A Passing Glance

by Amelia C. Adams

  Elizabeth climbed the stairs a moment later, wrapped in a robe and her long brown hair in a braid over her shoulder. “So, it’s finally time,” she said with a smile. “We’ve been looking forward to this for a while, haven’t we?”

  “Looking forward to it, dreading it . . .” Nora tried to return the smile, but Posy could see the strain on her face.

  “Everything’s going to be all right,” Elizabeth said, sounding much more reassuring than Posy had. Even though Elizabeth was close to their age, she was a mother. She knew what to expect more than any of them did, and if she said it was going to be all right, that gave them something to believe in. “Adam has gone over to Pastor Osbourne’s to let them know as well.”

  “Is . . . is that wise? What if something goes wrong and I don’t have a baby to give them after all, and they’ve been woken up for no reason?”

  Elizabeth looked at Nora with surprise. “Are you worried that this baby won’t make it?”

  Nora pressed her lips together. “It’s just a silly fear I’ve had ever since they offered to raise it. The whole idea has brought them so much joy—what if something happens, and they’re crushed? I don’t think I could bear it—not only losing a child, but knowing that I couldn’t give them what they most hoped for after all the kind things they’ve done for me.”

  Elizabeth grasped Nora’s hand. “You mustn’t think like that. Has the baby stopped moving?”

  “No, it’s been fairly active.”

  “Then you have no reason to worry. And the Osbournes will want to know—if nothing else, they’ll pray for you and this child like they’ve never prayed for anything before. And you know how our pastor likes to pray.”

  Posy smiled. Yes, that was something they all definitely knew. It wasn’t that Robert Osbourne was long-winded necessarily, but he did enjoy conversing with the Lord as though they were close friends. And perhaps they were—Posy didn’t know. She was more familiar with the spiritual beliefs of the Kaw.

  Emma returned and pressed a cup of hot tea into Nora’s hands, and Carrie was close behind with a stack of towels. “Should we stay here, or should we move her?” she asked Elizabeth.

  “All our other rooms are full tonight,” Elizabeth answered.

  “Which is fine by me because I don’t think I can go anywhere,” Nora added. She handed the tea back to Emma. “Thank you, but I just can’t.”

  Emma nodded and placed the cup on the nightstand.

  A moment later, heavy footsteps sounded on the staircase—not that they were intentionally loud. Dr. Wayment simply weighed more than the waitresses. He entered the room, his wife and nurse, Jeanette, close behind.

  “Well, now. Sounds like it might be time.”

  “I think it is,” Nora replied. “I wasn’t feeling well earlier, but I thought it was just the heat.”

  “And then we dragged her on a walk,” Carrie added. “Maybe we shouldn’t have done that.”

  “It was my idea,” Posy said. If it had been a bad idea, she didn’t want anyone taking the blame but herself.

  Dr. Wayment chuckled. “Nothing wrong with going for a walk. It might even make the labor go more smoothly. Now, let’s see how you’re doing.”

  The girls stayed out of the way while the doctor and nurse performed an examination. They moved effortlessly, almost seeming to read each other’s thoughts. Was that from working together, or from being married? She didn’t know, but it was beautiful, and she wondered if she would ever have that kind of love in her own life.

  Back in her village, a young man by the name of Hun-gah-le-nah had decided to take her to wife, but he hadn’t loved her. He wanted to show her off, to make himself proud in the eyes of his friends. She knew that he wouldn’t be faithful to her, and that’s what she craved—a man who cared for her so deeply that he would never look at another woman the same way. By coming to the Brody, she had escaped his persistent advances, but by hiding from him, she’d locked herself away and might have lost her chances for a relationship. She couldn’t marry a good man if she never met a good man, and those who came through the hotel were generally train passengers on their way somewhere else in a hurry.

  Dr. Wayment nodded, and all eyes focused on him. “We’re definitely having a baby,” he said, a smile on his face. “This is a good day indeed.”

  “I’m boiling water!” Carrie said from the corner of the room, where she’d moved to get out of the way.

  “Excellent. I’ll let you know when it’s needed. In the meantime, we may have a long night ahead of us. The baby’s coming, but it’s not coming quickly—which is very common for first births.” He looked around the room. “There’s quite a lot of people here—are you all hoping to help?”

  They nodded.

  “Well, in a case like that, I recommend that you take shifts and get a little more rest. Nora, if you’re able, close your eyes for a bit. There’s no sense in everyone staying up and wearing themselves out. I’m going to doze in the parlor for a short while—this isn’t my first baby today, and I want to be alert when the time comes.”

  “And I’ll sit with Nora,” Jeanette added. “Please, everyone, rest while you can.”

  Posy nodded. That made sense. “But what about you?” she asked Jeanette. “If the doctor had a delivery, so did you. Aren’t you tired?”

  Jeanette smiled. “I’m a lot tougher than I look. Don’t worry about me.”

  It was true that Jeanette was small of stature, but Posy knew better than to doubt her capabilities. “All right, but please let me know if you need anything.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry. I’m not the kind to suffer in silence.”

  Chapter Two

  Posy lay back down and tried to relax, but every little sound had her eyes popping open. If the other rooms in the hotel weren’t occupied, she could have crept downstairs and perhaps gotten a few winks, but it was what it was.

  Finally, she knew it was pointless—she was simply too worried to rest. She got up as quietly as she could and crept downstairs, thinking that there had to be something she could do to be useful.

  It was four hours until the morning train. Sarah and Ruth would start cooking in two hours, and the waitresses had to be alert and ready. She decided that she’d get started on the meal preparations by chopping the vegetables she knew would be needed, and she tied an apron over her robe, knowing it looked ridiculous, but not wanting to go all the way back upstairs to change.

  “Oh, hello.”

  She dropped her knife on the counter at the sound of the voice and looked up. Mr. Monroe was standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

  “Are you going to make it a habit to startle me when I’m armed?” she said, picking up the knife again. “And what are you doing down here, anyway? It’s the middle of the night.”

  “I was hoping for a snack of some kind. I got here too late for dinner, and I’m having a hard time falling asleep.” He paused. “For that matter, what are you doing up at this hour?”

  “I couldn’t sleep either. We’re having a bit of an emergency right now, and I’m concerned about it.” She wouldn’t tell him there was a delivery taking place—they had all agreed that Nora’s condition would be kept a secret if at all possible, besides the fact that such things weren’t spoken of.

  “And carrots are the answer to this illness?” he asked, motioning to her cutting board.

  “I’m just trying to keep my hands busy.”

  “Is it your friend, the waitress with blonde hair? She seemed a bit distressed.”

  She was hoping he hadn’t noticed, but it had been rather obvious. “She doesn’t do well in the heat.”

  “I imagine not, especially in her condition.”

  Posy’s hands froze. She shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d known—Nora’s situation was definitely visible. “No,” she said at last. “That does make it harder.”

  Mr. Monroe gestured toward the carrots. “Do you mind if I take one? I really am quite hungry.”

  “Oh! O
f course. I’m sorry. I’m sure we can do better than a carrot. Why don’t you have a seat?” She waved her knife toward the table in the corner, and he sat. She hadn’t meant to look menacing, but it was handy when trying to get someone to move a little faster, she supposed.

  She pulled a slice of pie and some leftover stew from the icebox, and put the stew in a small pot on the stove to warm through. She poured him a glass of milk, and within just a few minutes, he had a nice bedtime snack placed in front of him.

  “Thank you,” he said, looking up at her appreciatively. “This is most kind.”

  “It’s against hotel policy to send someone away with just a carrot,” she replied.

  She wanted to start on the potatoes, but they would turn brown if left uncooked, and it wouldn’t be time to cook them for another hour or so. Instead, she pulled out yeast, knowing they ran out of bread quicker than anything else.

  “Tell me more about the situation here in Topeka, particularly the men you dealt with earlier. Should I expect to see a lot of that sort of thing here?”

  “I’m not sure if they were drifters or men from town who were looking for a little trouble. I’ve never seen them before, but that’s not saying much—I don’t often go far from the hotel.”

  “Oh? Why not?”

  She realized she’d likely said too much. “Just busy with work,” she said, trying to sound casual. “There’s quite a lot to be done. As soon as one train leaves, we’re preparing for the next one.”

  “I imagine that you’re kept on your toes all the time. How many waitresses work here?”

  “Too few. Six, currently—one married not long ago and moved away. That happens quite a bit here. We’re always hiring.”

  “I wonder if my sister might be a good fit. She wants to join me as soon as I’m settled. Do you think she should apply?”

  Posy nearly asked if the girl had a wart on her nose, but decided against it. “Mr. Brody is always willing to meet with applicants. I don’t think it would hurt a thing. It’s hard work, though—is she accustomed to that?”

  Mr. Monroe nodded. “We grew up on a farm with our parents. Hard work is in our blood.”

  “Then she should do fine.” Posy watched the yeast activate in the water she’d poured into her bowl. It was fascinating, watching it come to the top and bloom like flowers on the surface.

  She glanced up and noticed him watching her. His gaze darted back to his bowl as though he was embarrassed to be caught. She watched him in turn, noticing his medium-brown hair, short beard of the same color, and a crisp white shirt that must have come from his baggage—no one stayed that crisp after a day of travel.

  “Why did you arrive in town so late, Mr. Monroe? Didn’t you come in on the evening train?”

  “No, I rode my horse. I wanted her with me, and I knew she’d be skittish in the freight car on the train. It’s still a fair distance to ride, but Freya is a good girl.”

  “Freya?”

  “My horse. She’s named after one of the goddesses of Norse mythology.”

  Posy reached for the flour and measuring cup. “You enjoy mythology?” She vividly remembered sitting at her mother’s knee listening to Indian legends about warriors and maidens and the sky, moon, and stars. She loved tales that spoke of animals interacting with mankind as though they were equals on the earth. They were her favorite stories of all time, even after she grew a little older and began to read novels.

  “I do. I haven’t had much time to read as I’d like lately, but when I was about ten, my grandfather gave me a book of mythology, and I must have read it twenty times. It was quite a thick volume, with hand-painted illustrations. I’ve never seen a more beautiful book.”

  “He gave you a wonderful gift—not just the book, but the stories and the history inside it. He must have been a thoughtful man.”

  “He was. I don’t know if I recognized that at the time—I thought he was rather stern—but yes, he did give me something quite meaningful.” He took his last bite of pie and stood up. “Where would you like me to place these dishes?”

  “Oh, please don’t bother. I’ll get them.”

  “No, you were kind enough to feed me long after the regular meal hours, and here you are, working hard yet again. I’ll take care of them.”

  That was certainly a nice surprise. “You can set them on the counter behind me.”

  He gathered up everything he’d used and set them neatly where she indicated. “Miss McVey, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your hospitality.”

  “Really, it’s no trouble.”

  “It might not seem important to you, but it means a great deal to me. I appreciate it.” He paused. “I’ll see you again?”

  “I don’t know how you would avoid it.”

  He grinned, and she noticed how it lit up his face. “I’ll look forward to it. Goodnight, Miss McVey.”

  “Goodnight, Mr. Monroe.”

  As soon as he left the room, she let her smile fall from her face. He was pleasant to visit with—in fact, she liked him quite a lot—but it was difficult to keep up a cheerful conversation when she was so concerned about what was going on upstairs.

  Mr. Brody came in a few minutes later and seemed surprised to see her there. “Hello, Posy. I suppose the entire household is awake?”

  “Most likely. Dr. Wayment is dozing in the parlor, and he told the girls to go back to sleep, but I can’t imagine that any of us have actually done it. Can I get you something to eat?”

  He glanced around. “That would be nice, actually. Thank you.”

  She made him a meal quite similar to the one she’d served Mr. Monroe. “Do you want coffee, or will you be going back to bed?”

  “I think I’d better have the coffee. Who knows what the morning hours will bring.”

  She set the pot on the heat, then threw a clean dishtowel over the bread dough and left it to rise. “I heard that you went to speak with the Osbournes.”

  “I did, and they’re thrilled. I’ve told them that we’ll send for them as soon as we can.”

  Just then, Posy heard footsteps flying down the main staircase in the lobby, and a voice crying, “Dr. Wayment!”

  Posy and Mr. Brody ran toward the lobby themselves in time to see Emma dashing back up to the third floor, Dr. Wayment on her heels.

  Mr. Brody shook his head. “As you know, Posy, I grow quite fond of each employee who passes under my roof—they become like my family, my little sisters. I feel invested in your lives, in your health, in your happiness—and yet, in the end, there’s really so little I can do.”

  “You do more than could ever be hoped for or expected, sir,” Posy told him. “You gave me a safe place to live and the courage to find my own identity, and I believe that everyone who has ever worked here could say the same thing.”

  Posy didn’t expect her words to make him emotional, but he cleared his throat and blinked a few times. “Thank you, Posy. Sometimes it’s difficult to know when your efforts are paying off. Now, would you do something for me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Would you please go see what’s going on up there?”

  She smiled. “On my way.”

  When she reached the top of the staircase, she found a room full of grim faces. “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “The baby is breech,” Jeanette replied. “It will have to be turned in order to deliver safely.”

  Dr. Wayment began barking orders, and the girls flew to grab the things he needed. The hot water was brought up, along with more clean linens, and also a pot of strong coffee to keep him going at a time when he couldn’t afford to be drowsy. Then he sent everyone but Jeanette and Elizabeth from the room.

  “I know you care about your friend, but you’ll need to care about her from a little farther away,” he said, and the girls all traipsed down to the parlor to wait for news. They sat in silence, listening to the clock on the mantel tick away the endless minutes.

  “Do you think she’ll be all right?”
Emma asked, her voice small and yet sounding loud in the stillness of the room.

  “I’m sure she will be,” Ruth said. “Dr. Wayment is the best doctor I’ve ever met. He’ll take good care of her.”

  Posy glanced at the clock. “We’ve only got a little while before we have to be getting ready for the first train. We can do this, can’t we?”

  “Of course we can. We’ll just think positively,” Carrie replied.

  Sarah arrived a short time later, and Ruth went into the kitchen with her to start their daily cooking. Then it was time for the waitresses to begin preparing to serve, and still, there was no news from upstairs.

  “I’ll go up and grab our dresses,” Carrie said, and Posy remembered for the first time in hours that she was wearing a nightgown and robe. It was a very long and thick robe, and she was sure she’d been modest at all times, but still, it was rather compromising—especially considering the time she’d spent talking with Mr. Monroe, but there was nothing she could do about it now.

  “Thank you,” she said, and Carrie nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

  When she came down, her arms piled with dresses and shoes, her face was pale. “Dr. Wayment has managed to turn the baby, but Nora looks terrible. I don’t know how she’s enduring it.”

  Posy’s stomach clenched. She knew too many mothers who had died during childbirth, often because they became so fatigued, their bodies simply couldn’t hold on any longer. She’d listened to Susan talk of the connection between the body and the earth, and how sometimes that connection became broken. That couldn’t be the case with Nora—after everything she’d been through, it would be cruel of the fates to take away her victory now.

  She inhaled and then puffed out a breath. As upset as they all were about the events unfolding upstairs, they had a job to do, and their emotions wouldn’t change Nora’s outcome. They put on their work clothes, taking turns in the linen closet that temporarily served as a very small dressing room, fixing their hair as best as they could without the benefit of all their brushes and combs and whatnot from upstairs. Mr. Brody carried a sleepy toddler Rose through the kitchen and outside, where he would deliver her to Harriet for the morning. Then he took up his place in the lobby, the girls took up their positions at the entrance to the dining room, and everything was in order when the first train rumbled into the station.