Tracie Peterson (41 page)

Clara hugged the sack of food close and felt a lump rise in her throat. “Maybe they’re just running an errand for their mother,” she suggested. She could see there were at least four children and all looked to be under the age of ten.

Jeanine rolled down her window and leaned out as the Hillman rolled to a stop. “You kids need a lift home?”

The oldest, a ragged-looking little boy, shook his head. “No, ma’am, thank you.” His speech suggested a good upbringing, but his appearance betrayed his present poverty.

“What are you doing out on such a cold night?” Jeanine questioned.

“Our mum sent us to see if we could get some extra food,” a little girl offered. “We don’t have anything to eat. Mum said the Yanks might share a bit.” She pulled at her stocking cap and tugged on her brother’s sleeve. “Are these Yanks?”

Jeanine looked back at Clara and sighed. She couldn’t imagine that any mother in her right mind would send her kids out to beg from total strangers. Why, what if something happened to them?

But something had happened to them. They had been exposed to the harsh realities of war. They had gone hungry and cold. Clara shuddered and thought of other encounters she’d had with the poverty-ridden English. They were a proud people and they were getting by doing the best they could under the circumstances. Clara could smell the aroma of the mince pie in her sack. Suddenly the food seemed to weigh a ton.

“Come on, Jeanine,” she said. “Let’s get going. We haven’t much time.”

Jeanine nodded. “You kids be careful and don’t stay out too long. It’s very cold.”

She rolled the window back up and started them back on their way. “I can’t stand seeing them like that. I mean what will happen to them? They have nothing to eat and no doubt nothing for Christmas. Oh, it just doesn’t seem right.”

Clara nodded. She knew it wasn’t right, but the things that suggested themselves to her also seemed unfair. She knew she should have Jeanine stop the truck here and now, backtrack the brief distance, and turn over the food pack to the children. But if she did that, there would be no hope of getting her parachute silk.

She let the truck rumble on in silence, all the while haunted by images of the hollow-eyed stares of the children. Now she could smell the stuffing and she even imagined that the uncooked T-bones were putting off a deliciously tempting aroma.

“
Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these
. . .” The words weighed on her soul.

Laughing silently at herself, Clara knew what she had to do.
I’m such a silly woman. Still so caught up in myself. I see what you’re trying to show me
, she prayed.
I see that there was still this last stronghold of selfish greed. I can’t be that person anymore, Lord. I can’t buy myself a wedding dress knowing that little children are going hungry
.

“Stop!” she declared.

Jeanine slammed on the brakes and turned to Clara. “What’s wrong?”

“Go back,” Clara sighed. “I can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“I can’t just leave those kids there. I have enough food here for half an army. We’ll just go back and give it to them.”

“But what about the parachute silk.”

Clara shook her head. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” she said. And with a sigh of relief, she knew it was true. She was finally free from her self-driven desire to have a gown at any cost. She couldn’t feed all of England, but she could give this gift of hope to a suffering family.
And after that
, she thought,
I’m going to talk to Sylvia about what else we can do to help
. Her mind was already whirling with possibilities as Jeanine maneuvered the truck.

They reached the little pilgrimage of children without any trouble. In truth, the kids hadn’t managed to get far. Their bodies were no doubt slowed by the bitter cold. Jeanine pulled up alongside them once again, and Clara got out of the truck, pulling the pack with her.

“I have a Christmas present here for you and your mother,” she said as the children stared up at her rather blankly. “There’s enough food in here for a real Christmas feast. Take it home to your mom. She’ll know what to do to fix it up right.”

Their eyes were as huge as saucers. “Thank you, ma’am,” the oldest one said, reaching out to take the pack. The little ones danced around trying to get a peek inside the pack. The older brother was undaunted, however. He took on his new duty almost ceremoniously.
With only a little trouble, he hoisted the food to his back. “Merry Christmas,” he said, giving Clara a smile that warmed her clear through.

“Merry Christmas to you too,” Clara replied.

She watched them hurry down the road. Their chattering voices could be heard as they scurried along the pavement. Now their feet seemed more sure, their steps lively and determined. Clara felt like laughing at the wonder of the moment. Somewhere tonight a warworn mother would open up a pillowcase of the finest navy steaks and assorted foods.
Will she feel like I do?
Clara wondered silently.
Will she recognize the gift as being divine?

“Thank you, God,” she whispered and looked overhead into the starry night skies. There might be a war going on, but this was the season of Jesus’ birth, and Clara intended to celebrate it in full. The true gift of the season was love. God’s love in the form of a baby come to earth. God’s love in the form of a pillowcase of food. God’s love in the face of hopeful children.

“Come on,” Clara said, climbing back into the Hillman. “Let’s go home and get me ready for my wedding.”

After seeing to the truck, Clara and Jeanine made their way to the old hotel. Clara desired only one thing in the entire world at that moment, and that thing was a hot bath. The only trouble, however, was that it wasn’t Clara’s night for a real bath.

“Miss Campbell,” Sylvia Clarke called as Clara approached the steps.

Mrs. Clarke stood at the top of the staircase and waited for Clara to join her before continuing. “I’d like to help with your wedding plans.”

Clara smiled warmly in spite of her exhaustion. “I’m afraid I don’t really have any plans.” Clara turned to her friend. “You go ahead, Jeanine. Tell Madeline not to worry about the sewing. You can explain everything and I’ll be up later.”

Her friend nodded. “Good to see you again, Mrs. Clarke. I’m still remembering the wonderful flavor of those hot scones.”

Sylvia smiled. “I’m so glad you enjoyed them. Do come again.”

“Don’t worry. If I can ever get caught up on my sleep, I’ll make a special occasion of it.”

Clara waited until Jeanine had gone before suggesting Sylvia step back inside. “We can talk in the lobby. At least it’s marginally warmer than the front steps.”

“I have a better idea. Why don’t you gather some of your things and come to my place. You can have a hot soak in the tub and share dinner with me. We can discuss how I might help with the wedding.”

Clara sighed. “A hot bath sounds wonderful.”

“Then you’ll come?”

Nodding her head, Clara ignored her exhaustion. She could sleep anywhere, but she certainly couldn’t get a bath just any old place. “I’ll be there. In fact, if you’d like to wait, I can just run upstairs and grab my things and walk back with you.”

“That would be fine. I’ll sit right here,” Sylvia said, taking a seat on a well-worn wing-backed chair.

Clara hurried upstairs, gathered her things, and told Jeanine her plans. “I’ll be back as soon as I can and we can finish discussing the wedding. Mrs. Clarke wants to help as well.”

“I’ll talk to the baker and see if I can get us a cake for the wedding,” Jeanine said, suddenly encouraged. “Who knows. He just might be able to pull something together with doughnuts.”

“Oh, thank you very much,” Clara said, letting the sarcasm mark her words. “I thought you were my friend.”

Jeanine laughed. “Of course I am. Who else would go out on a night like this just to talk wedding cakes with gruff, sour-dispositioned doughnut friers?”

Clara took up her hairbrush and headed for the door. “That’s true friendship, all right.” She paused and looked back at her friend. “But don’t go to any extra effort. I’ve learned a very important lesson tonight. I’m only ashamed I didn’t learn it sooner. God has done a work in my heart and I know my love for Michael is all that matters. He’s all I care about.”

Jeanine nodded. “I know that. I’ve always known that.”

“I’m not sure I did,” Clara replied, “but I do now.”

“You look like a new woman,” Sylvia Clarke announced as Clara joined her fresh from her bath.

Attired in her battle dress rather than her Class A uniform,
Clara apologized for the casualness of her clothing. “I thought this might be warmer and rumor has it we might be headed back to the docks at midnight.”

“But you’ve been up and working since six this morning. Surely no one would expect you to wear yourself out in such a manner.”

“We’re shorthanded and if we don’t go, no one goes. I hate to think of all those men leaving for Europe without so much as a cup of coffee or a smile.”

Sylvia nodded. “I completely agree. It’s a pity we can’t be better staffed.”

“Maybe after the first of the year,” Clara replied. “Then again, maybe the war will be over by then.”

“We can only hope and pray,” Mrs. Clarke said sadly.

They sat down to a small, very intimate dinner. Clara smiled to find an actual steak on her plate. “You must have connections, Mrs. Clarke.”

“Please call me Sylvia,” the woman replied with a smile. “The Red Cross and your military have been particularly generous. I can’t see any reason not to share it with others. I must say, beefsteak was never a mainstay in this house, but I’ve grown to enjoy it when it makes its way to my table. I prefer lamb, to tell the truth, but don’t tell Admiral Block. He’s the one who sent over these particular steaks.”

Clara nodded conspiratorially and cut into the meat. She quickly tasted it, almost fearful it would disappear from her plate. The flavor was incredible. The steak was so tender she hardly had need to chew it. “Oh, this is the most marvelous meal I’ve had in weeks.”

“I thought it should be a celebration. Your young man is probably having festivities with his friends, so it seems only proper that you should enjoy a little party of your own.”

“You are very kind. I knew from the moment I first met you that we’d be good friends. Of course, if you feed me like this every time I come to your house, I might well become your best friend.”

Sylvia chuckled. “Good friends are few and far between. We must take them as they come.”

Clara sobered a bit. “Has it been very different? I mean with the war and all?”

“Oh my, yes. The country isn’t at all what it used to be. We had such a peacefulness about us. There was never any rush or hurry. We
simply let life come at its own pace. My son said that with all the Yanks over here, we’re bound to be racing against the clock.” She smiled. “You Americans seem to always be in a hurry.”

Clara laughed. “Maybe it’s our zest for living. Or maybe it’s just that we’re afraid if we don’t keep moving we’ll find ourselves bogged down and held fast.”

Sylvia nodded knowingly. “I’m sure both have their place in explaining this driving force inside you. I suppose that’s why I find it so surprising that you’ve made so few plans for your wedding.”

Clara put down her fork and said rather thoughtfully, “I had a great many thoughts on what I wanted my wedding to be. I wanted flowers and a beautiful church. I wanted a veil and satin slippers, but most of all, I wanted a beautiful white wedding gown.”

“And why has that changed?”

“I realized that my heart was on the things and not on the man. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I love Michael with all of my heart. I couldn’t see myself happy without him, but long ago my mother told me about her own wedding. They had eloped before my father left for service in the Great War. She regretted her hurried marriage and lack of celebration. But most of all, she regretted having no wedding gown. I promised her I would do things differently, and for a time, the gown was all I could think of.”

“Did you find a gown?”

Clara shook her head. “I tried to. I raced all over southern England every chance I got. If they sent me one way or another on Red Cross business, I was out there looking for a wedding gown or parachute silk or any white material. I couldn’t find anything, though. Every time I thought I had a sure thing, I’d arrive to find that I was either misinformed or ten minutes too late.” She ate a forkful of potatoes before continuing. “I have to say my pride nearly ruined my life. I wanted that dress so much and I could hardly see anything else because of that need.”