“Our German supplier. You’ll get used to it.” Janos chuckled.
“I’m not sure I want to. I wish Tony were still here to help with the store. I’m too old for this.”
“You most certainly are not. You’re not even forty yet.”
“I’m forty-two.” She sighed. “This store was Antonio’s. When he died, I thought Tony would take it and pass it down to his sons. I never imagined he would leave me and move to Philadelphia.”
Janos felt sorry for his business partner. It had been over three years since the sudden death of her husband, and she still seemed broken. And now her only son had moved to Philadelphia because his new wife was homesick and didn’t want to live far from her sisters.
“Children grow up, Concetta. There’s no guarantee they will stay close to home.” Janos touched her hand. “Maybe in a few years, I will have enough money saved to buy your share of the store. You can move to Philadelphia then.”
“I can’t ask you to do that. You’ve done too much already. You managed the store all by yourself for an entire year after Antonio died. I still feel guilty about that.”
“What else could I do? You were inconsolable, and having Tony quit school was not an option. I’m grateful you sold me half the business. Working with Tony these past two years has been a pleasure.”
“He’s a good boy, isn’t he?” Concetta smiled proudly. “I just miss him so much.” Her smile faded as her eyes welled with tears.
“Papa!” Janos heard Sofie’s voice as the bell on the store’s front door chimed. He squeezed Concetta’s hand as he stood up from his desk. “Think about what I said. I’m willing to buy your share of the store. Maybe I can get a bank loan to expedite the process.”
Concetta wiped at her eyes.
Janos left his partner in the office at the back of the store and found Sofie straightening a display of canned peaches.
“I brought you dinner, Papa. Aunt Anna made peanut butter soup.”
“What kind of soup?” he asked, tilting his head.
“Peanut butter. It’s not bad.”
Janos fought to suppress a frown as he took the bowl from Sofie. “Marie stopped by the store this afternoon. We had an interesting conversation.”
“Really?”
“She told me how disappointed she was that you weren’t allowed to go to the school dances last year.” Janos raised an eyebrow. “She was hoping to convince me to allow you to go to the dance this weekend. She assured me there would be plenty of chaperones.”
Sofie groaned.
“Care to explain?”
“Oh, Papa. You know I have no interest in chasing after boys at school dances. Marie wouldn’t stop pestering me about going last year, so I told her I wasn’t allowed.”
Janos glared at his daughter.
“It was an innocent lie.”
“Don’t you think it might be fun to go to a dance? You spend far too much time writing for the paper and obsessing over your schoolwork.” Janos often worried that his daughter didn’t share the interests of her friends. She always rolled her eyes whenever Marie Radovic gushed about a handsome boy and avoided going to after-school functions. He wondered what was wrong with her. Had the losses she’d suffered affected her ability to connect with people? Suddenly, Janos heard light footsteps behind him.
“Hello, Sofie,” Concetta said softly. “I’m on my way to the kitchen to make a pot of tea. Would you and your father like to join me? I made biscotti this afternoon.”
“That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Moretti, but I have to get to the Dispatch. I have an article to drop off.”
Janos studied his daughter. She wasn’t carrying the black folder she normally used to submit her work to the paper. Was she lying again? Janos pulled out his pocket watch and groaned audibly when he saw the time. “It’s not like you to miss a deadline, Sofie. It’s after seven.”
She looked down at her shoes. “Actually … I did drop off the article, but I think I made a mistake. I need to rush back to the paper and correct it before it gets printed.” Sofie looked up at her father, a hint of remorse on her face.
“I see,” Janos said, satisfied that his daughter knew she had been caught in another lie. He wondered why she didn’t want to have tea with him and Concetta. Sofie had never turned down homemade biscotti before. Her behavior was becoming more unpredictable every day.
“Another time then, Sofie,” Concetta said. “Will you be joining me, Janos?” She touched him lightly on the shoulder.
“Of course. You know how I feel about your biscotti. Maybe I’ll even share my peanut butter soup with you.” He winked at her. “See you at home, Sofie.”
“Yes, Papa. Goodnight, Mrs. Moretti,” Sofie said as she waved and slipped out the door.
Janos wondered why his daughter was in such a hurry. He didn’t believe her story about the mistake in her article, but he would uncover the truth later. At the moment, he was more focused on Concetta’s biscotti.
Twenty-Four
EDITH
SHADYSIDE, SEPTEMBER 27, 1917
Edith Covington Girard Harford looked up from her novel and smiled. Her husband, James, had entered the parlor of their Shadyside mansion carrying a box of chocolates and a bouquet of orange chrysanthemums.
“Hello, darling. How was the appointment with your new doctor?”
“You didn’t have to bring me sweets,” Edith said as James kissed her on the cheek and handed her the yellow box. She lifted the lid and inhaled the scent of caramel and hazelnut. “Perhaps you suspected I might need some cheering up.”
“I simply wanted to make my lovely wife smile.” James’s face fell. “Did the doctor have bad news?”
“Not really. It was more of the same. All my ailments seem to revolve around the same problem.” Edith groaned. “Every doctor I see is deeply troubled by my irregular menses. This one said we need to provoke the flowers.”
“Provoke the what?” James gave her a confused look.
“The flowers.” Edith looked away, embarrassed. “We need to induce my monthly flow.” James sat down next to his wife on the green velvet sofa and wrapped his arm around her. Edith was dwarfed by her husband’s large frame, but welcomed the comfort of his touch. She loved how he always made her feel so protected.
“What exactly did the doctor say?”
“He told me to continue with the mugwort and pennyroyal. But instead of putting the herbs in my tea, he wants me to eat several leaves per day.”
“How fortunate we are to have our own greenhouse. I’ll be sure to tell the gardener to order more seeds. We can grow your herbs all winter long.” James rubbed his wife’s back. “Was there anything else?”
Edith looked down at her lap. Her husband leaned closer. She could feel his breath against her cheek. “He was not very encouraging. He told me that women with my symptoms rarely become pregnant.”
“What about the pregnancy two years ago?”
“He didn’t say pregnancy was impossible—just very unlikely. I haven’t had my monthly flow in over six months. And my other symptoms … they all point to the same thing.”
Edith caught herself fingering the stubble growing on her chin. She had shaved a few days before, but the hair was already coming back. Her mother had convinced her to start shaving her upper lip and jaw several years earlier when it had become clear that her excessive hair growth was hindering her efforts at finding a husband.
“Stop it, Edith. Obsessing about it won’t do you any good.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re touching your face again. Stop fretting over it. No one notices it, except you.”
“This is too embarrassing a subject to discuss with one’s husband,” Edith replied, her face flushing.
“When are you going to realize that I don’t give a damn about what you look like? I care only about your health. The hair growth on your face and the absence of your menses point to a serious health problem. I don’t care if we ever have a bab
y. I simply want you to be healthy.”
“You don’t really mean that. I know you would like a child of your own. And, besides … would you really want to attend social events at the university with a bearded lady? I could be a sideshow, for heaven’s sake.”
“It can’t be that bad.” James patted his wife’s knee.
“How would I know? I’ve been shaving since before we met over six years ago. I’m terrified to see what would happen if I let it grow. And I’ve gained another five pounds,” she added somberly.
“Now there’s more of you to love.” James tickled his wife’s side as he planted kisses along her neck.
Edith couldn’t contain her giggles. “I’m not sure I deserve you.” She embraced her husband and rested her head on his shoulder.
She was so grateful to have found such a compassionate man, one who always seemed unfazed by her multitude of embarrassing health problems. He was a stark contrast to her ex-fiancé, Frederick Metzler Morgan. Frederick was so painfully superficial and concerned only with outward appearances. When Edith had suddenly gained weight in the months before their wedding, Frederick had thrown a massive fit and pressured her to skip meals. Edith was still haunted by the look on her former fiancé’s face the first time he had noticed dark hair growing on her upper lip.
“What are you thinking about now?”
“How lucky I am to have found you. You’ve been so supportive these past few years. Trying to start a family hasn’t been easy.”
“Few things in life are.” James stroked her cheek. “It’s time to stop worrying. I have a plan for us.”
“What’s that, Mr. Harford?” Edith gazed into her husband’s big blue eyes. They were a striking feature on an otherwise ordinary face. James was a bit of a walking contradiction. He was a massive man in both height and girth, but was blessed with a pleasant demeanor and an enormous heart. A gentle giant. And although he was a well-respected history professor with several published books to his credit, he was incredibly witty. His laughter was infectious and often spread through a room like wildfire. He was one of the most sought-after guests at dinner parties.
“I think you should try the herbs for a few more months. Maybe ingesting them whole will be more effective than putting them in your tea. However, if we still see no improvement in your health by spring, we should consider other alternatives.”
Edith sighed. “You mean adoption?”
“Possibly. Or even a life without children. We’ve been trying to have a baby for six years. You’re approaching thirty, and I’m thirty-seven. Maybe we need to accept that it might not happen. We can have a happy life with just the two of us. And we still have Lukas.”
Edith laid her head on her husband’s shoulder again. “I know,” she whispered.
“Is he coming for a visit this weekend? We haven’t seen him since the school year began.”
“He is.”
“I’m sure he’ll be full of stories about his teachers and classmates. You should be very proud, Edith. That boy would never have had a chance at a first-class education if it weren’t for you. Westmont Academy is one of the finest boarding schools in Pennsylvania—the country, even.”
“It is. Lukas will be able to attend any Ivy League school he chooses.” Edith lifted her head and met her husband’s loving gaze. “It was a cruel twist of fate that brought Lukas into my life, but I am grateful all the same.”
“Indeed,” James said, kissing his wife’s forehead. “And I’m thankful he brought you into my life. If you hadn’t been so relentless in your pursuit of a perfect fit for Lukas’s prosthetic leg, I might never have met you.”
Edith chuckled. “I was determined, wasn’t I?” She thought about the way she had stormed into a New Year’s Eve party almost seven years ago in search of James’s brother. It had been six months since Lukas’s accident, and he had finally received a prosthetic leg from Dr. Samuel Harford a month earlier. But after almost a dozen fittings, the leg was still uncomfortable. Edith had promised to take Lukas to see a fireworks display that evening to celebrate the new year, but his prosthetic was causing him so much pain that he’d had to remove it. When Edith suggested that Lukas use his crutches that night, the poor boy had burst into tears. Angry and irritated, Edith had gone in search of Dr. Harford on New Year’s Eve to demand that he adjust Lukas’s prosthetic yet again.
“I still feel bad about embarrassing your brother in front of the mayor, but my sweet boy wanted to see the fireworks. I couldn’t bear to make him go on those dreadful crutches.”
“I was in awe of you that night,” James said, smiling.
“You were?”
“I had never seen a woman with more resolve. Your devotion to that boy was—and still is—remarkable.”
Edith blushed. “I never imagined that making a scene at a society party would help me attract the attention of a fine man like you. You are quite the catch, James Harford.”
“Life is full of surprises, darling. You never know what’s waiting around the corner.”
Twenty-Five
LUKAS
JOHNSTOWN, SEPTEMBER 28, 1917
Lukas sat on the edge of his dormitory bed, adjusting the leather straps and laces on his Gillingham prosthetic leg. His train to Pittsburgh was leaving in less than an hour. He would have to hurry to make it to the station on time. He was very particular about the fit of his wood and leather leg, always taking great care in fastening it to his thigh. A good fit ensured a comfortable walk with little swelling or chafing on his stump.
Since the accident that took his right foot and a portion of his calf over seven years earlier, Lukas had tried several different types of prosthetics. Almost all of them had been uncomfortable and sometimes even painful. His stump was often left red and swollen from the leather straps rubbing against his skin, and the weight of the device was cumbersome. Maneuvering a wooden leg around all day left him exhausted. There were months when he refused to wear his leg at all.
And then Aunt Edith suggested they travel to Chard, England to meet James Gillingham. It wasn’t easy convincing Janos Kovac to allow her to take his only son on a steamship across the Atlantic, but Edith Harford was determined and persistent. She had read that James Gillingham made the best prosthetics in the world with the most comfortable fit. He was a man of rare talent. Lukas’s father eventually acquiesced and allowed his son to travel to Europe with the woman who had become his benefactor—and aunt, of sorts. At least, that’s what she considered herself.
Lukas looked down at the leather straps on his prosthetic leg and nodded. He stood up and walked around the room, testing the fit. It had been a few years since his trip to England, and he would soon outgrow the longer leg Mr. Gillingham had created to replace the one Lukas had been fitted with in Chard. The doctor had warned that boys his age outgrew prosthetics rather quickly. Lukas suspected he would need a new one by the following summer, but the war in Europe was making overseas travel impossible. Aunt Edith would have to find a local doctor to fit him with a new leg.
“You’d better hurry up, Lukas. We’re going to miss our train if you don’t stop playing with that leg of yours.”
Lukas turned around to find his roommate, Frankie, standing in the doorway. “I’m ready to go. You packed yet?”
“My suitcase is in the common room. You want me to carry your bag for you?”
Lukas appreciated his friend’s constant attempts to ease his burdens, but he was determined to prove to the world that he was still normal and whole, even if the device under his pant leg indicated otherwise. “No, thanks. The walk to the incline is less than a mile.”
As Lukas walked with Frankie down the tree-lined path from the dormitory to the edge of Westmont Academy’s campus, he listened to the rustle of autumn leaves beneath his feet. It was a crisp afternoon, but the late day sun was bright and warmed his back. He was excited about the upcoming weekend and looking forward to a break from the scornful eyes of his teachers and the piles of homework accumulating on
his desk.
The academic standards at his prestigious boarding school were becoming increasingly difficult to meet. Lukas was in his sophomore year and struggling to catch up with his peers. His public school education through the eighth grade had not prepared him to compete with wealthy classmates who had attended exclusive private primary schools all over Pennsylvania. Aunt Edith had tried for years to persuade Lukas’s father to allow him to live with her in Shadyside during the school year so he could attend one of the private schools in her neighborhood. But for better or worse, Janos Kovac was a proud man. He had insisted that his son live with his family in Beaver Creek until high school, at the very least.
Aunt Edith had tried to compensate for Lukas’s inadequate public school education by hiring a team of tutors every summer to help him catch up. Since the age of nine, Lukas had spent the entire month of July at Edith’s Shadyside mansion. There he learned all the important math and science concepts the incompetent Beaver Creek school system had failed to teach him the previous year. He also received lessons in Latin and French and learned how to play the piano. Despite Edith’s best efforts, Lukas was still behind his classmates.
“What’s on your mind, Lukas? You’re so quiet today. Aren’t you excited about the football game tomorrow? We might meet some girls.”
“Sure I am. I was just thinking about school.”
“Cut it out. You can think about it Sunday night when we get back.” Frankie gave Lukas a sympathetic look. “You’re not still thinking about leaving, are you?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I belong here. I was the smartest kid in my class in Beaver Creek and now I can’t keep up.”
Frankie laughed as he punched Lukas in the arm. “You’re steps ahead of me. I’ve always been at the bottom of my class. Doesn’t bother me one bit.”
“But you have the Spencer family name. Your father will make sure you get into the right university. I’m sure he already has a spot reserved for you at his firm.”
Beneath the Veil of Smoke and Ash Page 14