by Lynn Austin
A vivid memory came to Audrey—how she’d gripped the wheel of Alfie’s boat to steer it through the darkness. She remembered her fear and the dizzying feeling of unreality, as if everything were happening to someone else. It was not unlike what she felt now. “But the ship I’m in has no rudder, Reverend. And the fog never lifts.”
He reached for her hand, his fingers calloused and warm. “During the war, we had a tangible enemy, an evil enemy. And thank God, that enemy was defeated. When I comfort those who’ve lost loved ones, I usually can help them see that their loss had a higher purpose, serving the greater good of combating the Nazis. Do any of us doubt how much more suffering would be unleased if Hitler had been victorious? Those who died gave their lives as God’s soldiers, fighting so the people they loved could be free from that evil. It was the same reason that God allowed His Son to suffer and die an unspeakable death—so the people He loves could be free.”
“Robert didn’t die in battle.”
“Didn’t he? Can you explain why he agreed to climb into a car with a woman who obviously hated him?”
Audrey stared down at the vicar’s hand, still clasping hers. It was unexplainable. Robert knew Linda was unstable. He should have stayed far away from her. But Audrey also remembered Robert saying, “I need to see her face-to-face and apologize if I hurt her. I need to ask her to forgive me.”
“It required courage to do what he did,” the vicar said. “Courage your husband learned in battle as a soldier.”
Robert had compared serving God with serving in the military. “We can use the lessons we learned while fighting the war to lay aside our own comfort and follow His commands. The fight against evil is far from over.” There were people who needed to be set free. And Linda had been one of them.
“Would Robert have reached out to this woman if God asked him to?” the vicar pressed.
The question angered Audrey. She let go of his hand. “Why would God ask such a thing?”
“Why did you go into dangerous places during the war and risk your life? You drove your ambulance into places where the bombs were still falling.”
“I did it to save lives.”
“Ah. Then you do understand why your husband did it. And why God would ask him to. Perhaps he hoped to save this woman from a life of bitterness and despair.” Rev. Hamlin stood. “I know you didn’t really want to see me today, and I imposed myself on you. But I’m a telephone call away whenever you would like to talk.”
Audrey walked with him to the door as a courtesy. “Thank you for coming, Vicar.”
He turned to her again on the front step. “In these hard times, we have so many questions for God. And I know you’re probably at loose ends, wondering where to turn and what comes next. But may I leave you with a question to think about as you sort things through?” She tilted her head in a reluctant nod, not really wanting to hear his question, knowing it likely would be a difficult one. “What might God be asking you to do?” he said.
She didn’t reply. She closed the door as if closing it on his question as well.
Shortly before Christmas, Audrey’s uncle telephoned. “Your aunt and I would like you to join us at our country home for the holidays,” he said. “We hate to think of you sitting at Wellingford Hall all alone. Come be with your family.”
Audrey bit back an angry reply. When had they ever been a family? There had been no family Christmas celebrations before the war when Mother was alive. As an important member of the House of Lords, her uncle had very little contact with his sister, the black sheep. Audrey had last seen him at her mother’s funeral.
“Did you know that I married an American during the war?” she asked. “We have a son. He’s six months old.”
“You should have contacted us so we could congratulate you.”
“Unfortunately, my husband passed away a few months ago.”
For a long moment, there was nothing but static on the line. “I’m so sorry, Audrey,” he finally said.
“Thank you for the invitation, but I think I’ll spend Christmas at Wellingford. I’m still in mourning, you see. I’m sure you’ll understand.”
“Of course, of course. But I hope you’ll contact your aunt and me when you’re ready. There’s room here for you to stay and also at our London town house. We could introduce you to the people we know. You’re our niece, after all.”
“The people we know.” They would be the same people Mother wanted Audrey to meet—boring, unimaginative, cold. Nothing at all like her beloved Robert. She couldn’t go back to those people. Not after knowing him.
“Thank you for your kind offer. I’ll be in touch when I’m ready.” But Audrey couldn’t imagine when she ever would be ready.
26
USA, DECEMBER 1946
Like everything else in America, the Christmas celebrations were extravagant. Eve sat in church with the Barretts on her first Christmas Eve, and the sheer weight of the festivities, with twinkling trees, garlands of greenery, and piles of poinsettias, made her feel buried alive. She was back in the ATS training shed in her gas suit, but this time Audrey wasn’t here to pull her out. Eve looked up at the beamed ceiling, fighting panic, and recalled the collapsed roof of Guards’ Chapel, the buried worshipers. She fought to breathe, shifting her gaze to the side where a stunning stained-glass window across the aisle from the Barrett family pew depicted the Good Shepherd. It was startlingly similar to Granny Maud’s picture of the Good Shepherd, now buried in the debris of the Clarksons’ town house. Buried along with Eve’s faith. She had tried to avoid coming to church, using her six-month-old son as an excuse to stay home. But the Barretts hired a very competent nurse to take care of him. Wealthy families like theirs could hire an army of nannies and nursemaids.
Eve closed her eyes as the choir sang, remembering the waxy smell of candles in the village church, the holly branches decorating the windowsills. She had sat between Granny Maud and Mum on Christmas Eve, singing “Silent Night” and listening to the story of baby Jesus in the manger. Granny especially loved the shepherds.
“Your daddy and granddaddy were shepherds,” she said, year after year. “I like to think that the angels would have appeared to them if Jesus had been born in England.” The story intrigued Eve as a child. Jesus was a king, like the king of England, yet He’d been born among common people like her. In a barn, not in Buckingham Palace. “Where else would the Good Shepherd be born but in a stable?” Granny said when Eve asked about it. “Who else should His first visitors be but His fellow shepherds? They wouldn’t dare walk into Buckingham Palace, but they would be right at home in a stable.”
Eve opened her eyes again. Mrs. Barrett reached for her hand and squeezed it as the pastor spoke of Christmas as a time for families. Eve was aware of the love that had grown between her and Robert’s parents in just a few short months. She and Harry filled an empty place in their lives, and they had filled one in hers. They’d enveloped Eve in their love, never questioning who she was, nor had they commented on her son’s red hair and blue eyes, so different from Robert’s. Audrey had been a fool not to come. The Barretts were the loving parents Audrey had longed for all her life. But Audrey’s loss was Eve’s gain.
The church lights dimmed. Candlelight flickered as the congregation passed the flame from one person’s candle to the next, down the rows of pews. Eve squirmed in her seat, longing for the service to end, the hymns that told of God’s love to fall silent. Guilt and shame snaked through her. How dare she come into God’s house and pretend to worship? The people around her didn’t know she was a fraud and an adulteress, but God knew.
It had been the same at the Christmas party at the Barretts’ country club a few evenings ago. Then too, Eve had tried to beg off, knowing she was a fraud, insisting she had nothing to wear. “Clothing and shoes were rationed during the war, Mrs. Barrett, and very hard to come by. That’s why everything in my suitcase is so shabby and worn-out.” She had worried that the servants would notice the cheap quality of her w
ardrobe when they washed her laundry and would expose her secret. So far, they hadn’t.
“Then we’ll simply have to go to New York on a shopping trip,” Mrs. Barrett had replied. “Father can tell you how much I adore shopping!” She purchased a full wardrobe for Eve, everything from hats and shoes to knickers and nylons. She took Eve to the hairdresser for a stylish cut. They had manicures together.
The party at the country club terrified her—and Eve wasn’t easily frightened. Since adopting Audrey’s name, she had become an actress, mimicking Audrey’s speech, her ladylike gestures, her manners. It had been one thing to dress up and play Cinderella for one evening at the Savoy with Alfie, another thing to play this role for the rest of her life. She had nothing in common with the other country-club women who talked about their summer homes on the shore, tennis matches, sailing on Long Island Sound. They went on skiing trips to Vail and Switzerland. They’d earned degrees from prestigious women’s colleges like Vassar and Radcliffe. They would excuse Eve’s shyness as that of a recent widow, newly arrived in America, for now. But sooner or later she would have to adopt their lifestyle.
The Christmas party had exhausted her, and it was only the first of many. The church service drained her as well. She crept into Harry’s nursery when she returned home and bent over his crib to kiss him. Only then did the suffocating weight begin to lift. She remembered how Audrey had grabbed her hand in the training shed and led her through the fog and out into the light. Eve missed her friend.
On Christmas Day, Eve sat beside the glittering Christmas tree in the Barretts’ formal living room, inhaling the scent of pine and opening the mountain of expensive presents Robert’s parents had purchased for her and Harry. The tree would have filled Granny Maud’s entire cottage. Eve remembered being grateful for hand-knit mittens at Christmas. An orange. A few sticks of penny candy. America’s prosperity astounded her. There were no piles of rubble where homes once stood, no queues for food, no shortages. Soldiers like Robert and Louis had returned home to civilian life as if the war had never happened.
Mrs. Barrett laughed with delight as little Harry—Robbie—watched the electric train that had once been Robert’s steam in a circle beneath the tree. Mr. Barrett sat on the floor with Robbie on his lap, manning the controls. Eve had planned to simply get her bearings in America and then move on, find a job, rent a flat, work hard to support her son and herself. But Robert was the Barretts’ only child. They asked Eve to call them Mom and Dad. They promised her a good life, and in the three months she’d been here, they’d kept that promise. They would be devastated if Eve moved away with Robbie. Their grief had overwhelmed them until Eve and Robbie arrived, bringing a reason to laugh again. Eve knew she was trapped—but it was a very comfortable trap. She would stay trapped for her son’s sake.
The Barretts had driven Eve out to the little tract home that Robert had begun building in a nearby housing development. “It will be finished before Robbie’s first birthday in June,” they told her. “You can live with us until it’s done.” She drove Robert’s car. She had money in the bank from Robert’s life insurance policy. The Barretts set up a college fund for Robbie. Eve would never have to work another day in her life.
She watched the little train chugging in circles and pushed aside her lingering guilt, determined to enjoy her first Christmas in America.
When the doorbell rang, Mrs. Barrett rose to answer it, since the servants had Christmas Day off. “Someone’s here to see you, Audrey,” she called. “You and Robbie.”
“To see me?” Fear made Eve’s voice squeak. After going three months without being discovered, she had dared to believe she would get away with the deception. She scooped up Robbie, her stomach twisting as she walked to the door, steeling herself to face uniformed police officers, US government officials, British authorities. Instead, she found a gangly, friendly-looking young man her own age in a plaid wool overcoat. He pulled off a knit stocking cap, and his light-brown hair stood on end from the static. He had warm hazel eyes and such a boyish smile, Eve had to fight the urge to smooth down his hair for him.
“Hi, Audrey? I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. I’m Tom Vandenberg.” He stuck out his hand to shake hers. It took Eve a moment for the name to register.
“Of course! Robert’s friend. One of the Famous Four. I’m so glad to meet you.”
“Me, too. Bob told me so much about you.”
Eve’s unease threatened to slide into panic. Surely Robert would have shown his friend pictures of Audrey and talked about her. She longed to run and hide but knew it would be the worst thing to do.
“And here—I brought a Christmas present for your son.” Tom handed Eve a lumpy, oversize leather glove with a red bow stuck to it. He must have noticed her puzzled expression because he quickly added, “It’s a baseball mitt.”
“Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”
“The glove comes with lessons from me on how to play catch.”
He seemed so earnest and genuine that Eve couldn’t help smiling. “Robbie is still a little young to throw a ball, Mr. Vandenberg—”
“It’s Tom. Please, call me Tom.”
“But it’s a lovely offer,” she said as she took the mitt from him. “Thank you.” Robbie reached for it, tugging on the bright-red bow.
“We all promised we’d take care of each other’s families after the war if anything happened to one of us. I visit Arnie and his folks whenever I can, help them out if they need it.”
This was Eve’s chance to ask about Louis, but she needed to take her time. “How is Arnie?”
“Not good. He was the last of us to come home, and he’s suffering some sort of shell shock. Barely talks, lives like a recluse.”
“Wasn’t he studying to be a veterinarian?”
“He could finish on the G.I. Bill, but he won’t leave his house. His parents say we should give him time.”
“He married a girl he met in Germany, didn’t he? I remember Robert saying I wouldn’t be the only war bride in town.”
“I don’t know what happened in Germany, and he won’t talk about it. Listen, I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you, moving so far from home. But I’d love to get to know you and Bob’s son, if you’ll let me. When he gets a little older, I can teach him to play all the sports that Bob and I used to play.” He reached out to ruffle Robbie’s hair. “So Bob had a redhead, huh? Louis is the one we always called Carrot Top.”
Eve felt her cheeks grow warm. She wanted to escape his scrutiny. Yet she was Audrey now. She needed to do what Audrey would do. “How is Louis? Does he still live in town? I haven’t seen him since we arrived.”
“He moved to New Rochelle to open a branch of his father’s insurance company. Couldn’t stand the small-town life after being abroad. I hardly ever see him. He was devastated when Bob died. We all were.”
“Would you like to come in and sit down, Tom?” she finally thought to ask.
“I can’t stay. I need to head home. But I also wanted to tell you that you’re welcome to come out to the farm whenever you want. I live in the country, just outside of town. Your son might enjoy seeing the animals or exploring the woods. Bob and I spent a lot of time playing in those woods when we were kids.”
Eve swallowed a knot of grief, longing to be a girl again, roaming the woods, running barefoot, climbing trees.
“Although maybe you don’t like the country,” Tom continued when she didn’t reply. “Bob said you were related to the king of England.”
“The king is a very distant relative,” Eve said, laughing. “And even he loves spending time in the country at Windsor Castle.”
“Well, our farm isn’t a palace, that’s for sure, but you’re welcome anytime. There’s a pond you can skate on, and we have a great toboggan hill behind the barn.”
“I would love that, Tom. Thank you.” She filed away the information for another day, knowing her soul might need the balm of forests and country hillsides.
�
�Well, I should be going.”
“Yes . . . well . . . thank you for coming, Tom. And for the Christmas present.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you around.” He gave a salute with his stocking cap and left. Eve closed the door behind him, able to breathe again.
27
USA, JUNE 1950
The Barretts held the party to celebrate Robbie’s fourth birthday at the country club. Eve watched her son running around with thirty other children in expensive party clothes, eating candy and popping balloons, and wondered how the past three and a half years in America could have flown by so fast. There was an enormous birthday cake, clowns doing magic tricks, pony rides in the country club’s parking lot. The extravagance overwhelmed Eve, yet Robbie seemed to take it all for granted as if it were his birthright, including the towering pile of birthday presents. Would he grow up shackled to his wealth, like Alfie?
The long afternoon included cocktails and idle chitchat with the other country-club mothers. Eve pretended to be interested in their lives as the children played pin the tail on the donkey, while her heart yearned for the refuge and contentment that only an hour in the woods could provide.
When the party finally ended, she hauled Robbie’s carload of birthday presents into her little bungalow, changed into comfortable clothes, and told Robbie to do the same. Then she telephoned Tom Vandenberg. “Hi, Tom. This is Audrey. I was wondering if Robbie and I could come out to the farm for an hour or so.”