by Ciara Knight
Shirley’s nerves were prickly as she headed up the street to Mrs. Slaughter’s for her first real cooking lesson. Although, she’d managed to pack lunches, get the kids off to school, and do several loads of laundry. She was thankful for Rosie’s comment about pinks and reds not mixing with the light colors. She wouldn’t have known that. Why hadn’t that home done more than teach her to sew? It was as if the girls were too damaged to ever marry and therefore had to be taught a trade to survive while living there for the rest of their lives.
No, the minute she’d seen the advertisement for the Besslers, she’d packed up and run off without a word to anyone. It was the only way to guarantee her escape.
Wayne held the door open before Shirley even reached the front steps. He was at her side, taking the meat from her hand. “Here, I’ve got that.” He also offered his hand to Beth, who took it far too easily. “Come on, kiddo. I managed to finish my chores for the day so I could play with you. Sound good?”
“Uh-huh. Uh-huh.” Beth let go and raced inside the house.
Shirley stepped inside, removing her coat. “No need. Beth can watch us cook. She’ll be a good girl. I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”
“No trouble. Besides, I figured she’s a little too young to learn to cook yet.” He closed the door behind her, took her coat, and hung it on the coat rack by the door. “You look lovely this morning.”
She clasped her hands in front of her like a proper lady and headed for the kitchen. “I am healthy, thank you.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Mrs. Slaughter, thank you so much for agreeing to do this. I really want to be a better cook for the Besslers.”
“No problem at all. I still say you should tell them the truth. There’s no reason for lies.” Mrs. Slaughter opened the package and eyed the meat. “Ah, perfect. We can make sauce for spaghetti tonight. This is a great meal because you’ll learn about browning meat, sautéing vegetables, and cooking pasta. All great for your foundation to build upon. If we have time, we’ll make some bread to go with it, too.”
“I can do that?” Shirley couldn’t help but shake her head. “That sounds difficult.”
“Not too difficult for us. I’m a good teacher and you’re a good student.” She went to work immediately, looking through her fridge, but paused. “Wayne, I need you to run down and see if Mrs. Bessler has onions.”
“Sure, I’d be happy to.”
“I can go.” Shirley went for her coat.
“How are you going to stay here and learn and go get ingredients at the same time?”
Shirley eyed the door. “But is it okay for him to go into their home unannounced?”
“Unannounced?” Mrs. Slaughter laughed. “You do use the strangest words.”
Shirley bit her bottom lip, realizing she wasn’t pulling off being a common girl at all. Her accent had even slipped.
“Besides, no one’s at the house, so there’s no one to announce his entry.” Mrs. Slaughter shooed him off.
He took Beth with him, which made Shirley more uneasy.
Obviously Mrs. Slaughter noticed her concern and said, “Trust me, Beth’s in good hands. Mr. Bishop is a good man. You know, he even offered to help with breakfast this morning, mailed that letter for the Besslers, and even offered to help with any fixing I might need done in the house.”
“I’m sure he’s a good man, but I don’t know him well.”
Mrs. Slaughter clapped her hands together as if to return Shirley’s attention to the reason she was there. “Now, let’s go ahead and get our pots and pans and utensils ready and organized so we’re not running all over the kitchen.” She pulled out a large skillet and set it on top of the stove. “Wayne’s not only helpful, he’s handsome too. You have to admit that.”
“I hadn’t noticed.” Shirley picked up the wooden spoon Mrs. Slaughter had left in the pan, not that she knew what to do with it.
“You know, I lost a husband in the war like you.” Mrs. Slaughter’s lips twitched. “It wasn’t easy, and it can be lonely.” She sighed and looked at the window as if she watched for her husband to walk up the front steps. “Sometimes, I think if I were to meet another man, I’d like to consider getting married again.”
“No, I’m not interested in such notions.” Shirley held the spoon as if it were a sword she was about to wield for battle. But she felt like she had to grab something to keep her in the moment, not to slip back into her past mistakes.
“I understand. When we marry the first time, we think of it as forever, but sometimes it isn’t. That’s why the vows say until death do us part. We’re not meant to live alone.”
Shirley tried to think of something—anything—to redirect Mrs. Slaughter’s attention. “I’m not alone. I have Beth.”
“And Beth will need a father someday.”
Shirley had never thought she’d be so pleased to see Wayne again, but when he opened the door, she thought she could throw her arms around him to say thank you for ending the unnerving conversation.
Mrs. Slaughter showed her how to chop vegetables and sauté them and then add the tomatoes and other ingredients until the sauce filled the air with hearty meat, parsley, and basil aromas.
Mrs. Slaughter stirred the bubbling sauce, lifted a spoonful, blew on it, and then tasted it. “Mmm, you’ll be a hit tonight.”
Shirley lowered her head. “You should be the one that everyone praises, not me. I would’ve never known how to make this.”
“But now you do.” Mrs. Slaughter pointed to Wayne on the floor. “I think we should save some for him as payment for keeping Beth busy all this time. Looks like she wore him out.”
Shirley watched the strong, good-looking, gentle man who played well with her daughter sleeping with her in his arms as if protecting her from any harm. A warmth pooled in her that made her think of possibilities she didn’t want to consider. “You’re right. I believe Wayne Bishop is a fine man.”
“I knew you—”
“But he’s not my man,” Shirley said more to remind herself not to open her heart to a stranger who could ruin her life all over again. Not that she’d fall into his arms with the words of a man shipping off to war but because he was too inquisitive, and she didn’t ever want to start a relationship with a lie. And she could never tell someone the truth that could ruin her to the Besslers.
Chapter Ten
Wayne shoved his hat on and opened the door to head into town. He’d spent a week trying to run into the Besslers to casually bring up his story idea to them, but the only person he kept seeing was Glen. At this rate, he wouldn’t have his story together by Easter, let alone Valentine’s Day. He’d wasted too much time each day watching Beth as Shirley and Mrs. Slaughter cooked and baked. He’d found himself drawn to the little girl. He had never spent this much time with his niece and nephew and never thought of himself as good with kids, but Beth made it easy. She was fun and cuddly and loveable. But he needed more time to interview the Besslers and less snuggle time with Beth.
The mailman headed up the street. “Hey, Mr. Bishop. I have that letter you were waiting for.”
“Thanks, Mr. Meyer. That’s great news. How’s your shoulder?”
“Fine today. Thanks.” Mr. Meyer continued on his route, and Wayne retreated back into the house.
“Any mail for me?” Mrs. Slaughter placed the last clean breakfast dish into the cabinet and then came into the living room.
“Mr. Meyer didn’t give me anything but this letter.” Wayne opened the envelope and read: Good to hear from you. I was able to make some calls, and it appears that the child in question isn’t available for adoption due to a possible uncle who lives in New York City.
“Good news?”
“For you perhaps, since this information might get me out of your way soon. I’d hoped to have news of Davey’s adoption before I left.” Wayne offered a smile.
“I’m sure Rosie and Victor will be happy to get the news, but why are you in such a hurry to leave Sugar Mapl
e? Doesn’t it feel like home yet?” She sat on the couch and put her feet up. It appeared as if her left ankle had swelled.
“This isn’t my home. I don’t even know anyone in town except for you and the Besslers.”
“Oh, I forgot to ask. How’s Mr. Meyer’s shoulder?”
“Good. He said it’s better.”
“I’m glad, because falling off a ladder could cause some real damage.”
Wayne folded the letter and slipped it into his pocket. “He hurt it cutting down the Christmas tree.”
“That’s right.” Mrs. Slaughter picked up her knitting. “I wouldn’t expect a stranger to know that, though.”
He blinked at her.
“Not to mention that when I was in the general store yesterday, Mr. Mason asked if you needed more Junior Mints. He knew it was your favorite candy, and they just came in yesterday.”
“I’m good. With all the baking you do, I better not eat candy, too.”
She laughed. “I’ll let him know. I’m surprised he’d worry about getting the right candy for a man he doesn’t consider a friend, but I get it. You’re a stranger.”
“It’s only been a week. I can’t call this home. It’s just that everyone here’s friendly.”
“Where’s home for you?” Mrs. Slaughter asked.
Wayne put on his hat, ready to head out to tell the Besslers the news. “I’ve lived out of a sack far too long to think of anywhere as a home.”
“Don’t you think it’s time to enjoy being home from the war? Maybe you don’t want to sit too long for a reason?”
“I was more clerical than fighter. Yes, I saw action, but I didn’t have to deal with things that other men did.”
“Who says I’m talking about fighting?” She eyed the window. “You should hurry before Shirley arrives for her cooking lesson.”
He discovered something about Mrs. Slaughter in that moment. She had a way of putting ideas in people’s heads and letting them stew.
“I’ll be back in time to help by watching Beth.”
“Right, because you do that for no other reason than to help.”
“Is that so difficult to believe?”
“Not from a resident of Sugar Maple, no.”
He shook his head. “You’re a sneaky one, aren’t you? Listen, I know you’re trying to play matchmaker, but I’m not meant to stay in Sugar Maple, and I don’t want to have Shirley believing that I’ll be the man that sweeps her off her feet and will take care of her and her daughter.”
“What makes you think she needs taking care of? Looks to me that you need it more than she does.”
“Me?” He opened the door, and the wind shot through him with a bitterness he hadn’t braced for.
“Yes. I mean, she’s employed. Are you? If so, what exactly is it that you do again?”
At that question, he escaped the house before he fell into a trap he could feel was being set up for him. “I’ll be back in time to watch Beth.”
He shut the door and headed into town to see Mr. Bessler. Now he finally had an excuse to see the Besslers casually so he could tell them about the story. It had been too long already.
Two kids ran out of the toy shop, obviously happy with new toys. It had to feel good making things that put smiles on children’s faces. He entered to find Mr. and Mrs. Bessler sitting down to have a hot beverage together.
Rosie shot up, and Wayne felt bad at the intrusion into their private moment that he guessed didn’t happen often with five kids at home and a nanny with her own child all crammed into three rooms. “Please sit. I’ll make you a cup of coffee and you can join us.”
“No, please. Don’t trouble yourself.” Wayne pulled the letter from his pocket. “I only stopped by to share some news with you both.”
Rosie looked with soft, expectant eyes, and he wanted to deliver better news, but he wasn’t meant to do that. He was meant to report the truth. That was his job. The one job he’d always been good at. She must’ve read his hesitation, because she reached for her husband and held his hand tight. “Go ahead.”
“It’s not bad. It’s just a complication of sorts.” He took a deep breath. “Davey might have an uncle. It doesn’t mean that Davey’s uncle will want him, though, or is even alive. It only means that there is a report that he has the potential to have a living relative that could care for him.”
“When will we know?” Rosie asked, her voice strained with obvious fear.
Mr. Bessler patted Mrs. Bessler’s hand. “I’m under the impression based on my calls with the adoption agency in Nashville that they’re overwhelmed with placing children. That’s why they were unable to tell me immediately why there was a hold on the adoption. This has been going on for two or three weeks, so I’m guessing it will be much longer before anyone can determine if Davey has a relative or not.” He looked at his wife. “We’ll just have to be patient, my dear.”
“I don’t know if I can do that.” Rosie’s eyes pooled with tears. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. I’m stronger now and can handle losing another child. I guess I never assumed it would be one this old, again, though.”
The way Rosie walked away with her head down and the words she’d spoken gutted Wayne. He couldn’t ask them if he could interview them now. How could he do a feel-good piece about a family that’s torn apart? He needed to get this story back on track. “I might be able to help,” he blurted.
Rosie stopped and turned with black tears down her face. “What can you do?”
“I’ll go to Nashville and see if I can get some information and then follow it up in New York if I have to. I’ll leave tomorrow.”
“I’ll go with you.” Mr. Bessler turned to Rosie. “Can Davey run the shop with you while I’m away?”
“Of course.” Rosie lit up with hope, and Wayne didn’t have the heart to tell her he didn’t know if there was anything more he could do than get information for them. That’s what he did. Bought and sold information for a living.
“Please, come for dinner tonight so we can work out the details,” Mr. Bessler said. “I know Shirley and Beth would enjoy your company, too. I think Davey’s getting jealous because all they do is talk about you and Mrs. Slaughter all the time.”
“They do?”
“Well, Beth does. Gina says you must be the most fun dad ever.”
“I’m no father,” he said before retreating.
“Dinner’s at six,” Rosie called after him.
“Thank you. I’ll see you at six.” He wanted to go to dinner since this was the perfect opportunity for him to get more information in case they could work out custody and the article would work, but part of him wanted to stay far away from that table. He’d already spent way too much time with Shirley and Beth over the last week. He’d told himself it was all in the name of research, but who was he fooling now? He hadn’t learned anything, and he never would if he didn’t stop playing house and start working.
Chapter Eleven
The morning had been hectic. Shirley couldn’t figure out why the vacuum wasn’t working. It wouldn’t suck up the dirty footprints Davey left this morning when he walked through the house after running out back to check on a stray animal he’d seen the evening before. Then she’d fought with one of the kids’ beds and ripped the edge of the blanket on the wooden frame. After mending that, she went to check on Beth in the living room where she liked to play, but she wasn’t there.
“Beth?” she called out and listened for her daughter’s sweet voice but heard nothing. She went to their bedroom, looked under the bed and in each corner, but no sign of her.
She took a deep breath and tried not to panic. Kitchen. She probably tried to get into the cookies she’d baked with Mrs. Slaughter yesterday. “Beth? This isn’t funny. Please tell me where you are.”
She went to the kitchen, and that’s when she realized the back door was cracked. A fire shot through her, jolting her into action. Before she even thought to grab her coat, she ran out into the frosty yard. “Beth!”
No answer.
She checked behind the bushes, the side of the house, the neighbor’s yard, and ran up the street to Mrs. Slaughter’s place. With fists tight, she banged on the door. “Is Beth here?”
Mrs. Slaughter answered. “No. What’s wrong, dear? Oh, look at you. Come inside.” She opened the door wider and waved her to enter. “You’ll catch your death.”
“No. I can’t. Beth’s missing.” Shirley didn’t wait for any additional information before she ran down the road toward home.
Before she reached their yard, Wayne was by her side. “How long has it been since you last saw her?” He removed his own coat and wrapped it around her.
“About thirty minutes ago. I left her in the living room playing while I worked in the kids’ room cleaning up and remaking the bed. When I came out, she was gone.”
“She can’t be far. Don’t worry. We’ll find her.” He grabbed her hand and ran by her side.
“I already checked around the house,” Shirley said, tugging toward town.
Wayne followed her up the street. “Beth!”
“Beth!” Shirley looked in all directions, her heart pumping at such a speed she could barely hear the small cry from some bushes at a house ahead.
Wayne released her hand and ran, faster than Shirley could manage in her heels.
“We’re coming, sweet girl. Keep calling out.” Wayne’s voice echoed in the empty street.
Shirley’s pulse beat against her neck faster than her feet could move. She rounded the corner and found Wayne on his knees with Beth in his arms.
“You’re okay. I’ve got you.” He stood, lifting her into his arms. “Let’s get her back to the house and warmed up. She’s shivering.”
“Lost,” Beth cried.
The bitter wind cut through the large gaps in the sleeves of Wayne’s coat, and that’s when she realized he had to be frozen with no protection against the elements at all. At least Beth was dressed in her sweater and hat, which still wasn’t enough for this weather.
They reached the house, and Wayne set Beth down in the living room.