by Terrie Todd
Charlotte had rehearsed this speech throughout a sleepless night and now delivered it with confidence. “If you’re convinced you made a mistake with your offer, Mrs. Marshall, I will use the money for train fare. But not to go home. Whichever direction I head, I’ll be taking Darcy with me.”
“Would you have reached the same decision had I not spoken up the other night?” Mrs. Marshall asked.
“Yes. I wouldn’t be sitting here right now, but I definitely wouldn’t be going anywhere without Darcy.” Charlotte looked at Reverend Fennel, whose eyes still held that kind look in them she’d seen when they first met. “I know the two of you have troubles galore, and I’d give anything if I could ease them instead of adding to them. But right now you’re the only friends I have in the world—you and Mrs. O’Toole. I had to start somewhere.”
“You don’t know the half of my troubles,” Mrs. Marshall muttered.
“I suppose that’s true. I know I have nothing to offer you right now, but if you rebuild your restaurant, Mrs. Marshall, I’ll gladly work for you again.”
“Pretty hard to work in a restaurant and care for a baby at the same time,” Mrs. Marshall reminded her gently. “Even harder to work in a restaurant and care for a toddler at the same time.”
Charlotte hung her head. This wasn’t going to work. Why, oh why, did she ever run away? If she’d stayed, the restaurant might still be thriving. If only her parents had told her the whole truth about Reginald in the beginning, she’d never have run. Then again, if only she hadn’t allowed herself to become swept away by Reginald’s charm, none of this would have happened in the first place. But then there’d be no Darcy.
She could “if only” herself to death.
“I want to tell the two of you a story,” Mrs. Marshall said suddenly. “About something that happened when I was younger than you are now, Charlotte. I had a dear friend named Susan. We loved each other like sisters, and when Susan became pregnant at sixteen, I swore to myself I’d stick by her and support her in any way I could.”
Mrs. Marshall took a deep breath before continuing. “Susan’s parents insisted that she have an abortion. But before one could be procured, Susan chose to end her life. I was away on a trip with my mother when she did it. By the time I got home, there was nothing I could do. She was gone.” The last three words were barely discernible as Mrs. Marshall’s voice quivered and then rose again.
“Her child would be nearly your age now, Charlotte. I bet Susan would be happily married and the mother of more children. She always aspired to be a nurse, and she’d have been one of the best. So full of cheer and life. Do you remember Susan, Reuben?”
Reverend Fennel nodded. “I do. The two of you were inseparable. I thought she died of influenza. I’m so sorry, Maggie.”
“I wanted to be there for her, no matter what.” Mrs. Marshall gazed out the window behind Charlotte.
“I’m sure she knew that,” he said. “She’d have done the same for you. Her choice was not your fault. You know that, right?”
Mrs. Marshall nodded, though she said nothing. But a light had switched on for Charlotte. She finally understood why Mrs. Marshall had opened her home for pregnant girls. It was the only way she could find to “be there” for her friend. Charlotte understood something else too. Mrs. Marshall’s reluctance to show feelings and kindness to the girls in her care stemmed from her pain, not from a lack of caring.
“I’m telling you this now to help you understand why I may have made an irrational offer to step up.” Mrs. Marshall locked eyes with Charlotte. “I can’t bear the thought of you ever becoming that desperate, Charlotte. Not if it’s in my power to help somehow. But if you’re going to stay, we need to work together.”
Hope surged in Charlotte once again. “I understand. I’d do whatever you say.”
“No.” Mrs. Marshall spoke firmly. “I don’t want you to do whatever I say. I mean we’d be partners, like two adults who respect each other’s opinions and consider each other’s needs. We’d have to figure things out together.”
“Oh. I don’t know what I can contribute just yet.” Charlotte bit her lip. “But I’m more than willing, Mrs. Marshall.”
“Well, for starters, you can stop calling me Mrs. Marshall. I’m Maggie.”
Charlotte tried to suppress a smirk. “All right then. Maggie. Does that mean Darcy and I can stay?”
“I hope you will.”
The two grinned at each other, and the reverend was the first of them to rise. “While we’re at it, can I please just be ‘Reuben’? Now, I’ll carry that bag of yours upstairs and leave you two to work out the details.”
“Not with that cracked rib, you shouldn’t,” Mrs. Marshall called out.
“Cracked rib?” Charlotte knew her mouth hung open but felt powerless to close it.
“Long story,” Reverend Fennel repeated. “I’m sure Mrs. O’Toole will be happy to have you and Darcy here, Charlotte.” He picked up the bag and disappeared around the corner, where Charlotte could hear him taking the stairs with a slight mmph sound on every second step.
CHAPTER 38
Thursday morning, Maggie once again made her way to the offices of Jones, Brighton, and Jones, Attorneys at Law. She sat in the waiting area, scanning the Winnipeg Free Press dated September 14, 1942. Headlines like “Battle of Edson’s Ridge in Guadalcanal Rages” and “U.S. Defeats Attacks by Japanese; Heavy Losses for Japanese Forces” reminded her that the whole world was at war. Maggie preferred not to think about it. There was enough war raging inside her heart.
Her Sunday had been spent helping Charlotte and Darcy get settled back in at Mrs. O’Toole’s. The landlady welcomed them warmly after Maggie assured her she’d cover their room and board through the end of October. She didn’t want to admit how difficult that commitment would be to keep. She and Charlotte had agreed that after October, they’d need to reevaluate and see what was what.
Before returning to work on Monday, Maggie had escorted Charlotte and Darcy to the doctor for a follow-up appointment, at which Charlotte was declared healthy and it was determined that Darcy was putting on weight. The doctor felt confident that the hole in his heart would grow closed by the time he was four years old. “I’ve seen this before,” he said.
On Tuesday, Reuben had received an invitation by telephone from the Elders Board of Roseburg Community Church to come for a visit and interview for the pastoral position. He’d caught the train that very afternoon and expected to return today.
Maggie turned to the entertainment page and saw that a motion picture called The Major and the Minor with Ginger Rogers was playing. She wondered how her hair would look styled like Ginger’s. While perusing the fashion section, she imagined herself buying a new outfit for the first time in years. Would Reuben like it?
Then she shook her head. What difference did it make? Reuben was a good friend, nothing more. Soon he would no doubt be back in the pulpit where he belonged, and surely the God he served so faithfully would lead him to the right woman to stand by his side and greet parishioners week after week. Maggie couldn’t imagine which would be worse—having to smile while wearing too-tight shoes or shaking hands with people whether she liked them or not.
“Hello, Mrs. Marshall. Come on in.” Theodore Jones welcomed her from the door to his office and gestured for her to take a seat. “What can I do for you today?”
Maggie sat in the chair indicated and removed her gloves. “There have been some new developments in the situation with my restaurant,” Maggie said. “Specifically, it isn’t there anymore.”
“I heard. Actually, I took a drive by there one day to see for myself. I’m awfully sorry. Fire is a nasty thing.”
It took a good thirty minutes for Maggie to explain where things stood with the property, what had occurred with Earl, and why he’d been arrested. All the while, she kept an eye on the clock hanging on the attorney’s wall and wondered how much this consultation was going to cost.
“I’m also hoping to fin
d out from you today what to do about my former charge, Miss Charlotte Penfield, and her son, Darcy.” Maggie needed another ten minutes to describe that situation.
“It’s not as complicated as you think,” the man assured her. “By law, Miss Penfield reached majority when she gave birth to a child. She’s emancipated from her parents and no longer requires any legal guardian or custodianship. And she is the legal guardian of her son. She is as free to live how she chooses as you are.”
“She is?”
“Yes. Although without parental support, I suspect financial limitations will be a burden. But neither her parents nor you are under any legal obligation to provide for her.”
This was news to Maggie, but it confirmed what she’d already told Charlotte—that they needed to relate as two adults if this relationship was to continue. Maggie determined that she would do her best to provide until such time as Charlotte could contribute, but the fact was, the girl was free to leave at any time, and it was important that she know that.
She rode the bus to the Fort Garry for her afternoon shift with a lighter heart than she’d had in weeks.
Reuben sat at Stuart and Cornelia Baker’s farm table enjoying corn on the cob, fresh garden tomatoes, and cucumbers for lunch. The young couple was newly married and both taught school, she at a one-room country school next door to their house and he in town.
So far, Reuben loved everything about Roseburg and its people. He’d never lived beyond the city limits of Winnipeg, and he found the small town charming. He felt the interview with the elders had gone well the previous evening. Stuart Baker served on the church board and had driven him around the community before bringing him home for the night. Reuben had spent an hour alone after dark on the Bakers’ front porch, praying and looking up at the night sky, seeing in it more stars than he ever knew existed.
Looking out across the field ripe for harvest, Reuben watched the stalks of wheat swaying in the moonlight like ghostly figures. As he watched, the heads of grain seemed to grow faces, the stalks developed arms that bid him come to them. Though he’d never farmed a day in his life, when he closed his eyes, he felt himself drawn toward the wheat, sickle in hand, ready to harvest it. This might have seemed a grisly picture, except for Reuben’s familiarity with the words of Jesus in Matthew, chapter nine: “But when he saw the multitudes, he was moved with compassion on them, because they fainted, and were scattered abroad, as sheep having no shepherd. Then saith he unto his disciples, ‘The harvest truly is plenteous, but the labourers are few; Pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he will send forth labourers into his harvest.’”
As quickly as it had come, the vision was gone. But Reuben knew something exceptional had just taken place.
Now, he buttered his corn thoughtfully.
“I’m so glad I mentioned our need for a pastor to Mrs. Marshall,” Cornelia said. “It was merely news. I never dreamed she’d send us an applicant. How do you know her?”
“We go way back.” Reuben sprinkled salt on the corn. “Grew up together at school and church. We parted ways for a while, but became reacquainted recently when her husband was killed in action.”
“Oh? I’m so sorry! That must be terrible for her.”
Reuben didn’t know how much to say. Although Cornelia admitted only that she’d met Maggie when she lived briefly in the city, he gathered she had been one of “Maggie’s girls.” It wasn’t likely that Maggie had shared anything about her marriage with the girls in her care.
“She’s had a lot of adjustments to make in an extremely short time,” Reuben said. He thought it best under the circumstances not to mention the burned-down restaurant. That was Maggie’s news to tell, and there were still too many unanswered questions.
After lunch, Stuart took Reuben to the train station. Before they got out of the car, however, Stuart handed him an envelope. “Reverend Fennel, the board met early this morning. I’m pleased to tell you that you’ll find an official offer of employment in that envelope. We’d be happy to welcome you to Roseburg and hope you’ll call us with your decision by the end of the week.”
Reuben looked at the envelope and recalled his vision of the wheat field. It would be hard to say good-bye to Maggie, but his answer was clear. “I can give you my decision now,” he said. “I believe with all my heart Roseburg is where God wants me.”
CHAPTER 39
Just as Reuben had predicted, Mrs. O’Toole had been more than happy to embrace both Charlotte and Darcy. Now, as Charlotte busied herself with the newspaper, Mrs. O’Toole carried the baby up the stairs, cooing and talking to him all the while. “I prayed you’d come back to me, my pretty wee one.” Then, with a quivering and slightly off-key falsetto, she launched into song. “’Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus, just to take him at his word, just to rest upon his promise . . .”
Charlotte watched the pair disappear around the corner of the landing and smiled as the words broke off into humming and tra-la-las. She turned her gaze back to the Winnipeg Free Press spread out before her on the dining room table. With Reuben gone to Roseburg, Maggie working, and Mrs. O’Toole happy to help with Darcy, Charlotte had had plenty of time to peruse the job ads. Women were being hired for all sorts of positions formerly held only by men. With her limited experience, she couldn’t afford to be picky, but she wanted to earn as much as she could and still have as much time with Darcy as possible.
One ad in particular caught her attention. It said that in Fort William, where Darcy had been born, barracks had been built to house women willing to come to work for the Canadian Car and Foundry Company. The company had been contracted by the Royal Canadian Air Force to produce Hawker Hurricane planes, but because so many of its welders had gone to fight, they were now hiring and training women. Even its chief engineer was a woman, the famous Elsie MacGill! The ad promised twenty dollars a week, twice what Charlotte could earn in Winnipeg as a nanny or waitress. She tried to imagine herself as Rosie the Riveter, but it was difficult. The money her father had left her would more than buy her train fare to Fort William. But what about Darcy? The ad encouraged “all single women” to come, implying no children. Charlotte sighed and turned the page.
There she read that the women of Winnipeg were leading the way by creating a Volunteer Bureau and enlisting thousands of women in myriads of ways for the war effort. Volunteering would allow Charlotte to choose her own hours and gain experience, but she wouldn’t earn any money. There had to be some way to care for her little boy and contribute to the newly formed household in which she found herself. It was too much to expect Mrs. Marshall—Maggie—to keep supporting her. The poor woman had trouble enough!
Then another ad caught her eye:
Wanted: Childminders.
The Government of Canada is subsidizing child-care costs for preschool children of mothers who are directly contributing to the war effort. Programs include activities, outings, fresh air, and exercise. Childminders needed for eight-hour shifts. Contact . . .
Charlotte grabbed a pair of scissors and cut out the ad. If she could land a job in one of these care centers, perhaps she could bring Darcy to work with her! After all, she’d be contributing to the war effort, just like the mothers she’d be serving! The possibility seemed too good to be true.
She ran upstairs. “Mrs. O’Toole, can I leave Darcy with you while I go see about this job?” She showed the woman the ad.
“Of course, love. If you go now, you can be back before his next feeding.”
Charlotte grabbed her hat, gloves, and purse, and headed for the streetcar.
The address was easy to find. The building was the former Wrigley Elementary School, now known as the Wrigley Children’s Center. As Charlotte made her way to the front door, she saw at least two dozen small children playing in the sandbox and on the swings. They were supervised by four women wearing identical dresses. Uniforms would be an added bonus, as the only clothing items Charlotte owned were maternity dresses and some outdated things Mrs. O’Toole ha
d provided.
“I’ve come to apply,” Charlotte told the redheaded young woman at the front desk. “My name’s Charlotte Penfield.”
“Certainly.” The girl handed Charlotte a form and a fountain pen and indicated a corner table. “You may sit there and fill this out. I’ll check with Mrs. Hudson. She may want to meet you right away.”
Charlotte had never applied for work in her life. Where the form asked for experience, she mentioned her waitressing work and wrote that she loved children and had been caring for one around the clock for the past six weeks. She didn’t know whether it would work in her favor to say she was a mother or not. For references, she wrote the names Mrs. Maggie Marshall, Rev. Reuben Fennel, and Mrs. Mary O’Toole. The fact that all three shared the same address would no doubt raise questions, but with any luck, she could sell herself before that part was noticed.
“Mrs. Hudson will meet with you now, if that suits you,” the red-haired receptionist said.
“Yes, of course!” Charlotte stood and saw a tall, slim woman standing in the doorway of a nearby office. She wore a crisp suit and a warm smile.
“Hello, I’m Ruth Hudson.” The woman held out her hand and Charlotte shook it, feeling very grown up. She was making her own way in the world! Mrs. Hudson ushered her into the little office, where they both took a seat.
“Have you always lived in Winnipeg?”
“No, ma’am. I am fairly new here, but I plan to stay. I intend to raise my son here and am looking for work so I can provide for him.”
“I see. Are you a war widow?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Is . . . your husband overseas?”
“No, ma’am.”
Mrs. Hudson waited for Charlotte to continue. Remembering where deception had gotten her so recently, she decided to just blurt out the truth, come what may. But first, she sent up a silent plea for help. God, if you see me here—please help me! I need this job!