Love Finds You in the City at Christmas Read online

  Sensible and beautiful, Mike decided. And a baseball fan, although for the wrong team since the Yankees beat his Dodgers in the World Series less than two months ago. “Do your aunt and uncle still take you to games?”

  Her smile dimmed. Her eyes calmed. “I haven’t seen them in over a dozen years. My father had words with them when I was twelve and told them to never come back.”

  “Karen. I’m sorry.” This time he took her hand in empathy. “Are they still at odds?”

  “They are at peace, Mike.”

  He frowned because the way she said it didn’t sound quite right.

  “Aunt Lonnie and Uncle Bill were killed in the Great Hurricane. They lived on Long Island and they’d gone to the movies for the evening.”

  Mike knew the rest. The eastern side of Long Island had taken a direct hit from the storm. The entire movie theater had been washed out to sea with the combination of wind and storm surge. “Karen, I’m so sorry.” He squeezed her hand gently, wishing pain and death away, but no such wishes were granted to mere mortals.

  “Thank you.” She met his look of concern with a smile. “But while I miss them, I’ll see them again. We’ll rejoice in heaven, at the King’s throne, and Uncle Bill’s arthritis will be healed and Aunt Lonnie will have a host of children surrounding her. What cannot be in this life is always possible in heaven.”

  “She couldn’t have children.” Maggie’s struggles with pregnancies had given Mike a deeper understanding than most single guys could embrace. “But they had you.”

  “For those first twelve years, yes.” She smiled approval at his understanding.

  “Did they keep in touch with you after your father fought with them?”

  He’d said the wrong thing. He knew it right off because pain laced her gaze. She faltered, then made a face of quiet acceptance. “It would not have been good for them to contact me. My father doesn’t possess a forgiving nature.”

  Mike read between the lines.

  Her father had been mean to her. Abusive, maybe. It was there in the downcast look, the slight tremble of her jaw, the flash of angst he’d witnessed. Time for a change of subject. “Have you taken Laurie to see Santa Claus yet? And did she see Miracle on Thirty-Fourth Street? when it came out last summer? It was set right here, at Macy’s.”

  She made a face of regret. “I didn’t.”

  “Because it was a Christmas movie in summer,” he agreed. “I took my younger sister, Mary Lynn. She loved it, regardless of the season. Now she’s got posters of it decorating her room. Does Laurie like movies?” He leaned closer, holding her attention. “And would you allow me the honor of taking you both to the movies, Karen?”

  She backed away physically and emotionally, as far as the chair and the busy restaurant allowed. “Mike, how nice of you, but I must refuse. I’m—”

  “Is there someone else, Karen?” Her quick reaction made him cut to the chase, because if there was no one else in her life, no man, he’d like to get to know her better. Much better. Her innate warmth and sensibility calmed his inner turmoil. The fact that she was downright beautiful?

  Didn’t hurt matters at all.

  He reached for her hand and raised one brow, waiting for an answer.

  She stood. “I must go.”

  He stood as well. “You didn’t answer my question, which means you don’t want to answer.”

  She didn’t hesitate to meet his gaze. “I suspect you do quite well when interviewing suspects. You have good timing, but it isn’t fair to use those skills on me.”

  “A simple question isn’t an interrogation.” He halved the short distance between them and smiled gently as he reached out to help her adjust the folded collar of the long cloak. “It’s merely a question. And I’d like an answer. Please.”

  The “please” did it. She sighed, glanced down, and acknowledged his question with a slight frown. “There is no one.”

  Her expression said she wasn’t comfortable with the topic. Having lost family recently, Mike understood that quite well. “Then—”

  “And there can be no one,” she added. She took a firm step back, rounded the table, and moved to the door.

  She had the advantage because Mike had to stand in line to pay for their coffees. He watched her leave, head high, the movement of the cloak offering silent testimony to her speed, but he wouldn’t chase her down to demand more answers. He didn’t need to, because he knew where she’d be tomorrow. And the next day. And the one after that.

  She’d be ringing the bell in front of Macy’s Department Store, and with over twenty days left until Christmas Eve, he’d have plenty of time to stop by and talk on his daily assignments.

  He might not be all that old, but he was experienced enough to recognize the gleam in her eye. A flash of interest she dimmed purposely.

  He’d made it through a daunting Police Academy class filled with out-of-work professors and engineers, victims of the Great Depression, and he’d excelled. He’d survived nearly four years of a war that cost him his father and a good share of his faith and innocence.

  But he felt more faithful around Karen, as if her gentle beliefs called to him. Her soft gaze, earnest looks, quick smile, thoughtful silences.

  If there was no man in her life, there was a reason why, because Karen O’Leary was more than special. She was exceptional, and he’d be honored to keep her company. The trick was convincing her of that, but Mike remembered how shy Bogey had been when he came to live with them in Brooklyn.

  The pup had come around. Mike hoped the woman would do the same.

  Chapter Six

  • • • • • • • • • • • •

  Helen Gearing was right.

  Surrounding yourself with things you could not have was cruel punishment. Karen hadn’t thought so about the pretty windows, bright lights, or evocative displays of home and family. This year’s windows weren’t the utilitarian wartime versions of a few years back. These windows screamed love, life, and the pursuit of happiness in full color.

  But Mike Wolzak was off-limits for more reasons than she could list, so why had she gone for coffee with him? Why did she let those big blue eyes entice her?

  Head down, she walked to the subway stop, determined to disavow the spectacle of Christmas present. She’d place her mind in a stable, a manger, a tiny babe, born to the poor.

  Swaddling clothes. Hay. Maybe a big, brown cow, chewing her cud. Sheep, grazing in fields.

  Yes, that is where she’d find her Christmas joy. In a far-off land of want and need, a people oppressed.

  * * * * *

  “Mommy, are you awake?” Laurie bounded into the two-room apartment at full tilt three short hours later.

  “I am now.” Karen stretched, yawned, and smiled into her daughter’s delighted eyes. “What has you so excited?”

  “Santa!”

  “You have seen him?”

  “No, of course not!” Laurie laughed and draped herself over her mother. “But I want to so badly! Katie Thompson and Jimmy Mancuso went to see him on Saturday, and they said he’s going to bring them presents. Will he do that here, Mommy? Can he?” Her voice implored Karen to reaffirm a myth, a story untrue. Should she cast aside the girl’s optimism for a cold dash of reality? Was there harm in a child’s imagination?

  “Oh, I think St. Nicholas will stop by as he comes through town,” Major Flora said from the half-open door. Her brown-eyed gaze warmed as she regarded the child. “He has a heart for children, for sure.”

  “Major, I—”

  “Of course, we must never ask for too much.” Major Flora ignored Karen’s interruption and stooped to Laurie’s level. “We must always remember that the best gift of Christmas is a child.”

  “Baby Jesus.” Laurie breathed the words and sighed. “My mommy puts yarn on him.”

  Major Flora turned a puzzled look toward Karen.

  “The crèche.” Karen pointed out the small, inexpensive manger scene on the dresser. The tiny, wooden feed box
was lined with bits of rainbow-toned yarn. “For every time Laurie is good and kind, she gets to put a piece of yarn in the feedbox.”

  “And my good deeds will help keep the baby warm on Christmas,” Laurie continued. She grabbed the major’s hand and tugged her forward. “You can see I’ve been very good already, Major Flora.”

  “Indeed you have.” Major Flora hugged the girl’s shoulders and exchanged a smile with her. “But that is no surprise around here. You are known by many to be a delightful child.”

  Laurie’s eyes went wide. “For real?”

  “Oh, yes.” Major Flora’s musical voice pitched up. Optimism brightened her aging face as she turned back toward Karen. “And did you know that the word crèche also refers to a place for small children? A safe haven?”

  “I didn’t.” Karen stood and stretched. She’d enjoyed having coffee with Mike, but right now her body was missing that extra two hours of sleep. “Fitting, though. As are many things in life.”

  “Yes.” Major Flora nodded. “And what better time than the season of miracles to begin anew?” Hope and joy blossomed in Major Flora’s tone, despite the cold, drab gray December after-noon, and that meant one thing and one thing only:

  Helen must have told Major Flora about Mike.

  Karen choked back a sigh, sent Major Flora a look of frustration, and moved toward the aluminum coffeepot on the two-burner unit at the kitchen end of the room. “Or stay the chosen course.”

  Major Flora laughed out loud, and the determined little major didn’t give herself to laughter often. “As God wills, child.”

  Karen sent her a mock scowl, but Major Flora’s words opened a new door of thought. Was this meeting with Mike part of God’s plan? Did the handsome cop happen upon her accidentally as he walked his beat, or was this man part of her destiny?

  “When God closes a door, somewhere He opens a window,” Major Flora reminded Karen of the comforting phrase as she moved to the door. Before stepping through, she turned. “But it takes courage to brave the windows of life, Karen. To trust. To love.”

  Her words impaled Karen’s heart.

  She’d trusted her parents.

  They’d failed her miserably.

  She’d trusted her aunt and uncle. Their good hearts and shining souls had lit a path of joy for a struggling adolescent, but they’d been snatched away from her in her father’s fit of rage.

  She’d trusted Gilbert. Loved him. He’d been her knight in shining armor, so handsome in his uniform. Strong. Courageous. Full of promises. And oh, how she longed to be a person of promise!

  He’d kept none of them, so she’d embraced a more “Thomas-like” mindset as she struggled through pregnancy, nursing school, and work. She’d found a community of caring at Booth Memorial. That was enough.

  A quiet nursing shift that night would have offered more time for introspection. Three babies in five hours barely allowed time to breathe.

  “You’re needed in room four,” Dana Roberts told her as dawn approached. “Susan’s going into labor.”

  “She can’t.” Susan was a seventeen-year-old girl who was just entering her eighth month. “It’s too early.”

  Dana’s face said more. Much more.

  Karen hurried down the hall and around the corner. She’d developed a rapport with Susan. Like Karen, she’d been thrown out of her home because of her pregnancy. Major Flora had stumbled upon the girl in a cold, shadowed corner of Chelsea, alone and despondent. She’d brought the girl home, to Booth Memorial. She’d been here for six weeks, but her baby wasn’t due until February. Seven-month babies . . .

  They’d lost one last year, a beautiful, tiny baby boy born to a girl named Genevieve. They’d sat and cried together, Karen and Gen, knowing little Samuel’s soul was safe with God, but the girl’s empty arms ached to hold her newborn son.

  Karen knew the odds went against survival, so therefore she’d pray they could stop Susan’s labor. Or save the child.

  “Hey.” She slipped into the room. Susan’s tear-stained face told the story. “How are we doing, sweet girl?”

  “Scared.”

  “Because of the pain? Or the timing?”

  “Both,” the girl whispered. She buried her face in the pillow. Karen reached out and massaged the girl’s shoulders. Slowly, Susan’s muscles relaxed. She uncurled some. But her face wore the stamp of grief and fear, two emotions Karen remembered well.

  “Have you decided on a name yet? Just in case this baby decides to come early?”

  “I think Christina if it’s a girl.” Susan blew her nose, swabbed her cheeks, and sat up slightly.

  “Don’t sit up,” Karen cautioned. “Lying down might put off the labor. It might not. But it can’t hurt, right?”

  “Okay.”

  “And for a boy?” Karen wondered as Susan slid back down. “It was Michael, right?” It made her smile to say the name out loud. Images of Mike Wolzak sprang to mind, the square-jawed look of warmth and quiet determination. The smile that lit those blue eyes from within. She could see a tiny Michael, a rugged baby boy with sturdy arms and legs, impatient to tackle the world.

  The thought of Mike’s child brought heat to her cheeks and a longing to her heart. Was Major Flora right? Should she examine God’s will more closely, or was that simply a convenient excuse to let herself go off course? Her current plan was safe: just her and Laurie, one day at a time.

  But sitting with Mike today, seeing the frank interest in his gaze, hearing his words of question made her rethink her choices. Mike’s simple presence enticed her.

  Karen had promised herself to never allow temptation to rule her life again. But was that the promise of a frightened girl, or a mature woman? The former, most likely, and that meant she should reexamine her choices and her chances, as God allowed.

  “Christopher Michael, I think.” Susan sighed. Her eyes looked heavy as stress waned. “If I decide to give him or her up for adoption, at least I’ll know my little Chris is out there someplace. Happy. Safe. Secure.”

  “And that’s a blessing to any child, Susan. I’ll pray for your decision. And whichever way you choose, I’ll pray that God guides you every step of the way.”

  “Thank you, Karen.”

  She sat quietly, praying, as the girl fell asleep, then eased away and tiptoed out the door on silent feet. Major Flora met her just beyond. “How’s she doing?”

  “Sleeping now and no signs of labor.”

  “Praise God.”

  “I must go.” Karen waved a hand toward the back of the small hospital. “I’m going to get Laurie ready for school and then take the train to Macy’s.”

  “We’ll watch over Susan.”

  “I know.” Karen turned slightly. Susan’s door was shut tight against sound, but still she whispered. “After losing Gen’s little boy last spring, my heart aches every time a young mother goes into early labor. There is so much we don’t know. So much we can’t do. Perhaps if we had Isolettes . . .”

  “Too expensive for our budget, I’m afraid,” the major replied. “But I pray each day that we might be able to provide better care to the tiniest of God’s children.”

  “I hate that lack of money makes life-and-death decisions,” Karen admitted.

  “I do as well,” Major Flora replied, “but we must trust God’s will to guide us. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.”

  Karen made a face of sorrowful understanding. “But empty arms and idle hands are never a good combination.” She’d witnessed the heartbreaking sorrow of lost pregnancies. Surely there must be a way, a means of making things better? “I’m going to pray that God guides the hands of the researchers who want success as much as we do. That science can help the tiniest souls of all.”

  Major Flora smiled and kissed her cheek. “I’ll join mine with yours. Together we’ll make a formidable noise unto the Lord.”

  Although the major was small and quiet, Karen had no doubt that she could be considered formidabl
e as needed. The knowledge made her smile. “Amen.”

  * * * * *

  “Did you find a doctor today, Mike?”

  Mike turned, wishing he had better news, wishing he was smarter. “No, but I’m still looking. Give me another day, okay?”

  Mary Lynn looked embarrassed to have asked, as if helping her was a bother. Mike put the last dish in the cupboard, crossed the room, and hugged her. “I’ll find one. I promise.”

  She nodded against his chest, but he sensed the fear within. She’d been keeping her silence, carrying her secret, offering up her burden of sickness as a punishment for sin.

  Was it?

  His mind muddled. Didn’t the Old Testament speak of women travailing in childbirth as a reckoning for eating the forbidden fruit? Was God like that?

  “Blessed are the meek. . . .”

  Jesus had preached faith, hope, and love. He’d reached out to the sick, the lame, the woman about to be stoned for her sin of adultery. . . .

  Christ had intervened and evened her path to righteousness. Surely God didn’t inflict pain on all women for one person’s actions, but the little he knew about pregnancy left him aggravated.

  He’d hated fighting in the war but believed in a just cause and did his duty as he was trained.

  He disliked crime and danger but knew his skills kept people safe, the faithful sheepdog guarding the flock.

  But a pregnant teenage girl in his care?

  That left him stymied.

  Tell someone. Talk to someone, a woman, someone who has gone through the experience. Someone who might know what doctors are good. In combat, you sought advice. This is no different.

  But it was, and that knowledge cut Mike to the core because discussing Mary Lynn’s pregnancy brought it into the open. He’d been hiding her condition for weeks, and he knew why. Illegitimate children brought shame to a family, and this was his shame to bear because he hadn’t looked out for her properly.