'Tis the Season: A Collection of Mimi's Christmas Books (39 page)

Her nerves began to clamour and odd things were happening in her tummy. Fear hit her about the same time as the dryness in her mouth made talking impossible. She blinked away surprising tears and then stared at her clenched hands. For the life of her, she couldn’t utter a word. To say she was traumatized was an understatement.

Footsteps approached the bed, drawing her gaze upward. The handsome, dark-haired man moved closer, and she was transfixed by the striking blue of his eyes. She knew those eyes—the silvery black streaks highlighting the deep cerulean. The sparkle, the depth—they were the same eyes that stared out at her every time she looked into a mirror. Those eyes.

“You’re my father.” The words popped out before she could stop them from being formed.

“Yes, I am, Abbie.” He had a deep voice, gentle and husky, with a slight accent she couldn’t make out. He was tall and broad-shouldered; his suit, uncovered by outer garments, fit him impeccably and gave him the look of a well-to-do person, comfortable and even sophisticated.

His arm reached back as he turned and beckoned to the small woman hovering in Madeline’s arms. She had tears pouring down her face, a handkerchief clutched in her tight grip, and her eyes glued to Abbie. “And this is your mother.”

A thought popped into Abbie’s head from out of thin air.
Oh, Marcus! How wonderful…

Shock, unexpected but wholly natural under the circumstances, brought a cry of astonishment from Abbie’s lips. And taking this as a sign of rejection, the lady broke down completely. Sobs wracked her body as though they originated and were forced up from the deepest regions inside.

Before she knew she would or could, Abbie flung back the covers and stumbled a few steps from the bed to take her mother into her arms. “Please don’t cry so. You’ll make yourself sick, and—and there’s only room for one in that chintzy hospital cot.”

Her nonsense did the trick and dispelled the horrible strain instantly. Chuckling, her father joined them and led both the faltering women back to the bed. In the meantime, her mother desperately tried to get herself under control.

“Abbie, under the covers now. There’s a good girl.” Madeline had rushed to hold the blankets up, indicating for Abbie to return. “Now that they’ve found you, I don’t think Hans and Corrie could stand losing you again.”

Shyness attacked and had Abbie following orders. She covered up and then shrank back against her pillows. Wringing her hands, she stared first at Madeline, who smiled back and nodded, and then she gazed at the nervous woman Madeline had called “Corrie.”

The abject need written over her face clutched at Abbie’s heart. Without thought, she reached out her hand and smiled when her mother lifted it to her lips. While the lady in distress held it against her damp cheeks, Abbie’s eyes took in every detail, devouring all of her attractions. She was tiny, like Abbie, but with silver streaks artfully appearing throughout her professionally styled dark hair. Her luminous grey eyes were large and, at this moment, pleading. She looked to be about forty years old, but that would be impossible. Still, a beautiful woman always held her age well, and her mother ranked as one of the most beautiful Abbie had ever seen.

When she spoke, her voice broke every so often and made the words even more poignant. “We’ve been a right pair of idiots, Abbie. And we’ve wasted so many years.”

“Please tell me. I want to know everything.”

Madeline moved away from the side of the bed and drew everyone’s attention. “I’ll leave you three to catch up and get acquainted while I ring Marcus and see if he can give us a ride back to your hotel. If not, I can take you myself. Not to worry. We shan’t leave Bertie there alone for too long.” With a cheerful nod, she left the room and closed the door.

“Bertie?” Abbie clung to that one word to give herself time to digest the news. The dream of every child in the orphanage was actually happening—to her. The dream of having parents arrive one day to say it had all been a mistake, the dream of going home.

“Bertie’s our poodle. We had no one to care for him at such short notice, and thanks to Hans’ diplomatic status, we were able to pack him up and bring him along. He’s at the hotel.”

Abbie loved animals, especially dogs. “Poor baby. He’ll be alone and afraid. You must return before the snow leaves you stranded here.”

“Not to worry, Abbie. Right now it’s you we need to be with.” Her father’s voice left no doubt in her mind that he meant every word.

“Sir, please sit on the bed, here. You can’t be too comfortable leaning against the wall.” Abbie moved her feet and made room for him. He smiled at her, and she felt a blush start on her cheeks and work its way straight to her hairline. No one had ever looked at her with such pride before, and she didn’t know if she could handle it.

“My name is Hans, Abbie. Hans Strauss, but I’d prefer it if you could call me ‘Father.’ If not, then at least use my first name instead of being so formal.”

“I’d like to call you ‘Father,’ and I will, once I get to know you better. Will ‘Hans’ be all right for now?”

“Splendid.” He settled himself at the end of the bed and patted a place across from him for his wife. “The female who’s eating you up with her eyes is Corrie Strauss, your mother. A few days ago, Madeline contacted us with wonderful news—our daughter was alive and lived here in Bury. You see, we thought you were dead. To make a long story short, Corrie named you Ann, after her mother. She put the note with her instructions for your name in the basket with you when she left you at the orphanage. Later, after the war, she contacted them by letter to find out what had happened to you, and was told that the baby called Ann had died from complications with chicken pox as a toddler. But what we didn’t know was that they must have already had a child called Ann and maybe thought it would be difficult to have another with the same name, and so they called you Abigail instead.”

Corrie, interrupted to carry on with the story. “Hans was a pilot, a German pilot, and during the war he crashed close to where I lived with Madeline. We saved him from the burning plane, and then we hid him from the authorities. The moment I saw him, Abbie, I fell in love with him, and he with me. We shouldn’t have let ourselves get carried away, but it was a different time then. Life had become extremely precious, and so had love. Back then, no one knew if they’d live to see another day.”

Maybe Abbie wouldn’t have appreciated this theory if she hadn’t spent those momentous hours with Marcus, but she certainly did now. “It’s all right. I do understand.” She patted her mother’s hand to accentuate her words. “Go on.”

“Our love should never have happened, though, because, well… You see, I was married to another. My husband, a soldier for the British army, fought overseas and had been away for many long and lonely months. Not that that is an excuse—there is none—but it is an explanation.”

Hans smiled tenderly at his wife and then leaned over to stop her from tearing at her handkerchief. “Just tell her, sweetheart. She’ll understand.”

When Abbie nodded, Corrie smiled back weakly and continued. “Tom, my husband, got shot soon after Hans escaped back to Germany. They sent a message that he would be shipped home to England to recuperate. Tom was so young, we both were, and since he didn’t have any other family left—they were killed in a bombing raid—he needed me to take care of him. The bullets had entered his spine and left him a paraplegic. Oh, God, Abbie, I didn’t know what to do. The stress brought on an early delivery, and I knew I couldn’t care for both of you…” The tears had started up again, but she valiantly fought to control them, as if once started her rehearsed explanation had to be told.

Finally, through intermittent sniffles, lips wobbling, she added, “Those days were brutal for everyone in Britain, and we had nothing—no home, no money. My darling girl, I had to choose between my baby and my husband, and society forced me to choose the wrong way. God exacted his punishment, though. A few years later, after Tom passed away, I tried to find you, only to be told you had died. Life held no meaning for me after that, until the war ended and Hans came looking for me. We married and moved to Paris, but I could never get pregnant again. All these years we’ve yearned for children and…”

At this point, Abbie’s control broke, along with her mother’s. The two hugged, and within a short time, Abbie felt strong arms enclose them both. “Shush, my dears. The nurses will be furious if Abbie gets sick again. You must restrain yourselves.” The husky note in Hans’ voice betrayed his emotion and made the family hug even more precious.

Abbie won restraint first and, keeping both her mother’s and her father’s hands in hers, she straightened and shared her smiles between them. “Other than being an orphan, I had a wonderful childhood. The Sisters treated me well and gave me a good home. I’d always understood, because of the war, there had been so many babies left without families that adoption for all of us would be impossible, especially for the older children. But I truly didn’t mind. I loved helping with the little ones, and Sister Agnes, Mother Superior today, was kindness itself. In fact, I still live at Holly Mount, in the gardener’s cottage. They allow me to have the space rent-free in exchange for my helping with the children every day.”

“Truly, you’re happy? Life hasn’t been too horrible?” Corrie asked the questions, but both sets of eyes watched closely for her reaction.

She looked from one to the other. “I may have wished for a real family from time to time, but I’ve never felt unloved. Now that Madeline’s been able to bring us together again, and I’ll have parents of my own, I’m that thrilled.” She meant every word, and the other two knew it from the sincerity ringing in her voice.

As if listening for her name, Madeline slipped into the room and sidled toward the bed. With all eyes focused on her, she grinned—a bit of a wobbly grin, Abbie noted, but a definite smile. “I couldn’t stay out any longer. It was killing me to know if you’ve been able to settle things. Ever since I saw Abbie, my own guilt in this tragedy has been quite unbearable.”

Directing her words to Abbie, she blinked and gulped over and over until she’d won the battle and regained the use of her voice. “You see, it was my fault Corrie gave you to the nuns. It was my advice she followed when she couldn’t think straight for herself. I’ve always regretted telling her to give you up, but once Tom returned, she had her hands full. He’d been badly injured, and she spent every minute of the day nursing him. I would have looked after you myself, but I couldn’t take the chance of something happening to you. I didn’t feel it was safe where we lived. As it was, I’d worried myself sick about Marcus and finally broke down and sent him farther out in the country, to a family I knew there. Then I not only worked in the factory, I also helped in the nursing home. At the time, I thought taking care of a baby wasn’t feasible. Now I regret it terribly. Even back then I’d begun to wonder if we’d done the right thing. Instead of admitting my uncertainty, though, I let it rest.” She shrugged her shoulders and looked as if she had more to say. But instead, she only added, “I’m ever so sorry, Abbie.”

“Please don’t upset yourself, Madeline. During a time of war, I suspect different rules apply to most everything. I’ve not been unhappy. As I explained to Corrie and Hans, I really did have a rather easy time of it compared to many others who were sent away from their homes.”

Aware that a beaming smile would speak louder than words, she made sure they all saw and felt her truth. Unfortunately her sagging shoulders and pale face told a hidden story of their own. Her exhaustion couldn’t be covered up with happiness.

“We have so much to catch up on, Liebling, but I think you’ve had about all you can take for now.” Her father leaned over her, smoothed her hair from her cheeks, and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Come, Corrie, kiss Abbie good-bye for now. Tomorrow we’ll take Madeline up on her most delightful offer to stay with her and Marcus for the next few days. But for now, with the storm getting worse and the daylight fading, we must be off to our hotel.”

Abbie saw Madeline slip out of the room after she’d confessed her part in Abbie’s past. She suspected the thoughtful dear wanted to give the family time to say their good-byes in private. Corrie, interrupting her introspection after her husband’s request, nodded and leaned over Abbie, who now lay flat on the bed. How her father had manoeuvred her there, she’d never know, such was her exhaustion, but he had, and she appreciated his thoughtfulness.

“Good-bye, my darling daughter. I love you, and I can’t wait until we can spend more time together. Your father and I will be back tomorrow, for sure.”

The door opened as the two met at the end of the bed and stood smiling down at Abbie. All three looked over as Madeline came waltzing back into the room like an actress answering her cue to appear on stage. “With his secretary’s help, I found Marcus, but it seems we can’t depend on him to drive us back. Despite how unusual this is, he’s been spending a lot of time at the orphanage, and right now he’s asleep while holding a colicky baby. Sister Agnes offered to wake him, but I said no. If Hans will drive my car, I’ll just book a room for tonight and help you celebrate at the hotel. Marcus’ housekeeper will have his meal prepared and ready for him when he gets home, so he’ll be able to manage without me for tonight.”

“We’d be delighted to have you stay in our suite with us.” Corrie reached for Madeline’s hand, her face alight with excited joy. “I’m fit to bursting, and Hans hardly ever talks while he’s driving. Your company will be most appreciated, my friend.”

All three blew kisses before closing the door behind them, and Abbie returned their gestures of affection. Once more alone, she grinned to herself and then laughed aloud, but only for a few seconds. Exhausted, not physically but mentally, she rolled to her side and tucked her clasped hands under her cheek.
How absolutely splendid. Madeline is not my mother, and so it just stands to reason that Marcus is not my brother. Oh, my darling man! Will you be getting a shock after I’ve had a few hours’ sleep!

Chapter Eighteen