Twenty-one

The threat of snow hung in the air as heavy gray clouds coated the sky. Art pulled the collar of his coat around his throat as he walked to the plant. The first week of November wasn’t too early for the first snowstorm, but he wouldn’t mind if it delayed. The wind whistled a desolate tune that matched his mood.

The uncertainty at E. K. Fine Piano Company had eased as Grandfather’s managers had stepped in and Fine eased out. The transition should be complete by the new year. Not a moment too soon. Word had leaked he was related to Grandfather. With that came the expectation he knew Grandfather’s plans. Nobody believed him when he denied it. If anything, common opinion had evolved to the point his colleagues thought him part of any problem that arose.

He stumbled into the building and shook his coat off. After he hung it on its hook, he sat at his desk. Grandfather might think he should do more than work with numbers, but he really liked it.

E.K. bustled through the door. “A word with you, Mr. Wilson.”

Art stifled a groan. He didn’t have the reserves to deal with E.K. III before a cup of coffee. He bit his tongue and began to stand. “Certainly.”

After a glance around the office, he motioned Art back into his seat. “This won’t take long. Some concerns have been raised about the job you’re doing.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re placed on probation.”

Art’s jaw dropped. “Why?”

“Call it one of my last decisions as president of this company.”

Charlie slid into the room and eyed Art.

Fine looked at Charlie then turned back to Art. “I’d encourage you to put your full effort into your position. And tell your wife to leave the other women alone.”

“What?” Josie had seemed a bit upset after her tea party last week, but she hadn’t said much to him about it.

“She set off Mrs. Allen. Not a wise thing to do.”

This time Art couldn’t stifle his groan. Of all the women to annoy, Mrs. Allen, wife of the vice president, was a doozy of a choice. “Yes, sir.”

“That’ll be all.” E.K. practically clicked his heels together and scurried from the room.

Charlie leaned back in his chair. “What was that about?”

“Josie’s little party.” He ground his teeth. “Seems she forgot to tell me the full story.”

“Diane didn’t mention anything out of the ordinary.”

“Hmph.” Art couldn’t wait to let Josie know that her little party had placed him on probation. What would happen to them if he lost his job? And what about Cassandra? Would she be sent to another home? He couldn’t imagine Josie’s reaction if she lost the child.

Art’s frustration simmered below the surface throughout the day. By the time he reached the grocery, he was ready to boil. Lord, help me keep my temper in check. He’d need all the help he could get on that front.

The grocery stood empty, so Art walked through it to the stairs. Cassandra sat on the stairs with a book. She half-smiled at him when she saw him. Her tangled curls framed her face, and her dress could use an iron, but she looked content.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Waiting for you, Art.” She clutched an envelope in her lap.

A spark of warmth spread through him. “Do I spy a letter? Is it from home?”

She smiled, revealing a gap between her teeth. “It’s from my mum. She says everyone’s fine.” A frown threatened to darken her face. “Though the letter’s three weeks old.”

“But at least you received one.”

“Yes, sir. Oh, Josie wanted to warn you she didn’t try to start the kitchen on fire.”

Art took a second look at Cassandra. The child seemed completely sincere in her statement. He bolted up the stairs. As he climbed, whiffs of smoke hung in the air. He waved a hand in front of his face.

“Josie?”

“Here.” The muffled sound drifted from the kitchen. He laughed when he saw her. She’d tied a towel around her nose and mouth and looked like she wanted to join Butch Cassidy’s gang.

“What happened?”

She tried to wave like nothing much, but tears streamed from her eyes. “Bacon got away from me.”

He rushed to her side and grabbed her face between his hands. He turned her head from side to side as he examined what he could see of her face. “Are you okay?”

“Feeling foolish. I should be able to cook bacon without this happening.” She sucked in a deep breath, then started coughing.

A surge of relief relaxed muscles he hadn’t realized were tense. “What if I lost you?” He pulled her close and pulled the towel from her face. He leaned down and claimed her mouth with a kiss. She sighed against him. “Please be careful.”

Josie relaxed against him a moment, then pushed away. “To think all I wanted to do was make supper.”

He settled at the table and watched her work. “I need to ask you something.”

“What?”

“What happened at your tea party?”

“Nothing. Mrs. Allen got offended or upset when I mentioned it would be a great idea if we all got behind a drive for less fortunate children.” Josie shrugged. “I think some of the others liked the idea, but they quickly followed her lead. Diane and I may try it on our own.”

Art scratched his head. He still couldn’t see the problem in that.

“What’s wrong?” Josie eyed him as if trying to decipher what weighed him down.

“E.K. placed me on probation today.”

Josie covered her mouth. “Why?”

“Something about being unsure I could do my job, and my wife upsetting Mrs. Allen.”

She crumpled in front of him. “I am so sorry, Art.” She looked crushed. “I only wanted to help. I didn’t know how to help, but my mom always has social gatherings like that for the wives of dad’s colleagues.”

He put a finger on her lips, and she stilled. In the face of her panic, his frustration seemed so petty. He could understand the urge to do something and not getting it quite right. “It’s okay. We’ll figure this out.”

“What will we do?”

“Not panic. I haven’t lost my job. I shouldn’t, either.”

“But why would your Grandfather even let them threaten probation?” Tears streaked Josie’s cheeks, giving her the appearance of a child.

“I don’t know.” He led her to the couch, then pulled her into his embrace.

❧

Footsteps echoed off the stairs, and Josie turned to find Cassandra standing in the doorway.

“Are you okay, Josie?” The girl rushed to her side, fear causing her pupils to dilate.

Josie swiped the tears from her face. “Of course.” At the child’s dubious look, Josie chucked her under the chin and smiled. “Would you help me with dinner?”

The child bobbed to her feet. “Grilled cheese?”

She looked at Art, who shrugged. “Grilled cheese it is.”

After dinner, Cassandra pulled out the checkerboard. “Play a game with me?”

“Absolutely. Hope you’re ready to lose.” Art struck a pose, shaking both fists in the air like he’d already won the round. Cassandra rolled her eyes.

“Last time, I took all your pieces.”

“Luck, that’s all it was.”

Cassandra shook her head. “I’m happy to show you how real checkers are played.”

Josie loved the nine-year-old’s poise and spunk. Josie watched her teach Art a thing or two about strategy. This same spirit translated at school where she’d made a couple of friends in addition to Ruth.

After several games where Cassandra trounced him, Josie looked at the clock. “Off to bed, young lady. You still have school in the morning.”

Cassandra groaned before leaving to brush her teeth and change.

“She’s blossoming.”

Warmth flooded Josie. “I think we’ve hit on what she needs. The freedom to be scared for her family, but also distractions to keep her from living there.”

The week passed, and Josie knew she should heed her own advice. She should have had her baby about this time. As the day approached, the grief that had been lulled to sleep reared its ugly head at random times. She’d feel delight watching Cassandra or talking with Art, then be blindsided by sadness and at times anger.

Her arms ached from their emptiness. And she felt alone in that pain. Doris tried to ease it, but Josie didn’t want Doris to understand. She needed Art to understand.

Art pulled her next to him on the davenport. “Want to talk about it?”

“It’s complex.”

“Most things are.”

“I miss our baby.” A tear trickled down her cheek, and Art brushed it away. “I’m back to wondering. Why did it happen? Why didn’t God prevent it?”

“I wish I had answers for you, Josie.”

“I just need to know that you miss the baby, too.”

Art wrapped her in his arms. “Not the way you do, but I do. I wonder what he would have looked like, but it’s different.”

Josie nodded.

“Somehow, God will turn it into something good.”

“I know. But it’s hard to see that right now. Every time I open the Bible, His promises leap off the page. He collects my tears. He promises to turn what the enemy intended for evil to good.” She shuddered. “But my arms are still empty.”

“Then fill them with Cassandra and me.”

Josie longed to be like Joseph. To be able to look at her heartbreak and see how God had turned it into a wonderful thing. Instead, she felt broken and empty. But Art stood next to her. Her promise to him was worth keeping with every fiber of her being.

In sickness and in health. In good times and in bad. She was committed to Art for the rest of her life. And she would live that love.