Promise Kept, page 13
“Art Wilson, that is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. Why would your grandfather wish to see you jobless? He loves you and only wants what’s best for you.”
“See, I know you’re right, but another part of me—”
“He does care, you know. He shows it through pushing you to be your best. That works for him.”
“But it leaves me worried at times like this.”
“You don’t need to be. Why not give him the benefit of the doubt? Maybe he investigated the company after learning you’d accepted the job. Needed to make sure it was good enough for you or something. Through that research, he decided it needed someone who could improve the company. Maybe he wouldn’t normally take any notice, but because you work here, he does.”
Art nodded, his fingers tracing the pattern in the tablecloth. “That makes sense.”
“So don’t worry about it.” Josie placed her hand over his, stilling its restless motion. “Work hard for him. He’ll be pleased.” She squeezed, then released his hand. The meatloaf smelled wonderful, and she served each of them a slice.
Art took a few bites. Josie let him eat in quiet, giving him the time to process his concerns.
“Mrs. Wilson, you are a wonderful woman.”
“I am?”
“Yes.” Art scooted his plate back and stretched. “I’d like to take a walk, if you don’t mind.”
Josie looked at the table. The dishes and cleanup would keep her busy for a while. “That’s fine with me. Remember, everything will be okay.”
❧
Art put his coat back on, then headed downstairs and out the door. He walked with no destination in mind, letting the fresh air and exercise clear his head. He’d never thought of himself as a fearful man, yet since the move to Cincinnati, he seemed to keep one eye looking over his shoulder. He should be at ease, enjoying every moment with his new bride. Instead, he detected her disappointment in the way he didn’t share every emotional valley with her over the loss of their baby. She couldn’t seem to understand he’d grieved and now looked to the future.
And now this wrinkle with Grandfather.
Art’s thoughts roiled until he collapsed on a bench in Eden Park. The sky had darkened as he fought his fears. If only it felt like he’d conquered them.
God, help me. That was all he could manage. Over and over the phrase repeated in his mind.
It felt inadequate. He should craft sentences that would persuade God to shift the course of events into a vein that he liked. Instead, that one sentence repeated like a broken record bouncing through his mind, ricocheting off his fears.
He wrestled in the darkness till he felt wrung out.
Finally, he stumbled to his knees. Father, take this weight from me. I beg You.
Peace never really flooded. Instead, a trickle dripped over him. Gave him the opportunity to choose. So he stood and marched back to his home. God was in control of all the details of his life. He’d released those burdens. It was time to live like the burdens were gone and the future firmly established in God’s hand.
A strange car sat in front of the building when Art walked up, but he barely glanced at it.
His place was inside. Climbing the stairs, he slowed when he heard voices from the third floor. Who would be in his apartment at this hour? Then he made out the visiting voice.
The rich voice belonged to Grandfather. Art sucked in a breath, then squared his shoulders. He could recover from anything Grandfather had to throw at him. He’d graduated from college, paid for it on his own, acquired skills. Used those skills successfully. He didn’t know what else to do to make Grandfather proud of him.
He opened the door and waited for Grandfather to acknowledge him.
“Son.” Grandfather nodded from his seat in the shell chair. He treated the seat as if it were his throne.
“Hello, Grandfather.”
Josie perched on the edge of the davenport and looked from one to the other. “Your grandfather arrived awhile ago. I was making a pot of coffee. Would you like some, Art?” Her eyes pleaded with him to be nice.
“Yes, thank you.” Art stood a moment, then stripped off his coat and settled on the davenport.
“Where’s our cousin?” Grandfather barked.
Josie stepped into the doorway. “She fell asleep before dinner. I doubt we’ll see her before breakfast. The school week tends to wear her out. They have her in an advanced grade, you see.” Josie bit her lower lip in that adorable way she had when she was nervous and talking too much.
“Hmm. Is everything working out with her?”
“Josie has done a wonderful job with Cassandra. She and Cassie have developed a good relationship. We’ve got a few issues to iron out with school, but even those are improved. ”
“Glad to hear.”
A plate clattered against the counter. Art placed his elbows on his knees and steepled his fingers. “I know you’ve got a long drive in front of you, Grandfather. What can I do for you?”
Grandfather sighed. “I’m interested in making superior instruments.”
Art guffawed. Grandfather’s brows knit together at the sound. “Sorry. That’s not the answer I expected.”
“Obviously.”
“Your companies have always focused on consumer goods. Pianos are luxury items.”
“Maybe. I think the company is poised to do interesting things or fall apart. Management will play a big role in that success or lack thereof. Consider this an opportunity to prove yourself.”
Josie brought in a tray loaded with her china coffee service. “I’m sorry, but I wasn’t sure how you liked your coffee.”
“Black is fine.”
She nodded, then filled two cups with the steaming liquid.
“I have a proposition for you.” Grandpa took a sip, all the while looking over the edge of the cup at Art. “I’m buying your company. It’s in dire need of visionary management. I think you could provide at least a part of that. But you have to want to. So here’s what I suggest. You step up and generate ideas and leadership. Do so, and you can move into management.”
Josie gasped, then slapped a hand over her mouth. “Art, that sounds like a great offer.”
“I’ll have a couple of my most trusted employees at the plant starting on Tuesday. You’ll have one month to convince them you’re ready to join them.” Grandfather eyed him intently as if measuring him. “I’ll tell you my decision on Thanksgiving.”
“All right. I accept your challenge.”
Grandfather gave an approving nod. “That’s my boy. Give this challenge everything you’ve got. I think you’re ready to succeed. Wouldn’t be here if I thought anything else. I’ll see myself out.”
Art stood and offered a hand, but Grandfather wrapped him in a quick hug. “Josephine.”
“Good night, Grandfather.”
After Grandfather left, Art stood by the window. He watched the man climb into the backseat of his vehicle. The chauffer Art hadn’t noticed when he walked up started the car and drove away. Grandfather’s challenge echoed through his mind. Be management-ready in four weeks. As he considered all that Grandfather expected of his team, Art knew he couldn’t prepare in such a short period.
As always, Grandfather had set him up with a chance to prove himself.
Ultimately, as with most challenges Grandfather issued, he had no choice. Sink or swim. Thrive or fail. Grandfather didn’t care which.
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.”
