by Jina Bacarr
‘This is Mrs Ambrose Rushbrooke,’ comes the stern, cold voice.
I cringe. ‘Ma’s outside, Mrs Rushbrooke,’ I say in a pleasing voice even if she’s mean to Ma and that irks me. ‘I’ll get her for you.’
‘Don’t bother, dear.’
Cold, territorial attitude. I feel a shiver go up my back. ‘Excuse me?’
‘I wish to speak to you.’
‘Me?’ I nearly choke.
‘I’ll get straight to the point, Miss Arden. You are not to see my son again.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Deny everything. A practice I’ve seen my boss at Holtford Company use many times when something goes wrong with a book shipment that never arrives.
‘You’re a selfish, impertinent girl,’ she continues as if she didn’t hear me. ‘You don’t care about Jeffrey. If you did, you’d let him go so he can get over this silly fascination he has with you.’
‘Is that what you think it is?’ I don’t deny her words since it’s obvious she’s found out somehow, though we’ve been dating six months. ‘I’m in love with Jeff and he loves me.’
‘You’re a foolish girl, my dear, if you think my son could fall for you,’ she says in that condescending manner of hers to make me retreat like I’m a bunny and she stepped on my tail. She isn’t dealing with that nineteen year old girl. She’s dealing with me.
I fight back. ‘Jeff knows what he wants and he wants me. His love makes me feel alive.’
‘What if I disown him, then what? Do you think he’ll stay with you after the war when he has no family, no home?’
‘Love is about sticking together, Mrs Rushbrooke, whatever the problems we face.’
‘You surprise me, Miss Arden. I had no idea you had a head on your shoulders.’
‘You don’t know a lot of things about me.’
‘That doesn’t change my mind. If anything, it makes me more determined to make sure you don’t see my son again. He could actually be in love with you and that only makes matters worse.’ She pauses a moment, as if taking a long drag on a cigarette. ‘You are to cease your involvement with my son immediately. Is that clear?’
‘I can’t. I love him.’
‘You’re too young to know what love is.’
‘It’s understanding and caring for somebody so much you’ll do anything to be with them.’ Even travel through time, I add silently. ‘I know what it’s like to torture yourself when you’re not together. Knowing I’ll see him soon is the sweetest torture. I’ve lived for such a long time knowing how easily I could lose him. You can’t stop me from feeling what I do. Or Jeff either.’
‘My son has no idea what’s good for him.’
‘You do?’
‘I’m his mother.’
‘Does that give you the right to choose his life for him?’
‘Of course it does.’
‘Where were you when he was growing up? Why didn’t you help him through those painful times when he needed you?’ I’m on a roll, but I’m not fool enough to bring up the physical and mental abuse his father wields over him. I can’t be sure the woman is privy to what her son endures at the hands of his father and it isn’t my place to tell her.
‘I called you not to ask you to stop seeing my son, Miss Arden, but to order you, is that clear?’
‘There’s static on the line, Mrs Rushbrooke, I can’t hear you.’
I take the coward’s way out and don’t acknowledge her threat. I don’t want to say something I’ll regret. The woman is mean and hurtful, but she’s Jeff’s mother and I’m naïve enough to believe I can have a civil relationship with her. I don’t understand how a woman can be so self-absorbed she doesn’t see how much she’s alienating her son. Or doesn’t she care?
The back door creaks.
I peek into the kitchen and see Ma coming in with her empty laundry basket and the late afternoon sun setting at her back. I swear she’s covered in a holy light of orange-gold. I want to slam down the phone, but seeing Ma gives me new courage.
‘What was that you said, Mrs Rushbrooke?’ I ask. ‘We have a bad connection.’
‘I’m ordering you to stop seeing my son.’
‘I’ll do that,’ I say, inhaling a deep breath, then, ‘when Jeff stops loving me. Good day.’ Then I hang up.
‘Who was that, Kate?’ she asks with her usual calm.
‘Nobody important, Ma.’ I say, forcing a light tone in my voice as I try to put on a brave front, but I can’t stop shaking. My heart sinks.
‘It was Mrs Rushbrooke, wasn’t it?’
I spin around. ‘How’d you know?’
‘She called earlier when you weren’t here and asked to talk to you.’ She smiles. ‘You gave her an earful, baby, didn’t you?’
‘I did, Ma.’
‘Good for you. I don’t like to speak bad about people in this town, but that woman had it coming.’ She fusses with her apron, wringing her hands on the soft cotton. ‘There’ll be repercussions. She won’t buy my jam for the holidays, but she’ll come round by spring. She always does.’
Not this time.
‘Ma, I—’
‘You don’t have to explain, Kate. You did what’s right. I raised my girls to go after what they want and if Mr Jeffrey is the man for you, then nothing can stop it, not even Mrs Rushbrooke.’
She hugs me and gives me that look that says, What’s done is done and life will go on. I’m so lucky to have her for a mother. I wish I could tell her the truth, but I’m already tiptoeing on top of a glass bottle. Who knows what might tip it over? I could lose everything if I dare taunt whatever forces brought me here with a careless word. I’ve already tempted them by giving Mrs Rushbrooke a piece of my mind just now, something the younger me never would have done, and that worries me. Nothing must interfere with me telling Jeff about the letter. I have time. He said he’ll meet me at the cherry tree tonight. That was before his mother called. I don’t feel so brave now.
‘I hope you’re right, Ma, about Jeff and me.’
‘I feel it in my bones, child.’ She looks down at her hands. Red, rough. Is she thinking about that hand cream I promised her?
You’ll have it for Christmas, Ma.
‘I’ve got a deep feeling you’re anxious about something that’s bigger than you are.’
‘What do you mean, Ma?’
‘You remind me of that gopher we had in our Victory Garden last spring. He kept popping his head up, sniffing around and looking for something nigh onto a week till one day he didn’t pop up no more, like he’d disappeared deep down into the bowels of the earth.’ She looks at me with a profound sadness etched onto her face. ‘Promise me you won’t disappear, Kate.’
‘I promise, Ma.’
I feel guilty the minute I say the words. Whatever happens, I won’t be the same girl I am now. Somehow, my younger self will have to deal with the changes I made in her life after I read the sergeant’s letter and learned the truth about Jeff. If I’m successful in warning him, can I dare believe Jeff and I will be together after all?
Till then, I’m here. I won’t give up these precious moments with Ma. She clasps her hand over mine. Its coldness sends a shiver through me. Or is it something else?
That I made her a promise I can’t keep.
16
The misty frost coating the yellowish-green stalks standing in Ma’s Victory Garden is the closest we get to snow this year. Christmas is only nine days away, but my time to elope with Jeff is four days from now. December twentieth. There’s a chill in the air. I’m sleepy-eyed and nervous at work today since I was up for hours last night thinking about the earful Mrs Rushbrooke gave me yesterday.
I won’t take back a word, but that doesn’t mean I’m not fearful of what havoc that woman can wreak. I’m convinced I can handle her but seeing news about a train wreck in the morning paper sets a fire under me. What if I was in an accident and don’t know it? What if this is all a dream and I lie dying somewhere?
/> I don’t know why such a morbid thought hits me so hard. I’m beginning to have my doubts about changing the past. Every time I try to talk to Jeff, something happens to stop me. He didn’t show up at the cherry tree last night. I waited until it got so cold I had to leave. No wonder I couldn’t sleep, half of me believing he has a good excuse and the other half fearing he changed his mind about marrying me.
Have you no faith in the man? You two go back a long way, he won’t leave you hanging.
And there’s no telling what he’s facing at home. To me, the war is over. Back here, the threat of invasion is a real thing as well as the fear of losing more lives in this conflict. Jeff has no idea what’s in store for him, that if he becomes a bomber pilot there’s a good chance he’ll never return.
I start to cry. Soft tears messing up my cake mascara. Now I understand why he wants to marry me. He wants to leave me well cared for. I never thought of that back then. What teenage girl thinks about how she’s going to fend for herself in the world? You figure there’s always going to be a job you can do. I’ve seen it doesn’t work that way. The funny thing is, even if I change history and bring Jeff home, I want to write. I’ve had a taste of independence and I like it.
I’m scared I’ve just made things worse with my meddling. Something tells me Mrs Rushbrooke isn’t finished with me and it’s my own doing. I did wonder if Helen was feeding her information about Jeff and me, but I was sure she wasn’t.
And then I found out who it was when I jumped on the bus early this morning and saw Sarah Canton at the wheel, grinning and fussing with her new hairdo. Rolls of big curls sat on top of her head. The worst part was when she shot me the ‘V for Victory’ sign. A sick feeling rolled through me. She must have gone to Maisie’s and although the shop owner won’t gossip about me, I have no doubt Mrs Rushbrooke got her information about Jeff and me from one of her snobby friends. A busybody who overheard Mrs Canton complaining about how I made her stop the bus so I could hobnob with the boss’s son. That woman will be the end of me. Worse yet, I have no doubt Mrs Rushbrooke will do everything in her power to have me fired.
So what are you going to do about it? Roll over or fight?
I can sit here at my desk and wonder when I’m getting the axe. Or I can beat Mrs Rushbrooke to the punch. I choose the latter.
‘I quit.’
‘You what?’ Mr Clayborn holds onto his desk for support. I catch him in a bad moment, pacing up and down in his office, snapping his pencil in half while he tries to make sense of a report he holds in his hand. My blunt statement does him in.
‘I said I quit. I’m leaving the company, sir.’ I keep my voice calm though inside I’m walking over coals, my skin hot to the touch. I don’t wipe the sweat off my face, though I want to.
Are you insane? Quitting your job? What’s your younger self going to do when you go back to your own time?
‘Why in heaven’s name, Miss Arden, would you do that?’ he says in a blustery tone. Yet I can tell by the drooping corners of his mouth, he’s hurt. ‘Don’t you like working for me?’
‘Yes, I do. You’ve taught me a lot and someday I’ll remember the skills I learned from you about office management when I work for a big publishing company. That’s a long way off.’
Stop this madness before you can’t take it back.
‘Then why won’t you stay?’
‘It’s a private matter, sir.’ I don’t want to say anything about Jeff and me.
He slumps down in his chair and pushes his coffee cup across the desk in frustration. ‘Has Timothy made a pass at you?’
‘No, sir,’ I lie. No need to have the whole family against me.
‘Timothy Rushbrooke tries to make time with all the pretty girls. I figured you could take care of yourself. So it must be something else.’
‘I’d rather not talk about it, Mr Clayborn.’
‘I’m missing something here,’ he says to himself more than to me. ‘You like working here, the other secretaries speak highly of your efficiency, and the ladies on the factory floor adore you.’ He looks at me and I swear he sees right through my charade. I’m shaking and my eyes are misty. ‘It’s Jeff, isn’t it? He’s broken your heart.’
‘Sir…’
‘I’m surprised at the boy. I took him to be upstanding and a gentleman. I’m disappointed in him.’
‘He doesn’t know anything about my decision, Mr Clayborn.’
‘Then why are you leaving?’
‘There’s a rumor going around about Jeff and me. Certain people saw us together and mistook it for something it isn’t.’
‘Oh, really?’ He stares me direct in the eye. ‘Miss Arden… Kate, you may not believe it, but I know a thing or two about women, though my late wife would dispute that when our anniversary came around.’ He pauses, a deep, burning glow making his eyes shine at her memory. ‘I’ve known for the past few months you’re in love with that boy and he loves you.’
‘Mr Clayborn…’
‘I’m not blind, Kate. I see how you look at him and how he watches you when you’re at your desk typing, or when you head off to deliver memos, your heels tapping on the floor. He comes into my office and asks me how you’re doing, if you need anything, if you like your job. He cares about what happens to you and wants to see you happy. If you’ll tell me who’s spreading these rumors, I’ll put an end to it—’
I gasp loudly and put my hand to my mouth. I can’t tell him the truth. For once I don’t speak my mind, but the look on my face gives me away. He reads me loud and clear.
‘It’s no secret Mrs Rushbrooke keeps a close eye on Jeff. Is that it?’
I nod. ‘Now you understand why I have to leave.’
He taps his fingers on the desk. ‘Your Pop is going to be heartbroken.’
‘I might try modeling,’ I say in a whimsical moment and striking a pose. It’s a silly notion, but I have to say something. I try to smile, but my lower lip quivers and I can’t stop the cold, clammy feeling running down to my toes. ‘Freddie says I’m a good model.’
‘You’re not going anywhere, Kate.’ My boss pounds on his desk with his fist. More dramatic than he intended, but it gets my attention. ‘I need you here, do you understand?’
‘It won’t work, Mr Clayborn,’ I say, my shoulders slumped. ‘That woman dislikes me intensely.’
‘You let me worry about Mrs Rushbrooke. She may run her husband, but she doesn’t run the mill. Whatever she threatened you with, it won’t go over here.’ He clears his throat. ‘We have an important memo to get out before lunch about that new contract. Get your pad, Miss Arden, and let’s get to work.’ He winks at me and the matter is settled. I’m not quitting. My spirits rise as a surge of confidence shoots through me. I know Mr Clayborn will look out for me and not only because I’m a good worker. I believe deep down he’s a bit of a romantic. That makes me smile. Let Mrs Rushbrooke put that in her hat.
More important, I gain an ally in my determination to save Jeff, something I hoped for. I can’t and won’t let woman win.
I must admit, I’m relieved when Mr Clayborn sends me back to my desk with the understanding we never speak of the matter again. I see him in a new light, a man who is not only a good boss, but a good soul. Which is why I’m not surprised when he sends me into town that afternoon to the bank, me riding in the backseat of the company car, to deliver paperwork to the manager.
Jeff is there.
‘Kate, what are you doing here?’ Jeff whispers, leading me by the elbow toward the private office in the back. The bank is a fine old financial institution with mahogany desks with pearl-inlayed tops and life-size paintings of men in colonial wigs and tight breeches on the walls. One droopy Christmas wreath hangs on the front door as if to say money is a serious business and takes no holiday. The bank is as quiet as a library. It’s a quarter to three.
‘Mr Clayborn sent me.’ I look every which way to see if anyone is watching us. The manager left, so I drop off the manila envelope with his sec
retary. She keeps looking at the big round clock on the wall, its ordinary, plain numbers a stark contrast to the ornate, historical décor. She smiles at me and then goes back to applying fresh lipstick. No doubt she’s meeting the train this afternoon. She pays little attention to Jeff and me disappearing into a back office. I make no pretense about how I feel about him, smiling so big any woman will recognize the love for him in my eyes and the spring in my walk. Rest assured, there’s no escape from any future gossip about us.
Jeff has no idea what trepidations simmer inside me. The poor darling gives me a guilty look that he sugars with a sexy growl. Testing the waters, he says. ‘I hope you’re not sore at me for not showing up last night.’
‘I should be,’ I tease, avoiding his dark eyes. Playing games, are you? Be careful.
‘I couldn’t get there until after midnight.’ He turns me around to face him, his eyes never leaving mine, trying to read my thoughts. ‘I had to drag Timothy home last night before he got himself in another jam.’ He doesn’t elaborate, but I can imagine. Women, gambling. The mill owner’s son is an easy mark for the drifters and ne’er-do-wells looking to fleece money from him. As I watch, his worried expression makes deeper lines on his brow, unsettling me. I have no reason to play games with him, nor do I want to, but a little teasing doesn’t hurt. I ignore that little voice telling me I’m playing with fire. Instead I touch his arm and I feel him relax, his expression softening when I say. ‘I can never be mad at you, Jeff. Especially when I came so far to find you.’
He looks confused. ‘I don’t understand you, Kate. I expected you to stomp your foot and pout like you usually do.’
I do that?
He adds a sheepish grin. ‘You look so cute doing it.’
My heart swells. Only a man in love would say that. ‘I’m not that teenage girl anymore, Jeff. I’ve grown up.’