INTRODUCTION
Japan’s unconditional surrender to the Allies on September 2, 1945, ended World War II. America and her allies rejoiced. The idea of peace had never seemed more precious than to those who had given faithful service on the home front, as well as those who had served on the battlefield.
Yet much needed to be done before peace could be achieved. Those who had lost loved ones grieved. Families of those who were classified as prisoners of war or missing in action hoped and prayed for the day when their loved ones might return home. Factories that had been engaged in the production of war materials returned to their former pursuits. Thousands of “Rosie the Riveters,” women who had replaced men who had been called to defend their country, were no longer needed. Returning military personnel further flooded the job market.
There was rejoicing and mourning, newly created problems, and the adjustment from war to peace, but the spark of hope that had kept people through the dark days of war, rationing, and personal sacrifice burned high. A weary world looked forward to a season of peace on earth, good will to men.
Prologue
Easton, Pennsylvania
September 1943
Dan Fisher went down on his knees in front of the sofa where his wife lay. Darcy had been diagnosed with leukemia several months earlier, and short of a miracle, he knew she wouldn’t have long to live.
“I’m almost finished with this quilt,” Darcy murmured, lifting one corner of the colorful patchwork covering she had been working on since she’d first gotten sick. It was made from various shapes of cotton and velveteen material, in shades of blue, scarlet, gold, and green, and had been hand tied. She’d been able to do much of the stitching while lying in bed or on the sofa, where she spent most of her waking hours.
Dan nodded. “It’s beautiful, honey—just like you.”
“I want you to have it as a remembrance of me.” Tears gathered in the corners of Darcy’s dark-brown eyes, and she blinked them away. “It will bring you solace after I’m gone and help you remember to comfort others in need.”
Unable to voice his thoughts, Dan reached for Darcy’s hand. When she squeezed his fingers, he was amazed at the strength of her touch.
“There are things we must discuss,” she whispered.
Dan nodded, wishing they could talk about anything other than his wife’s imminent death.
“Please promise you’ll keep Twice Loved open.”
Dan knew how important Darcy’s used-toy store was to her and to all the children she had ministered to by providing inexpensive or free toys. Little ones whose fathers were away at war and those who’d been left with only one parent had received a measure of happiness, thanks to Darcy and her special store.
“I’ll keep the place going,” he promised. “Whenever I look at this quilt, I’ll remember the labor of love that went into making it, and I’ll do my best to help others in need.”
CHAPTER 1
September 1945
Bev Winters shut her desk drawer with such force that the cherished picture of her late husband toppled to the floor. Her hands shook as she bent to retrieve it, but she breathed a sigh of relief to see that the glass was intact and Fred’s handsome face smiled back at her.
Joy Lundy poked her head around the partition that separated her and Bev’s workspaces in the accounting department at Bethlehem Steel. “What happened, Bev? I heard a crash.”
Bev clutched the picture to her chest and sank into the office chair. She reached for the crumpled slip of paper on her desk and handed it to her coworker. “What a nice thing to give someone at the end of the day. I’ve got two weeks to tie up loose ends and clear out my desk.”
Joy scanned the memo, her forehead creasing as she frowned. “I heard there would be some cutbacks, now that the war is over and many of our returning men will need their old jobs back. I just didn’t realize it would be so soon—or that you’d be one of those they let go.”
Bev pulled the bottom drawer open and scooped up her pocketbook. “It’s probably for the best,” she mumbled. “I was thinking I might have to look for another job anyway.”
“You were? How come?”
Bev hung her head, feeling the humiliation of what had transpired yesterday afternoon.
Joy touched Bev’s trembling shoulder. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I—I—It’s nothing, really.” Bev was afraid to admit that their boss had tried to take advantage of her. What if Joy told someone and the news spread around the building? Bev’s reputation could be tarnished, and so would her Christian testimony. Here at Bethlehem Steel she’d tried to tell others about Christ through her actions and by inviting them to attend church. No, it would be best if she kept quiet about what had happened with Frank Martin. She’d be leaving in two weeks anyway.
Joy tapped Bev gently on the shoulder, driving her disconcerting thoughts to the back of her mind. “I’m here if you want to talk.”
Bev nodded, as tears clouded her vision. “I–I’d better get going. I don’t want to be late picking Amy up at the sitter’s.”
Joy returned to her own desk, and Bev left the office. Bev had only taken a few steps when she bumped into a tall man with sandy-blond hair. She didn’t recognize him and figured he must not work here or could be a returning veteran—perhaps the one who would be taking her bookkeeping position.
When the man looked down, Bev noticed that the latch on his briefcase had popped open, and several black-and-white photographs were strewed on the floor.
“I’m so sorry,” she apologized.
“It’s my fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” He squatted down and began to collect the pictures. “I’m here to do a photo shoot for management and can’t find the conference room. Do you know where it is?”
“Two doors down. Here, let me help you with those.” Bev knelt on the floor, unmindful of her hose that already had a small tear in them. As she helped gather the remaining photos, she almost collided with the man’s head.
For a few seconds, he stared at Bev with a look of sympathy. Could he tell she’d been crying? Did he think she was clumsy for bumping into him, causing his briefcase to open?
She handed the man his photos and stood, smoothing her dark-green, knee-length skirt. “Sorry about the pictures. I hope none of them are ruined.”
He put the photos back into his briefcase, snapped it closed, and rose. “No harm done. Thanks for your help.”
“You’re welcome.”
The man hesitated a moment, like he wanted to say something more, but then he strode down the hallway toward the conference room.
Bev headed in the opposite direction, anxious to get her daughter and head for home.
As Dan strolled down the hallway, he thought about the young woman he’d bumped into a few minutes ago. She wore her dark hair in a neat pageboy and had the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. If he wasn’t mistaken, there’d been tears in her eyes, and he figured she must have been crying before they collided.
It’s none of my business, he admonished himself. My desire to help others sometimes clouds my judgment.
Dan spotted the conference room and was about to open the door, when a middle-aged man with a balding head stopped him. “Hey, aren’t you Dan Fisher?”
Puzzled, Dan only nodded in reply.
“I’m Pete Mackey. We met back in ’39 when we were photographing the pedestrian suspension bridge that links Warren and Valley Streets. That was shortly after it was damaged by a severe storm.”
“I remember. That was quite a mess,” Dan said. “The new bridge is holding together nicely though.”
“Yeah, until the next hurricane hits the coast.”
“I hope not.”
Pete’s pale eyebrows drew together. “Say, didn’t you lose your wife a few years ago? I remember reading her obituary in the newspaper.”
“Darcy died of leukemia in the fall of ’43.” Dan’s skin prickled. He hated to think about how he’d lost his precious wife, much
less discuss his feelings with a near stranger.
“That must have been rough.”
“It was.”
“Do you have any children?”
“No, but we wanted some.”
“Me and the wife have five.” Pete gave his left earlobe a couple of pulls. “Kids can be a handful at times, but I wouldn’t trade mine for anything.”
Dan smiled and glanced at his watch. In about two minutes he would be late for his appointment.
“You here on business?” Pete asked.
“Yes. I’ve been asked to photograph some of the managers. How about you?”
“Came to interview a couple of women who lost their husbands in the war.”
“I see. Well it was nice seeing you again.” Dan turned toward the door, hoping Pete would take the hint and be on his way.
“Say, I was wondering if you could do me a favor,” Pete said.
Dan glanced over his shoulder. “What’s that?”
“I’m working for Family Life Magazine now, and I’ve been asked to write an article on how people deal with grief. Since you lost your wife, I figured you might be able to give me some helpful insights.”
Dan pivoted on his heel. “Are you suggesting an interview?”
“Yep. I’m sure the article will reach people all over the country who lost a loved one during the war. Some might be helped by your comments or advice, same as with the folks I’ll be interviewing here today.”
Dan’s face warmed, and his palms grew sweaty. Even though it had been two years since Darcy’s death, it was still difficult to talk about. Hardly a day had gone by that he hadn’t yearned for her touch. He wasn’t ready to share his feelings—not even to help someone going through grief.
“Sorry,” Dan mumbled. “I’m not interested in being interviewed for your magazine, and I’m late for an appointment.” He hurried off before Pete could say anything more.
CHAPTER 2
Dan leaned against his polished oak office chair and raked his fingers through the back of his hair, preparing to look over some proofs from a recent wedding that he’d done. Things had been busy lately and soon would get even busier, with Christmas only three months away. Many people wanted portraits taken to give as gifts, and he hoped those who did wouldn’t wait until the last minute to schedule an appointment. That had happened in the past, and there were days when he wondered why he’d ever become a photographer.
Dan thought about his first career choice and how he had wanted to join the navy shortly after he got out of high school. However, due to a knee injury he’d received playing football, he had been turned down for active duty.
Guess it’s just as well, he thought. If I’d gone into the navy, I might never have met Darcy. Might not be alive today either.
He thought about the radio broadcasts he’d listened to during the war and the newspaper articles that had given accounts of the battles, often mentioning those in the area who’d lost their lives in the line of duty. War was an ugly thing, but he knew it was a price that sometimes had to be paid in order to have freedom.
Dan’s thoughts were halted when the telephone rang. Knowing it could be a client, he reached for the receiver. “Fisher’s Photography Studio. Dan speaking.”
“Hi, Danny. How are you this evening?” The lilting voice on the other end of the line purred like a kitten, and he recognized it immediately.
“I’m fine, Leona. How are you?”
“Okay.” There was a brief pause. “You said you enjoyed my spaghetti and meatballs last week when you came over for supper, so I was hoping you’d join me tonight for my meat loaf special.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m busy right now, Leona.”
Dan’s next-door neighbor’s placating voice suddenly turned to ice. “I hope you’re not giving me the brush-off.”
“Of course not. I’ve got work to do in the studio, and I’ll be here until quite late.”
“I’m really disappointed, Danny.”
Dan clenched the phone cord between his fingers. Leona Howard was a nice enough woman, but why did she have to be so pushy? “Can I take a rain check?” he asked.
“Okay, but I plan to collect on that rain check soon.”
“I’d better get back to work, so I’ll talk to you later. Goodbye, Leona.” Dan hung up the phone with a sense of relief. He didn’t want to hurt the woman’s feelings, but they weren’t right for each other. At least, she wasn’t right for him. Leona was nothing like Darcy. In fact, she was the exact opposite of her. Leona usually wore her platinum blond hair in one of those wavy updos, with her bangs swept to one side. Darcy’s chestnut-brown hair had been shoulder length and worn in a soft pageboy. Leona plastered on enough makeup to sink a battleship, and Darcy had worn hardly any at all.
Dan massaged his forehead, making little circles with the tips of his fingers. Who am I kidding? I’m not ready to commit to another woman, and I may never be. Besides, Leona is not a Christian, and that fact alone would keep me from becoming seriously involved with her.
A couple of times, when Leona first started inviting him to her house for a meal, Dan had asked her to attend church with him. She’d flatly refused, saying church was for weak people who needed a crutch. Leona wasn’t weak, and she’d proved that when her husband was killed on the USS Arizona during the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Leona had become a nurse and picked up the pieces of her life so well that it made Dan wonder if she’d ever loved her husband at all.
A rumble in the pit of Dan’s stomach reminded him that it was nearly suppertime. He momentarily fought the urge to call his wife on the phone and ask what she was fixing tonight. He glanced through the open door of his office, leading to the used-toy store on the other side of the building. There was Darcy’s quilt hanging over the wooden rack he’d made. The coverlet was a reminder of her undying love and brought him some measure of comfort.
Bev sank into a chair at the kitchen table and opened the newspaper. Yesterday had been her last day at Bethlehem Steel, and she hoped to find something else right away. She needed to, as the meager savings she’d put away wouldn’t last long.
She scanned the HELP WANTED section but soon realized there were no bookkeeping jobs available. “They’ve probably all been taken by returning war veterans,” she grumbled.
Her conscience pricked, and she bowed her head. “Forgive me, Lord. I’m thankful that so many of our soldiers have come home. I only wish Fred could have been one of them.”
Tears stung Bev’s eyes as she thought about the way her husband had been killed, along with thousands of other men and women who’d been at Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. For nearly four years now, Bev had been without Fred, but at least she’d had a job.
She returned her attention to the newspaper. Surely there had to be something she could do. She was about to give up and start supper when she noticed an ad she hadn’t seen before.
Wanted: Reliable person to manage used-toy store. Must have good people skills and be able to balance the books. If interested, apply at Twice Loved, on the corner of North Main and Tenth Street, Easton, Pennsylvania.
She pursed her lips. “Maybe I should drop by there tomorrow after I take Amy to school. Even if I don’t get the job, I might be able to find an inexpensive doll or stuffed animal I could put away for her Christmas present.”
As if on cue, Bev’s six-year-old daughter burst into the room. Her blue eyes brimmed with tears, and her chin trembled like a leaf caught in a breeze.
Bev reached out and pulled Amy into her arms. “What’s wrong, honey?”
“I was playin’ with Baby Sue, and her head fell off.”
“Why don’t you go get the doll, and I’ll see if I can put her back together.”
Amy shook her head as more tears came. “Her neck’s tore. The head won’t stay on.”
Bev knew enough about rubber dolls to realize that once the body gave way, there was little that could be done except to buy a new doll.
Her gaze came
to rest on the newspaper ad again. I really do need to pay a visit to Twice Loved.
CHAPTER 3
Bev stood in front of Twice Loved, studying the window display. There were several stuffed animals leaning against a stack of books, a toy fire truck, two cloth dolls, and a huge teddy bear with a red ribbon tied around its neck. Propped against the bear’s feet was a sign that read: HELP WANTED. INQUIRE WITHIN.
Bev drew in a deep breath and pushed open the door. Inside, there was no one in sight, so she made her way to the wooden counter in the center of the room. A small bell sat on one end, and she gave it a jingle. A few minutes later, a door at the back of the store opened, and a man stepped out.
Love Finds a Home (Anthologies) Page 15