Wartime Brides Collection

Chapter Seven

Chapter SevenNoreen sat at the kitchen table, her dog-eared Bible open in her lap. She glanced at her watch, and her stomach clenched. Rosa had been gone for six hours. She insisted she could make the journey to the Ministry of Labor on her own. Would Kathryn’s husband come through as she had promised? Did he have the authority to grant Rosa her working papers?

“Forgive my doubts, Father. As usual I’m running ahead of you and worrying about how things will turn out. Thank you for providing the money we need to purchase food. And thank you for sending Kathryn to us. Help me believe her husband is the answer to our prayers.”

Peace settled over Noreen, and she rubbed her eyes. “Thank You, God.”

She rose from her seat and set the iron kettle on the stove. While she waited for the water to boil, she stared out the window. Nestled among the branches of the nearby elm tree, a robin fed her chicks. They wriggled and bumped each other, mouths gaping. For several minutes the mama bird dropped food into their open beaks.

A shrill whistle filled the air. Noreen turned off the gas and lifted the kettle off the burner. Pouring the hot water over the tea leaves in the strainer, she sighed. “You keep reminding me, don’t you, Lord? After all this time of being provided for, you would think I wouldn’t stumble with doubt and discouragement. But I’m tired. So very tired. And lonely. Why did you have to take Edmund? Why couldn’t you heal him here on earth? It’s not fair. You took my entire family, Father. What sort of plan includes that?”

Tears trickled down her cheeks. She swiped at them with stiff, aching fingers. Holding out her hands, she examined her swollen knuckles. England’s damp weather exacerbated her arthritis which made weaving more difficult than usual.

She squared her shoulders. If Rosa could work in the fields, Noreen could endure the pain of making baskets.

A key sounded in the lock. Noreen yanked a towel off the rack by the sink and wiped her face. She tossed the cloth on the counter and pinned a smile on her face before turning toward the door.

Rosa burst in with a wide grin. Wisps of hair had escaped from the pins holding down her blonde tresses and framed her flushed face. She slipped off her coat and hung it on a hook by the door. She opened her handbag and held up a sheaf of papers. “It’s official. I am allowed to work in England!”

Noreen clapped her hands. Rosa rushed forward and smothered her in a hug. “I’m sorry it took so long, but after I got my papers, I went to the Land Army office to sign up. I’ve been assigned to Mr. Quincey’s farm. Mrs. Howarth must have spoken with them. Everything was arranged before I got there.”

A chill swept over Noreen. Who was this Basil Quincey? Was it the same man she remembered who derided women and participated in shady businesses? “Come, child. Sit down. I was just about to have a cup of tea. Join me.”

“Ja. That would be good. It’s a bit kühl outside.”

Noreen prepared a second cup of tea, and the women sat down at the table.

Rosa wrapped her hands around the warm vessel and sipped the steaming amber liquid. “Mmmm. It is warming me up from the inside.” She glanced at Noreen, and her smile turned to a frown. She set the cup down with a thunk then grasped Noreen’s hands in hers. “Here I am talking all about me while you are upset. You have been crying. What’s wrong?”

Pulling away Noreen gave a dismissive wave. “It’s nothing. Just a bit of melancholy this morning. It happens. I want to talk about you. Tell me everything. It will go a long way to making me feel better.” She took another sip from her tepid tea. “Please. Tell me.”

“If you insist.” Rosa c****d her head and squinted at Noreen. “But I’m worried about you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

After a long look, Rosa pushed away her tea and spread the papers on the table. She smoothed out the creases then pointed to the signature at the bottom. “As you can see, it’s official. I was quite nervous, but I prayed to God, and he gave me a sense of calm.” She sat back in the chair. “You have taught me well to lean on God.”

At least one of us isn’t full of doubts, Lord. Noreen patted Rosa’s hand. “Good for you. What is Mr. Howarth like? I have a hard time imagining who would marry Kathryn.” She grinned. “He must be a man of few words.”

Rosa nodded, and her bell-like laughter filled the kitchen. “You’re right. He asked very few questions. He wanted to know about my experience working in the fields. He said I looked too frail for farm work, but I assured him I was up to the task. I told him about our gardens at home. He seemed satisfied after that. He mumbled something about his wife’s projects. Apparently, he thinks I may be one of them.”

“But what does he look like?”

“He’s a big bear of a man. Even sitting behind the desk he looked quite large. His blond hair is cut very short, giving him a military appearance. But he had friendly-looking brown eyes.” She shook her head. “But he also seemed weary. There were stacks and stacks of papers on his desk. He must work a tremendous number of hours.”

Noreen rubbed a scratch on the wooden table. “What did he say about your assignment? Does he know this Mr. Quincey? It could be dangerous to work for a man you don’t know.”

“He spoke highly of the man. Said Mr. Quincey has changed a great deal in the ten years since his father passed away and he inherited the farm. In fact, Mr. Howarth said Mr. Quincey is a Christian. No one believed him at first.” Rosa blushed. “Apparently, he was a bit of a Schurke. . .uh. . .scoundrel as a young man.”

“Scoundrel is right. He had no respect for authority, and treated women as if they were only created to do his bidding. He spent lots of time at the pubs, and it wasn’t just for the food.” Noreen clenched her fists, and the nails on her hand bit into her palms. This Quincey fellow was the man she knew. Only God could have changed a man like that.

Rosa’s gaze shot to Noreen’s face. “You know him?”

“Yes, more than I’d like to admit. He’s a distant cousin. Five or six times removed. But his behaviors make me ashamed to be related.”

“Why didn’t you say anything when Mrs. Howarth mentioned him? Was he that bad?”

Massaging her knuckles Noreen looked past Rosa out the window. How much should she say?

“Mutti?”

“Most of what I know is third-hand.” Noreen rubbed her forehead with a cold hand. “I cannot abide gossip, but it’s important you know what was said about Mr. Quincey.”

Rosa sat back and crossed her arms. “None of that matters. He’s different now. A Christian. God has wiped away his past sins.”

“True, but you are best served by entering into this with your eyes open.”

“If you insist on telling me, I will listen. But you must give Mr. Quincey the benefit of the doubt. The woman in line behind me was assigned to work his farm, too. She said he has done many charitable things in the community.”

Noreen raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. In the past he was driven by the accumulation of money. His father’s farm was successful, but Basil always wanted it to be more. Bigger. More profitable. There was a drought, and many farms failed. In desperation, the owners had to sell. He was the only one buying, and he paid less than market value.” She swallowed. “And it didn’t matter if the owners were related to him.”

Rosa’s eyes widened. “He did your family wrong, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” Noreen failed to keep the bitterness from her voice. “He waited until we were nearly starving when he approached my father. Said he could make his credit problems disappear.” She shivered. “But he insisted that I be part of the bargain.”

“How so?” Rosa’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“He said he would only purchase the farm at my father’s asking price, if I became his courtesan. Who even uses that word?” Noreen snorted. “When my father asked why he wouldn’t marry me, Basil said he wouldn’t marry outside his class.” She sighed. “Fortunately my father refused the offer. But he was never able to sell, and eventually the bank took possession. Basil was able to pick up the property for a fraction of its worth.”

Rosa’s hand clutched at her throat. “How awful. You must hate him.”

Noreen shook her head. “Not anymore. Edmund helped me see how useless it was to hold on to the anger. Basil was a ruthless man. Is a bit of money scattered here and there toward worthy causes enough to prove he has a new heart? Has God changed him? Is he a new man? Frankly, that remains to be seen.”