Audrey walked with him to the door as a courtesy. “Thank you for coming, Vicar.”
He turned to her again on the front step. “In these hard times, we have so many questions for God. And I know you’re probably at loose ends, wondering where to turn and what comes next. But may I leave you with a question to think about as you sort things through?” She tilted her head in a reluctant nod, not really wanting to hear his question, knowing it likely would be a difficult one. “What might God be asking you to do?” he said.
She didn’t reply. She closed the door as if closing it on his question as well.
Shortly before Christmas, Audrey’s uncle telephoned. “Your aunt and I would like you to join us at our country home for the holidays,” he said. “We hate to think of you sitting at Wellingford Hall all alone. Come be with your family.”
Audrey bit back an angry reply. When had they ever been a family? There had been no family Christmas celebrations before the war when Mother was alive. As an important member of the House of Lords, her uncle had very little contact with his sister, the black sheep. Audrey had last seen him at her mother’s funeral.
“Did you know that I married an American during the war?” she asked. “We have a son. He’s six months old.”
“You should have contacted us so we could congratulate you.”
“Unfortunately, my husband passed away a few months ago.”
For a long moment, there was nothing but static on the line. “I’m so sorry, Audrey,” he finally said.
“Thank you for the invitation, but I think I’ll spend Christmas at Wellingford. I’m still in mourning, you see. I’m sure you’ll understand.”
“Of course, of course. But I hope you’ll contact your aunt and me when you’re ready. There’s room here for you to stay and also at our London town house. We could introduce you to the people we know. You’re our niece, after all.”
“The people we know.” They would be the same people Mother wanted Audrey to meet—boring, unimaginative, cold. Nothing at all like her beloved Robert. She couldn’t go back to those people. Not after knowing him.
“Thank you for your kind offer. I’ll be in touch when I’m ready.” But Audrey couldn’t imagine when she ever would be ready.
26
USA, DECEMBER 1946
Like everything else in America, the Christmas celebrations were extravagant. Eve sat in church with the Barretts on her first Christmas Eve, and the sheer weight of the festivities, with twinkling trees, garlands of greenery, and piles of poinsettias, made her feel buried alive. She was back in the ATS training shed in her gas suit, but this time Audrey wasn’t here to pull her out. Eve looked up at the beamed ceiling, fighting panic, and recalled the collapsed roof of Guards’ Chapel, the buried worshipers. She fought to breathe, shifting her gaze to the side where a stunning stained-glass window across the aisle from the Barrett family pew depicted the Good Shepherd. It was startlingly similar to Granny Maud’s picture of the Good Shepherd, now buried in the debris of the Clarksons’ town house. Buried along with Eve’s faith. She had tried to avoid coming to church, using her six-month-old son as an excuse to stay home. But the Barretts hired a very competent nurse to take care of him. Wealthy families like theirs could hire an army of nannies and nursemaids.
Eve closed her eyes as the choir sang, remembering the waxy smell of candles in the village church, the holly branches decorating the windowsills. She had sat between Granny Maud and Mum on Christmas Eve, singing “Silent Night” and listening to the story of baby Jesus in the manger. Granny especially loved the shepherds.
“Your daddy and granddaddy were shepherds,” she said, year after year. “I like to think that the angels would have appeared to them if Jesus had been born in England.” The story intrigued Eve as a child. Jesus was a king, like the king of England, yet He’d been born among common people like her. In a barn, not in Buckingham Palace. “Where else would the Good Shepherd be born but in a stable?” Granny said when Eve asked about it. “Who else should His first visitors be but His fellow shepherds? They wouldn’t dare walk into Buckingham Palace, but they would be right at home in a stable.”
Eve opened her eyes again. Mrs. Barrett reached for her hand and squeezed it as the pastor spoke of Christmas as a time for families. Eve was aware of the love that had grown between her and Robert’s parents in just a few short months. She and Harry filled an empty place in their lives, and they had filled one in hers. They’d enveloped Eve in their love, never questioning who she was, nor had they commented on her son’s red hair and blue eyes, so different from Robert’s. Audrey had been a fool not to come. The Barretts were the loving parents Audrey had longed for all her life. But Audrey’s loss was Eve’s gain.