Remnant of Forgiveness Read online

  Watching her withdraw into that private shell, Nelson allowed himself a leisurely evaluation of her glistening hair, slim curves, tiny feet. . .and for the life of him, could see nothing remotely resembling a curse. Yet she wore shyness like a feather quilt about herself. What could possibly have happened during the war to make her feel she had to keep hiding?

  He’d seen newsreels of the pathetic souls who’d been confined behind all that barbed wire, their emaciated forms, hollow eyes, hopeless faces, shaved heads. He glanced at Mary’s crowning glory, wondering if she’d been made to suffer that humiliation. But in any event, at least she came out of the camp alive. That must count for something, he reasoned.

  But then his more sympathetic side took over. From the few things Mary had told him and the family, Nelson knew she had no living relatives. That had to hurt more than anything else. And, judging from her age and the years Poland was involved in its struggle to survive, she’d likely missed out on a goodly chunk of her education, which could account for her lack of confidence in herself. And as far as resources, he had no clue about how she’d managed immigrating to America or what her financial situation might be now. He did know that job at the sewing factory didn’t pay much—he’d seen Stella’s paychecks. Maybe all those things, plus her limited proficiency in English, made her feel inadequate.

  But why would she feel that way here, of all places, among people who truly. . .cared? Because, he might as well accept it, he already cared about Mary Theresa more than he’d ever intended. And that was the problem.

  By the time the screen door squeaked open, and his frazzled sister came in, the distinctive aroma of fried chicken floated deliciously through the house. She held a paper sack high in triumph. “Success at last!”

  Mary Theresa sat up.

  “Sure took you long enough,” Nelson mused.

  Brushing a sheen of perspiration from her forehead with her fingertips, Stella arched her eyebrows. “Well, I ended up having to go all the way to Jenkins’s Drugstore. Murphy’s wasn’t open today after all.”

  “Oh. So sorry I am for the trouble,” Mary crooned.

  “It wasn’t any bother, really. Only another couple blocks. The breeze kept me cool, and part of the walk was shady. The important thing is we can now take care of that headache. Come on. Time’s a wasting. Mmm. Dinner smells good. I’m starving.”

  Nelson couldn’t help noting how quickly Mary Theresa made her escape.

  Nor did he miss the wary glance she flicked in his direction as she went by.

  Oh, well, he decided. A lot of serious stuff was going on in that pretty head of hers. Some other time maybe he’d probe a little more, next time he had her alone. Find out what all she was hiding.

  ❧

  Later that evening, soaking in a hot bath, Mary relived that unbelievably long day. She’d rather enjoyed the church service, if not the Sunday school class—and she might have liked even that, had the topic been something a little less personal. It seemed no matter where she turned, her past was thrown in her face. Was there no escape from it, ever?

  Yet, as her thoughts drifted back to the Reverend Herman’s message, she found herself drawing on its comfort. She’d never thought about Jesus’ crucifixion as being God’s plan from before the dawning of time. But, the pastor explained, only a perfect, innocent sacrifice would satisfy a holy God and cover the sin of mankind. For that purpose, He gave up His own Son to come to earth as a babe and to die that awful death on the cross. Mary’s heart swelled at the thought of such immeasurable love.

  But then again, her conscience taunted, there were sins, and then there were sins. Maybe some offenses were too vile to be forgiven. And she suspected hers might be among those.

  On that bleak thought, Mary stepped out of the tub to towel off. Then in her blue flannel robe, she padded out to her sofa and sat hugging her knees to her breast.

  Today had been a close call. Too close. She didn’t relish putting herself in that kind of situation ever again. Maybe Nelson knew about her identification number, and maybe he didn’t. If he did, Mary could only hope he’d keep her secret from his family. After all, what purpose would it serve for the horrible truth to become common knowledge?

  But even if he didn’t know about it, there was every possibility that somehow, someday he’d discover it anyway. . . unless she stopped going to the Thomas home entirely.

  That wrenching thought filled her with a loneliness as deep as the one she’d felt when she and Rahel had kissed one another’s cheeks and embraced in final farewell in Switzer-land. Neither of them could bring themselves to speak aloud, but to her dying day she would hear her Jewish friend’s whisper. Kocham Ciebie. Do widzenia. . .I love you. Good-bye.

  Could she bear to give up these special times with this precious new American friend who’d become as close as a sister? Be satisfied only to chat with Estelle at lunchtime and let it go at that? Never to see the parents who had made her feel as special as a daughter? Or the brother, Nelson. . .whose own wounded soul had somehow reached out to hers from the moment they met?

  With a shuddering sigh, Mary Theresa knew it was time to give that unthinkable resolution some serious consideration.

  A heavy weight descended upon her spirit. Hoping to find strength and solace, she picked up the Bible that Nelson had given her and opened it at random. But her blood turned cold. Instead of the peace she so sorely wanted, her eyes focused on the admonition from the fifth chapter of James: Confess your faults one to another. . . .

  fourteen

  Bright and early the next morning, Nelson followed the tantalizing smell of bacon down to its source.

  “Morning,” Stella said, passing him on her way to the door.

  “Squirt,” he returned good-naturedly. “Work up a storm.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “I liked going to work a whole lot better when we were making army uniforms. It seemed so much more important, back then.” Snagging her purse and lunch bag from the hall tree, she left.

  Nelson watched after his sister for several seconds, appreciating the way she looked in her violet jumper and print blouse. She had tamed her curls a bit with the addition of a twisted scarf, tied ribbon style, with the ends dangling behind one ear. Jonathan could do a lot worse, he decided. Stella had taken her fiancé’s death at sea pretty hard, but maybe she was finally getting beyond it. Nelson thought he’d detected a few lingering glances in Jon’s direction the last time his friend was here. And it was about time. She needed to get on with her life.

  And Sis wasn’t the only one. He’d be hiking to the trolley himself, shortly, then catching the subway across town to talk to his former boss and see about getting his old job back. If that worked out, perhaps in time he could start giving some thought to getting married and settling down. Other guys like him had found girls willing to look beyond their handicaps.

  And children. He’d like that. Thoughts of Mary Theresa flew into his mind and so did the admiration she’d gotten from the other guys at church. When a woman was as perfect as she and could have her pick of men, why would she consider him? Filling his lungs and exhaling slowly, Nelson continued on to the kitchen, where he could hear his parents’ voices as he approached and entered.

  “Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.”

  “Morning, Son. You’re looking chipper today.”

  “Yes, isn’t he?” At the stove, his mother smiled. “Good morning, Dear.” She broke two more eggs into the frying pan to sizzle, then put bread into the toaster. “Breakfast will be right on.”

  Nelson caught a mysterious glance pass between his parents as he took his usual spot at the kitchen table, but didn’t think much about it until his dad tacked on a sly wink. That added to the definite undercurrent Nelson sensed in the room. He cleared his throat. “I decided today was as good a day as any to go see Mr. Gavin about my old job. In a little while, I’ll go hop on the trolley.”

  The older pair just grinned.

  Tucking his chin in puzzlement, Nelson thre
w his hands up. “Okay, I give. What’s going on?” He looked from one of them to the other.

  “What do you mean?” his father asked in all innocence.

  Mom brought over the plate of food and set it before Nelson, her smile looking ready to explode from ear to ear any second.

  “I know something’s up with you two, or you wouldn’t look like cats who’d just swallowed canaries. Come on, come clean.”

  His dad nodded in acquiescence. “Well, no sense letting your breakfast get cold. Eat up. When you’re done, your mother and I have a surprise for you.”

  After bowing his head for a brief prayer of thanks, Nelson dug into his meal. But it was hard to enjoy it with those two waiting with baited breath for him to finish. He finally wolfed it down without tasting any of it, then scorched his throat on two gulps of hot coffee. He wiped his mouth on the napkin.

  “Guess it’s time,” Dad said, getting up and crossing to the back door, Mom only a step behind. “Come with us, Son. We have something to show you.”

  His parents led him out the kitchen door and down the steps to the alley, where they turned in the direction of MacDougal’s Garage on the corner.

  Nelson had known barrel-chested Sean MacDougal practically all his life. A redheaded giant with a heart as big as the world, the Scotsman loved to tinker around with cars. He kept almost all the cars in the neighborhood running their best, and never seemed too busy to instruct any lad interested in taking up the trade. When Nelson joined up with the army, Mac generously offered to keep Nelson’s car at the garage for him until his return.

  The little black coupe had been Nelson’s pride and joy. During his time in Europe, he’d often pictured it sitting idle behind MacDougal’s, collecting rust and spiderwebs. Not wanting to learn the extent of its deterioration, he’d purposely avoided going to see the man since he’d come home. He had no use for the car, anyway. And now Dad wanted to rub it in?

  Nelson held back a little, trying to prepare himself for the moment he would see this sad reminder of his former life. But his parents walked right toward the antiquated garage with its peeling exterior, and opened the wide, wooden door to the shop.

  Daylight fell across the interior of the grimy work area cluttered with tires, car parts, and smelling of metal and grease. Everywhere there was an available spot, things were either piled on it, stacked under it, or suspended above on wall hooks.

  The Scotsman looked up with a grin, still holding a polishing rag as he finished shining the hood of Nelson’s all-too-familiar Chevy. “Nelse, me lad. ’Tis grand to be seein’ ye.” Wiping his smudged fingers on the rag, he extended an arm.

  “Mac.” Nelson grabbed the beefy hand and shook it, still not entirely sure what was happening, why his folks had brought him here.

  His father patted a fender as he strode around to the driver’s side, a smug expression on his face. “Looks pretty good, huh?” He opened the door.

  “Sure does,” Nelson had to admit. But that only made him feel worse. Surely they realized it was completely useless to him now.

  “We rigged her up with a hand clutch, Mac and me,” Dad went on. “Thought if you were going back to work, you’d be needing a car.”

  “A hand clutch?” Had he heard right? Nelson moved around to peer inside, where the sight of the new addition rendered him nearly speechless.

  “Your father worked all yesterday afternoon on this,” his mother supplied. “He wanted to surprise you.”

  “I. . .don’t know what to say.” He should have thought to do that himself. . .and would have, if he hadn’t been wallowing in self-pity. Some aspiring engineer he turned out to be.

  “We love you,” she replied, as if that explained everything.

  Blinking away the stinging behind his eyes, he grabbed them both in a big hug, while Mac beamed on from the side, nodding his head. “Well, I love you, too. You guys are the best,” Nelson declared, his voice hoarse. “All of you.”

  “What say we go try her out?” his father suggested.

  Nelson itched to do just that. “I’m game. Might take me awhile to get the hang of it, though.”

  “Take all the time you need, Son. I’m in no hurry. Bill’s covering for me at the shop this morning. I called him last night and told him I’d probably be in late.”

  While his dad went around to the passenger side, Nelson leaned over to give his mom one more hug, then eased himself into the coupe, finding the key already in the ignition. The engine caught on the first try. He cut a glance to his father.

  “Mac and I started her up every so often while you were away. We knew you’d need her sooner or later.”

  Nelson could only shake his head, wondering if he’d ever stop grinning like a sap. They rolled down the windows, his father resting an elbow on the ledge of his. Then with a jaunty wave to Mom and Sean MacDougal, Nelson eased the coupe cautiously out of the shop and into the street, past rows of houses he’d about memorized over the years, past shops he’d frequented since his boyhood, heading for parts unknown.

  So quickly it came back, this feeling of normalcy. He grinned at his dad, whose grin mirrored his own. Just wait till Jonathan saw this. And Mary Theresa. . . Somehow it mattered for her to approve. After all, she was largely responsible for his being up and around again. Dare he imagine her occupying the passenger seat, golden hair blowing in the wind, enjoying a drive in the country? He emitted a silent sigh.

  Nelson adapted amazingly quickly to the process of applying the clutch by hand to change gears, a feat he could only attribute to his experience of riding friends’ motorcycles occasionally during his able-bodied days.

  Had it been only a short while ago he’d lain in a hospital bed, certain this part of his life had ended for good, that he’d never experience the freedoms he’d always taken for granted? Now it seemed the Lord planned to give it all back to him, perhaps might have done so before this if Nelson had trusted Him a little sooner. This unexpected and undeserved blessing humbled him greatly.

  “Well, what do you think?” his father asked after they’d driven half the length of Manhattan.

  “That God gave me the best parents in the world, and I have a lot to be thankful for. I’m gonna make you and Mom proud of me, I promise.”

  Dad reached over and gave his good knee a squeeze. “We’ve always been proud of you, Nelse. We just want you to be happy.”

  ❧

  Another cloud drifted across the sky, masking the face of the sun, momentarily shading the bench Mary Theresa and Estelle had come to think of as their own. Mary wondered if it was her imagination that every time she looked up into the blue, she counted more clouds, perhaps indicating another storm.

  “You seem quiet today,” Estelle commented before biting into her egg salad sandwich.

  Mary shrugged a shoulder. “A little tired I am.” She broke a few chunks of bread crust and tossed it to the growing number of pigeons who’d discovered they could get handouts if they ventured close enough.

  “I don’t doubt it. For what’s supposed to be a day of rest, yesterday turned out to be quite busy for all of us.”

  Not particularly wanting to rehash all of that, Mary decided to change the subject. “How is new girl? Gertrude.”

  Estelle arched her eyebrows, an incredulous expression coming forth. “You won’t believe the latest. This morning she managed to sew right through the tip of her finger and fingernail.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yes. Which, of course, sent her traipsing off to the company nurse. And set her quota back another considerable degree. Of course, to make matters worse, Old Personality-Plus Hardwick is forever breathing down the poor girl’s neck, making her even more nervous and frazzled. She can’t do anything right.”

  “How sad,” Mary commiserated. “Not for faint of heart is sewing factory.”

  “You said it.” Estelle chewed thoughtfully for a few seconds. “I really can’t fault Gertie for a lack of effort, though. I think she just tries too hard. It wouldn’t
surprise me if she ends up going somewhere else, soon, to find a job.”

  Mary wagged her head, remembering her own difficulties in making the quota. Already it seemed a long time ago.

  “Oh!” Estelle brightened. “Speaking of jobs, my big brother was up first thing this morning. Remember he mentioned something about going to talk to his old boss and see if he could get his position back?”

  Even as she nodded, Mary wanted to ask more details but couldn’t bring herself to pry. She had no idea what kind of work Nelson had done before the war.

  “He worked at Lawson Engineering,” Estelle went on in her chatty way. “Nelse always dreamed of designing wonderful bridges and great buildings. From the time he was a kid, he filled sketchbooks and drafting tablets with the most in-credible drawings. To say nothing of notebooks crammed with all these complicated mathematical equations. He’s really quite the brain, you know. Not like his mere mortal sister, who had to study and cram and sweat over every test at school.”

  Mary smiled to herself at her friend’s lowly opinion of herself. But it was not hard at all to envision a youthful Nelson absorbed in his drawings. She only prayed today went well for him, and that he could, in fact, get his position back again. Then his life could start returning to normal. He deserved that much, if not more. A man needed to settle down, get married. . . . Any woman would be proud to have such a fine, smart husband. Her chest rose and fell on a silent sigh.

  Just then the factory bell trilled the back-to-work signal. Wadding up their lunch sacks, the girls rose and hurried back to take their places.

  “Well, back to the old grind,” Estelle quipped. “This little break seems shorter every day. I’m sure glad tomorrow’s Tuesday, and we have supper at our house to look forward to.”

  “Yes,” Mary agreed. But inside she’d already decided not to go home with Estelle anymore. She just didn’t know how to break the news.

  fifteen