Nineteen

Sunday morning, Josie got Cassandra ready for church while Art scrambled eggs. The morning felt relaxed as they ate breakfast and brushed teeth, then pulled on light coats.

Josie inhaled deeply as they stepped outside. The air felt crisp, the kind of day that made Josie think of apple pie with crumb topping. She could almost smell cinnamon in the air. Art linked his arm through hers, and they walked to church. Doris and Scott stood on the steps, greeting people. Cassandra ran to Doris for a hug, and Josie smiled at the sight. No, the child wasn’t with her family, but they’d crafted a community for her here in Cincinnati.

The organist played a prelude as Art led them to seats in the back. Josie soaked in the music and the peace. The sweet sense of God’s presence stayed with her through the hymns and into the sermon. Art shifted next to her. What brought her peace seemed to agitate him that morning.

After lunch, Art stomped around the apartment while Cassandra curled on the davenport, ignoring him with her nose buried in a book. Lucy Maud Montgomery’s tales of Anne of Green Gables had captured the girl’s imagination. Josie was glad to see the child engrossed.

“Art, please stop pacing. You’re going to worry Doris.” Josie blew a curl out of her eyes. “Trust me, you don’t want her up here. She’s tenacious when she thinks there’s a problem.” She’d meant the words to tease.

He clomped to a stop. “I don’t need you telling me what I do wrong.” He turned away, muttering, “I get enough of that at work.”

Josie sank into a chair at the dining room table. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. Want to tell me about work? I tend to assume everything’s fine since you don’t mention it much.”

Art looked at Cassandra, then at Josie. “Can we take a walk?”

“Yes, I’ll just knock on Doris’s door on our way out. Cassie, we’re going outside for a bit. Let Mrs. Duncan know if you need anything, okay?”

The girl nodded, never pulling her nose from the book.

Instead of keeping an eye on the door for Cassandra, Doris headed toward the stairs. “I can relax up there just as well as down here. Go enjoy this beautiful day.”

“Thank you. We won’t be too long.”

“Take your time. There’s no rush.”

Josie hugged Doris, then followed Art down the stairs. His long stride left her stretching to keep up. After a block, she stopped. Art continued a few feet before he turned.

“What?”

“Wondering if you’d like to slow your steps so I can keep up.” Josie smiled at him. “I’d love to walk with you but don’t feel up for a run.”

A sheepish look cloaked Art’s face. “I’m sorry, Josie. Guess I let my thoughts push me.” He walked back to her and offered his hand. “Would you like to walk with me?”

Josie held her tongue as they walked another block. She’d learned Art sometimes needed to process what he thought before sharing it. This seemed one of those times. She prayed for him—prayed that God would shower him with peace and wisdom, that whatever bothered him would fall into proper perspective.

Art ran his fingers through his closely cropped hair. “Things are changing at the company. Each day I’m under scrutiny.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Grandfather’s spies are everywhere, but it’s impossible to know what I do that pleases or upsets Grandfather.”

“He loves you, Art.”

“Probably, but he’s always insisted I stand on my own. That was easier to do when he was at a distance. Now he’s there. At my job. It’s almost enough to make me hunt for a new position.”

“You could.”

“But I can’t surrender before I try. I have to prove I am capable. I can succeed.”

“You don’t have to prove it to me. I know you’re a wonderful man. I wouldn’t have married you otherwise.” Josie watched him carefully. “Tell me what happened this week.”

“One of Grandpa’s watchers found a problem with the corporate books.”

That could be bad. “Was it your work?”

“No. Several entries made over the months before we arrived. But I didn’t find them. Didn’t think to look for them. Grandpa will say I’m too trusting. Don’t have the bull-dogged determination it takes.”

Josie wanted to kiss the lines from his face. Remind him how very much she loved him. “I love you, Mr. Wilson.”

He squeezed her hand. “I love you, too.”

At the end of the block, they turned to head back to the apartment. Art looked more relaxed, though Josie couldn’t pinpoint why. Maybe the act of sharing the burden was enough.

The next morning after Art had left for work and Cassandra was ensconced at school, Annabelle stopped by the apartment. Her sleek blond hair bobbed at her chin, and her tailored clothing had a Katherine Hepburn style. Josie tucked loose strands of hair behind her ears and wished she’d taken a few more minutes on her appearance before the social worker arrived.

“Has Cassandra improved?” Annabelle leaned forward in her seat, gaze locked on Josie.

“We still haven’t heard from her family. Cassandra is doing well in school, and keeps her chin up most of the time. But there are times, usually at night, where she thinks about them and worries. I’d hoped you would hear something. Our wire didn’t produce anything. Do you have word or another idea on how to reach them? Is there anything we can do to find out if they’re safe? I think the not knowing is what bothers her.”

Annabelle made a note. “I’ll keep trying. I’m not surprised she’s homesick. These kids have been taken from their homes and sent too far away. The Battle of Britain is too intense to send them home, though. Then we’ve got parents like Cassandra’s whom we can’t locate.”

“Does that mean something’s happened to them?” Josie didn’t think Cassandra could handle that. What child could?

“Oh no. It just means war conditions are in place. I bet we’ll hear from them soon, and Cassandra’s fears will be quieted.” Annabelle flipped a page in the file. “How’s she doing making friends?”

“Cassie is a delight with adults. She’s showering hugs and seems attached to more than Art and me. But she’s isolated at school. She still won’t say the pledge, which doesn’t help. It reminds the others that she’s different each day, beyond the accent.” The teakettle whistled, and Josie jumped up from the davenport. “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes.” Annabelle didn’t look up from her file, where she wrote notes. Josie wished she could see the words.

She slipped into the kitchen and pulled the tea together. Annabelle hadn’t come to find fault with them. So why did it feel like the social worker could decide this placement had failed and take Cassandra from them? Her fears were running wild again. This child had entered her family, and Josie needed her. The corner of her heart ready to mother loved caring for Cassandra. And without the girl, the grief might explode again. A shudder coursed through Josie at the thought.

Now was not the time to allow the grief to well up again. After Annabelle left, Josie could fall on her face and beg God for answers. She should have done that first. Annabelle might have ideas, but God would have the perfect solution.

Josie loaded a tray with her Grandmother’s china teapot, two porcelain teacups, and a plate of snickerdoodles she’d baked with Cassandra that weekend. “Do you like sugar with your tea?”

“Yes, and cream, too.”

“Ah, you like it the British way.”

“I suppose all the time with the evacuees has influenced my tastes.”

Josie poured a cup for each of them, adding cream to Annabelle’s, then settled back on the couch. “Annabelle, I would like any suggestions you have. Cassandra means too much to me to not do everything I can to help her.”

“Could you bring her to Canton for a weekend? Maybe having her around other children from back home would help.”

“I’ll have to talk to Art about that. It’s such a long drive.” Josie chewed on a fingernail as she considered the logistics. “We can talk and see if that’s something Cassandra would like.”

“There are certain times when the Hoover Company has planned excursions for the children. I’ll let you know when those come up. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind adding Cassandra to the mix.” Annabelle blew on her tea before taking a sip. “As long as she’s happy here, we’re fine. And it sounds like she’s doing well overall. On school, see if there’s a girl or two she’d like to have over after school. Help facilitate that relationship. It could make a world of difference for her to feel like she has a few friends. I’m sure several of the girls think she’s practically exotic coming from overseas.”

“Thank you.” As the social worker gathered her things and left, Josie felt a surge of energy. Time to help Cassandra make the last transition and find friends her age.

Josie fell to her knees beside the couch. Father, help me focus on things that will make a difference to Cassandra. I want to be someone You can use in her life. Grant me insight into her heart and thoughts. Her prayers flowed for a long time until she felt release. Then they shifted to Art and his job.

When she stood, she brushed tears from her face and headed to the kitchen. Time to show Cassandra how much she cared for her.

Minutes before Cassandra would walk in the door from school, Josie pulled a pan of fresh cookies out of the oven. As a child, she’d loved walking into a home that smelled of baking and sitting down to a tall glass of milk and Mother’s latest creation. Mark, Kat, and she had often fought over who got the last cookie, with Mark winning. Maybe Cassandra needed the same opportunity to unwind from the stress of school. And it didn’t matter that they’d just made cookies that weekend. There was something in the aroma of cookies that helped one unwind.

Maybe during that time, Josie could help steer Cassandra toward appropriate actions.

Dirt and wetness streaked Cassandra’s cheeks and clothes when she walked in the door.

“What happened?”

Cassandra tried to walk past her, but Josie stopped her. She placed a hand on Cassandra’s cheek and brushed at the grime. “I need to know what happened.”

“Nothing.” Her shoulders slumped, but anger or tears tinged Cassandra’s words. Josie studied her but couldn’t tell which caused the veneer surrounding the child.

“Cassie, ‘nothing’ is not an answer. Something happened, and you need to tell me.”

“You’re not my mother.” Cassandra stomped her foot. Okay, so it was anger in her voice.

“If it involves you, I need to know. Especially since it involves school.” Josie put an arm around Cassandra and led her stiff form to the table. “And you’re going to do it while we eat fresh cookies and drink some milk.”

Cassandra’s edges softened. She let Josie lead her, then took a bite of the cookie. Before Josie could stop her, she inhaled four more cookies. The poor child acted like she hadn’t eaten a meal in days.

“Did you not like lunch today?” She’d packed a simple lunch of a peanut butter sandwich, apple, and a cupcake.

Cassandra’s chin quivered. “I don’t know.”

“Why not?” Josie feared she knew the answer before she heard it.

“Somebody took it from me.” A tear streaked its way through the grime on her cheek.

“Has this happened before?”

Cassandra nodded. “He told me he’d beat me up if I told. Then today, he pushed me on the way home. I scraped my knee.” Cassandra held up her knee, and Josie leaned in to kiss it.

“Oh, Cassie. I’m so sorry. Has he pushed you before?”

Cassandra shook her head.

“Good. Did you eat at school at all this week?”

Heat spiraled through Josie’s body as the child shook her head. No wonder she’d had some trouble. She hadn’t eaten lunch in who knew how long. This she could handle.

“Okay. I’ll go to school with you tomorrow and talk to Miss Taylor.” Cassandra’s eyes got big as saucers. “Don’t worry. I won’t make you say who is doing this to you, though I’d certainly like to. You shouldn’t be bullied.”

“If it’s not me, it’ll be one of the smaller children.”

Josie eyed Cassandra. How a child that petite could be concerned about smaller children! “Why did this boy start picking on you?”

“I wanted to play kickball with the boys in the class. He said I couldn’t, but others let me on a team. I beat him.” She shrugged. “I guess he’s not used to losing.”

Josie had to stifle a smile. Yet another way Cassandra mirrored Kat.

When Art arrived home an hour later, Cassandra still sat at the table with Josie, working on a puzzle. Josie hadn’t wanted to leave the table when Cassandra settled in to spend time with her. Josie scrambled out of her chair. “I’m sorry, Art. I haven’t started dinner.”