“That story is hard to believe,” Janos said, wiping at his eyes.
“And yet it happened.”
“Why have you never shared this with me before?”
“Honestly, I haven’t thought about Mrs. Horvath in years. But today …” Anna got up from her chair and knelt in front of Janos. “I think sometimes a person’s suffering is so great that the mind has no choice but to go back to a happier time—to a time before the trauma. The present is just too unbearable.”
Janos had never heard such a bizarre story. “Surely this woman had some form of insanity before her son’s death.”
“Mama always said Mrs. Horvath was the most sensible woman she had ever met.”
“But a completely sane person doesn’t go mad overnight.”
“Sometimes they do, Janos. Sometimes they do,” Anna’s voice trailed off. “You need look no further than behind that door.” She pointed toward Karina’s room.
Janos stared at the walnut door that separated him from his wife. Maybe whatever Karina had suffered at the hands of her baby’s father had broken her mind. But unlike Mrs. Horvath, Karina had not been entirely well before her departure from Riverton. He could never put a name to her affliction, but her unpredictable moods had always been troubling.
“So what are we going to do, Anna?”
“We’re going to pretend. For the sake of that baby, we will pretend that what Karina says is true. The past seven years never happened.”
Struggling to comprehend what he’d just heard, Janos studied his sister’s face. Her idea was absurd. But the longer and harder he stared at her, the more stoic and unwavering she appeared. She was determined to do whatever was necessary to ensure Karina delivered a healthy baby. Anna’s intentions were noble, but Janos wondered at what cost this charade would come. How sane would he be after weeks—maybe months—of pretending to be a loving husband to his adulterous wife? He dared not predict the outcome of the disaster Karina had created for them, but he was certain it would not be a holy one.
Forty-Six
SOFIE
BEAVER CREEK, NOVEMBER 24, 1917
Sofie fought to calm her nerves as she stood before the door of Mrs. Walker’s home. She had barely slept the night before. Her reunion with Pole had left her excited, unable to slow the torrent of thoughts swirling in her head. Every time she had been on the verge of sleep, Pole’s handsome face appeared before her eyes, sending a jolt of electricity through her. Her fingers still tingled, and now her stomach was filled with a swarm of butterflies. As she reached for the brass pineapple door knocker, she wondered if this was the magical feeling Marie gushed about each time she became infatuated with a new boy.
“Good morning, Sof. I heard you comin’ up the steps,” Pole said, opening Mrs. Walker’s front door before she’d had a chance to knock. He was freshly shaven, his wavy, brown hair neatly combed.
“Are you and Lily ready to see Beaver Creek?” Sofie asked, hoping her voice didn’t sound too unsteady.
“I am, but my sister’s not coming. She’s helping Mrs. Walker with her shopping.”
Sofie nodded, wondering if Pole had played a role in Lily’s absence. Did he want her all to himself? She secretly hoped so. “Let’s walk to Main Street first. That’s where most of the shops and restaurants are.”
“You lead the way. I’ll buy you lunch at the end of the tour. We’ll be hungry after walkin’ around in the cold all morning.”
“It won’t take long to show you Beaver Creek, but lunch would be nice.”
“I told Lily I’d pick her up later so we can go to the nickelodeon. You still wanna come?” Pole asked as he led Sofie down the porch steps, his hand lightly touching the small of her back.
She turned toward his smiling face. His eagerness to spend the day with her was written all over it. “Sure,” she said, trying to sound casual.
As they strolled into town, chatting all the way, Sofie noticed that Pole’s proximity to her was increasing with each passing minute. They had begun their walk with almost a foot of space between them, but during the course of several stories Pole had recounted about his life in the mountains, he had inched ever closer to her. His arm was now around her back, their coats constantly brushing against each other as they traipsed through the bitter cold. Each time Sofie pointed out a landmark to Pole, he leaned into her face, presumably to hear her better. And each time he did this, she was intoxicated by his heady scent. Pole smelled woodsy like pine or cedar. It was as if he’d been outdoors chopping wood all morning.
Pole exuded a ruggedness and masculinity Sofie was not accustomed to. She noticed the way people on the street regarded him, giving him a wide berth as they passed by. Sofie was not sure why, but she liked being in the company of someone so capable-looking. His imposing presence made her feel protected.
“Do you wanna say hello to your father?” Pole asked as Sofie pointed out the store to him.
“No. That’s okay.”
“Why not?”
Sofie dared not admit that she preferred having Pole all to herself. Besides, she was still not entirely comfortable watching the way her father now interacted with Concetta. She suspected he was falling in love with his business partner and would be making plans to marry her if not for Karina’s shocking return. Sofie cringed as another thought of her mother’s betrayal invaded her mind.
“Why do you suddenly look troubled?” Pole asked as he pulled Sofie away from the edge of the sidewalk and led her under the awning of a butcher shop.
“I had an unpleasant thought.”
“About what?” He caressed her arm as he stepped closer to her, eliminating the already narrow space between them.
“It’s not important,” Sofie said, instantly mesmerized by Pole’s dark green eyes, their deep color like the thick pine forest she had once discovered while hiking upriver. She wanted to get lost in those eyes, escape to an enchanted place, far from the madness plaguing her family. “It’s been too long since you and I spent a day together,” she whispered. “Let’s not ruin it with talk of sad things.”
“We have a lot of lost time to make up.” Pole leaned into Sofie’s face, pausing when his lips were just inches from hers.
Once again, she found herself wondering how it would feel to have his lips pressed against hers. She trembled as she felt his warm breath against her mouth. Caught between terror and longing, she blurted, “I think we should keep moving. It’s cold.”
“Are you sure about that, Sof?” Pole smirked.
“I’m not sure about anything anymore.” She closed her eyes and exhaled.
“Come on, then.” Pole took her hand and led her across the street. “Let’s see what’s playin’ this afternoon at the nickelodeon. I’ve seen almost every film that’s come out in the past month.”
“Really?” she asked, recovering her composure.
“Lily’s been having a hard time since her mother passed. Seein’ shows helps take her mind off her grief. Besides, she deserves a little fun. Before I quit the mines, we hadn’t seen a film in years.”
“Why is that?”
“The closest theater was in Johnstown. It was an hour’s walk just to get to the nearest town where we could catch a train,” Pole said, shaking his head.
“I didn’t realize you were that isolated.”
“Abbott’s Hollow isn’t a place I’d ever choose to live. I only stayed there for Lily’s sake.”
“Did you ever think about leaving?”
“All the time. I tried for years to convince Lily’s mother to leave, but she wouldn’t have it. I had no choice but to wait for the day when my sister was old enough to make her own decisions.” Pole went quiet and looked down. “And then Bridget died,” he whispered.
Sofie was struck by the somber realization that Pole would not be with her if not for Lily’s mother’s passing. She scolded herself for seeing the death of a young girl’s mother as a blessing in disguise. “Your sister is lucky to have you. You worked in the mine
s all those years to support her and Bridget. It must have been terribly difficult. You’re so brave.”
“Not really. Sometimes life doesn’t give you a choice. You do what it takes to survive—to protect the people you love. You make sacrifices you never imagined.”
Sofie felt so much admiration for Pole. “That accident you described at dinner last night sounded horrifying. I can’t believe you were trapped underground for five days.”
“Waitin’ around to die is the worst torture I can think of. But it gave me plenty of time to think about my life—about the people who matter most to me.” Pole leaned into Sofie’s ear and whispered, “I thought about you.”
Her heart fluttered.
Pole caressed her cheek and turned his attention to the placards on the windows of the nickelodeon. “I wouldn’t mind seein’ Coney Island again. That was a funny film. Hmm, looks like Cleopatra is playing, too.”
As Pole studied the various placards covered with beautiful movie stars, Sofie gazed at him, aware that her attraction to her childhood friend was growing by the second. A chill went down her spine. Pole’s handsome face belonged on a poster, she thought. Maybe a Western.
“What are you looking at?” he asked.
“You. I’m still wondering if this is all a dream.”
Pole pinched the back of her hand lightly. “See, Sof. You’re awake. I’m really here.”
Sofie could not hold back the tear escaping down her cheek. She was so happy to be with Pole again, but her life was in so much turmoil.
He gently wiped her tear away with his thumb, his own eyes starting to water. “It’s going to be okay. Things will work out.”
“How do you know?” Sofie asked, wondering how Pole had read her thoughts.
“You’re a survivor, sweetheart. You’re the toughest girl I know. And I’ll be by your side, holdin’ your hand every step of the way.”
With those words, Sofie fell into Pole’s arms. She buried her head against his neck, trying to muster the courage to act on the passion he’d ignited within her. She raised her head slowly and met his loving gaze. His green eyes were twinkling, casting a spell over her, urging her to do the unimaginable. She gently pressed her lips against his, delighting in their softness and warmth. Her entire body quivered. She felt Pole’s arms tighten around her as he hungrily parted her lips. The sounds on the busy street quickly fell away as Sofie sank deeper and deeper into Pole’s strong embrace. She was safe from all the dangers of the world. She was home.
Forty-Seven
EDITH
SHADYSIDE, NOVEMBER 29, 1917
Edith lumbered down the mauve carpeted staircase, her ever attentive husband at her side. James had repeatedly tried to convince her to take Thanksgiving dinner in bed, but she was determined to spend the holiday with Lukas no matter how debilitating her nausea. Eight weeks pregnant and vomiting several times per day, nothing could dampen her spirits. She was eager to share her joyous news with Lukas, whom she hadn’t seen since late September.
The doctor had confirmed her pregnancy a week earlier, and Edith had been floating on a cloud ever since. Upon hearing the news, she had practically leapt with glee, astonished her prayers had finally been answered. A baby was growing inside her womb, and her love for it was already boundless. Only weeks prior, she’d been examining the possibility that her body was simply not fit to create life. Her dreams of having a child had been growing ever more fragile. And then the most unexpected of miracles occurred.
As her body underwent curious changes, Edith’s relationship with her husband evolved as well. She saw it in his eyes, in the adoring way he now looked at her. James had always been a loving husband, constantly doting on her and attending to her every need. But now he regarded her with an extreme reverence, apparently in awe of the wonder taking place within her. He made her feel as if she had a divine purpose.
“Are you sure you’re feeling up to this, Edith? Your condition is delicate. Lukas could visit with you in your room.”
“Nonsense. I’m fine.”
“There would be nothing improper about it, darling. He’s practically our son.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I feel better than I have in days. I’ve been sipping tea with ginger all morning.”
“If you insist,” James said as they reached the foot of the staircase. “Lukas is in the parlor. He’s in good spirits. We enjoyed a lovely breakfast this morning and had a long, frank discussion about school.”
“Is he still feeling out of place?”
“Quite the contrary. His grades are improving. He’s talking of becoming an architect.”
“That’s splendid! I’m so happy to hear it.” Edith quickened her pace toward the parlor.
“Aunt Edith,” Lukas said happily as he stood up from his chair and rushed over to greet her. He planted a kiss on her cheek. “Uncle James said you haven’t been well.”
A smile crept across Edith’s face. “Please sit down, Lukas. I have news to tell you. James, will you help me onto the sofa? I’m still feeling rather weak.”
“Of course,” he replied as he eased his wife onto the green velvet sofa. He plopped down beside her and took her hand, gently placing it on his knee. He winked at Lukas.
“Is everything all right?” Lukas asked. “You’re both acting strange. But in a pleasant sort of way.”
“Something very unexpected has occurred,” Edith said, grinning. “The doctor instructed me not to share my news as it is still early. But you are family, and Uncle James and I would like you to share in our joy.”
Lukas smiled knowingly.
“I’m with child! James and I are expecting a baby.” Edith clapped her hands with delight. So much for cautious optimism, she thought. No matter the risk, she intended to relish every moment of this blessed experience.
“Congratulations. I’m happy for you both.”
“We’ve hoped and prayed for this miracle for a very long time,” Edith explained. “It has been a long journey with unspeakable heartbreak, but our time has finally come.”
Lukas nodded in earnest. “The little guy will be lucky to have you as parents.”
“Or little gal.” James chuckled. “I simply cannot wait to spoil her.”
“We will be infinitely happy no matter what blessing the Lord bestows upon us. This child will be loved like no other,” Edith gushed. Her heart rejoiced at seeing the excitement on the faces of her husband and adopted nephew. Though Lukas was of no blood relation and had not come into her life until the age of eight, she loved him as if she had borne him herself. She celebrated his successes and grieved his heartaches. She obsessed about his future and vowed to do anything necessary for the sake of his happiness. Lukas was hers in every way that mattered. He would truly be a big brother to her baby.
“I don’t care whether the baby is a boy or girl,” Lukas said. “It will be fun to have a little one to chase around the house.”
“It certainly will be,” James agreed.
“Uncle James tells me that school is going well for you, Lukas. Your outlook has improved since our last visit?” Edith asked.
“It has. I’ve been studying more. I’ve decided to focus on my future instead of worrying about whether I belong.”
Edith smiled proudly as James squeezed her hand. “That’s wonderful news. But I’m curious as to what has brought on this change.”
“I don’t know,” Lukas said, shaking his head. “I ran into an old friend from Riverton last month. He’s been mining coal for the past several years. Maybe seeing him made me realize how lucky I am—how much worse my life could have turned out.”
Edith nodded. “That’s very insightful.”
“Look at that! Our boy is growing up. He’s becoming a mature adult. Perhaps he would like a scotch after dinner,” James teased.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, dear husband.” Edith elbowed James in the ribs. “Now, Lukas, I hope your father wasn’t too disappointed that you’re not spending Thanksgivi
ng with him.”
“I don’t think so. I wrote him that I’m putting more effort into my studies. I explained that I only had enough time to visit Shadyside over the short holiday weekend. At least I’ll see him at Christmas.”
“You certainly will. But you must stop here for a day or two before you take the train up to Beaver Creek. We’re on the way.”
“Of course, Aunt Edith. I always enjoy your home during the holidays. No one has a prettier tree than you.”
“This is your home, too. I wish you’d start thinking of it that way.”
“I’ll try.”
Suddenly, Edith heard a low growl beside her. “Dear God, was that you?” She glared at her husband.
“Forgive me. It seems my stomach has no sense of propriety,” James said, rubbing his midsection. “Dinner should be ready by now, shouldn’t it?”
Lukas laughed. “I’ll go check with the cook. We can’t have Uncle James starving on Thanksgiving.”
“Let me do it, Lukas. That’s not the duty of a guest,” James said as he leaned forward to stand.
“No, no,” Edith scolded her husband. “I just instructed Lukas to think of this house as his own. It is quite proper that he address the staff. Now go on,” she said, motioning Lukas down the hall.
As Edith watched Lukas set off toward the kitchen, she melted into the sofa, lulled by a quiet feeling of contentment. Having finally been granted some serenity, she realized how troubled she had been in recent months—maybe even years—about her struggle to have a baby. Her long-fought battles with her mysterious ailments had been taxing enough, but her heartbreaking attempts to bear a child had chipped away at her soul. The constant disappointment had been agonizing.
None of it mattered now. She was finally at peace. She closed her eyes and caressed her belly, imagining what her beautiful baby might look like. Would it have James’s striking blue eyes? His blonde hair? Or maybe her own dark locks? She sighed. It did not matter whom the baby resembled. Edith only knew that her little son or daughter would bring indescribable, delirious joy into their lives.
Beneath the Veil of Smoke and Ash Page 27