by Anna Schmidt
“You have a Woolworth’s nearby?” the older woman asked.
Ben smiled in relief. “Of course, we can get it all there. I can’t . . .” He reached down and ran a finger across the baby’s palm. Instinctively, the baby grabbed hold and held on tight. “. . . quite believe this.”
“Me, either.”
Maggie smiled up at him. Ben bent low to kiss her cheek. “Congratulations, Mom. It’s a boy.”
She giggled, and in that joyous sound more of Mike’s heart sprang to life.
“It seems it is.”
“And the name?” The reverend reentered the room and tapped his watch. “They’ll be here in a couple of hours. The emergency weekend crew is on call, and they’re busy elsewhere. Will you keep his name? It was pinned to his blanket when Mike found him.” He handed over the scrap of paper and Maggie touched it, reverently.
“He will be David,” she decided. “It’s a beautiful name. He is her gift to us. The name is her gift to him. He will grow up knowing his mother loved him enough to ensure his future and give him a godly name.”
Mike glanced at his watch and whistled. “I’ve got to work. A lot of flu going around, and we’re shorthanded. You guys are okay here?”
Mrs. Janas shooed him out the door. “You go to work. I’ll stay with Ben and Maggie. We’ve got a nice soup going for the reverends and there’s plenty for all.”
“Should we call Mom and Dad?” Maggie asked as he approached the entry to the rectory. “And Joey? Or just walk in later with David?”
Mike laughed because this was a problem his cousin hadn’t envisioned two hours ago. “I’d walk in. But bring hankies along.”
Maggie’s voice hailed him as he swung open the door. “Mike. There’s no possible way we can repay you for this. Thank you.”
He saw her face, warm and maternal. Ben’s, fatherly and strong. He lifted one shoulder in understanding. “My pleasure.”
Chapter Twelve
• • • • • • • • • • • •
On Monday, Mike brought Karen a small box of chocolates from San Francisco, a mix of dark and sweet, even though it was his day off and he had no other reason to take the train into Manhattan.
Karen was reason enough.
On Tuesday, he just happened to have a treasure he found at the neighborhood bookstore, a children’s book of verses with full-color illustrations, the kind of book that fed a child’s imagination.
And on Wednesday, he got off the train two blocks east of the Booth Memorial Home and walked, palms damp, to pick up his girls.
Was he silly to feel this way after so short a time?
Yes.
And it felt good to be silly after so many years of serious. If all went well, he’d talk to Karen about Mary Lynn’s condition this week. Share the confidence. If she could secure Mary Lynn a clean place at the home to have this baby, he’d sleep better at night, knowing she was in the best hands available. Karen’s.
“Officer Mike!”
“Hey.” He reached out and caught Laurie up into his arms, her red knit stockings and blue wool coat making her look like an all-American girl, precious and beloved. “You were watching for me.”
“Mommy said if we want to see the lights blink on, we have to be quick because it gets dark so early.”
“Mommy’s smart.”
“And thank you so much for my book!” The little girl’s voice tipped high, then low. “I wanted to bring it, but Mommy said I’d get tired of carrying it, although I don’t think I could ever get tired of carrying it, Officer Mike! It’s so very wonderful and”—she leaned in, sharing a secret, just for him—“it has pictures of beautiful princesses in it. I would like to be a beautiful princess one day. With a magic horse.”
Mike touched his forehead to hers as Karen approached, and the sight of Karen . . .
Young and lovely, the red scarf snug around her neck . . .
Went against any past images he had of Salvation Army bell ringers.
Karen smiled as she drew up to his side, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to turn and swipe a gentle kiss to her mouth, a touch fleeting and sweet but filled with promise. A feeling he hoped she shared.
She met his gaze. He refused to acknowledge the thoughtful side of her look, grasped her hand, and started walking back the way he came. “You girls ready for an adventure?”
“Yes!”
“Good.”
Dusk was falling by the time the train let them off in Brooklyn. “This way,” Mike said. He led them to a higher vantage point, facing the East River. The clear sky streaked oblique light above the dark harbor water, gold-tipped shades of pink and purple. He stood there, Laurie snug in his left arm, while his right arm drew Karen in. “Standing close keeps us warmer,” he explained when she sidled a look his way, but her smile said she understood.
And approved.
“Oh, Officer Mike, it’s happening!”
“So beautiful.” Karen leaned her head against his chest, and the soft scent made him think of springtime flowers. Warm, lazy sunsets. Romps in the park with Laurie and the dog.
“It always amazes me.” When the cold chased them to the lower sidewalk and the six-block walk to Mike’s home, Karen indicated Manhattan with a sweep of her hand. “The lights, the busyness, the people, the majesty. Living in it, you don’t get the full effect. From here? Manhattan is a showcase.”
“It pales in comparison to some things,” Mike replied. His smile finished the thought.
Karen’s glance of wry appreciation said she got his drift. And was the heightened color of her cheeks from the cold or her proximity to him?
“Here we are.” He led them up the steps of the brownstone, plied the key, then held the door wide as they stepped through.
“Laurie!” Mary Lynn’s greeting made Mike feel better about his decision to have Mary Lynn stay at the Booth Home. She clearly liked Karen and Laurie. At the home there would be no censure. No condemnation.
“We came to your house!” Laurie exclaimed. “And it is so big and pretty! And I saw people lights outside, and I loved them so much.”
Mike hung her coat and Karen’s on the wall hooks behind him and frowned. “People lights?”
“People lights, yes.” Laurie hugged Mary Lynn, then tugged her to the window and pointed. “We saw the store lights last week. And Officer Mike took us to see the city lights come on. But you guys are so lucky because you live where there are people lights.” Her crinkled expression disparaged their lack of understanding. “Because people live here, so these are real lights. People lights. Where people live.”
“People live by us, Laurie.” Karen bent low and met Laurie’s gaze. “A lot of people.”
Laurie nodded. Clearly she’d thought this through. “But we live in a hospital, not a house,” she explained. “And someday I want to live in a house, a big house like this, with so many rooms and neighbors. I want to play stick ball and have people lights all around me.”
Mike tousled her hair and met Karen’s gaze. “The kid’s on my side.”
Karen’s smile said that might be so, but the smile didn’t chase that hesitation in her gaze. Not fully. As if part of her longed to step forward, but something held her back.
“Are you any good in the kitchen?” He directed his question to Karen and hooked a thumb up the two steps. “Come help me while Mary Lynn amuses Laurie.”
“You cook?” She followed him up the two steps into a well-outfitted kitchen as Mary Lynn took Laurie upstairs to see the rest of the house. “Really?”
He shrugged as he started to brown small chunks of meat. “I make do, mostly. But my mother showed me a thing or two. Then the army had their go at it. I get by. How about you?”
* * * * *
In a kitchen like this? A dream come true? I could cook anything, Karen thought. She swept the pretty kitchen a look of approval. “I can hold my own, but I’ve never had a setup like this to test my talents. Mike, this is charming.”
> “My mother loved to cook,” he told her, easy. “And my father loved to eat. A smart man does not argue cost when outfitting a woman’s kitchen, so he made sure Mom’s setup was wonderful.”
Karen took an apron from a hook and put it on. “I like how the Wolzak men think.”
“Do you?” Mike stepped closer. He glanced through the doorway leading to the living area, but footsteps above said Mary Lynn was still showing Laurie the house. “Do you know what I’m thinking right now?” He slipped an arm around her. His gaze went from her eyes to her mouth and lingered there, wondering.
“I do. Yes,” she whispered, and this time she couldn’t and wouldn’t step back. She stepped into the kiss, into his embrace, and let herself revel in the feel of his hard, muscled back, the buzzed hairs along the nape of his neck, the warmth of his embrace, and the beauty of the kiss.
The clatter of footsteps ended the moment too soon. Way too soon. “Mommy, they have four bedrooms! And a real big bathroom upstairs, and a washline that goes back and forth to the neighbors three times. And Mary Lynn let me hold her baby doll, see?”
“I do see!” Karen exclaimed. She offered a smile of approval. “This is a beautiful doll. Be careful with her, okay?”
“I will!”
Karen stood and faced Mary Lynn, but as she began to thank the girl, Mary Lynn’s face grayed. She inhaled once, paled more, and headed for the stairs, looking like she was about to be sick.
In that moment Karen knew why Mike had been checking out obstetricians in early December.
Her heart broke for the girl. The sight of Mary Lynn’s face, her demeanor, her bad color . . . Karen remembered all too well. But at least Mary Lynn had family to love her. Cherish her. Forgive her.
Once dinner was over and the kitchen cleaned, Mary Lynn disappeared upstairs. Laurie lay sleeping on the sofa, curled up, a ripple-stitch afghan keeping her warm. Mike took a seat in a big easy chair and motioned for Karen to do the same. She glanced at Laurie and shook her head. “I’ve got to get her home, Mike. It’s late and a school night.”
He took her hand and brought it to his mouth for a soft kiss. “Ten minutes. Please?”
She read the need in his eyes. Heard the plea in his voice, and there was no way she could refuse his urge to talk. This man had lost so much. He’d done so much. He’d sacrificed years of his life to maintain her freedom. He’d lost his father, and his mother. And now, Mary Lynn . . . She sat and faced him directly. “I’m aware of Mary Lynn’s condition.”
Relief washed angst from his features. “She told you?”
Karen shook her head. “No, but when you’ve seen the symptoms as often as I have . . .”
Lived them, you mean, in a similar fashion . . .
She ignored the thrust of conscience and shrugged one shoulder. “It was easy to figure out.”
He ran a hand through his hair, then hunched forward. “My mother’s single dying wish was for me to take care of Mary Lynn. Look out for her. And I messed up, big time.”
“Mike, no, it’s—”
His raised hand stopped her protest. “I know what you’re going to say, but I’m not afraid to accept my share of the blame.”
A warning ping sounded in Karen’s brain. She took a small breath, then exhaled. “Blame? Surely what’s done is done, right? And then you move on?”
His face said it wasn’t that easy. Karen’s heart wrenched further. “We already have a nosy neighbor who suspects.”
Karen had no trouble recalling her father’s tirade. How she brought shame to them and the neighborhood. As a teen she’d been devastated, thinking that. Now? Washed clean in the beauty of a Savior, a forgiving God? She shrugged. “Who cares?”
His raised expression said everyone cared, and more internal red flags popped up inside Karen.
“She’ll be embarrassed. Ostracized. Made fun of. I can’t stand by and let that happen.”
“We had this discussion before,” she reminded him. “That women bear the brunt of unwed pregnancy and men go blithely on with their lives.”
“Exactly.” He nodded. “But if she comes to live at the Booth Home, she’ll be among other young mothers. Good examples like you and the major. People of peace and goodwill who can ease her through this.”
Karen’s hopes plummeted.
Despite Mike’s warm and caring ways, he longed to send his sister away to bear her out-of-wedlock child. He claimed it was to save her embarrassment, but Karen understood that two-edged sword too well. If Mary Lynn was tucked out of sight, Mike would be saved a great deal of chagrin as well.
Her heart tightened. Her lungs followed suit. She knew she couldn’t talk of this here and now. Not and keep herself calm and impartial. She stood.
So did Mike.
She faced him square, knowing this would be the last time she’d see him, hating that truth, but knowing it would be best for all. Because if Mike Wolzak couldn’t understand and forgive his younger sister’s sin after the trauma of losing her father and mother, he’d never forgive hers. So be it. “Mike, the Booth Home is a wonderful place.”
He nodded, but his face showed uncertainty as he read her mixed emotions.
“But Mary Lynn has family who love her. You, her aunts and uncles, her cousins. And she has a lovely home here, with you. The girls that come to Booth are generally cast-offs. Young women who’ve been thrown out of homes and jobs because of their condition. Mary Lynn doesn’t need us. She needs you.”
His jaw tightened in surprise. “You won’t take her?”
She shrugged into her coat. “That isn’t for me to say. The majors decide each case. But I’m telling you for Mary Lynn’s own good, sending her away isn’t the answer. Loving her is. And now . . .” She turned to gather her child. “I must get Laurie home.”
A sorrowful subway ride seemed much longer than the cheerful one of late afternoon. When they got to the home’s door, Karen reached out for Laurie once she’d released the latch.
“I’ll bring her in,” Mike offered.
Karen shook her head and raised her chin. Heartbroken, she faced him one last time. “I’ll take her, Mike. And I want you to know I had a lovely time these past weeks, but I can’t see you again.”
“Karen, I—”
He looked shell-shocked.
She felt the same, but how could she pursue a relationship with a man who turned his back on his younger sister? Karen’s sin was easily as grievous. Would he hold that against her as well?
She wouldn’t and couldn’t take that chance. Not for her sake or Laurie’s. She stepped through the door.
Mike started to follow.
She turned and shook her head at him.
He hesitated, then stopped, allowing the door to fall into place. Karen moved toward the hallway leading to her room. At the right angle, she turned back, just to see.
He was gone. And with him went the foolish hopes and dreams she’d harbored these beautiful, light-filled weeks.
Chapter Thirteen
• • • • • • • • • • • •
He’d talk to her tomorrow, Mike decided. Karen was clearly upset tonight, but was that his fault? All he wanted was a safe place for Mary Lynn and her child.
Thoughts of the abandoned baby filled his mind. A child, born to the poor, left on a cold, wet step. Mary Lynn deserved better, and what was wrong with conserving propriety? His mother had loved a proper upbringing. His father, too.
Was he wrong to want the best for Mary Lynn?
No. Finally, at long last, he was being the big brother he should have been months ago. He raised the subject to her the next morning.
Mary Lynn stared at him. Her lower lip quivered. “I thought we stopped talking about this. You made me a doctor’s appointment.”
“Yes.” Mike didn’t see what one had to do with the other.
“I thought that meant I’d stay here. Have the baby. Decide what to do.”
“You’d still do all that, just on East Fifteenth Street. You c
ould take classes there and stay on course for college. Just like Mom wanted.”
“But what about what I want, Mike?” She stared at him, tears slipping down her cheeks. “How come you get to make decisions and it doesn’t matter what I want?”
Because you’re a kid, he wanted to say. Because you’ve already messed up, and I’m trying to help you save face. Because . . .
“You’re ashamed of me.” Sorrow and humiliation fought for her features. “Okay, then. I don’t want to make things worse than they are. You’ll make the arrangements?”
He nodded, feeling like he just got kicked in the head. And the heart.
She hadn’t harangued him. Guilt had pushed her to agree, a guilt he fostered in her.
He went to work, conflicted. He walked his beat the same way, and when he turned the corner toward Macy’s, a grizzled older man stood on the corner, ringing the bell.
Not Karen.
He paused at the kettle, dropped in some change, and faced the man. “Is Karen sick?”
The man frowned.
“The woman who usually rings the bell here in the morning. Is she sick? Is her daughter ill?”
The man shrugged. “Alls I know is I’m s’posed to ring here every mornin’ the rest of the week. Till Christmas Eve.”
Realization struck.
Karen was avoiding him. She said she wouldn’t see him anymore and then took steps to ensure it.
Why? Because he wanted to send Mary Lynn into Karen’s care? That made no sense.
Did it?
He finished his shift, took the train to Brooklyn, passed the sweet Polish church, and longed to kick something. He’d felt so good a few days ago, watching Maggie hold that baby, the child of her dreams.
Now?
He felt wronged. In trying to do his best, he’d caused the worst, but why?
The old church door invited him in. He ignored the silent call and trudged by. Years of prayer had led to nothing. His parents gone, his sister’s predicament, so many hurt or killed. He thought he’d cast bitter thoughts aside, but they rose this day, reminding him of all he’d lost.