Meant-To-Be Baby. Lois Richer
why she’d been so insistent that Ben be Mikey’s father.
He also wondered how long she’d be staying here, at The Haven, in the middle of nowhere. She was young, obviously hip and unmarried, judging by her bare ring finger. Her affection for the elderly sisters was obvious, her manner with them protective.
Though she seemed at home here at The Haven, Ben didn’t get the feeling that Victoria lived here full-time. Or hadn’t until recently. Comments from her sisters and her aunts about finally coming home made him want to know more about her.
When Mikey burst out bawling because the apple crisp dessert reminded him of his mom, Victoria didn’t try to change the subject or avoid the topic. Instead she wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulders and encouraged more memories. Within minutes, she had his nephew giggling as she tried to demonstrate his description of butterfly kisses.
Suddenly Ben hoped it would take Tillie and Margaret a while to find Mikey a family, long enough for him to figure out what made Victoria’s gray eyes turn to soot when she didn’t think anyone was watching.
“Oh. You’re still up.”
Victoria paused in the doorway of the biggest room at The Haven, which was also the only one with a lit fireplace. Tillie and Margaret called this room The Salon but she’d always known it as their family room, the place where they’d shared their lives. Now it was occupied by their visitor.
“Couldn’t sleep. Probably because I ate too much of your sister’s delicious chicken pie.” Firelight flickered across Ben, seated in Margaret’s wingback chair in front of the fire, with Tillie’s lurid purple-and-green afghan covering his legs. “What’s that?”
“Hot chocolate. Want some?” Victoria didn’t want to share with him. In fact, she wished he’d stayed in his room. She wanted to be alone, to think things through, to figure out her next step. But she couldn’t think with Ben nearby because his searching blue eyes made her nervous, fidgety.
Still, he was a guest and the aunts’ lessons on hospitality had been deeply engrained in her.
“I’ll get another cup.”
“Don’t bother,” he called as Victoria scurried away like the frightened mouse she felt but didn’t want anyone to see.
She drew a deep breath for control, patted her unsettled stomach, wondering if morning sickness could also be evening sickness and if its cause now was that her baby knew his mother didn’t have a job now, or even a next step planned. Grimacing, she grabbed another mug and returned.
“No bother. There’s more in that carafe than I can drink anyway.” She filled his mug and set it on the round table, near his elbow. She added another log to the fire before sinking into Tillie’s chair and cuddling her own cup while her brain scrambled for a topic of conversation. Ben beat her to it.
“Are there a lot of fireplaces in this house?” His gaze slid from the river-stone chimney to the massive fir mantel and granite-slab hearth.
“Yes. The Haven was built to be self-sufficient. Thankfully there’s enough deadwood on the property to fuel the fireplaces.” She loved this sagging, worn chair, not for the comfort it offered but for the memories it evoked. “Tom and Jerry were very smart men.”
“Tom and Jerry being?” Ben studied her, one eyebrow arched in an inquisitive expression.
“How long has Aunt Tillie been writing you?” Victoria couldn’t believe he hadn’t heard the whole story already.
“Just over seven months. Why?”
“My aunts started writing letters to military personnel more than twenty years ago when they joined the local Legion. A former colonel suggested those who protect and serve our country might need someone to talk to and since the aunts missed their missionary work, they wrote.” Victoria smiled at the memories of all the service men and women who’d visited The Haven during her teen years. Could she give her child such good memories?
“That’s a lot of letters,” Ben murmured.
“After a couple of years, the aunts developed a format. They usually give some personal history within the first two or three letters. Did they do that with you?” When he shook his head, she inhaled before explaining. “So how did you make contact with Aunt Tillie?”
“She wrote to me, said she was praying for Africa and my name was on the list of servicemen serving there. She asked if I had any special requests. Some of my buddies said I should write back.” Ben smiled. “Tillie was the one who led me to God. So what’s the history of The Haven?”
“That’s a long story. It starts with brothers, Tom and Jerry Havenston, hence The Haven. Tillie and Margaret were nurses and met the two when they were visiting Chokecherry Hollow. The aunts fell in love with the brothers. The four wanted to be married, but the ladies had already promised to go as missionaries to what was then Rhodesia.”
“So I guess the brothers planned to go, too?” Ben asked.
“Yes, but Jerry contracted scarlet fever. Tillie and Margaret delayed their departure to nurse him at a friend’s home but his recovery was very slow.” As usual, Victoria felt a rush of sympathy for the two couples.
“I’m listening,” Ben encouraged.
“The missions’ society sponsoring the aunts kept pressing them to leave to replace other missionaries due to return to Canada. Jerry and Tom did, too. They wanted the sisters to keep their commitment to the society.”
“Why?” Ben frowned.
“Because as the sons of missionaries who’d served in Africa, Tom and Jerry knew what the mission meant to the Africans. They insisted the aunts shouldn’t break their promise to the society,” Victoria explained.
“Strong men.” Ben sounded approving.
“Very. Anyway, Tillie and Margaret left believing their fiancés would join them later. They were in Africa four months before they learned Tom had had a heart attack rendering him unable to travel. The aunts prepared to return, but the men telegrammed begging them to stay. The men had heard rumors that if left understaffed, the government would probably close the sisters’ Rhodesian mission. They did not want Tillie and Margaret to alter what they believed was God’s will.”
“So they stayed here and built The Haven,” Ben guessed.
“You’re jumping way ahead,” Victoria protested.
“Missionaries get furloughs, don’t they?” Ben asked.
“Yes. A month after Tillie and Margaret returned to Canada, Tom had a second heart attack. And another after that. Everyone feared he’d die.” Victoria could hardly bear to think of her aunts’ distress. “Aunt Tillie told me she and Margaret took turns nursing him until he slowly recovered. The aunts returned to Rhodesia after Tom and Jerry agreed they’d follow when possible. Again they made plans to marry.”
“Even fifty years ago, it must have taken a fortune to buy all the land and build The Haven.” Ben frowned. “The aunts gave up a comfy life.”
“Oh, the brothers weren’t wealthy at first. In fact, they supported their widowed and ailing sister and her two children.” Victoria smiled. “It took years before they became successful. But I digress.”
“They couldn’t go to Africa,” Ben guessed.
“No, because their sister died, leaving them guardians of her daughters. Both were sickly. Tom and Jerry eventually realized that their own poor health would never allow them to travel to Africa.” Victoria saw empathy flash across his face.
“Just shows how our plans can change in an instant,” he murmured.
Boy, did Victoria know about that.