by Ciara Knight
Shirley dropped to her knees and grabbed her daughter by the arms. “What were you thinking? Why would you ever go outside without me?”
Beth pointed a finger. “Play wiff him.”
“Don’t ever do that again.” Shirley’s tears burst free, and Beth wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck and squeezed tight.
“Sowwy, Mommy.”
Wayne placed a calming hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. She’s safe now.” He rubbed comforting circles on her back until she could manage a real breath again. “Make some warm beverages. I’ll get a fire going.”
A pounding sounded from the front door. Wayne went to answer it while Shirley kept hold of Beth, scared if she looked away, her daughter would disappear again. It had been her recurring nightmare ever since she had to flee the nunnery when her mother had sent a man to take her baby away.
“Did you find her?” Poor Mrs. Slaughter hobbled inside. “Oh, thank the dear Lord she’s okay.”
Wayne helped her to the couch. “Please sit down, Mrs. Slaughter, put that ankle up, and I’ll get a fire going. Shirley, she’ll be fine. Mrs. Slaughter and I have her. We won’t take our eyes off her. You go get those warm beverages.”
Shirley went to the kitchen, filled a pot with milk and chocolate, and started the stovetop in a sort of numb state. By the time the hot chocolate heated, she began to shake uncontrollably. So badly she couldn’t pour the milk into the cup without spilling it.
“Here, let me do that.” Wayne took the pot from her and divided the hot chocolate into three mugs and a small cup. “She’s fine.”
“I shouldn’t have taken my eyes off her. Maybe I’m not a fit mother.” The words told to her in the past slipped out of her mouth into the present. She snagged Beth’s cup and put it in the refrigerator for a few minutes.
“You’re shaking.” Wayne pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “You’re an amazing mother. That could’ve happened to anyone.”
She didn’t push away because in that moment, the only reason she still remained upright was because Wayne held her. It took a minute of him holding her tight for her to find the strength to stand once more on her own. The thought of being inappropriately close to a man again sent her a step away. “Sorry. I’m fine.”
“Don’t apologize. I was shaking, too.” He brushed his thumb across her cheek, pushing the hair that had fallen from the wind out her eyes. The heated trail left behind frightened her and exhilarated her all at once. “I’m as responsible. She was looking for me. I should’ve known. She’d said she wanted to play with me everyday.”
“She did?” Shirley retrieved Beth’s cooled hot chocolate from the refrigerator, took one of the mugs, and stood tall. “I’ll speak with her. Perhaps it’s time to stop the cooking lessons. I apologize for her getting so attached so quickly.”
“Please don’t. Mrs. Slaughter says she’s been good for me. And if I’m being honest with myself, I’ve never allowed myself to get close to my niece and nephew. Beth has been a gift to show me that I’d like to be closer to them.”
“Why aren’t you close to them?”
“Ah, now who’s asking the questions?” He winked, took the remaining two mugs, and strutted out of the kitchen, leaving her knees as weak as earlier.
“How’s your ankle?” he asked Mrs. Slaughter.
“Just a little gout again. I’ll be fine.” She went to stand, but Wayne rushed over and handed her a cup and then pulled the footstool over and lifted her foot gently to push it under. “You rest for a spell.”
Shirley had never seen a man so gentle and kind besides Victor. Even her own father had never shown her mother affection like that.
They sat around until it was time to start the cooking lesson, but Shirley worried it was too much for Mrs. Slaughter’s ankle. “Maybe I can make something I’ve already made this week so you don’t have to help with dinner today.”
“Nonsense.” Mrs. Slaughter waved her off.
“Wait, that reminds me. I’ll be coming for dinner tonight.” Wayne collected Mrs. Slaughter’s mug and headed for the kitchen.
“What do you mean you’re coming for dinner tonight?” Shirley followed him with her own mug in hand.
“Mr. Bessler insisted, and I didn’t want to be rude.” Wayne washed all three mugs and Beth’s small cup while she dried and put them away.
“No, you wouldn’t want to be rude.” Shirley was ashamed of her reaction. It wasn’t Wayne’s fault she had issues with spending time with him. Despite her past, Wayne had been nothing but honest and helpful. Not to mention saving her child. She needed to find a balance with her feelings and her temper. “Of course, you should come to dinner whenever you’re invited.”
They returned to the living room to sit by the fire with Beth, who’d found a ball and brought it to Wayne. “I’m going to discuss our plans for tomorrow.”
“Plans?” Mrs. Slaughter asked.
Wayne sat on the floor in the living room and rolled the ball to Beth, who grabbed it and rolled it back to him. Mrs. Slaughter was right. He was good with children. All the more reason to finish these cooking lessons so she could stop seeing him so often. The man had surprised her with his gentleness and willingness to help.
“Yes, Mr. Bessler and I are going to Nashville tomorrow to try to find out about Davey’s adoption.”
“You’re helping with that?” Shirley couldn’t help but glance over at him and admire his kind heart. How many men would go through so much trouble to help a family? Maybe she’d been too hard on him from the start. If nothing else, they could be friends. After all, it wasn’t his fault she felt stirrings when he was around.
“Yes. I hate that there’re complications with the adoption. Mrs. Bessler was beside herself with grief. I’m afraid I may have said something wrong again.” He looked more remorseful than perplexed. Perhaps he really did have a heart under that inquisitive nature.
Wayne bounced the ball gently, and Beth giggled, a sound that always filled Shirley with great joy. “You do have a tendency of upsetting her. What did you say?”
“I told her about a possible living uncle to Davey. There wasn’t another choice. They needed to know.” He studied the ball as if it held all the answers, but Beth wasn’t going to tolerate his distraction.
She smacked the floor and said, “Ball.”
Wayne shook his head and then rolled the ball.
“You did the right thing.” Shirley sighed. “That’s terrible news, though. I wish there was something I could do to help. The Besslers have treated Beth and me more like family than the help. It’s strange how at home we already feel in a stranger’s house.”
“It gets worse.” He bounced the ball a little too high this time, but that sent Beth toddling after it with the glee only a child could experience. “She told Mr. Bessler that she was strong enough now and not to worry, that she was used to losing children, but not this old, again. I didn’t understand.”
“You wouldn’t.” Mrs. Slaughter sniffled, and Shirley wasn’t sure if it was from the pain in her foot, the cold dry air, or the conversation. “I’m afraid Rosie didn’t only lose her babies, but Davey’s sister. She’d died while Rosie was caring for her. She suffered greatly for a time, but when they adopted the children, she was restored to her beautiful, former vibrant self. I don’t know what this will do to her. She and Davey have an extremely special bond. I think they saved each other.”
“How so?” Wayne asked, but Mrs. Slaughter only shook her head and his question away.
That was the side of Wayne Shirley didn’t like. “I really wish I knew how to help them. Do you have any additional contacts you can call upon?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll try. If we discover any information beyond his uncle being in New York, then I can try to track him down. Perhaps even convince him that Davey is better with the Besslers.”
“New York?” Shirley forced her tone to sound steady, but inside fear festered and erupted like a thousand-year-old dormant
volcano exploding.
“Yes. That’s where my contact said they believe the uncle lives. I have an old contact in New York, so I’m sure I can uncover more information quicker than the government can at this time. We’re hoping the Nashville adoption agency will provide some additional information, but we didn’t think we’d get anywhere with a telephone call or letter. Mr. Bessler said he’s tried for weeks with no response.”
Shirley remained silent on the subject. The idea of him poking around in New York made her squirm. If he dug too deep, what would he find? Hopefully Davey’s uncle was someone who worked hard labor and there’d be no reason for Wayne to dig into New York society. Everything inside her screamed for her to convince him not to follow the trail of information, but how could she put herself above the family who’d offered her a life beyond the constant reminder of her failures as a mother and a lady? To provide safe shelter from a family who wanted her child torn from her arms in secret so that they could reintroduce Shirley into society and marry her to a proper gentleman? “I’ll pack lunches for you both for the road tomorrow. This is a good thing you’re doing for the Besslers.”
“Thanks,” he said with an undertone of surprise to his voice, but then he offered a proud smile and chased Beth around the room, playing tickle monster.
In that moment, Shirley knew she should be thankful for everything she had, yet she wished for more, the entire family package, but that would never be for her and her sweet daughter. And more than her desire was her fear. Anyone stumbling around New York could uncover her truth, or worse, lead her family thugs to the Besslers’ door. Something she could never allow to happen because there was too great a cost.
Beth.
Chapter Twelve
Shirley greeted Wayne at the front door, dressed and ready for her day, when he arrived to meet Victor for their drive to Nashville. She looked fresh and awake and beautiful and tense.
“Good morning. The children aren’t up yet for school, but coffee is on and Mr. Bessler will be out in a moment.”
He followed Shirley into the kitchen and welcomed the strong aroma of rich, wake-me-up roast. A welcomed promise considering he didn’t want to wake Mrs. Slaughter before he left this morning to make him anything. Besides, she didn’t need to be on that bad foot making him breakfast. “Thank you.” He took a sip, and it warmed him with fresh bean flavor with a hint of bitterness, the way he liked it. “You’ve become the coffee expert.” He lifted his cup to her.
Her skin looked rosy and healthy this morning under the harsh lights of the kitchen, but he could tell there was something that troubled her, the way she shuffled around the kitchen and moved things about without any real purpose.
“Are you worried about Davey?”
“Yes. Rosie didn’t seem herself last night at dinner.”
“I noticed that.” He patted the seat next to him for her to sit and chat.
She took her cup in both hands and gently blew the steam over the rim. Her eyes were dark and beautiful next to her porcelain skin. “I hope you can find something in Nashville and return with good news. I fear this will be too much for her, but she continues to insist to Mr. Bessler that she’s fine.” She looked toward the doorway as if Beth stood there like an angel. “I couldn’t imagine losing a child.”
Wayne saw the real trouble inside her the way she bit her bottom lip and her eyes misted with worry. He couldn’t help but place a comforting hand on hers. To his delight, she didn’t pull away this time or reprimand him. “You don’t have to worry about losing Beth. Yesterday was an accident, and everything’s fine. For as long as I’m here, I won’t let anything happen to that sweet little girl.”
She glanced at him with such joy, but it morphed into a tight-faced expression. “But when you’re gone…” She pulled her hand free and held the mug as if it were a rifle on the front line and he was the enemy. “I need to protect my daughter and myself. I’m going to do better. No one will ever harm her or take her from me.”
He could see how much she’d already bonded and connected with the Bessler family. To his shock, he’d done the same. He’d been in the same room, in the same house in Sugar Maple, longer than any place in his life. And he couldn’t help but feel strangely settled. The urge to run to the next story, the next moment, the next experience had faded. “I might be staying a little longer. Perhaps I’ll write to my sister-in-law and tell her she should move here with the kids. It would keep me here long enough to find a home for her and the children. It’s the least I could do for my brother.”
She lowered the cup and cleared her throat. “Why is it that you’re not close to your niece and nephew and each time you mention your sister-in-law, you look tense and worried?”
He traced the rim of the mug, wishing Mr. Bessler would walk into the room and end the conversation, but what harm would it do for him to share a little truth with Shirley? If anything, it would do what he couldn’t seem to do for himself. It would put some distance between them and show her he wasn’t the right man for her, despite how much he wished he could be. “I’m not the family type. I didn’t develop those skills growing up since we were tossed from home to home while my father drank, and then when he died we were put in a home that didn’t want us. My brother always looked out for me, though. He made sure I had food and I didn’t freeze to death. He even made me feel like I wasn’t parentless at times.” He rubbed his forehead, trying to rid the tension. “Somehow, my brother wanted a family the minute he was of age. I was the one who never sat still long enough to develop anything serious with anyone. I’ve bounced all over the world but never landed anywhere for too long. When my brother’s last wishes letter arrived after he was killed in action, I was left with no choice. He asked me to care for his wife and children the way he’d cared for me all those years. It’s not something I should be doing but that I have to do, even though it’s beyond my abilities.”
To his shock, Shirley didn’t run from him. In fact, she touched his arm. “You’re more that man than you give yourself credit for.” She held on to him a little tighter. “I can understand the fear of not feeling up to the task, though.”
“You ready?” Mr. Bessler walked in, his gaze landing on Shirley’s hand.
She grabbed her mug and raced away. “I have coffee and lunch ready for your trip.”
In all the moments during their brief conversation Wayne had hoped and prayed Mr. Bessler would interrupt, that was the one time he wished he hadn’t. She’d looked vulnerable, caring, connected to him.
“Right, ready,” he said, despite his desire to remain in the quiet kitchen alone with Shirley.
Mr. Bessler took the thermos and a lunch pail and darted out of the kitchen. “I’ll go warm up the truck.”
Wayne downed the last of his coffee and tried to take his lunch pail from Shirley, who held tight and didn’t let the handle go. “A man who’s willing to drive to Nashville to help sort out a child’s adoption is a good man who cares about families.”
Guilt nipped at him for not being completely honest with her about why he was in Sugar Maple. “And you’re a woman who learned to cook in a week.”
She released the pail and he headed outside, but he felt like he had a string attached that was trying to pull him back to her.
The cold, damp air of late January found its way through his coat, but his insides remained warm—probably from the coffee, or so he tried to convince himself. He climbed into the truck with a nod and placed his lunch pail between himself and Mr. Bessler. The interior smelled of sawdust but was as clean as their home. It was obviously the truck Mrs. Bessler used to make deliveries. The early morning sun only poked through the mountains in the distance, as if telling him a long day was about to begin.
“Shirley looked mighty pretty this morning, didn’t she?” Vic asked in a nonchalant tone, but Wayne saw where he was going before the man even backed onto the street.
“She’s a nice lady, yes,” he said in a blank tone.
Vic changed
gears, jolting them forward. “Well, I noticed her pinching her cheeks before you arrived. That’s something Rosie does when she thinks I’m not looking when she wants to look pretty for me.”
Wayne shifted in his seat, which had become uncomfortable. “I’m only here for a time. I need to get back to work soon.”
“That’s right. You’re in communications. Perhaps you could find something locally.” Victor shrugged. “Or maybe discover a different career.”
Wayne cleared his throat. “It’s all I know. Communications, I mean.” He hated himself for lying, but now wasn’t the time to break the man’s trust, not when he needed to help Victor keep his family together.
Mr. Bessler twisted his hands on the steering wheel and his eyes remained forward. “I’m considering turning my family toy shop into Rosie’s furniture store.”
The truck jolted over some rough road. Wayne eyed the beautiful scenery outside of town and thought he would never grow tired of seeing such nature after witnessing so much devastation.
“You might think of me less of a man by having my wife earn money to help with the family.”
Wayne worried Mrs. Slaughter might have shared his initial misgivings when he’d arrived. “No, of course not.”
“Well, Rosie’s a special woman. We’ve both been through things most shouldn’t. For a time, we didn’t connect when I arrived home from war, and that was the worst nightmare of my life. It took time, but I grew to understand that Rosie had to change in order to grow and cope with life, as did I. The differences between what I thought of as the ideal wife and what I discovered were profound. Profound and wonderful. A gift to realize that we were stronger together than apart.”
“Rosie wasn’t always so independent?” Wayne asked, hoping to get a little more backstory for his article.
“No, but imagine our surprise when we discovered how strong she was. Stronger than most men I know. That’s why Rosie adores Shirley so much. A woman who’s overcome such struggle and didn’t fall apart under the pressure. She might not be the typical woman, but sometimes different is only another word for special.”