CHAPTER 6

May 31, 1914

Dear Grace,

Tonight Frank kissed me for the first time. I’m floating on air.

I’ve never felt this way before. I think I might be falling in love.

On Mrs. Chamberlain’s insistence, Grace spent the first two days after spraining her ankle on the sofa in the parlor with her foot on a pillow, while the poor woman waited on her hand and foot. On the third day, when the swelling had lessened and Grace could get around better, she’d sat at the kitchen table and helped peel potatoes and chop vegetables.

Mrs. C.—as the woman insisted Grace call her—was kindly allowing her to stay for a reduced fee until she got a proper job. And Reverend Burke had been most understanding about her injury, saying not to rush her recovery, that the chores at the church could wait until she was on the mend.

After dinner on the fifth day of confinement, Grace helped her landlady with the dishes in the homey kitchen. Her ankle, though still tender, was improving every day and she looked forward to attending church on Sunday.

“You’re not required to do manual labor, you know.” Mrs. C. handed her a plate to dry.

“I don’t mind. There’s only so much sitting with my foot up I can stand without going mad.”

“Your ankle seems much improved.”

“It is.” Grace smiled as she stacked the clean dishes in the cupboard. “Your nursing skills have proven very effective.”

“I’m glad.” Mrs. C. dried her hands on her apron. “If you’re up to it, how would you like to join us at the Newcomers’ meeting tonight?”

Grace’s hand stilled on the glass she was drying. “It’s kind of you to offer, but I don’t think so.”

“I know you’re still grieving for Rose, but getting out of this house for a couple of hours will do you a world of good. Who knows? You might even make a new friend.” Sympathy softened her landlady’s features. “Everyone can use more friends, Grace. Especially ones with a similar background.”

Grace doubted she’d have anything in common with those people, yet she couldn’t bear to disappoint Mrs. C., not after she’d been so kind to her. She summoned a smile. “All right. I’d be happy to go with you.”

An hour later, seated on a hard folding chair in the church basement, Grace balanced a teacup on her lap and looked around at the diverse group. Reverend Burke had led the meeting with a short prayer service and then spoke about some job opportunities in a local factory. Some of the members shared their experiences over the past few weeks, both good and bad. Grace gradually relaxed, realizing it did feel good to be around people from home, though not everyone was from Britain. Some were from Italy, and a few came from Poland and the Ukraine. Yet everyone laughed and chatted like old friends.

“I can’t believe you’re from Sussex and I had to come all the way to Canada to meet you.” The man on her left, one Mrs. C. had introduced as Ian Miller, regarded her through very thick lenses that distorted the appearance of his eyes into tiny pea holes.

“That is a coincidence.” Grace turned her head, trying to shrug off her discomfort at the intense attention.

“I’ve been coming to these meetings for five years now. I never imagined meeting anyone as lovely as you.” He gave a nervous laugh.

Grace smiled and scanned the room for Mrs. C., who waved at her from the other side of the room where she and another lady served the refreshments. If not for Grace’s ankle, which had started to ache as it often did later in the day, she’d have hopped up to help them.

“Are you looking for work, Miss Abernathy?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. Though this ankle injury has set me back a bit.”

“I work in the CPR building on Yonge Street. I can keep an eye out for jobs if you like.”

She frowned. “What is a CPR building?”

“Canadian Pacific Railway.” Mr. Miller fished in his jacket pocket and pulled out a small card. “I actually work in the telegraph office on the second floor. If you ever need to send a telegram, I’ll make sure you get the best possible service. Maybe even a discount.” He pressed the card into her hand with a myopic wink.

Despite herself, Grace laughed. “Thank you, Mr. Miller. I’ll keep that in mind.” She placed the card in her purse while he watched, just to prove she meant it.

“I hope you don’t think me too forward, but I know what it’s like to be new in a strange city, so far from home. If you ever need a friend to talk to . . . or for anything really, please think of me.”

The sincerity in his voice touched Grace’s heart. It brought to mind her brother, Peter, who was always so thoughtful and attentive to others, and she berated herself for thinking unkindly of the man simply because of his looks and his overeagerness. She smiled at him. “That’s very kind of you. I might take you up on that one day.”

“Good. I’ll hold you to it.” He beamed at her as though she’d just promised to marry him.

When the gathering came to an end, Mr. Miller helped her to her feet. “It was very nice to meet you, Miss Abernathy. I hope to see you at our next meeting.”

As he tipped his hat politely and walked away, warmth spread through Grace’s chest. Mrs. C. had been right about coming tonight. You could never have too many friends.

During her week of recuperation, Grace hadn’t managed to come up with a single new strategy to meet her nephew. Because of that, as soon as she was able to walk without a limp, she’d resorted to spying on the Easton estate again. Not exactly a crackerjack plan, but short of breaking into the house, she couldn’t think of anything else. Surely if she persisted, she’d eventually catch a glimpse of her nephew, though what good that would do, she didn’t know.

Today was the third day in a row Grace had spent hours lurking on the street across from the mansion. The previous two days, she’d come in the morning with no luck, so today she decided to try the afternoon. She’d just about resigned herself to giving up for the day when the iron gates opened and a young woman dressed in a stylish plum jacket and matching hat pushed a pram onto the sidewalk.

Grace’s heart began to race. Every instinct told her that Christian was inside the pram.

As discreetly as possible, Grace followed on the opposite side of the street, grateful her ankle was healed enough that she could keep up. Several blocks later, the woman turned onto a side street. Before she could lose sight of her, Grace crossed the road and trailed her at a respectable distance until they entered a park.

Grace followed her in, slowing her stride to make it appear like she was out for a leisurely stroll. Thankfully, there were several people around—some walking, some sharing a picnic on a blanket under the trees, others playing ball with their children. Enough activity that Grace wouldn’t seem out of place.

She kept a close watch on the pram as she strolled. After two times around the park, the woman stopped to sit on a bench. Grace slowed her gait and meandered past, using all her self-control not to stare. Instead, she headed to the next bench and sat down. The beginning of an ache in her ankle told her she would pay for overdoing it today.

Grace pretended to watch the activities of the children playing on a swing set, while stealing side glances at the woman who had taken out a book to read. Was this Christian’s nanny? If not, could it be Rose’s sister-in-law? Grace tried to recall any details Rose had written in her letters. She had mentioned Frank had a brother and sister but little else, talking mainly about the overbearing Mr. Easton, who had disowned Frank for marrying a penniless foreigner.

A few minutes later, a baby’s cry sounded. Grace’s attention snapped to the pram. The woman laid her book on the bench and reached into the carriage. Smiling, she lifted the child out. She kissed the baby and snuggled him to her chest, arranging a blanket around him. Within seconds, the child quieted. The two seemed to share an intimate bond that would indicate more than a few weeks’ acquaintance. Maybe this wasn’t her nephew after all. Maybe this was the woman’s own child.

Grace had to find out somehow. Before she could talk herself out of her crazy plan, she rose and approached the pair.

The woman looked up as Grace neared. With her raven hair and wide gray eyes, she was quite beautiful.

“Hello.” Grace pasted on her friendliest smile. “I couldn’t help but notice your lovely baby. He’s adorable.”

The woman beamed back. “Thank you. We certainly think so.”

“Your husband must be very proud.” Grace held her breath and waited for the response.

The woman shook her head. “No husband, I’m afraid. This is my nephew.”

Grace’s knees began to shake. She moved closer and sat on the edge of the bench, leaving a good space between her and the woman. “How wonderful to be such a doting aunt.” She peered over at the perfect little face, and her breath seized.

Large blue eyes, exactly like her sister’s, stared back at her.

This was Rose’s son. Grace knew it as surely as she knew her own name. Foolish tears sprang to her eyes, and she blinked hard to keep them at bay.

The woman studied her. “Do you have any children?” she asked.

“Not yet, but I hope to someday.”

The lines of concern on the woman’s forehead eased. “Me too. A whole houseful of them. In the meantime, little Christian is the next best thing. Aren’t you, darling?” She gazed at the child with absolute adoration.

Grace’s heart squeezed. She’d been thinking of the Eastons as the enemy. It never occurred to her that she could have so much in common with one of them. Yet she and this woman had both lost someone dear, and both loved this little boy—the only tie they had left to their siblings.

Grace squared her shoulders and shook off the sentimentality. She couldn’t afford to lose sight of her goal. “Are you sitting for the baby’s parents?” She kept her focus on the child’s cherubic face.

After several seconds, a soft sigh escaped. “Tragically, no. Both his parents are dead.” She pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “But we will make sure Christian grows up with all the love he needs.” She laid her cheek against the boy’s until he started to squirm.

Grace swallowed the lump of emotion that blocked her own throat. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” And for mine.

“Thank you.”

“It’s quite a responsibility to take in your nephew. Are you going to raise him yourself?” Grace couldn’t imagine Mrs. Easton, a wealthy middle-aged woman, wanting to take on such a formidable task. She’d likely leave it to her daughter.

“Actually, my older brother has become Christian’s guardian.”

“Oh.” Grace couldn’t hide her surprise. She’d never considered that possibility. Maybe her brother was married and felt he and his wife would make the best guardian for the boy.

“If it were up to me, I would take Christian in an instant.” A shadow of sorrow passed over the woman’s pretty face. “However, circumstances in my life dictate otherwise.” She gave a shrug. “I’ll have to wait for a child of my own one day.”

“Did his parents die in an accident?” Grace asked softly.

“No. His mother died recently from the flu, and my brother . . .” Her voice broke. “He died in the war.” She sat the boy up straighter and hugged him.

For the first time, Grace’s heart filled with compassion for the Eastons. No matter what family rifts had ensued, they must have loved Frank very much and mourned him as much as Grace mourned Rose. “I’m so sorry. I lost a brother in the war too, so I know a bit of what you’re going through.”

Horror flooded the woman’s features. “Oh, forgive me. Here I am going on about my own troubles when you’ve been through the same thing.”

“No need to apologize. We’re among thousands who lost someone we love in the war. I’m glad this wee boy has family to look after him. An orphanage is no place to grow up.” Without thinking, Grace reached out a finger and touched the soft satin of the baby’s cheek. Just a quick brush, then she pulled her hand away before the temptation to linger could take hold.

“Well, I shouldn’t take any more of your time.” Grace rose from the bench. “I’m glad I found this park. I’ve been taking my daily walks on the streets, but it’s much nicer to stroll among the trees and watch the children playing.”

“Are you new to Canada?” The look of sadness was replaced by one of curiosity.

“Yes, I’ve only been here a few weeks. So far I’m finding Toronto to be a fascinating city.”

“That it is. I, however, am excited to be traveling to Europe later this summer.”

“Europe? How . . . how nice.” Grace fought to calm a spurt of panic. Were the Eastons leaving Toronto? Would they take Christian with them? “Is your family going on vacation?”

“No. I’m going with friends of the family. It will be hard to leave this little fellow though, now that I’ve become so attached.” She kissed the baby’s cheek and placed him back into the pram. “We’re in the process of hiring a nanny before I go.” She arranged the blankets, then straightened. “Not having much luck, I’m afraid. All the candidates are unsuitable in one way or another. My mother has very high standards.”

Grace’s palms grew damp as a thousand thoughts flew through her mind at once. She pressed her lips together. Should she say anything? The woman might think her too forward. Yet if she didn’t take advantage of the situation . . .

“It so happens I’m looking for a full-time position.” The words burst forth of their own volition.

“Really?” The woman gave Grace a curious stare. “Do you have any experience with children?”

“A little. I’ve minded my neighbor’s children and taught Sunday school in my home parish.” Grace’s nerve endings shimmied like an electric charge had passed through her.

“Sunday school? So you’re a churchgoer then?”

“I am. In fact, right now I’m doing odd jobs for the rector of Holy Trinity Church. I’m sure Reverend Burke would give me a reference, if that would help.” She held her breath, a hand pressed to her stomach.

“It would.” She studied Grace. “You obviously love babies or you wouldn’t have stopped to talk. Would you want to be a live-in nanny?”

Grace’s pulse raced. Living in the Easton household? She’d never dreamed of such a possibility. She thought of her cozy room in the boardinghouse and the unexpected friendship she’d developed with Mrs. Chamberlain. She’d miss their cups of tea in the evening before they retired. But for a chance to be close to her nephew, Grace could do almost anything.

“It sounds like the perfect job to me.” She gave her best smile, hoping to convince the woman that despite being a total stranger, she would be a good candidate for the position.

“You know, you might be just the type of person we’re looking for. What’s your name?”

“Grace A . . .” She bit her lip. She couldn’t give her surname or they’d connect her to Rose. Yet the idea of lying had acid rising at the back of her throat. For the time being, she would have to shove her conscience aside. “Foley. Grace Foley.” The only name that came to mind was her aunt’s married name.

“Foley. Isn’t that an Irish name?”

Grace froze. “It is. There’s some Irish on my father’s side.” She gave a nervous laugh, and the woman nodded.

“Well, Grace, I’ll see if I can arrange an interview with my mother. Is there a phone number where I could reach you?”

“I can give you my landlady’s number. Her name is Mrs. Chamberlain.” Grace took a pencil and a scrap of paper from her purse and quickly jotted down the number that Mrs. C. had insisted she memorize. “I’m usually home in the evenings.”

“Wonderful. I’ll call you tonight with a time and the address. And don’t forget to bring that reference.” She smiled as she gripped the pram’s handle and swung it onto the path. “Oh, by the way, my name is Virginia Easton.”

“Thank you, Virginia.” Grace waved as the woman headed out of the park, then sank back onto the bench, her head swimming with the ramification of her deception. She hated not being honest with Virginia, but if she’d given her real name, she’d never have been considered for the position and would have lost the opportunity to learn the true circumstances of Christian’s life. Surely something as simple as hiding her identity was justified under the circumstances.

Lord, I don’t know if this is a miracle or the biggest mistake of my life, but I’m going to have to trust you to guide me through it.