Over and over again Lily had lied. It wasn’t an ideal way to spend a Wednesday, but on four separate occasions, coworkers had asked if she was feeling well. She insisted she was doing just fine, which wasn’t the least bit true. Not since yesterday evening, when she had secretly phoned from the boardinghouse. In a residence for unwed women with the highest moral caliber, such calls had to be made furtively. Informed of Samuel’s condition, she began worrying herself sick.
I’ll be on a bus first thing tomorrow, she’d contended. She was told not to come, that it wasn’t necessary, that she was being ridiculous. After all, she would see him again on Friday. But that was still two days away. Days that would stretch out like years.
Thus, she strove to pass the hours as best she could. She busied herself with filing, phone calls, and dictation, reminding herself that to come and go as she pleased wasn’t an option, not with a boss like Howard Trimble. Unless she hoped to be out of a job.
She even managed to refrain from phoning again about Samuel, save for once over her lunch hour. But now the chief had departed for a four o’clock meeting, gone for the remainder of the day. With a good portion of the city room cleared out, and the rest focused on tomorrow’s deadline, Lily finally had sufficient privacy.
She summoned the operator on her desk phone and was connected to her family’s deli. A shared line with their home above the store meant two chances to obtain an update. How could she possibly rest until she knew he was well?
Samuel was the center of her world, and of her heart. He was her first thought upon waking, her last before sleep.
He was her cherished four-year-old son.
A series of bleating rings ceased when her mother answered, and Lily cut in.
“How’s he feeling?”
“Oh, honey. He’s fine.”
“His fever is gone, then.”
“I told you, there’s nothing to worry about.” Her avoidance of the question caused Lily to clench the receiver.
“How hot is he?” At the pause, Lily demanded, “What’s his temperature?”
A long, exasperated sigh. “A hundred and one.”
“I’m coming home.”
“But, Lily, you have work tomorrow. You’ll have barely arrived before you have to turn right back around.”
It was a valid point, given the two-hour bus ride each way. And the stops in their small town ran scarce in the evenings.
“Then I’ll stay overnight.”
“The first bus doesn’t leave until eight in the morning. You know this.”
“So I’ll be a little late returning. The chief will have to understand.”
“Now, that’s just foolish.”
Lily was already rising from her chair, ready to grab her handbag and set off straight for the bus depot. She would first leave a note for her boss, citing a vague family emergency.
“Lillian Harper.” Her mother’s tone shifted, firming on two words that instantly turned Lily into a child herself. “I understand you’re concerned. But remember the last time you rushed back? All over a tummy ache. Even the doctor said it’s not good for you to get riled up like this. And it’s not good for Samuel either.”
Logic said she was right. As was the doctor. Yet logic had nothing to do with the true reason behind Lily’s fears over her son’s well-being.
She was tempted to explain this at last. Her mother would understand, wouldn’t she? After all, through the most trying of times, her support was a constant. Even when Lily’s father, in an initial fit of devastation, had threatened to disown his only child. And who could fully blame him? Lily was supposed to be the “miracle baby” destined for greatness, a reward for ten taxing years of pregnancy attempts. At seventeen she had shown such promise, the first in the family line with plans to attend college, all of which she’d thrown away for a night with a boy she barely knew.
Mind you, that error became a blessing. Not only in the form of Samuel but also in the enduring love of her family, ultimately standing by her when so many others sneered. In fact, those looks of disgust had strengthened her with the will to part from her son every week. She had long ago learned to tolerate the judgment of her town, its size no larger than a thumbprint. She refused, however, to allow the same for Samuel, whose innocence provided but a temporary shield. Unlike the two poor boys in Ellis’s first feature, he would never question whether he was wanted. Not if Lily had any say. By the time he was of school age, she would have enough funds for a fresh start in another city and an apartment of their own. She could even pass as a young widow now at twenty-two, eliminating the need to hide the most cherished piece of her life.
But until that time, she would worry—yes, far more than she should. And though she had her reasons, she realized she would never speak them aloud. To her mother most of all.
“I can take you.”
The man’s voice startled Lily. She swung around to face Clayton Brauer, his hands resting in his trouser pockets.
“Pardon me?” She muted the mouthpiece against her chest. Her heartbeat quickened as she reviewed his comment.
“You need a lift, and my interview canceled.” He raised a shoulder in his typical style, not bothering with a full shrug. “A car will get you there twice as fast. Then if you want to come back tonight, you’ll make it in time for work.”
“I’m afraid I’m…not sure what you might’ve heard—”
“Miss Palmer, if your son is sick, you ought to look in on him.”
She froze, forgetting to breathe, until her mother’s voice reminded Lily of the connected line. “Mother, I’ll ring you back,” she said and hung up the call.
As the top crime reporter at the Examiner for the past four years, Clayton had the chief’s ear more than almost anyone on staff. The last thing Lily needed was her boss, along with her landlady, to learn she had been grossly untruthful, tracing all the way back to her job interview with Mr. Baylor, conducted on the chief’s behalf.
Married? he’d asked.
No, sir.
Plans to change that anytime soon?
Oh, no. Definitely not.
He had looked at her, pleasantly surprised. Good, he’d said and jotted a note.
Why’s that, may I ask?
The chief’s last secretary, she got hired as a newlywed. Quit the day she found out she was with child. Chief decided there’s less headache with no pesky family issues to worry about. Make sense?
In light of her goal, she had managed a nod. None of those pesky issues here, she assured him just to be safe, at which he smiled. The next thing she knew, she was being toured around the building, shown to a desk, and introduced to the chief, as well as to the publisher, a cantankerous man whose sightings were thankfully minimal. She even received a personal referral for a boardinghouse not far from the paper. In both settings, her acceptance and treatment as a virtuous young woman were undeniably refreshing, though never her main motives for keeping Samuel a secret.
She laughed now to convey amusement over Clayton’s assumption, her pulse still hammering. “I think you’ve misunderstood, Mr. Brauer. It’s my nephew I was checking on.”
Clayton regarded his watch, her words like dust motes that had wafted right by. “I just need to see to something downstairs before the paper’s put to bed. After that, we can head to Maryville if you’re ready. All right with you?”
He knew—about her son, her hometown—even before the call, it seemed.
Then it came to her. Of course he would. A person didn’t become a star reporter without picking up on the details, the subtle clues.
“How long have you…?”
“Not to worry, your secret’s safe.” With marked simplicity, he’d addressed two far more critical issues: Did anyone else know? Would he be telling the chief?
She nodded at him, thrown off but terribly grateful. Like the majority of the staff, Clayton resided in Philly. Delaware was hardly on his route home.
“I’ll swing by when I’m done,” he told her. “And listen, if you do decide to come back tonight, I’d be glad to drive and save you the return bus fare.”
Although it would prevent the chief from throwing a conniption over her late arrival tomorrow, she was still reluctant to accept. “It’s lovely of you to offer, but I wouldn’t dream of making you wait around for me. You’re already doing too much.”
“The favor’s not for you, Miss Palmer. Seeing as I’ll be making the round-trip anyway, I’d much rather have someone to talk to other than myself.”
She smiled, unable to argue, and Clayton flashed one of his grins before going on his way.
- • •
In fewer than two minutes, Lily was set to leave. The next fifteen were spent stealing glances at the wall clocks. She had pulled on her cloche, travel gloves, and dusty-rose sweater. She held her handbag, clasped and ready.
Deciding she would spare Clayton the extra steps, she wandered toward his desk and found it vacant. He was still completing his tasks.
She reminded herself to be patient, not to dwell on Samuel’s fever, and happened to notice Ellis at his desk. Even from his profile, she detected a heavy expression as he stared at his typewriter, unseeing.
She suddenly reflected upon their encounter that morning. Two staff members had just questioned her about not looking well. When Ellis approached her desk, she’d insisted she was just fine before he could say a word. As it turned out, he had hoped to interest her in another outing after work, to a speakeasy called the Cove. A group from the Examiner often blew off steam there midweek. In hindsight, she had declined the invitation in a horribly rude manner.
Since their exchange at Franklin Square, she had made a concerted effort to maintain a comfortable distance, but over no wrongdoing of his certainly.
“Excuse me. Mr. Reed?”
He looked up at her, trance broken.
“Earlier today, I fear I treated you poorly. I hope you’ll accept my apology.”
The tension in his face loosened, enough for a partial smile. “I appreciate that. But it’s not a problem.”
She smiled back before he shifted his attention to his notebook. He seemed to be merely occupying himself.
Ellis’s somberness couldn’t have stemmed strictly from her behavior. There had to be something more.
“Is…anything else troubling you?”
He appeared to be contemplating whether to answer, deepening her concern.
In the background, a duet of typewriters clacked a jagged rhythm as a reporter wished another a good night. Yet Lily kept her focus on Ellis. While she didn’t have time for a lengthy discussion, she likely had a bit.
She took a seat at the very next desk, purse on her lap, and caught the gratitude in his eyes.
“I got an offer,” he replied before lowering his voice. “To work on City News.”
A promotion. Lily was genuinely happy for him, lacking any of her prior shameful jealousy. “That’s wonderful. You must be so proud.” Then recalling his mood, she observed, “But you’re not celebrating.”
“It’s the New York Herald Tribune.”
“I’m sorry?”
“City editor called yesterday. Thought the Trib could use a reporter with some heart, he said. His wife has a friend just outside Philly and recommended my features. Still hard to believe.”
Lily should have known this was coming. His articles, as much as his photographs, radiated with a care and sincerity that captivated readers. In the small world of news, a keen editor was bound to track Ellis down.
“Truth be told, Miss Palmer, that’s why I asked you about going to the Cove. Guess I’m in need of some pretty good guidance again.” He laughed under his breath, hinting at embarrassment for having to ask.
“So, you’re still deciding?”
“Must be off my nut, right? It’s a dream job for any journalist around.”
Only at that moment did Lily realize how much she hoped that she, above all, was the cause of his reluctance. A silly notion, which she firmly pushed away.
“Then what’s the trouble?”
He wet his lips, as if to ease the flow of words. “Thing is, when the chief assigned me that first feature, with the photo of the kids, I saw it as my big break. A chance to prove to everyone back at home that I could really do this.”
“And now?”
“Now all these swell things are happening. But when I think about that picture…”
The actual issue becoming clear, Lily volunteered the rest: “You feel guilty. About making gains from their misfortune.” It was an understandable response.
“No. I mean, there’s that, of course. But it’s…well…”
He connected with her eyes right then, and once more she sensed it. There was a truth he was guarding, an ardent secrecy she could relate to firsthand. Perhaps it involved the brother he had lost, his personal link to the photograph. She knew nothing more, outside of her own dark past evoked by the image.
“You can tell me,” she assured him. “I promise, my lips are sealed.” She could see again that he trusted her, despite having little reason to do so.
Wistfully, Ellis leaned toward her, his face just inches from hers. She caught the faint scent of soap on his skin, the warmth of his breath. She had no desire to pull away, feeling far more comfortable than she should. But as he went to speak, his attention caught on a sight behind her. Abruptly he drew his head back, and Lily just as soon discovered the reason.
“Don’t mean to intrude,” Clayton said to her. He held his leather briefcase at his side, his fedora over his waist. “Just wanted to say I’m ready when you are.”
Lily quickly gathered herself and rose. The way her nerves were skittering, one would think she’d been caught in an amorous act—which, of course, she had not.
“I can wait outside,” Clayton added, “though we should probably hit the road soon.”
With sweeping force, worries over Samuel flew back at Lily. How could she have forgotten, even for a minute?
“Yes. You’re absolutely right.” She angled in Ellis’s direction, not quite making eye contact. “I’m sorry, Mr. Reed, but I do need to go.”
“Nah. It’s me who’s sorry for keeping you.” He delivered the words with a slight coolness as he straightened in his chair. “You already said you were busy tonight. I should’ve remembered.”
The Cove. When he asked her to go, she had tossed out her stock excuse. Now she wanted desperately to correct his assumption—about her and Clayton as a couple—but there was no easy way to do so.
“Well then,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She pivoted toward Clayton, who held out his arm as if to make a show of it. She had progressed but a few steps when Ellis responded.
“Actually, that’s pretty doubtful.” His tone had gained density, a forthrightness that turned her head. “See, I’ve got a lot of packing to do. For the big move.”
All Lily could do was stare at him as Clayton took the bait.
“Move, huh? Where to?”
“Got an offer from New York. From the Herald Tribune.”
Ellis seemed to be waiting for a reaction—any reporter at the Examiner would be downright envious—but Clayton’s mouth surprisingly slid into a grin. “Yeah? How about that.” He even congratulated Ellis with a hearty handshake.
It took Lily a conscious effort to mirror their joy. She despised the acute sting of Ellis’s choice. Though only a few hours away, New York City—dubbed “the Big Town” for many a reason—entailed the start of another life. And leaving the rest behind.
Regardless, when the men’s hands separated, she offered, “In that case, Mr. Reed, I wish you the best of luck.” Then to Clayton: “We ought to get on the road, didn’t you say?”
“After you,” he replied, and she led him toward the exit, barring herself from looking back.
