by Ciara Knight
Rosie held up her hands, and like dominoes, the children joined around the large rectangle.
Shirley took Beth’s hand from where Beth sat in Betty’s lap and then turned to find Wayne’s strong hand waiting.
She swallowed and slid her fingers into his palm. The warmth shot up her arm and into her chest. It had been two years and nine months since the last time she’d felt a man’s touch. With all her strength, she focused on Victor’s prayer and not on the way Wayne’s fingers cupped her hand and made her feel safe. It was a lie. A lie like the one Harry had told her to get her to believe in him and how much he loved her.
“Amen.” Wayne squeezed her hand, reviving her attention.
She slid her hand away to her lap as quickly as possible but longed for the comfort he’d briefly offered. It had been a hard, cold, demanding few years with little to no interaction with anyone but Beth. The judgment each time she left her room at the home was unbearable. The constant reprimand for being a sinner had been damaging to Shirley’s hope, but she’d broken free of that place and now sat in a home where no one could judge her.
“So, Mr. Bishop. You were telling me that you’re staying at Mrs. Slaughter’s place and that you’ve been checking out the town to see if it would be a good place for your family to settle?”
Family? Was it more than him and his sister-in-law, niece, and nephew? Was he married? Of course, because she had a curse to only fall for those who were already attached to another.
“Yes. With my brother gone, I want his wife and children to have a better home than where they are now. The turmoil is still raging in Detroit, and the expense of the city is becoming too much.”
“This is an amazing town, but what made you check it out all the way down here? Certainly there are other towns like ours closer to Detroit. How did you even hear about Sugar Maple?”
Wayne lifted his fork and eyed Victor. “I had been down here for work. In Nashville, I mean. This is one of the towns someone mentioned to me.”
“Well, we’re glad you’re here,” Victor announced, looking to Davey, who nodded his confirmation. “Although, I’m surprised our little town came up in conversation in Nashville.”
The meatloaf was passed around, and when Davey took his first bite, his eyes exploded with delight. “Mmmm.”
Shirley blushed at his reaction. It felt like she’d just married the most eligible, rich bachelor in New York City high society. It had been forever since she’d done something worth praising, and she savored it, even from a child.
Wayne took a bite and said, “I think Master Davey’s right. This is the most delicious meatloaf I’ve ever tasted.” He gobbled down a couple more bites, and she wanted to kick him under the table for overdoing the display.
“I agree with the consensus.” Victor lifted his fork. “This is delicious. Thank you, Shirley. We’re so happy to have you here with us.” He eyed his wife, and Shirley could tell that he appreciated her taking the time to make herself more presentable to him.
Wayne cleared his throat. “So Mr. Bessler—”
“Victor, please.”
“Victor, it wasn’t so much Sugar Maple that was the topic of the conversation while I was in Nashville. It was your family specifically we spoke about,” Wayne said before he dug into his potatoes. He pointed the fork tines at them and said, “Wow, these are excellent, too.”
She did nudge him this time with the toe of her shoe, hoping he’d take a hint.
“Us?” Vic paused midair with a fork full of greens. “Now I’m intrigued.”
“I heard about how you adopted all the street children.”
“We ain’t street kids!” Davey shouted. “Well, not no more. We’ve gots ourselves a family.” The boy lifted his nose high into the air and did this funny thing where he jutted out his chin, making him look like an old man with no teeth.
“You sure do. And that’s what attracted me to this town. I mean, anywhere that a nice couple would bring in five children and raise them is a town I had to see for myself.”
“I don’t think we took them in. I think they adopted us.” Rosie smiled at each of them, as if not wanting to miss one little expectant face looking at her. She’d taken care to make each child feel special in her eyes—a gift Shirley’s mother never had time to give to only two children.
“So you’ve adopted them now?” Wayne asked. The man was always asking too many questions. She wanted to nudge him again to make him stop, but they were barely more than strangers. Although, he had saved her job today.
“No. We’re working on it, though. We’re anxious to finalize them. It appears that four out of the five applications have gone through, but there’s a snag on one of them.”
“That’s me.” Davey pointed to his chest with his thumb. “I’m the trouble.”
“It’s no trouble,” Victor said loud and clear. “We’re anxious to have it official, though. Our lives would never be the same if one of our children had to leave us. We love them all.”
Davey cleaned his plate, grabbed the spoon, and slapped some more potatoes onto his dish.
“You’re hungry this evening.” Rosie smiled at Davey.
There appeared to be a hierarchy of sorts in the family. Davey always sat closest to Mrs. Bessler, and little Ava always sat closest to Vic, Gina was always by Davey’s side, with Reggie and Betty in the middle.
“I’m a growing boy,” Davey said with pride. The poor kid was small for his age, but Shirley hoped he’d grow up big and strong now that he was living in a home with loving parents.
“What do you think the delay is on the adoption with Davey?” Wayne asked.
Victor scooped up some more greens. “I don’t know, but I’ll be happy when it’s done and finalized.”
“I know someone in the Department of Child Services. Do you want me to write to them to see if they can give us any information?”
Rosie sat forward. “That would be amazing. Thank you.”
“It would be my pleasure. I’d love to know more about you and the kids so I can write to my sister-in-law about all of you. I’m still trying to convince her to come down here, but she’s a little nervous.”
“Tell her we’re nice and we’d welcome her kids,” Davey said with such authority, he sounded like a grown man despite his child voice. “Melba’s friendly, too.”
“If you like that sort of girl,” Gina said under her breath.
Shirley suspected there was some sort of jealousy there. She’d have to meet this Melba and make sure she didn’t interfere with the happy family dynamics.
Wayne took a bite and twirled his fork about. “Tell me, Davey. How did you become so wise and well-mannered? How long were you on the streets for?”
Davey put his fork down, crossed his arms, and leaned over the table toward Wayne. “Tell me why you ask so many questions.”
Wayne looked to Shirley as if he needed help. She felt obligated since he’d done so much for her, but she didn’t want him asking any more questions either. Still, she owed him, so she said, “I think Mr. Bishop wants to tell you how impressed he is with you, that’s all.”
Wayne reached under the table and squeezed her hand. She froze. It was sinful for him to touch her like that in secret. That was something she’d learned in the home for unwed mothers.
She snatched her hand away and wanted to tell him that they were even now and she wouldn’t owe him anything else. But were they? He’d saved her job. She’d saved his conversation.
Something told her she shouldn’t take any more favors from Wayne Bishop. One thing she never wanted to be was indebted to anyone ever again. Especially a man.
Chapter Eight
Wayne insisted on helping clear the table since he’d eaten their food. He’d even offered to help with the dishes, but Shirley insisted she had it and that she was capable of cleaning up after dinner. Something told him he’d aggravated her, but he wasn’t sure how. And it bothered him more than it should. Enough that he spent most of the eveni
ng contemplating dinner. A dinner that hadn’t gone the way he had hoped it would. He’d need to speak to them in smaller groups.
He returned to the boardinghouse where Mrs. Slaughter had settled in for her evening knitting. “I’m afraid your dinner has gone cold.”
“I’m so sorry. The Besslers insisted I stay for dinner. I should’ve sent word to let you know.”
“How was the food?” Mrs. Slaughter raised a brow and looked at him over the pink yarn she’d twisted into what he thought might be a child’s scarf.
“The dinner you made with Shirley was outstanding. You’re an amazing cook.”
Mrs. Slaughter paused somewhere between a knit and a purl he guessed. “I didn’t make it. I just told Shirley how. She’s a capable and beautiful woman.”
“Yes. I mean, she appears to be strong-willed and independent.” He adjusted his tie that suddenly felt like it was choking him.
Mrs. Slaughter set her knitting aside and walked toward the kitchen. “I’ll get us some tea and cakes.”
“Please, don’t go to any trouble.” He rubbed his belly, sure he couldn’t fit another morsal of food inside, but despite how full he was, the idea of another of her cakes was appealing.
“No trouble.” She waved his notion off and disappeared to the kitchen.
They sat quietly and ate. Before he could stop himself, he’d devoured the entire lemon cake that left his gut heavy and tight. He held the warm teacup in his hands and tapped the side. “Mr. and Mrs. Bessler were as nice as you said, but the one eldest child, Davey, he’s suspicious and forward.”
“I’m not surprised, since he cared for the other children for so long.” Mrs. Slaughter set her plate to the side and returned to her knitting.
He thought about his next question carefully, not wanting to bring about suspicion. “They are an interesting family. The wife works her own business, and from what I understand, it’s more successful than Mr. Bessler’s. I’d think that could put a strain on a man.”
“It would on the old Victor, but since him and Rosie found their way back to each other, they’ve both changed considerably,” she said in a tone that told him he was moving too quickly, so he slowed down and thought about his next approach.
He took a sip, trying to not show his interest at this obvious tidbit of information about the couple. He decided to use the tactic of repeating a statement she said as a newly posed question. “Their way back to each other?”
“You know, he returned from war, so they’re together now.” The way she rushed her words told him there was more to the story.
“Of course, many men came home to wives that had worked but then insisted they return to their duties at home. What makes Mr. Bessler different than most men?”
“He lost a lot, and that changes a man.” She kept knitting and didn’t sound irritated, so he continued to push.
“Many men lost people they cared about, buried comrades during war.”
“A child. And almost Rosie.” She tossed her knitting down to her lap, as if realizing she’d shared too much. “Why’re you asking so many questions about them? You have a problem with Mrs. Bessler working? Let me tell you, she’s good at what she does, and Victor is man enough to be proud of his wife.”
He decided on a retreat and reattack strategy. “Please don’t misunderstand me. I’d love for my sister-in-law to work, but she’s of the belief that it’s unseemly.” He took his and Mrs. Slaughter’s cups to the kitchen and washed them both, making sure she didn’t think he had an issue with women working, since it seemed to bother her.
When he returned, Mrs. Slaughter gathered her knitting and headed to her room. “Breakfast will be at 8:00 in the morning.” Her voice dipped to a teasing tone. “Unless you have other plans with Shirley.”
“No, I have no plans with her in the morning,” he said flatly, careful to show no emotion, despite the quickening of his pulse.
She smiled and held her knitting to her bosom. “I just thought maybe all those questions were to see if Shirley’s job is safe so she wouldn’t be sent away when Rosie decided to give up working.”
He thought for a moment to argue the point but then decided it would be pointless. Mrs. Slaughter wouldn’t give up on the notion. Sure, Shirley was beautiful, and he’d felt something when he’d touched her hand under the table earlier, but he wasn’t here for a woman. He was here for a story. “As you said, she is a beautiful woman, but I’m not interested.”
“Ha. I knew you were sweet on her. She’ll be here tomorrow afternoon for a cooking lesson at lunchtime. You might want to stay and help out with Beth. That darling little girl has taken a liking to you. And there’s nothing more important to a mama than her child.”
“Beth’s adorable, but I assure you I’m not the fatherly type.”
Mrs. Slaughter headed upstairs with only a backhanded wave of acknowledgement.
Tired and ready for a good rest, he changed and collapsed onto the bed, but sleep didn’t come. Instead, he tossed and turned all night, thinking about the lovely Shirley and what he’d done to upset her.
After a friendly breakfast with Mrs. Slaughter in the morning, Wayne made his way into town and found the post office.
Glen rode by in the back of the truck and waved madly. “How’s it going?”
“Good,” he shouted back as the truck continued into town.
Wayne dropped his letter off and headed to visit with Mr. Bessler. This would allow him to speak with one of the parents without Davey causing them to be suspicious of him. Once he announced he’d reached out to child services on their behalf, he’d tell them about the article and how it would help others. He didn’t want to wait too long or it would appear as a creep instead of a friend wanting to share their story to help others.
Wayne entered the toy shop with a jingle of a bell that called Mr. Bessler’s attention from where he worked carving a piece of wood. “Good morning, Mr. Bishop. How’re you today?”
“Great. I stopped by to tell you that I sent a letter to my contact, so I hope to hear back soon in regard to what’s holding up Davey’s adoption.”
“Thank you so much. Rosie, did you hear that?”
She stuck her head out from a back room. “Yes, thank you.”
“You work here, too?” Wayne asked, eyeing the woman who seemed to do everything.
“No, I just use the back room as my workshop where I build my pieces before I send them out.” Rosie brushed some sawdust from her face. “We do appreciate you sending an inquiry about Davey. We’re awful nervous about the adoption, so I hope to hear something soon.”
“I understand. You’ve all become attached to each other, then?” Wayne asked in the lightest tone possible.
Rosie looked to Victor, who smiled back at her and said, “It’s more than an attachment. They’re our children.” He tucked her into his side and squeezed her tight.
“Yes, but five children are more than most people would take in. What will you do when you have more?”
A shadow crossed Rosie’s face. A retreat bell sounded in his head, but before he could process his next move, the door jingled, drawing everyone’s attention to the front. Shirley stepped inside, holding Beth’s hand.
“We have the children God intended us to have,” Rosie said before she went to Shirley.
“I came by to see if you’d like me to bring you both some lunch today?” Shirley asked, but her gaze traveled to Wayne with a hint of agitation shown by the way her lip twitched at the corner. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” Rosie knelt down to see Beth. “No need. I packed one for us this morning, but thank you so much.” Rosie tugged Beth’s coat tighter. “Your mama is something, isn’t she?”
“Uh-huh.” Beth nodded and rocked back on her heels and then onto her toes.
With Shirley and her narrowed-eyed gaze at him, he decided now wasn’t the time to inform the Besslers about the story. “I better go. I only stopped in long enough to tell you about sendi
ng the letter. Have a nice day. And thanks again for dinner last night.” He made sure he looked at each of them and then made his way out the door, but he didn’t even reach the end of the block before Shirley was at his heels.
“I can’t believe you did that,” she called out.
He stopped and faced her. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m speaking about how you just upset Rosie. You don’t ask women about the children they don’t have. Are you that insensitive?” She lifted Beth into her arms as if someone would take her away if she didn’t keep her close. “I mean, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out she can’t have children of her own.”
Beth covered her mouth. “No mad.”
Shirley removed the child’s hand from her mouth and kissed her palm.
Wayne eyed his feet. “I hadn’t thought of that.” He’d been around men the last four years with little interaction with the fairer sex. “I’ll apologize to her.” He headed toward the store, but Shirley stuck her arm out to stop him.
“Don’t you think you’ve done enough? Don’t make it worse. What gives you the right to be in everyone’s business? You probably think that I owe you for last night.”
“Last night?”
Shirley lifted her chin. “In regard to the dinner that you helped save. Well, I don’t owe you. I owe Mrs. Slaughter. I’m not indebted to you, no matter what you might think. I don’t owe you anything.”
“I didn’t ask for anything.” He blinked, trying to follow her train of thought, but for the first time in over four years, he didn’t have a clue what someone was thinking or talking about. All he did know was that he didn’t like Shirley being mad at him and he’d do anything to change that.
Chapter Nine