The Gift of Love

By James Whaley

When a baby boy is left on the doorstep of an older couple, it sets in motion a chain of events that lead to an attempt to end the life of the grown boy. The young man had tried to locate his birth mother and failed. Then in a surprise turn of events, the birth mother is exposed which creates a situation whereby the injured party is turned into a mentally disturbed woman. The young man must rely on the girl who is the love of his life to survive. Can she meet the challenge?

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 12, 2013
• ISBN: 9781491701614

James Whaley

Eighty-year-old James Whaley spent thirty-four years in the public classroom, teaching twelve-, thirteen-, and fourteen-year-old students. He also taught senior citizens for twenty-five years and high school students for six years. Creative writing has intrigued him his entire life. James lives in Chanute, Kansas, with his wife, Elinor. They have two grown daughters and two grandchildren. The author has always been an admirer of the creative word.

Book preview

Copyright © 2013 by James Whaley.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

iUniverse books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

iUniverse LLC

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.iuniverse.com

1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4917-0160-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-0161-4 (ebk)

iUniverse rev. date: 08/03/2013

Contents

Chapter 1       5:16 AM, September 1, 1992

Chapter 2       8 A. M. that same day

Chapter 3       8:45 P. M. September 3, 1992

Chapter 4       9:45 A. M. September 30, 1992

Chapter 5       3:30 P. M. that same day

Chapter 6       Tuesday, October 10, 1992, 10:00 A. M.

Chapter 7       10: 00 A.M. Wednesday April 7, 2004

Chapter 8       9:45 Friday Morning, May 16, 2012

Chapter 9       September 17, 2012

Chapter 10       Two days later 7:10 Thursday September 19, 2012

Chapter 11       October 9, 2012, Tuesday 2:45 p m

Chapter 12       March 22, 2013, Friday afternoon

Chapter 13       8:30 A. M. March 30, 2013

Chapter 14       The following evening

Chapter 15       April 6, 2013, Saturday afternoon

Chapter 16       11:58a. m. Tuesday April 24th

Chapter 17       The following Monday 6:30 A. M.

Chapter 18       May 16, 2013, Thursday Morning 10:15

Chapter 19       August 19, 2013, Monday morning 7:15

TO THOSE WHO LIKE TO READ A STORY OF LOVE

I HOPE THEY ENJOY THIS BOOK

To those who have read some of my work and expressed an appreciation of it, your encouragement is what urged me on.

Chapter 1

5:16 AM, September 1, 1992

Sally awoke with a start. A noise had penetrated the deep sleep sufficiently to bring her back to the conscious world. Had it been the train? She could still hear the west bound Rock Island rumbling through the small community in which she lived. There’s the whistle as it crosses Maple Street. The train’s sound shouldn’t disturb her. Not after years of living with it. It was a sound she was accustomed to hearing every morning at 5:15 and twice during every working day. It certainly had not disrupted George; he still lay contentedly in a state of deep slumber.

She silently slid out from under the bed covers, put on a robe and slippers, and stepped to the large bedroom window. Peering out into the early morning pre-dawn light she could see nothing out of the ordinary in the outside world. The lights were still off in the cafe across the street, too early for Ellen to be up yet she thought. She glanced up at the second floor and could not detect any movement in the McGee apartment above the cafe. No light, nothing appeared to be out of place. Still something told her that all was not right. Something seemed to tell her I don’t belong here. It was a sensation more than knowledge of fact that the quiet surroundings hid some intrusion. She wondered if she should wake George. And tell him what? George, I have this funny feeling, something isn’t right. She could just hear his answer.

What’s not right is that you woke me from a sound sleep. That’s not right. George would roll over, pull the bed covers around his chin and ask, What are you doing prowling around in the middle of the night anyway? And before she could answer he would be snoring, she decided to leave George alone and take a look downstairs.

Downstairs was the small grocery store that Sally and George had owned for the past twenty years. She didn’t have to stop and figure up the years because George had suggested just yesterday that they have an event at the store to celebrate the anniversary. What did you have in mind? She had asked.

Oh, I don’t know, maybe a special sale… or a contest, yeah, we can have a contest!

What kind of contest, George?

Jeez, Sal, I don’t know, I just thought… yeah, that’s it, we will have a shopping cart full of groceries and let people guess the total value, and the closest guess wins the groceries. What do you think of that?

As Sally passed through the two bedroom apartment toward the doorway leading to the stairs she glanced into the kitchen and noticed the bright numbers on the stove. The clock read 5:35, well at least the east bound is on schedule. When Sally reached the middle landing of the staircase, a shadow flashed past her legs and down the stairs, she let out a squeal and then gasped, Bernie, you… , you’re going to… , where did you come from anyway? She knew her question would go unanswered; Bernie had been dashing down these very steps for all of those twenty years. Barb had rescued him from the dumpster on Sixth Street when she was only two.

When they moved into the store building three years later the cat came with them. Bernie stayed when Barb moved out of her parent’s apartment after her graduation from Habberton High.

The small grocery was located in the middle of the eastern block of the two-block business district of the small community. Lant’s Grocery was bounded by the Post Office to the east and by Simmons Drug and Ice Cream Parlor on the west. As she moved down the staircase it suddenly donned on her that maybe she should have grabbed a broom or mop handle to protect herself with before leaving the apartment.

Entering the store by way of the hall separating the front display section and the storage area in the back, Sally flipped on the light switch. Everything looked normal.

Suddenly she heard a sound. She froze in her tracks, and listened intently. There it was again. It seems to be coming from the front of the store. It’s sort of like a moan or whimper. Walking to the counter she noticed nothing unusual. Then she spotted a small rock on the floor and glancing at the door saw the broken pane of glass. What in the world… Bernie! Get away from there, you’ll get a sliver in your paw. She shooed the cat away and started to walk back to the counter to get the broom. There it was again, it does sound like a whimper. Or a cry of a small puppy or child, surely it’s not a child.

Sally picked up the rock and examined it. It seemed to be nothing special, an ordinary stone, about fist size and appeared to have come from the Wildroot River which flowed through the southern edge of town. A number of businesses around town had them placed in decorative style near trees or flowers. Sally had a collection around the base of a gum tree in front of the store.

There it was again, that whimpering sound, however, this time Sally was able to pinpoint the direction and it seemed to be coming from the door. She stepped carefully over the broken glass from the bottom pane of the double paned door and with her left hand reached for the dead bolt lock and flipped it counter-clockwise, and at the same time turned the doorknob with her right hand. Pulling the door open she noticed what at first appeared to be a box of rags sitting in front of the door. Then the rags in the box started moving and with a whimper, a tiny hand and arm appeared from the bundle of cloth. Even before pulling the top rag away, the store keeper knew what she would find. The infant in the box looked to be less than a week old, three or four days at the most, thought Sally, as she scanned her view both up and down the street in front of the store.

How did you get here, little one, I’m sure you didn’t walk and I didn’t hear a car. She could see nothing out of place or different than at any other time. To Sally the street was empty, no one on foot, or a car moving. Gingerly picking up the box, Sally stepped back into the grocery and with a swipe of her foot closed the door behind her. With box in hand, she walked to the check-out counter and placed the box on the baggers portion of the counter. Now let’s see what we have here, she said as the well-used blanket covering the baby fell away with Sally’s help. She cupped the baby in her hands and lifted it out of the box, You appear to be well-fed and as healthy as a horse. So what are you doing on the sidewalk in front of my store? Sally asked the infant, and as if to answer the child pumped both arms with fists clenched tightly. Not ready to talk. Huh?

Who’s not talking? came a booming voice from the stairs. Sally, startled, almost lost control of the bundle in her hands. She whirled and immediately bristled when she saw her husband standing on the bottom step of the stair

George, dang you, you almost caused me to drop this baby with your sneaking up on me that way.

I wasn’t sneaking anywhere, you’re the one sneaking around down here in your nightie at five in the o’clock in the morn… what do you mean baby? What baby?

Now what do you think I’ve got here, a loaf of bread? she said as she held the bundle out for him to see.

Where in the world did you… how in the world did you…

Someone left it on our door step, which reminds me, I’ve got a mess to clean up since someone threw a rock through the window of the door. Probably to get our attention and that’s how I found the baby. Here you hold it while I clean up that glass. Sally held out the baby to George. It, what do you mean it? Is it a boy or girl?

Well, come to think, I don’t really know, let’s take a look. After a quick examination she announced, It’s a boy, we’ve got a baby boy!

What do you mean? We can’t keep it, er him, George said with a pained look on his face. Sally handed the baby to him and as he took it, added, Can we? Ignoring him, Sally went behind the counter and retrieved a broom and dust pan kept there for just such emergencies. As he watched his wife work the broken glass into a smaller area, he looked into the face of the now sleeping baby and thought back over the years.

George Lant and his wife, the former Sally Mason had been born and raised in Amber, Nebraska. They started dating when George was a senior and Sally a sophomore in high school. George had one brother, Frank, five years older and a sister, Meg, three years older, neither of which spent any time with George. Frank was now a seventy year old retired contractor living in St. Louis, Missouri, and still a single man. His sister had been a widow for ten years and was childless. She lived in an apartment in Denver, and spent her time working with senior citizens as activity director. Her newest project was the knitting of caps for newborn babies, to be distributed at the local hospital. George’s father had been a welder by trade and a good one. He had contracted out to the Consolidated Oil Drilling Company and did independent work on the side which allowed little time for his family.

Sally on the other hand, was an only child and received the attention of both parents. From 1950 to 1985 her father owned and operated the Chevy-GMC-Buick dealership in Amber, while her mother ran a beauty parlor, which was connected to their house by a back hallway. During the four years Sally was in high school, her father served as Amber’s Mayor and Sally often stood as hostess, by his side, at social functions. Much to the delight of her mother, who disliked the duty. As a result, she became the princess of Amber’s businessmen and many of her dates with George were attending their parties. On the rare occasions when they went bowling or to the movies, did they have to pay their own way as the owner usually gave them free pass for the evening.

When George graduated from Amber High he went to work for the local Coop as their accounts receivable clerk and played on the town’s basketball and softball teams. Sally worked after school and in the summer at Jacob Irondice’s I G A store as a clerk. When Sally graduated two years later, Mr. Irondice, offered her a job as manager of his grocery store in Habberton, Kansas, which was across the Nebraska border about one hundred miles away. Both of the young people wanted to experience life on their own. And in 1966 it was decided that they would marry and move to Habberton where George would be assistant manager. George’s parents were indifferent to the decision, however, Sally’s parents were concerned that the couple was taking on a task that was more than they would be able to handle. Sally explained to him that Mr. Irondice had confidence in her and he had always been a shrewd business man and that her father had made the same statements about Mr. Irondice’s decisions. Her father was forced to admit she was correct and finally agreed to her decision.

The couple proved that they could meet the challenge, and were successful in managing the grocery to the satisfaction of Mr. Irondice. Two years later, a daughter, Barbara, was born and three years later, Elizabeth came along. Neither child caused any real concern during their youth and were now productive adults with their own lives.

George was brought back to the present with the crash of glass as Sally dumped the dustpan into the waste basket. I guess it will be alright to leave the broken pane like it is until I can get Barry’s Hardware to put in a new pane. Bernie, you will have to play guard dog for the rest of the morning, you hear?

All George got in return was a yeow and a flick of Bernie’s tail.

In the meantime, what do we do with Mr. It here, asked George, holding out the still sleeping baby.

If you are willing to keep babysitting while I slip back up stairs and dress, then you can go to the drug store and get some supplies we will need for the baby.

Sally, we can’t just keep this quiet, we have to report this to the authorities.

George, you know what will happen? They will assign this fellow to SRS and he will end up in a foster home. Now why can’t we be that foster home? He could do a lot worse than to stay here.

"Sally, I’m 46 years old, I would be 58 when he is twelve. And I’m not sure I can count on much more than that.

You were always the optimist, Sal, that’s what I admire about you; you never see a dark cloud, only fluffy ones. Go on with you, get dressed and I will take your list to the drug store when it opens.

Sally began to wonder if this was someone from miles away. Maybe even someone in another state who had come through Habberton earlier this morning and had, on the spur of the moment, picked the store as a target. I’ll be right back, Sally said softly, and disappeared up the stairs. Ten minutes later she was back, with an arm full of clean pillow cases. "That baby must have been fed recently. He’s sleeping soundly; let me get a better box to use as a bassinet, so you can put him