  “There’s something else to consider.” Reverend Burke shifted the boy on his lap, bouncing him lightly. “Christian is an Easton, heir to a grand fortune. Despite the stepmother you speak of, he would have the best possible education and unlimited opportunities to do whatever he wanted with his life. Plus, you’d be denying Andrew the chance to raise the child, as well as depriving Christian’s grandparents of their only grandchild.”

  A sob escaped Grace’s dry throat. She’d done all she could not to picture Andrew and his family’s pain at learning of Christian’s disappearance. Would this be the final straw that pushed Mrs. Easton over the edge?

  “I’m also sure I don’t need to remind you,” Reverend Burke said gently, “that you’re about to commit a serious crime.”

  She shook her head, then bit her lip to stop the tremors.

  “Soon the authorities will be looking for you. They’ll be checking the train stations and bus depots. It will be hard to stay unnoticed, carrying your bags and an infant. And asking Ian to help you would make him guilty by association. I don’t think you’d want to put him in that type of position, would you?”

  Her stomach roiled. Once again, her reckless actions had created chaos. She’d put Christian and two other dear people in possible jeopardy, all because of her impulsiveness. Instead of raising her nephew, she could be facing a long prison sentence. Defeat erased the last trace of her courage. “I only wanted to bring Mum her grandson. So she’d finally forgive me.” She dropped her face into her hands, unable to stop the tide of emotions sweeping through her. All the fear, anger, and uncertainty of the last twenty-four hours released in a flood of tears.

  Reverend Burke moved his chair closer and draped an arm around her shaking shoulders. “There now, child. You let it all out.”

  She leaned into him as she wept, relishing his warmth and the homey smell of pipe tobacco, accepting the comfort she didn’t deserve.

  When her tears subsided at last, the minister pressed a handkerchief into her hand. “I’ve given you a lot to think about, Grace. I’ll be praying that the Lord gives you the courage to do the right thing.” He rose and handed her back the baby with a meaningful look.

  As she stared into Christian’s blue eyes, so innocent and trusting, doubts rose up to plague her. Was she really being fair to the child? Or would her actions cause him more harm than good?

  Grace sucked in a quick breath, sudden certainty flooding her every cell. “Thank you, Reverend, but I don’t need any more time to think. What I do need is your help to bring Christian home.”

  A wide smile split his face, easing the lines of worry. “I’d be more than happy to take you.”

  Grace stood with the baby and straightened her spine. “But first, if you don’t mind, I need a moment with Ian. I owe him a huge apology for my selfish actions.” She only hoped Ian would forgive her. The way her life was unraveling, she couldn’t afford to lose another friend.

  “Certainly.” The minister bent to pick up her bags. “I’ll wait for you in the lobby.”

  His easy acceptance of her transgressions without judgment or criticism humbled her. She laid a hand on his arm. “Thank you for helping me come to my senses before it was too late.�
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  “All part of the job, my dear.” He winked at her. “I’ll send Ian in to see you.”

  Seated in the library, Andrew stared at the flames in the hearth. A log shifted, sending embers shooting outward. Even in the summer, Father always liked to keep a fire going in here.

  Andrew raised his aching feet onto the footstool in front of him. He’d just returned from filing a report on his missing ward at the police station. It was a last resort after looking everywhere he could possibly think of. He’d searched the hospitals, churches, boardinghouses, bus depots, and the train station. He had no idea where to look next, and so he had decided to bring the police in to track Grace down.

  Unfortunately, they hadn’t taken the situation very seriously, convinced that the nanny had just taken the child on an outing and would bring him home at the end of the day. Andrew had finally lost his temper with the constable in charge, but at least now they seemed to be paying more attention.

  Andrew scraped a hand over his lightly-stubbled jaw. He still wasn’t used to not having his beard—felt naked without it. Why had he ever given in to Cecilia’s demand to shave it off? It would ruin the wedding photograph, she’d said. Of course she cared more about the appearance of perfection than she did about him. Cecilia always did things to suit herself, never considering anyone else’s feelings.

  Just like Grace, as it turned out.

  Andrew scowled at the ashes in the grate. The acrid smell of burned wood filled his nostrils. He’d thought Grace was different, but in the end, she was no better than Celia—worse, in fact. His mood darkened further. How could she take Christian like that? Ripping him from the arms of his family, away from everyone who loved him?

  Away from him.

  He pushed out of his chair to pace the area rug. Andrew had gone back for a second time to Mrs. Chamberlain’s boardinghouse, hoping that although the woman hadn’t seen Grace that morning, perhaps later in the day Grace might have made contact. She couldn’t simply disappear, not with an infant in tow. Yet Mrs. Chamberlain swore she’d had no word from Grace at all. The worry in her eyes made Andrew believe she was telling the truth.