Long minutes passed before she gathered enough strength to resume the simple task of getting supper ready. She opened the door to the warming oven and found two meat pies. She sniffed. Beef.
A rap on the kitchen door drew her attention. She could still hear the children shrieking in the yard, so it wasn’t them. She hoped it wasn’t Cora or any of the other town gossips. They did not need visitors in the midst of crisis. She set down the hot pie, snitched a bit of crust, and cracked open the door.
“It’s us,” said Beatrice. “How is she?”
“Nothing yet.” Darcy fell into her friend’s embrace. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Don’t worry. It can take time.” But she looked worried. “In the meantime, we’re here to help.”
“We?”
Beatrice stepped inside and revealed Jack standing on the bottom step.
Darcy blinked. “What are you doing here?”
“That’s a fine welcome.” He tugged off his cap. “Just wanted to see how you’re holding up.”
“Me? I’m not the one in labor.” Darcy returned to the worktable and cut into the pies. The rich brown gravy bubbled up through slits in the crust. She knew she’d snapped at Jack, but she didn’t want him to see her so frazzled. She needed to talk with Beattie. Alone.
Beatrice located plates and forks. “I’ll send over some sweet buns a little later.”
“Thank you,” Darcy said softly. “I need to round up the children for supper.”
“I’ll help.” Jack popped out the door.
“He’s a good man,” said Beattie after the door closed. “And he likes you very much.”
“I’m not so sure.” Every time she got a little closer to Jack, he pulled away. Sure, he let her fly the test flights, but that was it. Real closeness required sharing what was deep inside, his hopes and desires, his pains and sorrow.
“Is that why you snapped at him?”
Darcy jabbed into the second pie. “I’m not snapping at anyone.”
Beatrice set down the utensils and hugged her. “It’s all right. Amelia will be fine.”
Darcy struggled for words. “She asked me…to take the children, i-if she dies. Until Charles remarries. What would I do? She can’t die. She can’t.”
Beattie hugged her closer. “Let’s pray.” They folded their hands together into one, the way they did when they were children. “Dear heavenly Father, we ask your blessing on Amelia tonight. Guide her baby safely into this world and preserve that dear child’s mother—”
The door flew open.
“I hope you’re ready for the troops,” said Jack.
Darcy broke from prayer, hoping God understood. She quickly dried her face on her sleeve, but a bit of gasoline stung her eyes. She rapidly blinked to hold back the tears.
“March, one, two, three.” The children pushed behind Jack. “Youngest first, hands out for inspection. Palm up.”
One by one, the children paraded into the kitchen and showed their hands to Darcy. She swallowed her emotion and played along for their sake. After each passed inspection, the child marched into the dining room. Beatrice then followed with the first of the plates.
“How did you manage?” Darcy asked Jack as she handed him two full plates. “Take these into the dining room.”
Instead of obeying her directive, he set the plates on the worktable. “Military school. Do you know you’re lovely when you give orders?” He took her hands.
“Which you are disobeying.” But her voice faltered, and she had to look away. No man liked to see a woman cry.
“It will be all right.” He wiped her tears and took her in his arms. Strong and safe. He gently rocked her, and she let her head rest on his shoulder. The familiar scent of shaving soap. She lingered as he stroked her hair. Then he kissed her forehead and then kissed away the tears. His lips found hers, and she melted into the embrace. So this was love, feeling so much a part of another that she’d do anything for him. Anything. She remembered Amelia. Love put her sister close to death.
She pushed away. “Stop, stop.” She fought to free herself.
“What’s wrong?” Jack looked confused.
How could she explain? He’d never understand.
Waaaah. An infant’s cry pierced the air.
Jack’s lips slowly curved upward.
Seconds later, Charles burst into the room. “It’s a baby. She had a baby.” He dashed into the dining room to tell his children.
This time Darcy let the tears fall. “A baby,” she burbled, “Amelia had her baby.” But the joy was tempered with fear. Had her sister survived? She accepted Jack’s outstretched arms and sobbed on his shoulder.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” said Beattie, bursting into the kitchen. “Oh.”
Darcy pulled away from Jack and dried her eyes. “It’s not what you think.”
“What do I think?” Beatrice smiled coyly as Papa pushed open the kitchen door.
“It’s a boy,” he said.
Thankfully, he hadn’t seen her in Jack’s arms. “How is Amelia?”
“Tired but well.”
“Thank God.” A hundredfold.