SUNDAY, MAY 18, 1941
Hugh’s arm felt good in Aleida’s hand—strong and capable—even when suspended by a sling with a cast on his poor hand.
Spring sunshine and humor danced in his hazel eyes as they walked back to her flat after church. “How does it feel to be a celebrity?”
“Goodness.” Aleida laughed and leaned her head on his shoulder. Not only had Hugh’s hospital broadcast made her a household name, but in the past week she’d been interviewed by many of the papers about the Granville case. “I’m glad the radio waves carry only voices, not faces.”
“Wait until after the war when the BBC can bring television back.”
“Will you be on television? Everyone knows your name and voice, and sometimes your photograph is in Radio Times, but for everyone to recognize your face like a film star . . .”
Hugh rubbed his chin. “You would deprive the nation of my distinguished jawline?”
She laughed and nudged him. “You might become insufferable.”
“Then I shall stay with radio so you can continue to suffer me. For life.”
Aleida’s chest swelled with the magnitude of her decision. All week she’d asked herself if she’d acted hastily, if she could trust her own judgment. But this was Hugh, her beloved Hugh, and he’d offered as lengthy of an engagement as she desired.
She squeezed his arm. “For life.”
Across the street, three boys played amongst the trees in the square. Although German air raids now came infrequently, they had grown in severity, with the raid of 10 May the worst ever.
She sighed. “Despite our best efforts, too many children remain in the cities.”
“The situation is bound to improve with the changes coming to your department.”
“In time.” Aleida turned the corner of the square to her street. “Mr. Armbruster is excited that Mr. Farnsworth will take Beatrice’s position. Mr. Farnsworth is eager to help the evacuees and to support foster families and billeting officers. It’s good to—”
A man stood by the door to her building. He looked like . . . “Mr. Randolph?”
“Pardon?” Hugh said.
The man met her gaze. Yes, Mr. Randolph.
Terror snaked in her belly. She dropped Hugh’s arm and ran forward. “Theo? Is Theo—Teddy—is he all right?”
Mr. Randolph jerked back his chin. “Yes. Yes, he’s fine. I didn’t mean to alarm you.”
Hugh came up beside her. “May I ask what brings you here?” He sounded stern and protective.
Mr. Randolph’s mouth twisted and shifted.
Across the street, the boys halted their game to watch.
Whatever he had to say, it shouldn’t be in front of the neighborhood. With trembling hands, Aleida unlocked the door. “Would you care to come in?”
“Yes, thank you. How kind of you.” His face relaxed, but his cheek twitched. Perhaps he remembered his own lack of hospitality to her.
Regardless, this man was raising her son, and she would treat him well. She climbed the stairs to her flat and led the men to the sitting room. “Would you care for tea?”
“Allow me, darling,” Hugh said.
“But your hand.”
“I’ll make do.” He gave her a quick smile, gave Mr. Randolph a quick scowl, then hastened to the kitchen.
Aleida sat on a sofa and clamped her hands in her lap.
On the sofa across from her, Mr. Randolph smoothed his dark blue trousers. “This is rather difficult. Last weekend I visited my wife in the country. And Teddy.”
Aleida’s heart jolted. What she wouldn’t give to see his sweet face once more, even from a distance.
Mr. Randolph’s dark mustache contorted. “On Sunday afternoon, we listened to the news on the wireless whilst Teddy played nearby. Mr. Collingwood reported on that ghastly murder case, and you came on the air.”
Fingers started tapping, and she clenched harder.
“Teddy.” Mr. Randolph put his hand to his ear. “He turned to the radio. My wife said he’d done so another time you were on the wireless. She—she thought it was sweet that he responded to the lilt of a Dutch accent.”
“Aleida.” Hugh stood in the doorway to the kitchen, his face stark. “He recognizes your voice.”
Her breath tumbled down steps in her throat. Could it be?
Hugh came to the sofa and put his arm around her shoulders.
Mr. Randolph lowered his chin. “I never told my wife of your visits or of your claim to be Teddy’s mother or of Thomas Warwick’s letter—which I’d skimmed, ignored, and stashed away. But at that moment, my conscience assaulted me, and I told my wife everything.”
Aleida’s face tingled. “What did she say?”
His blue-eyed gaze stretched to her. “You must understand, over the past year she’s come to love the boy as her own, as have I. She was heartbroken at the prospect of losing him—as was I.”
“I—I understand.” Their love was one of the reasons she’d given them her son.
Mr. Randolph folded his hands on his trim stomach. “However, Mrs. Randolph was quite upset that I’d concealed the matter from her. She believes you deserved a fair hearing. If you were indeed his mother, to prolong your heartbreak was a great evil.”
Aleida’s breath spilled out in broken pieces. “Please don’t. I understand. You love Teddy, and you’re protecting him.”
“You acted to protect him too, my wife said. You remind her of the mother who stood before King Solomon in the Bible. A woman who would rather have her child raised by another than to have him divided, if you will.”
Aleida’s head shook slightly. She hadn’t meant for her decision to influence them—only to provide a good life for Theo.
Red mottling marred Mr. Randolph’s cheeks. “I claimed you had no proof Teddy was your son. Yet you did offer proof, if unwittingly.”
“Proof?” She glanced at Hugh. Had he taken one of the photographs to Mr. Randolph? But Hugh looked as bewildered as she.
“The toy elephant,” Mr. Randolph said in a raspy voice. “On Friday I returned to the country and brought the toy. We said nothing about it, only placed it on the sofa. Teddy was drawn to it, as I suppose any small boy would be. But he held him—he held him precisely as you described. And he said, ‘Oli.’”
Aleida covered her mouth and swayed.
“He remembers,” Hugh said. “He remembers.”
Nothing felt real. She’d surrendered. She’d made her decision and felt incredible peace about it. Now everything shifted inside her, furniture scraping the floor of her soul.
Mr. Randolph lifted his chin, and his mouth set. “Mrs. Randolph and I have decided to do what you did earlier—surrender a beloved boy. It is the only right and honorable course of action. And I beg your forgiveness. If I had believed you in January, if I’d at least given you a chance, you would have been reunited four months ago.”
“Oh, darling.” Hugh hugged her shoulder and kissed her temple.
Her dream, her obsession, her decision, her love, her hard-earned peace—all careened in her head, upending all she knew and wanted and hoped and feared.
A whistle pierced her ears. The teakettle.
Aleida dashed to the kitchen.
“Aleida,” Hugh said. “Allow me.”
She could barely see, but she pulled the kettle off the stove and poured boiling water into the teapot.
“Darling.” Hugh set his hand on her shoulder. “This is wonderful. Shouldn’t you—”
“I need to think.” She flipped up a hand to silence him. But how could she make sense of the cacophony of thoughts rioting in her mind?
She pulled a tray from the cupboard, three saucers, three cups.
“Your hands are shaking. Use the tea cart.” Hugh wheeled it over. “I’d carry the tray myself, but . . .” He raised his cast.
Her hands shook horribly. With Hugh’s help, she assembled the tea things on the cart and took it to the sitting room.
Since the tea needed to steep, Aleida and Hugh took their seats.
“This must come as a shock to you,” Mr. Randolph said with a compassionate frown. “With your permission, I’ll return tomorrow evening to make arrangements.”
Aleida closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Only one choice calmed the cacophony. “I thank you for your kind offer, but my decision stands.”
“Aleida!” Hugh said. “What do you—”
“But Mrs. Martens—”
“Don’t you see?” Hugh said. “You can have your son back.”
She wiggled a hand at him. “I will not uproot him again and cause more upheaval in his life.”
Mr. Randolph gave his head a firm shake. “Teddy asks why he has no mother, only an aunt and uncle—that’s what he calls us. He wants a mother. He wants his mother.”
Aleida scrunched her eyes shut. That couldn’t be. He couldn’t possibly . . .
“Look at me, darling.” Hugh gripped her forearm.
She dragged her gaze to his face, his gleaming, earnest face.
“You have so much to offer him,” Hugh said in a husky voice. “So much love to give him. Don’t deprive him of his mother’s love.”
Her heart and her face crumpled, and she leaned against Hugh’s side.
“May I make a suggestion?” Mr. Randolph said. “Come to our country home this weekend. We’ll see how Teddy responds.”
Aleida clamped her hand over her quivering mouth, and a sob bubbled up. “I could see him again. I could see him.”
Hugh pressed her head to his shoulder and caressed her hair. “Yes, you can. And soon.”
“We thought a gradual reintroduction would be best,” Mr. Randolph said. “It may take a while, but when Teddy—when Theo is ready . . .”
As Hugh stroked her hair, a new peace filled her heart, not the sad peace of before, but a peace that soared.
She opened her eyes, prying apart damp eyelashes, and she sent Mr. Randolph a soft smile. “If he chooses to come with me someday, I want—I insist that you and your wife continue to serve as his uncle and aunt.”
He blinked, and his cheeks agitated. “We—I don’t deserve—”
“Yes, you do. And Teddy—that’s the name he knows—Teddy deserves to have you in his life. A child can never have too many people who love him, yes?”
Mr. Randolph mashed his lips together and nodded.
Aleida patted Hugh’s leg, raised her head, and went to the tea cart. “And now, Mr. Randolph, please call me Aleida, for we shall be lifelong friends. Milk? Sugar?”
A smile twitched on his lips. “Milk, please. And call me Julian.”
After Aleida served the tea, she took her seat. A wide and genuine smile unfurled across her face. “Please tell me all about Teddy.”
Julian took a sip. “May I say that he is simply the brightest and sweetest-natured child to ever walk this earth?”
“Yes,” Aleida said. “You may.”