by Lynn Austin
“Eve, listen—”
“You go first,” she said.
“Eve, I’m so sorry for everything that happened . . . I never meant to hurt you—”
“Please don’t apologize. We both made a terrible mistake.”
“It didn’t feel like a mistake.”
She looked down at the floor, not at him. It was more than a “mistake.” They had broken one of God’s commandments. For the first time, she saw herself the way God must see her. No wonder she was being punished. “When you sin against the Lord,” Granny Maud used to say, “you may be sure that your sin will find you out.”
“Those were terrible years, Louis. But I wanted you to know in case anything ever happened to me, that we—” She stopped. Should she tell Louis he had a son? He would be so proud of Robbie.
Eve raised her head to look at the framed picture of his family again, then turned the photograph around to face Louis. She couldn’t do it. She had ruined her own life—she wouldn’t ruin his. Or his family’s. “We helped each other through a very dark time. I’m glad we were friends, even if . . .”
“I love you, Eve.”
“Please don’t say that. I can’t be in your life, Louis. I just wanted to see you again and thank you for helping me through one of the hardest times in my life. I hope and pray that you and Jean are happy.”
“I never told her about us. I still think about you nearly every day, and sometimes the guilt is more than I can stand. After Bob died, I needed to talk to somebody about what happened, so I told my friend Tom Vandenberg about you.”
Eve closed her eyes for a moment. How could she ever face Tom again after he learned who she was? He had been such a good friend to her and Robbie. Her best friend.
“Tom advised me not to confess to Jean,” Louis continued. “He said I should never tell her or anyone else.”
“I agree with him, Louis. Please promise me one thing.” Eve paused as if waiting for him to say, “Cross my heart and hope to die” the way she and Audrey used to do. “Promise me you’ll take Tom’s advice and never tell Jean about what happened during the war. If you confess, you’ll free yourself from the guilt, but then the knowledge will weigh on Jean’s heart for the rest of her life. She’ll always wonder if she can trust you and if you love her. Don’t do that to her. Promise?”
“I promise,” Louis whispered.
“Let your guilt be your penance. And don’t ever, ever cheat on her again.” Eve let go of the chair she’d been clinging to and took a step backward toward the door. “I have to go.”
“No, Eve! Don’t walk away!” He started to rise, but she held up both hands.
“Don’t. Please don’t hold me again, Louis. Just let me go.” She turned, battling to control tears of shame and regret as she hurried outside to her car.
Now what? She pressed her forehead against the steering wheel as her tears flowed. What am I going to do now?
She would be alone again, without a home—like she was after Granny Maud died, like she was after Mum died. If this was her punishment for turning away from God, Eve didn’t think she could bear it.
29
Eve couldn’t go back to the house and face Audrey. Not yet. Not until she figured out where to go, how to live. Turning to Louis for help had been a last resort, but as she drove home after seeing him, steering blindly, she knew it would be a mistake to involve him. That left her without a plan. She’d always been strong, able to think on her feet and adjust to adversity. Her new life in America seemed firmly under control—until Audrey arrived.
As she neared the woods west of Tom’s farm, Eve pulled to the side of the road. She needed the forest, the solace of deep silence. She turned off the engine and opened the door, then realized she was still wearing her expensive polka-dot sundress and high-heeled pumps. How could she walk in the woods in such a fancy outfit? A better question might be, what was she doing in these clothes to begin with? They weren’t hers. She was an actress playing a part—the role of Audrey Barrett.
Had she really been happy in that role these past three and a half years? In all honesty, no. She had not. She and Robbie had been safe and well cared for, but there had been an underlying loneliness and emptiness that no amount of fancy clothes or parties at the country club could ever fill. If she gave Audrey her life back, maybe she could find a more satisfying one. But what about Robbie? The only life he’d ever known would be ripped away, along with all the people he loved, replaced by a life in a tiny flat, barely scraping by. Happy or not, Eve would gladly continue living a lie for his sake.
But now she no longer could.
Eve kicked off her shoes, unfastened her nylons, and rolled them off. She wiggled out of her crinoline, took off her pearls, then climbed out of the car and entered the woods. She seldom walked barefoot anymore, and the rough forest floor hurt her feet. Eve ignored the pain as she moved deeper into the woods, the pain from the choices she’d made outweighing her discomfort. In the distance, a creek laughed and burbled, drawing her. The canopy of trees reminded her of the woods back home, and she remembered the joy she used to feel as she’d played there. At the edge of the woods was the church she attended with Granny Maud and Mum and George, the church where she had felt so loved and cared for—until God had abandoned her.
Or had He?
Maybe Eve had used God’s abandonment as a handy excuse to go her own way. If she was honest, she had to admit that she had turned her back on God, allowing bitterness and grief to lead her, wandering, in the wrong direction, away from Him. Into Louis’s arms. Into a life of lies. Now she was lost, and she had no one to blame but herself. Her own choices. Her own willfulness.
She had drawn such comfort as a child from the picture of the Good Shepherd that had hung in Granny’s cottage and from the stories she’d learned about His love and care for her. Granny said He would search for His lost sheep the way Daddy used to do when one of his sheep foolishly wandered away. He would never leave her lost and alone.
Eve stopped walking. She stood still to listen. “God, where are You?” she whispered. The silence told her that He was gone. It was too late. She sank down on the ground, not caring about her dress, and buried her face in her hands. “God, I’m sorry,” she wept. “I’m so, so sorry!”
Sorry for committing adultery with Louis. Sorry for stealing another woman’s husband, a little girl’s father. She had done wrong, and she couldn’t use the war as an excuse. She was sorry for stealing Audrey’s identity, her home, her family. It didn’t matter that Audrey had thrown them away. What Eve did was wrong. Her lies would cause pain to good, undeserving people like the Barretts and Tom Vandenberg and his family. Worse, Eve had dragged her innocent son into this mess. He would be hurt the most by her sins. Little Harry had already lost his name, and now he would lose his home, his grandparents, his very identity as Robbie Barrett. Would he ever forgive her? Eve wouldn’t blame him if he couldn’t.
That was the destructive power of sin and lies—they harmed the innocent along with the guilty. Hitler’s lies had dragged the entire world into six long years of hell. Eve would face humiliation and shame when her sins were exposed, and rightly so. She hadn’t been able to get away from God after all. He’d known the truth about her all along.
“I’m so sorry, God!” she sobbed. “So very, very sorry!”
Eve didn’t deserve His forgiveness. She didn’t deserve anyone’s forgiveness. She deserved anger and condemnation and shame. The life she’d built had collapsed, burying her, leaving no way out, no one to dig her free from the rubble. She sobbed with hopelessness. Granny Maud would be so disappointed in her. If only her stories about the Good Shepherd could be true, the Shepherd who would take her punishment for the mess she’d made so she could be forgiven. If only He would find her, His lost sheep, and forgive her. Eve covered her face and wept and wept.
After a very long time, a strange sound caught Eve’s attention. She lifted her head and listened. The wind sighed through the tree branches.
Birds called to each other. The creek rushed and gurgled. She heard it again—the sound of a baby crying. No, not a baby. The plaintive cry of a lamb.
A lamb? It couldn’t be.
The underbrush rustled as an animal moved among the trees. She heard a pitiful bleat. Eve stood. She saw it then—a small woolly lamb surrounded by forest. Dwarfed by it. She limped toward the animal on bruised feet, then sank to the ground again as she gathered the lost lamb in her arms. It licked her hand, her face with its warm, rough tongue. Eve closed her eyes, sobbing against the lamb’s nubby fur. Could it really be true? Would God really search for her and forgive her for everything she’d done?
She waited, barely breathing.
Footsteps rustled through the woods. She heard Tom’s voice, calling to his lamb.
Joy overwhelmed her, flooding through her. Everything Granny said was true. “Over here!” Eve called out. “We’re over here!”
The Good Shepherd had come to fetch His lost sheep and bring her home.
“When’s my mommy coming home?” Robbie asked.
“Soon, I think.” Audrey hoped he wouldn’t start crying. Eve had been gone all morning, and the truth was, Audrey didn’t know when she would be back. “Do you have any more books? I’ll read you and Bobby another story while we wait.”
Robbie slid off the sofa and started toward his bedroom, then halted at the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. “Mommy!” He rushed to the front door and ran outside. Audrey stood and peered out the window, hoping Eve had returned with a solution to their dilemma. But the car was a sleek black one with whitewall tires and what looked like shark fins in the rear. Two women stepped out, a blonde driver and her raven-haired passenger. They were Audrey’s age, dressed as if posing for photos for a fashion magazine. Audrey drew away from the window, hoping they hadn’t spotted her. Eve had said not to talk to anyone. But Robbie stood on the front steps, waiting for them.
“Hi, Robbie. Is your mommy home?” the blonde asked.
“No, but her friend’s here.” He led them through the front door. Audrey had no choice but to greet them.
“Hello, you must be Audrey’s guest from England,” the blonde said, extending her gloved hand. “I’m Phyllis West.”
“Doris Anderson,” the other one said, offering her hand as well.
“Yes. Hello.” Audrey didn’t give her name, unwilling to lie. “She isn’t here, I’m afraid. She’s off on an errand.” The women made their way past her into the living room, their eyes roving as if cataloging the contents. Audrey remembered doing the same thing whenever she and Mother called on someone in London, as if an individual’s worth could be appraised by her possessions.
“Audrey’s mother-in-law told us she had a visitor from England,” Phyllis said. “And that your son is sick?”
“He had roseola. He’s nearly recovered.” Audrey cleared a nervous lump from her throat. “I’m not sure when E—” She’d nearly said Eve. “Um . . . when she will be back. I’m sorry.”
“We don’t mind waiting.” They sat down in the living room and pulled off their white gloves. Their visit didn’t seem to have a purpose. Audrey had the unsettling feeling that they were simply nosy and had come to snoop.
“Would . . . would you care for a cup of tea?”
“A cup of tea?” Phyllis asked. The women laughed, a brittle, tinkling sound like breaking glass. The girls in boarding school had giggled that way, especially when planning something mean.
“No thank you!” Doris said dramatically. “But I’ll take some coffee if you have it.”
“Sorry, but I don’t really know where things are yet. I’ve only been here a short time, you see. But I believe there’s some iced tea.” She hurried into the kitchen to escape their scrutiny, with Bobby clinging to her skirt. Now they reminded Audrey of her classmates at finishing school—barging in with their air of entitlement, sitting down with feline languidness, as sleek as pedigreed cats. Audrey heard them whispering while she poured iced tea into two glasses. She couldn’t get the ice cubes out of the metal tray and had to serve it without ice.
“Do you play tennis?” Phyllis asked when Audrey returned with the tea.
“I . . . I once did. I haven’t since before the war.” She sat down and pulled Bobby onto her lap.
“That’s Audrey’s excuse, too,” Phyllis said. “She keeps turning us down.”
Audrey had never known Eve to play tennis and couldn’t imagine that she could. She’d been a scullery maid, a typist, an ambulance driver. Where and when would she have learned to play tennis?
“We came to convince her to join our league at the club. We’re not leaving until she agrees. We play every Tuesday and Thursday and we desperately need a reserve player.”
Doris pulled out a packet of cigarettes and fitted one into an ivory holder.
Like Mother’s. The sight of it shook Audrey. She wanted these women to leave.
“We told her she could take a few lessons from the club’s pro if she needs to brush up,” Doris said after lighting the cigarette with a silver lighter.
“Maybe you could play with us while you’re here,” Phyllis said.
“You’re an aristocrat, too, aren’t you?” Doris asked, exhaling a puff of smoke.
“She must be. Listen to how she talks! So refined, my dear!”
A trickle of sweat ran down Audrey’s back. These women intimidated her. Worse, they infuriated her, presuming things about her that they didn’t know. She decided to take control and change the subject. “What else do you do for fun here in America besides play tennis?”
“Go shopping, of course,” Phyllis said.
“In New York City, not here in town,” Doris added. She was looking around for an ashtray. Audrey stood and fetched a saucer from the kitchen. Nearly five years in the Army, yet neither she nor Eve had ever smoked. “Thanks, dear,” Doris said. “All the good stores are there—Lord & Taylor, Saks, Bergdorf Goodman. You and Audrey should join us for lunch next week and we’ll shop together.”
Audrey could think of nothing she would hate more. Besides, she didn’t have any money. “Do either of you work outside the home?” she asked. Her question was met with laughter.
“Why would we want to do that?”
She recalled the vicar’s question “What might God be asking you to do?” and didn’t think the answer would be Play tennis and shop in New York City. She disliked these women and had a hard time imagining Eve as their friend, especially the vivacious, free-spirited Eve Dawson she’d once known. If Audrey resumed her rightful place as the Barretts’ daughter-in-law, would she have to befriend Phyllis and Doris and be part of the country-club life? She would hate it as much as Robert had.
“Do you know if Audrey remembered to register Robbie for sailing lessons?” Doris asked. “The class fills up quickly, you know.”
“I have no idea. . . . Isn’t Robbie a bit young to sail?”
“Not at all. Our children live on sailboats in the summertime, almost from the time they can walk.”
Audrey longed to tell them the story of how she and Eve had sailed into a war zone on rough seas in the middle of the night. She wanted to be that woman again.
The ladies finished their iced tea. Eve still wasn’t back. They decided not to waste any more time waiting. “Tell Audrey to call me,” Phyllis said as she waved goodbye.
“And let us know if you can play tennis on Thursday,” Doris added.
Audrey closed the door behind them and leaned against it in relief, glad to be rid of them.
“Where did my mommy go?” Robbie asked. Audrey had no idea.
“She’ll be here soon. Let’s read another story.” But before Audrey had time to sit down and open a book, the doorbell rang. Phyllis and Doris were back.
“I need to use your telephone,” Phyllis said. “My car has a flat tire.”
Audrey stifled a groan. She didn’t want to be stuck in the house for another hour with these women, waiting for a mechanic. She looked pas
t them at the car. “Is it a puncture? A slow leak?”
“How in the world would I know? That’s why I need to call a mechanic.”
“Let me have a look.” Audrey slipped past them and went out to the driveway, the two boys trailing behind. The front tire was definitely flat. “It shouldn’t be hard to change,” Audrey said after looking it over. “Have you a spare tire?”
“Probably. But you . . . you certainly can’t expect me to change it myself.”
“I can change it for you.” Audrey savored the look of astonishment on Phyllis’s face.
“You’re joking.” Doris snorted.
“No, I’m not. I changed lorry tires all the time during the war. So did Princess Elizabeth, the king of England’s daughter. Set the hand brake for me, please. Then open the boot.”
“The brake and the . . . what?” Phyllis asked. She opened the car door, somewhat reluctantly, Audrey thought, and set the brake.
“Now the boot.” Audrey walked around to the back of the car and pointed. “I need to see if you have a jack and a spare tire.”
Phyllis stepped to the rear on her pointy heels and opened it. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just call a repair truck?”
Audrey didn’t reply as she pulled out the jack and lug wrench. “It’s a bit different from the lorry jacks I’m used to, but I believe I can figure it out.” She hauled out the spare tire with a grunt and set it on the ground. Audrey hadn’t changed a tire in five years, but she remembered her training. “It’s best to remove the hubcap and crack the lug nuts before jacking up the car,” she said as she worked. “Otherwise, the tire simply spins around, making them impossible to unscrew.” Two of the nuts were screwed on so tightly she had to jump on the wrench to loosen them. “Ha! Got them!” she said in triumph. The look of surprise and admiration on her son’s face as he watched her nearly brought tears to her eyes.
Audrey assembled the jack and set it beneath the bumper. The car slowly rose as she pumped the handle up and down. The women watched Audrey as if observing a new species of animal. She enjoyed shocking them. Doris and Phyllis would certainly rescind their shopping invitation after this. The offer to join the tennis league, too. But Eve would have loved it—the old Eve, that was.