Page 14 of Alive (Shadows of a Forgotten Past #2)

CHAPTER 14

~ EMbrACING HOPE ~

For Eldad’s sake, I swallowed my pain and put on a brave face.

“Martha makes the best marmalade,” he said between bites of toast.

“Indeed, she does.” The late berries from the garden had been used to the very last.

“I’m here to steal Eldad.” Zaira stepped into the breakfast room. “Mrs. Haywood and I will take his measurements. He’s growing at light speed.” She playfully tousled his hair.

“Can we do it later?” Eldad implored.

“Absolutely not. Mrs. Haywood will fuss for days if we make her wait.” Zaira held out her hand.

“Behave, or Mrs. Haywood will poke you with the needle,” I teased.

“Nah.” He laughed, taking Zaira’s hand as they left the room.

I gathered the dishes and brought them to the kitchen. Armed with a luffa sponge, a testimony that nothing went to waste, I scrubbed the plates. The sound of the water, the smell of soap, and the texture of the sponge in my hands transported me to Oak’s Place, where I used to help Zaira in the kitchen. Memories of Alex roaming the house, close but never daring to approach me, rushed back. That strange, magnetic pull between us felt incomprehensible then but undeniable. Ours had been a surreal trajectory. We were bound to be together. It couldn’t end like this.

All of a sudden, the walls felt stifling. Turning off the tap, I sought escape.

I saddled Betsy, and we galloped across the fields, the morning air brushing against my skin. It was freeing, a fleeting reprieve. When her initial burst of energy dwindled, she skirted the tree line and slowed to a trot, then to a walk. “That was a wonderful ride, wasn’t it?” I patted her crest, and tilted my head back, soaking in the sunshine.

It wasn’t to last. Betsy began to stomp, tossing her head nervously.

“Whoa! What is it, girl?” I glanced over my shoulder and froze. A rider approached, his posture and silhouette eerily like Alex’s. I blinked, my breath catching.

The rider came level with us. “Good morning, Mrs. Sterling.”

“Will—good morning.”

“It’s beautiful out here. May I join you?”

“Certainly,” I answered, though I feared I would be morose company. “Do you always ride like that?”

“Like what?” He smirked.

“Like a soul haunted by the devil.”

He chuckled. “No, just when I’m in a hurry.”

“In a hurry for what?”

“To catch up with you, of course. I’ve been meaning to tell you about my trip with the general.”

“Oh.” My unease grew. This might not be the right time, but knowing was better than wondering. “Let’s find a place for the horses to rest. Shall we?”

We rode on in silence, Will looking as though he wanted to speak but holding back. Cutting through the woods, we reached a sunny clearing where heath bedstraw and tormentil grew in abundance. Ignoring my pulling on the reins, Betsy eagerly began to graze.

“All right, girl. You win.” I dismounted. “This will do.”

Will joined me, letting his horse roam. “I’m sorry the general is not back yet.”

“Me too.”

“May I share a few things?”

“Please.” I folded my arms, bracing myself.

“Before boarding the ship in London, General Sterling ordered me to stay true to the mission regardless of any difficulties we might encounter—even if it meant leaving him behind. He said a nation is more important than one man. I’ll never forget that.”

It was the kind of sentiment my father, General Marcus Contini, would have spoken. He, too, was loyal to the end.

“Thankfully, we made it to New York without incident. I couldn’t believe how beautiful the city was—buzzing with life and no signs of war anywhere. To be honest, it wasn’t easy to leave. I’d have much rather stayed.”

New York. I missed it. “I can understand that.” My thoughts wandered to the hellish aerial raids and the gnawing uncertainty that shadowed England’s future.

“From New York, we went to Washington, D.C., for a week of grueling meetings—one after another, day in and day out. Afterward, we had a few days to spare before our return, so the general took me to the monastery. Sister Dolores was delighted to see him.”

“You met Granny? That’s wonderful.” I perched on a fallen tree, with memories of my dear granny warming me.

“Oh yes. She inspected me like a soldier assessing a minefield. In the end, I think I passed muster.” Will chuckled, settling on the grass across from me.

“I can’t believe she didn’t call me. I’d have loved to know you two were there.” The idea of Alex visiting Granny comforted me, allowing me to imagine him on a simple business trip rather than lost—or worse.

“The general asked her not to call. Security reasons, he said.”

Security reasons. How I hated those words. “How is she?” Remorse pinched at me for not having called her lately. I missed her, but I knew she would hear the sadness in my voice. I didn’t want to burden her with problems she couldn’t solve.

“Engaged in lots of charity projects, I think she said.”

“That sounds like her.” I pictured Granny in her black habit and shiny spectacles, bustling between the monastery and the parish, tackling a million tasks with Friar Thompson by her side. She was never idle.

“We also visited Oak’s Place.”

“You did?” Alex would have loved to see Mr. Snider again. “Tell me, how is Mr. Snider?”

“He seemed well. Busy chopping wood, from what I saw.”

I laughed, the heaviness in my chest lifting momentarily. “He’s quite good at that.” I imagined Mr. Snider in his straw hat and worn overalls, an axe swinging in rhythm with his steady strength.

“Certainly is.”

“I’m glad you visited Western New York. Much different from the city but beautiful in its own quiet way.”

“So true.” Will leaned back, gazing at the clear sky. “The general told me all about how you two met.”

He did?

“He truly loves you, Mrs. Sterling. You were meant for each other. Listening to him made me think of Adeline, and how our lives might’ve been if we’d had a chance. I guess I’ll never know.”

“Perhaps after this life?” I wanted to offer him hope, but the words felt shallow, even to me.

“Perhaps.”

The question swirling in my mind finally escaped. “Tell me about the return trip.”

Will straightened, brought his knees to his chest, and wrapped his arms around them. “The day we were to depart, we learned that our names had been compromised, and we were ordered to travel separately. As you know, I was assigned to a merchant ship, which sailed first. I was in the command room when the captain received a report that a German sub had been spotted near the passenger liner. Everyone knew it was bad news. Not long after, we heard a torpedo had struck the ship, and all communication was lost. They had rafts, but the attack happened so unexpectedly—I doubt they had time to do much.” His gaze locked on mine, his voice somber. “Heavens, I wish we could have helped, but we were too far away and had to remain on course. Duty can be cruel.”

I was acquainted with that side of duty . “But a medical ship was sent, right?”

“That’s right, but it took time to reach the accident.”

“Thank you for being honest with me and not trying to minimize the truth.” I rose. “Though it hurts like hell, I’d rather know.”

“I would too.” He stood, brushing broken twigs and dead leaves from his trousers.

“We should head back before Betsy eats the whole forest.” The ground beneath her was already stripped bare as she continued to graze undisturbed.

“Mrs. Sterling,” Will took my hand in both of his, “as grim as it sounds, the general is a tough man. If anyone can survive this, it’s him.”

“I pray that’s the case. Let’s go home.”

* * *

Winter was on the verge of overpowering autumn. I tightened my scarf around my neck, bracing against the chill. After a fruitless search for Eldad indoors, I ventured outside, Inspector Overton’s recent call echoing in my mind.

“Martha,” he had said, “aside from her twice-a-week rendezvous with Doctor Wales from midnight to five in the morning at the inn in town, she’s clean as a whistle.” I was relieved—thrilled, even—that Martha appeared to have no connection with Mrs. White. It was one less thing to weigh on my mind. However, the revelation about her relationship with the doctor, stunned me.

As far as I knew, no one in the household had the faintest idea that Martha was slipping out into the night. What else, I wondered, might be unfolding unnoticed under my roof? But it was clear the women of Forti Radici were blessed with the men they loved by their side—all except for me.

Zaira burst into the path with a confused look on her face and a wicker basket in hand. Oblivious to my presence a few steps behind, she murmured, “That’s odd. Quite odd.”

“What is?” I caught up with her.

“Oh—my!” She flinched, caught off guard. “Where did you come from?”

“Sorry. I’m looking for Eldad. He seems to have vanished off the face of the earth.”

“He’s in the old cottage with Commander Haywood.”

“He is?”

“Yes. The commander bundled him up, and they went off searching for materials to build something—I couldn’t tell you what.”

“I see.”

“I’m going to fetch some vegetables.” Zaira motioned to the basket. “With Mrs. Haywood under the weather, Martha and I are pulling double duty.”

“I asked Martha to assign me more chores. She hasn’t yet.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll remind her.” Zaira smirked.

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“What question?”

“A minute ago, you said something was odd.”

“Oh, that.” She sighed. “It’s Mrs. Haywood. She’s been unnerving me.”

“How so?” As far as I knew, the housekeeper had been confined to her quarters. Dr. Wales diagnosed her with pneumonia and prescribed strong medicine and a good dose of rest.

“She called me in to speak to her.”

“And?”

Zaira’s hazel eyes darted around, scanning for any unwelcome listeners. Finding none, she dropped her voice to a whisper. “You aren’t going to believe this.”

“Believe what?”

“She asked me for a loan.”

“Wait—what?” I blinked, needing a moment to process her words. Mrs. Haywood had already received a substantial advance from me. Now I was certain something was terribly wrong with her finances.

“I know. It’s odd.”

“Did she say what the money was for? Is it for the farm?” I asked.

“She said it’s for overdue expenses but didn’t go into detail. Now, how many expenses can they have? I mean, their daily needs are covered by their jobs, aren’t they?”

“They are.”

“At any rate, I was so flustered by the whole thing that I didn’t dare pry. Seriously, though, I can’t believe she came to me before going to you, her employer. I find it quite strange.”

“Hmm.” Guilt crept in as I refrained from revealing that Mrs. Haywood had already approached me for money. For now, I decided to keep that to myself. “Did you lend her the money?”

Zaira pursed her lips and nodded. “I’ll leave you here unless you want to help me pick vegetables.”

“I’d better check on Eldad.”

Zaira took the path to the garden, and I hurried through the cluster of birch trees to the cottage—an ancient building with cob walls and a thatched roof. Once, it housed the groundskeepers. Now, it served as a storage space for relics, including the broken furniture from the German attack. Memories upon memories lay within its walls. One of my favorites lifted my spirits as I approached.

Alex and my father left for London early in the week. While I paced the garden, I remembered one of my mother’s paintings was kept in the cottage, waiting to be sent to London for restoration. Turning the knob, I let myself in.

It didn’t take long to sift through the clutter on the main floor. No success. I climbed the stairs to the loft, where a stack of paintings rested against the wall. I slid my hand across the top of the first frame, dust particles swirled in the sunlight streaming through the window. My nose pinched, my eyes watered, and my lungs protested. I fumbled with the window latch. As the glass swung open, fresh air flooded the space. I drew a cleansing breath and returned to my task.

“Aha. There you are.” Near the back, I found the one I sought. My mother stared back at me from the painting, serene and radiant. She sat by the stream in the woods—the very stream where I spent much of my time. Her red dress contrasted with her dark hair, and breathtaking smile. Surrounded by nature’s greenery and a clouded sky, she looked dazzling. I sighed, longing for the impossible—a chance to have known her.

Two arms wrapped around me from behind, and I jolted. Alex’s laughter followed, warm and familiar. I loved his laugh. I spun within his embrace. His eyes met mine, brimming with a love that left me weak in the knees.

He lowered his head, his lips brushing mine. “What are you doing out here? Looking for trouble?”

“No, but I think I found it anyway.”

He chuckled. “I’m no trouble—unless you want me to be.”

“Hmm . . . tempting.”

His lips captured mine with an intensity and desire that made my insides melt like morning dew in the sun. I returned his kiss, lost in the moment, wishing it could stretch into eternity.

Alex drew back, raking a hand through his hair as he took a steadying breath . “I mustn’t lose my head, or your father will send me to the gallows—as if I weren’t already in enough trouble.”

“What do you mean?”

“I escaped work after the morning meetings. I couldn’t wait any longer to see you. General Contini will not be pleased.”

I couldn’t help but smile, thrilled by his audacity. My father was as methodical as he was strict, and Alex’s actions wouldn’t go unnoticed. “I can put in a word for you if you’d like.”

“Nah, I’ll be all right. It’s worth it.” He removed his coat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. “It’s hot in here.”

“Indeed, it is,” I murmured. He was insanely attractive, and I still could hardly believe I was the woman who’d won his heart.

My reverie of the past evaporated as I entered the cottage. Its wooden shutters stood open, welcoming the afternoon sunlight. Bathed in a fine mist of sawdust, Will and Eldad sat at the table, carving a block of wood.

Zaira hadn’t exaggerated. Will had layered the boy. Eldad wore a heavy coat, a wool hat tugged low over his eyes, and a matching scarf wrapped around his neck. By contrast, Will was dressed in a cream-colored, long-sleeved shirt tucked neatly into dark trousers. He was strikingly handsome, his well-defined physique hinting at a rigorous exercise routine. Yet, what stood out even more was his kindness and patience with Eldad. It spoke volumes about his character. The Haywoods had clearly raised him well.

“Welcome to our shop, Mrs. Sterling,” Will greeted.

“Florence, come see what we are making!” Eldad exclaimed joyfully. “It’s a rocking horse for my room.”

“I hope this is all right. My mother suggested Eldad and I build something together.”

“It’s frightfully kind of you,” I replied. “I see you have captured Eldad’s interest—and made an admirer of him.”

The boy looked up at me, wrinkling his nose in confusion. I would explain the compliment later.

“I’m having as much fun as he is, maybe more.” Will picked up a wood-carving tool and started along the edge of what I suspected would become the horse’s tail. “I miss those days, you know, when life was simple.”

Simple. The word struck a chord. A simple life sounded heavenly—a dream, and an unattainable one at that.

Clouds must have gathered; the room dimmed, and the air grew noticeably cooler.

“Why don’t you bring your project to the house?” I suggested with a shiver. “You’ll be more comfortable there.”

“I like it here.” Eldad said. “It’s fun.”

“I’m afraid you’ll catch a cold,” I argued. “Besides, it’ll be dark soon.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine.” Eldad pulled at his scarf, tightening it around his neck. “We’ll be fine, right, Will?”

I held Will’s gaze, seeking an ally.

“The missus is right about the lighting,” Will said gently. “And we still have a ways to go. Let’s move to the house.”

That was all Eldad needed to hear. If the suggestion came from his newfound friend, he couldn’t object. He began gathering the tools while Will packed the wood pieces and supplies into a box. In minutes, we exited the cottage, the boy dashing ahead.

“No news about the general?” Will asked in a caring tone.

“I’m afraid not.” Through the trees to our left, I spotted Mr. Haywood pushing a wheelbarrow full of firewood. The sight reminded me of their precarious situation. It might already be too late to intervene, but I couldn’t shake the suspicion that the problem went beyond financial mismanagement—and that it was only going to worsen. Their son needed to know. “Will. May I discuss something with you?”

“Sounds serious.” He glanced at me curiously, slowing his steps.

“Forgive me for meddling in your family’s affairs, but please know that I genuinely wish to help.”

“I’m listening.”

“I learned from Mrs. Haywood that your farm has accrued substantial debt. Your parents have spent their salary well into the future. I believed the situation was under control until just now. Your mother has asked Zaira for more money.”

Will halted, his grip on the box loosened. For a moment, I thought he might drop it. “None of this makes sense.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just telling you what I know. I offered professional assistance, but your mother turned it down.”

“I don’t know what to say.” He looked shaken—almost sickly. “I was sure the farm was debt-free, and my parents were close to retiring. I’ve been giving them as much of my military salary as I can.”

“Mrs. Haywood blamed the situation on the recent heavy rains and high winds,” I offered.

“I don’t buy that. We’ve had worse weather before and managed just fine. Wait, there was a property line dispute with a neighbor recently. I believed it was resolved, but maybe not. Maybe they’re engaged in a costly legal battle.”

“If that’s the case, please consider accepting the help I offered your mother. Our solicitors will be happy to help.”

“I appreciate that,” he said. “But first I must have a chat with my parents.”

“May I suggest waiting until your mother feels better? One or two more days won’t make much difference.”

“Let’s hope not.”

* * *

Thomas was on the line again. Would he extinguish every ray of hope I had left? The thought was soul-crushing, even before I’d heard a word from him.

“Good morning, Thomas.”

“Florence, as much as you surely dread my calls, I dislike making them—nothing personal. I’m starting to feel like the bearer of nothing but bad news,” he began, his tone apologetic as if he’d read my mind. “That said, I have good news and not-so-good news. Which would you like first?”

“The good news.” Oh, please let Alex be alive.

“The boy’s papers are ready for you to sign.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful.” Knowing Eldad would officially be part of our family filled me with joy. As long as he was happy with us—and unless his birth family ever came searching—I wouldn’t let anyone take him away.

“However, as I mentioned,” Thomas continued. “The civil office is a mess, and no business is allowed outside its quarters. You’ll have to come to London.”

“I’ll come at once. This afternoon.”

“Are you sure? It can wait a few days.”

“No. I want to finalize it.”

“Very well. Ask for Miss Andrews. She’s handling the paperwork. I’ll ring her to let her know you’re coming.”

“Thank you.”

“Florence, London is not what it used to be. Be cautious, and whatever you do, don’t come alone.”

“I’ll ask Mr. Brown to drive me. The Lagonda is fast, and he knows the city well.”

“Now for the unpleasant news.” He paused, as though searching for the right words. “There isn’t an easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it. The hospital ship arrived last night, and Alexander wasn’t on the list of survivors. He wasn’t among the recovered bodies either. I checked myself.”

Lost at sea. The words were like a blade to my heart. “He is dead, isn’t he?”

“I’m sorry. It sure looks that way.”

My chest felt like it would split in two, the pain inside clawing to break free. However, if I was to survive this, I had to cling to something, so I said, “Be that as it may, I won’t give up on him until I see his body, until I say my final goodbyes.”

“Florence, I promise you, we won’t stop searching.”

“Please, Thomas, I beg you—find him.”

“You have my word.”

I replaced the receiver and stumbled to the garden.

Dead. How could my dear Alex be dead? The ache in my chest, like a raging demon, threatened to shatter me. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t speak, it hurt too much. The only consolation was my task ahead to protect Eldad’s future.

* * *

Despite the string of pedestrians here and there, the city was grave, particularly in this quarter: debris from recent bombings had left a layer of ashes and fear. Blackout curtains veiled every window, following strict regulations to obscure the Luftwaffe’s view of the city at night. Shops, many already abandoned, bore forlorn Closed signs.

“This breaks my heart,” I murmured.

Mr. Brown maneuvered the Lagonda onto a multi-lane street. “As sad as it is, it’s nothing compared to what’s been done to other parts of the nation. Take Southampton, for example, utterly devastating.”

We passed through several intersections, the murky atmosphere tightening its grip—like the darkness of hell, it was not merely the absence of light and life but a living void, pulsing with despair.

“The civil office is just ahead,” he announced.

“The gray building, right?”

“That’s the one. I can’t park on this street. I’ll go around the corner and wait for you there.”

“That’s perfect. Thank you.”

The Lagonda idled as I stepped out, pulling the collar of my overcoat tight against the chill. I moved quickly across the pavement and into the building. A guard in a blue uniform approached with a no-nonsense air, his voice clipped as he asked my business. His eyes betrayed a weariness that mirrored the city’s soul. I thought of Adele, the woman in town, who had described them: “They’re a peculiar bunch—quite traumatized by the bombings.” This man, like so many others, lived with the constant fear of death and destruction over his head, literally.

I answered his question as efficiently as I could.

“If you’ll follow me, please.” He escorted me to the lift.

We exited on the second floor, navigating a hall filled with desks and overworked staff. At the third desk on the first row, he introduced me to Miss Andrews, a young woman with a pointy nose and black, curly hair. She scrutinized me from head to toe, then gave an enigmatic smile. Was it approval?

The guard left. Miss Andrews gestured for me to sit as she opened a drawer and shuffled through an astonishing number of documents. Our nation was not only defending itself but also working tirelessly to aid those seeking refuge.

“Here it is.” She placed Eldad’s folder on the desk. “We’ll go over this briefly—just a formality, you understand.” Her practiced speed suggested she had done this countless times. She summarized the obligations I was taking on, including a one-year probationary clause. The well-being of the adopted children, both physical and emotional, was paramount.

“What happens after a year?” I dared to interrupt her rapid monologue.

“That depends on how well the year goes. Our department will conduct periodic check-ins on the boy’s welfare. But, surely, Mrs. Sterling, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Of course not.”

“If all goes well, you will become his legal guardian. Unless, of course, a surviving member of his family claims him.”

“What would happen then?”

“You must keep in mind,” she lowered her chin and observed me intently, “that’s highly unlikely.”

“Unlikely, but not impossible.”

“In that case, you would have to relinquish all rights.”

“I understand.” As much as I loved Eldad, reuniting him with his family was the only greater joy I could imagine.

Miss Andrews finished outlining my duties before sliding the folder toward me. “If you would, please sign here.” She pointed to a line at the bottom of the page.

With a rush of elation, I signed. She followed suit, then stamped the document twice for good measure. Oh, how I loved the sound of the stamps—it meant finality.

The chaos came at once—a rumbling in the sky accompanied by distant blasts, the wail of sirens, the furniture rattling out of place.

“Air raid!” Miss Andrews yelled. “To the underground station!”

An air raid ? The Luftwaffe rarely attacked during the day—too risky, too costly. But here we were, under siege.

Panic swept through the hall like wildfire. People scrambled for the lift and staircases. I grabbed the folder, shoved it into my handbag, and joined the frenzied mass fleeing downward.

I struggled to keep my feet but made it down the first flight of steps. Would I survive the second? It hadn’t occurred to me that, in moments of desperation, people could prove more dangerous than bombs.

A burly man elbowed past me, jabbing my ribs in his haste.

“There is no need to be such a beast!” I cried out angrily.

He kept going, this time, shoving an elderly woman aside. She crumpled onto the steps, clutching her side in pain. The stampede would crush her.

I pushed through to her, hooking my arm around hers. “Come on, we can do this. Just a few more steps.”

She leaned into my support and managed to steady herself.

“Six, five,” I counted to keep our nerves in check. “Almost there. Four, three.”

We made it to the ground floor and spilled out with the crowd into the street. She thanked me and joined the stream of people heading toward the underground. I turned in the opposite direction, desperate to find Mr. Brown.

Then came the sound that froze me—the grinding roar of airplane engines overhead, where the Luftwaffe’s wings stretched across the heavens, and hell rained down. I dove behind a magazine kiosk, knowing it offered little protection. Bombs descended in a continuous round, accompanied by the staccato firing of guns. In its wake, everything shook, exploded, fell.

The first contingent of enemy planes vanished, but there was no respite. I darted around a corner just as the second wave came into view.

Explosions erupted, louder, closer. Shrapnel tore through the air, striking indiscriminately. A fragment hurled me into the rubble. Pain seared through me as I fought to stay conscious, watching flames lick the sky. My gaze followed them to the gray-white smoke veiling the city in doom.

Then everything went dark.