If You Choose Me (A Sugar Maple Novel)

by Ciara Knight

  If You Choose Me

  Ciara Knight

  If You Choose Me

  Book II

  A Sugar Maple Holiday Book

  Copyright ©2021 by Ciara Knight

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art by Yocla Cover Designs

  Edited by Bev Katz Rosenbaum

  Copy Edit by Jenny Rarden

  Proofreading by Rachel

  ****To receive a FREE starter library (Two free books) AND an alert of Ciara’s next book releases, go to Ciara’s Exclusive Reader group click here. ****

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Reader Letter

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Recipe

  Readers Guide

  Also by Ciara Knight

  About the Author

  Reader Letter

  Dear Reader,

  In these letters, I usually explain how an idea for the story developed in my crazy head, but not this time. You see, I had a different vision for If You Choose Me in which I’d follow a new couple with only glimpses of the Besslers. That didn’t happen though, because my Knight Readers (special group of super-readers) nudged me to continue with the Bessler family who’s story was shared in book I. If you haven’t read book I of A Sugar Maple Holiday Series, If You Keep Me, I’d advise that you start there. You can find it by clicking here.

  My hesitation on continuing with the same family was that I wasn’t sure it would be well received since most of my books follow various families in the same town. This allows readers to pick up a book anywhere in the series and enjoy it without starting from the beginning. However, I trust my Knight Readers so I decided to go for it.

  After receiving a lovely note from my proofreader about how much she loved If You Choose Me, I suspected I was onto something. Once beta readers and advanced reader review feedback came in that said the same thing, I knew I’d struck something special.

  So, I humbly thank my Knight Readers for their guidance and encouragement. I should’ve known you were right. :)

  Sincerely,

  Ciara

  Chapter One

  After two days on and off buses, Shirley Malone thought she’d collapse when she finally reached Sugar Maple, Tennessee. She snuggled her little girl to her chest and watched the landscape change from long open fields to snowy hills in the distance with patches of grass. If only she had more money and more time, she wouldn’t have to arrive to her nanny job exhausted.

  “Looks like the weather isn’t as brutal here as upstate this time of year,” said the man she’d met on day one when he’d helped her with her bag at the station. He was dashing, sophisticated, and polite. If Shirley had met him a few years ago, she would’ve fallen over herself to get to know him, but not now.

  “Sure, I guess.” She turned to face the window, less to watch the passing scenery and more to end the conversation.

  Smoke plumed along the roof of the bus, and she only hoped the man coughing two rows up wouldn’t wake her sweet Beth. The little thing had done well—sure, she’d cried on occasion and squirmed, but she was tough. Tougher than Shirley had been at her age or any other age. Of course, when you’re born to social royalty, you tend to be soft. It was thanks to the beautiful angel in her arms that she had managed to survive the last couple of years. Now she needed to summon the strength to accept her new life.

  Her arm went numb, so she shifted Beth to the other and leaned against the rough, crimson fabric of the seat that scratched at her skin. She closed her eyes and reviewed her make-believe history one more time. The hardest but most important part was remembering she was no longer a Malone and had taken the name Stephens. Not for any other reason but the commonality of the surname and because everyone knew who the Malones of New York City were. The more she faded into the world, the less people would realize she was hiding something.

  Next, she went over important dates. She’d married Beth’s father before he left for war, April 4th, 1943. January 4th, 1944, Beth was born. That was true except for the part about being married.

  It had been over two long years since her life had been changed forever, but she didn’t regret it. Giving up the silky sheets, hot baths, and stress-free days languishing in the gardens outside their massive estate was rewarded with baby spittle, potty training, and unconditional love. Love that gave her reason to live and work beyond the emptiness of cotillions and fancy dinners and being paraded about to marry the proper man. That didn’t matter now, because no man would ever have her back home if they learned the truth. Of course, if her family had their way, no one would ever know of their daughter’s sins.

  The bus squealed, and they jolted to a stop next to a building buzzing with people. Finally, they’d arrived. Shirley rubbed the back of her neck. She felt like she was eighty-one instead of twenty-one, but she’d feel eager and ready to work once she had some sleep. The advertisements for bus travel had made it look glamorous, and although it wasn’t completely uncomfortable, she had to admit to herself that she did miss the private cars and chauffeurs. She still struggled at times with having to give up luxuries she’d once thought of as necessities.

  That was the past, though. Once she exited this bus, she’d own her future. She would be the servant instead of the master yet be free from the constraints of proper society.

  “Can I help you with anything?” the dashing man asked before anyone even got out of their seats.

  “No, I’m fine, but thank you.” Shirley kept her head down and her conversation minimal, certain she’d slip about something.

  People gathered their things, slid their coats on, and made their way off the bus. Once the aisle was cleared of people, she placed Beth in the seat, where she stretched, yawned, and opened her eyes while Shirley managed to put her coat on—but not fast enough. Beth climbed down and took off thumping at full speed straight into the man Shirley had just sent away.

  “Gotcha, little one.” He tossed her up into his arms, and she squealed with glee.

  “I’m so sorry. She’s so fast these days.” Shirley retrieved her daughter from his arms, but before she could escape him once more, he removed his hat and smiled. The kind of smile that made a woman believe he could save her.

  “I’m Wayne Bishop. I figured we should officially meet since we’ve traveled almost two days on this bus together.”

  “I’m Shirley M…Mrs. Stephens. This is Beth.”

  He tweaked her nose, and she squirmed, kicking her feet and laughing. “Nice to meet you, Beth.” He put his hat on and headed for the door. “I really don’t mind helping you with your bags or anything else you might need. It can be challenging with a little one.”

  “I’m fine, but thank you.” She tightened her coat around her like a handsome-man shield.

  At the door, the driver assisted her with the steps. “Good evening, Mrs. S
tephens. Your little one is certainly an angel.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She nodded and went to the porter, who waited with her bag. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure, ma’am.”

  “Let me help.” Mr. Bishop grabbed the bag handle before she could reach it.

  “Mrs. Stephens?” a woman—she assumed a servant sent by the Besslers—called from the walkway.

  “No need. I have help now, but thank you.” She snatched the suitcase from him and marched toward the woman, who waved madly.

  The woman, dressed in overalls with paint and other stains and her hair pulled back with a scarf around it, looked barely presentable enough to be out in public. “Looks like you have your hands full.” She took the suitcase from Shirley.

  “Thank you. I appreciate it. That was an exhausting journey. Not that I’m complaining.” She shifted Beth to her other hip.

  The lady pointed at the truck waiting nearby, so Shirley followed her. “I’ve only corresponded by letters. Are Mr. and Mrs. Bessler nice?” Shirley stole one over-the-shoulder glance back at the man who demanded attention each time he was near her and was thankful to see him being left in her past. No man needed to be in her present or future. Not after the last one had left her pregnant and alone in the world.

  “I’d like to think so.” The woman opened the door and helped her settle in with Beth and then tossed her suitcase in the back before she opened the door and started the truck with a rumble.

  Beth squealed and beat on the dashboard.

  “She still has energy, huh?” the lady asked with a twirl of her finger at Beth.

  “I’m not surprised since she slept all day.” Shirley took some fruit from her purse and gave it to Beth. “How long have you worked for the Besslers?”

  The other woman laughed and glanced down at her dirty overalls. “I know I don’t look like it, but I’m Rosie Bessler. Sorry for my attire. I ran out here to get you after I closed up shop and settled the kids in the house with Vic.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. I assumed you were…well, the hired help since you were picking me up.”

  Rosie shook her head. She was an unadorned but beautiful lady. “Sorry to disappoint, but we’re not a fancy family. We’re just in need of help. Having five kids join us at one time while my furniture business is taking off and Vic is working in the toy shop…well, I’m learning that I can’t do it all on my own.”

  Shirley shifted in the seat, trying to adjust her expectations. “I don’t need fancy.” She’d assumed that they were in a large house with staff because that’s all she’d known. Apparently she still had some growing to do to integrate into normal society. After two years of living in convents and homes for unwed mothers, she would be thankful for a room for her and Beth to themselves.

  The truck rumbled over the rough roads, and Beth squealed with each bounce.

  Rosie tucked some wayward hair under her scarf. “The house is still under renovation, but the room for you and Beth is finished. We hope to add on another one. Right now, the five kids are crammed into one. We want to have a room for the boys and one for the girls. Davey’s helping with the renovations. He’s a character, but you’ll love him.”

  “Davey… So he’s the eldest of the five children, correct?”

  “That’s right.” Rosie turned, and they headed down a long road with nothing on either side but a few bushes.

  Shirley had wanted to be out of the way where she couldn’t be found, but this was in the center of nowhere. “I appreciate this opportunity. Since the war, things have been tough for Beth and me.”

  “We understand tough, and no worries. That’s part of why we chose you. That and there was no one in town besides babysitters and part-time help. We wanted stability for the children. Don’t worry. As I wrote, you’ll have plenty of free time. It’s more that we need backup and someone to stay with the children when I make deliveries.”

  Deliveries? Women didn’t do things like that, not since the war ended. It was unseemly. Of course, so was having a baby out of wedlock. “You adopted all five, correct?”

  Shirley noticed Rosie’s hand slip to her belly. “Yes, but they’re like our own.”

  “Understood.” Shirley brushed Beth’s hair from her forehead and scanned the terrain. “It’s pretty out here.”

  “You’re from up north, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sure it must be brutal in the winter there. You’ll find the climate here more temperate. Although we get snow and cold weather, it isn’t constant. We had a big snowstorm around Christmas, though. Biggest in years.”

  Shirley nodded, uncomfortable with so much conversation after living alone and in silence for so long, and she worried she’d slip and say something wrong to give her away.

  “Well, this is God’s country. That’s what they call it anyway.” Rosie smiled again. She was different than Shirley’s friends from school or home. They were so refined by the age of sixteen that no one spoke so much in public. It would be different here, but she could handle different. She’d proven that to herself.

  Shirley attempted to redirect the conversation to employer-employee suitable talk. “Tell me what all you’d like me to do. It mentioned housekeeping and childcare.”

  “The childcare part is easy enough. Since the kids lived on the streets for so long, they’re pretty independent. Too independent at times. And Davey wants to help with everything. He has more energy than anyone I’ve ever known.” She chuckled. “Really, you’ll need to keep up with what I fail at daily. Laundry, housekeeping, and cooking.”

  The heat of a thousand-degree oven flashed through Shirley. “Cooking?”

  “Yes. I can cook, of course. But on weekdays I’m usually working until dinnertime. That’s where I need the most help.”

  Shirley studied the approaching town ahead, realizing the error in her plan.

  “I’m so sorry. Did I forget to mention that?” Rosie sat forward and grabbed on to the steering wheel as if she had trouble seeing the road.

  “Yes, but it’s fine. Thank you.” It wasn’t okay, though. She’d never learned to cook. Why would she? She’d had servants, and then in the convent and even in the shelter, food was provided.

  Somehow, some way, Shirley needed to learn to cook in a day or she’d be out of a job. A job that she’d spent the last of her money on, and the last two days on a bus to get to. She’d barely made any money in the last two years, but what choice did she have? If she asked her family for help, they’d take her baby from her, and that was the one thing Shirley would never let happen.

  Chapter Two

  Sugar Maple offered peace and tranquility, something Wayne wasn’t used to after the battles on the home front with the riots in Detroit and then at the front in Germany during the war. Quiet only allowed the sounds to intensify in his head. It wasn’t until the bus honked that he startled back to the present with a fading view of the truck carrying Mrs. Stephens and her sweet daughter.

  Her husband was a lucky man to have such a beautiful and capable wife to travel all that distance on her own. She was brave and independent, something he struggled with when it came to his sister-in-law. She’d been from a well-to-do family who lost everything in the war, and then she lost her husband. It was his job now to provide for her, after all the years his big brother had cared for him while their father lost himself to his drink. Even in the various homes and orphanages, his brother was always there for him. Now it was his duty to take care of his family.

  Now, after seeing war, he no longer hated his father for wanting to live in oblivion after he served in World War I. He’d only been sixteen at the time. A child. Too young to face the horrors of war. His father was at peace now, though, along with his brother. Wayne was the only man left to help his sister-in-law, Helen. Despite being too much like his own father, cynical of humankind, undeserving of companionship, and ill-equipped to be a family man, he would not turn his back on his obligations. But a man who’d lost a mother before
he was eight and with a drunkard for a father, Wayne would never be a role model for parenting.

  “You look lost, sir. You need some help?” the porter asked.

  Wayne scanned the area as if checking the terrain ahead. Old habits. “Yes, please. Where’s the nearest hotel?”

  “Nashville.” He sniffed and wiped his nose with his sleeve. “There’s a boardinghouse in town, though. Woman rents rooms to visitors. It’s a large house, clean, and she cooks well.”

  “Great, thanks.” He turned in all directions to get his bearings. “Which way?”

  The porter waved him to follow. “Come on. You can hitch a ride with us. We’re headed into town. You don’t want to walk. It’s too far.”

  Wayne wasn’t sure what other option he had, so he followed the boy to a truck already brimming with young men. It jolted him back to wartime, when they’d all piled tight into vehicles, where they were shipped off in different directions, never really knowing where they were going or where they’d been.

  “You coming?” the porter asked.

  “Yes, thank you.” Wayne tossed his bag into the truck bed, eyeing the main road out, curious if Mrs. Stephens had headed to the same town. He climbed up on the side and held on.

  “Name’s Glen Horton. You?” He offered his dirt-stained hand, and Wayne wouldn’t refuse to shake the hand of a man who worked hard for a living. That was something he respected, something he’d always had to do.