“I wish you well,” Mr. Jonnson said. He turned to Tommy. “You ready to go?”
Tommy didn’t release Christina’s hand. “Can I stay an’ eat lunch with Miss Willems an’ the others? It’ll give me a chance to say good-bye to Francis an’ Laura.”
Mr. Jonnson scratched his chin. “I hadn’t intended to stay in town all day.”
“Perhaps you’d like to join us for lunch, too.” Alice issued the invitation. “We made plenty, and I’m sure Miss Claussen wouldn’t mind one more around the table.”
“Or,” Christina cut in, fearful the man might agree to join them but uncertain why the idea bothered her, “if you need to return to your mill, I could have Wes drive Tommy out to your place early this evening.”
The man nodded, flooding Christina with alternating waves of relief and disappointment. “That sounds fine. And while you’ve got Tommy, I’ll load up that lumber and haul it out to the poor farm so it’ll be ready whenever the men have time to get the walls put up.”
“Aren’tcha gonna help with the buildin’?” Tommy asked.
Mr. Jonnson aimed a smirk at Christina. “I think Miss Willems has things well in hand. No need for me to oversee the project.”
Christina’s face became a raging furnace. He’d only reiterated what she’d said yesterday. Why did it sound so petty and childish when uttered by him? She gave Tommy’s hand a little tug. “Come now. The stew will be cold if we don’t hurry to Miss Claussen’s.” She scurried off before the mill owner could make her feel any smaller than she already did.
Chapter 22
“Are you going to wear an apron to the train station to say farewell to Alice and her children?”
Cora, caught in the middle of loosening the strings on one of Mrs. Beasley’s voluminous aprons, turned slowly to face Miss Willems. The woman wore her familiar dark green muslin dress, but she’d donned a straw bonnet with tiny pink silk roses and green leaves sewn all along the brim. She looked trim and perky. Cora felt frumpy by comparison in her oversize, stained apron with strands of lank hair hanging along her jaw.
Miss Willems held out a second bonnet—dyed blue straw with a cluster of snow white ribbons hanging down the back. “Why not wear this instead? Miss Claussen was so kind to share some of her millinery with us.”
“I, um …” Cora gulped. She wanted to see the Deatons off, to wish them well on their journey and new place to live. But how could she remove the apron? She’d missed five of her monthlies, and the little bulge was becoming a big bulge. Her dresses were so tight she could barely button them. Now that the weather was mild, she couldn’t hide beneath a coat. The apron, especially since it was cut to fit a larger woman, concealed her growing belly. She didn’t dare leave it off.
She tangled her hands in the apron skirt’s folds. “You just go an’ tell ’em so long for me. I’ll stay here an’ get lunch started.”
Miss Willems offered a puzzled look. “But we just put away the breakfast dishes.” She lifted her watch and checked it. “We have sufficient time to go to the station, give Alice, Laura, and Francis a proper send-off, and then return to prepare lunch.”
Something within Cora’s middle shifted—a little foot? Lately she’d been feeling more movements. After seeing her ma lose three babies in a row, she knew she should be grateful this babe thrived. But Cora’s heart pounded. What would she do when her belly grew so large an apron wouldn’t hide it? What would she do when the babe emerged from her womb? Fear made her mouth dry. She turned her back on Miss Willems and started fussing with the clean mixing bowls on the sideboard.
“I thought to bake some egg pies. We’ll need ’em cool before we serve ’em, so …”
Miss Willems moved up behind Cora and touched her shoulder. Cora braced herself for the question she knew would come one day soon. Miss Willems said in a tender voice, “Is it too hard for you to tell them good-bye, Cora?”
Cora’s stiff shoulders slumped. Saying good-bye was hard, so she didn’t need to fib. She nodded.
“Well then, you stay here. I’ll be sure to give each of them a hug from you. Will that be all right?”
Guilt smote her. She should go—should tell Alice, Laura, and Francis good-bye herself. They were her friends, and hiding away might be hurtful to them. But not hiding away might reveal things she wasn’t ready to confront. Still facing the sideboard, Cora whispered, “Thank you, ma’am.”
Miss Willems gave her shoulder a pat and then stepped away. “I shouldn’t be gone long. Alice said the train leaves at nine.” A sad sigh reached Cora’s ears, and Cora looked over her shoulder. Tears had welled in Miss Willems’s eyes. “How strange it will be to return to the poor farm without them.”
Cora swallowed. She sought a means of comforting Miss Willems. “But me an’ Wes an’ Tommy an’ Rose an’ Louisa an’ the twins—we’ll be there. An’ maybe there’ll even be somebody else who needs a place to stay.”
Miss Willems smiled and whisked her fingertips beneath her eyes. The tears disappeared. “Of course you’re right, Cora. My father would say this is God’s way of making room for someone else in need.” She turned the knob on the door. “I’d better go before I miss them.” With another quick smile she left.
Cora stood at the window and watched Miss Willems scurry across the steppingstones that led to the front walk. The woman held her head high, her slim figure moving with grace. Pressing her hands to the mound beneath the apron skirt, Cora pondered how much longer until the bulk made her clumsy and slow.
Miss Willems disappeared from Cora’s view, and she turned her attention to mixing a crust for pies. As she rolled the dough into an ever-widening circle, she envisioned her belly growing bigger, bigger. With a little cry she sank into a chair and buried her face in her elbow. “Make it go away, God,” she moaned, soaking her sleeve with hot tears. “Make it go away …”
The train chugged around the bend, carrying Alice, Laura, and Francis away. Christina remained on the depot platform, watching and waving, until the smoke from the stack floated over the treetops, and the bright red caboose was swallowed up by brush along the track. Then she turned to the others who’d gathered to tell Alice good-bye. Wes, Rose, and Louisa all wore sad faces. Christina forced a smile, determined to cheer them.
“What a wonderful opportunity Alice and the children have waiting. God has certainly blessed them.”
Wes rocked on his heels, his mouth forming a deep frown. “Almost feels like we had a buryin’. We won’t never see Alice an’ the young uns again.”
“We will miss them for sure. But it’s better for them to be with family,” Rose said staunchly, giving Wes’s arm a brisk pat.
Wes hung his head and scuffed his toe against the wide, weathered planks. “I thought they was with family, bein’ with us.”
Christina’s heart lurched. She well understood Wes’s sadness. Over their years together she and the poor farm residents had become a family of sorts. With both Papa and Mama gone, she had no one else to call kin. Partly to comfort Wes, but mostly to comfort herself, she said, “But we still have each other, Wes. And very soon”—to her great relief the men intended to meet at the poor farm this coming Saturday to erect the walls—“we’ll be back in our home again.” Surely the mission board wouldn’t send away the one responsible for rebuilding the walls.
Wes sighed, his large shoulders rising and falling. “That’ll be nice, Miss Willems. That’ll be right nice.”
The group turned and ambled toward the center of town. Wes walked ahead, and Rose and Louisa flanked Christina. As they passed the schoolhouse, Rose pointed to the wild game of tag taking place in the schoolyard. “Listen to those youngsters.”
Christina peeked at her watch. “Hmm, it’s rather early in the morning for a recess.”
Rose chuckled. “Don’t reckon the time matters much to the students. The teacher’s probably giving them some extra breaks with spring arriving. This nice weather’s got them all wound up.”
Louisa clicked her to
ngue on her teeth. “It’s too bad Joe and Florie didn’t get to come to the depot and say good-bye to Laura and Francis. They probably don’t even know their friends have gone.”
“Maybe we should go over to the school and tell them,” Rose suggested.
Since she hadn’t gotten to talk to the children on Sunday, Christina liked Rose’s idea. She turned to Wes. “We’re going to see Joe and Florie. Do you want to come along?”
“Nah.” Wes waved his hand toward the livery. “Gonna go out to the poor farm. Time for me to see to the critters out there.”
Christina bade Wes farewell, and then she and the two sisters-in-law made their way to the schoolyard. Children darted everywhere, loud and happy, but she didn’t spot a pair of matching curly-blond heads in the throng.
“Maybe they’re inside doing an assignment,” Louisa mused. “Should we go in and check?”
Christina hated to disturb them if they were working, but she also wanted to let the two know the Deatons had left. “Louisa, would you like to go in? Rose and I will stay out here so it’s less of an intrusion.”
Louisa nodded and hurried up the stairs. Christina and Rose waited beside the porch, staying out of the way of the rambunctious youngsters. Moments later Louisa emerged with a puzzled scowl on her face. She caught Christina’s elbow and drew her toward the road. “The teacher says the Spencers came this morning and told her the children wouldn’t be in school anymore.”
With the children’s shouts filling her ears, she wasn’t certain she’d heard correctly. She sped her steps, Rose and Louisa scurrying along beside her, until they’d put some distance between themselves and the schoolyard. She stopped and took Louisa’s hand. “Did you say the Spencers withdrew the children from school?”
“That’s what the teacher said.” Louisa’s lined face pinched with concern. “Do you suppose the youngsters are ill?”
“I don’t know,” Christina said, “but I intend to find out.” She set off for the residential area of town with Rose and Louisa dogging her heels. They reached the Spencers’ pleasant clapboard house, but no one answered her knock on the door. Her worry mounting, Christina stepped off the porch and walked to the backyard. There, Mrs. Spencer was pinning shirts and britches to a wire strung between the house and a small shed. She paused with a wet shirt in her hands when she spotted Christina and the sisters-in-law approaching.
“Good morning, Miss Willems.” The woman greeted her cheerily. If something was amiss, she didn’t indicate it. “How are you today?”
Christina clasped her hands around her watch, willing her jumping stomach to settle down. “I’m fine, thank you. I wondered if I could speak to you about Joe and Florie.”
A sad smile appeared on Mrs. Spencer’s face. “Oh yes, it was awfully hard for us to tell them good-bye yesterday. We got rather attached to them in our short time together. We even considered adopting them. But we’ve been married such a short time, and”—a pretty blush stole across her cheeks—“of course, we plan to have our own youngsters someday. But we hope Joe and Florie’ll be happy in their new home.”
Christina shook her head, thoroughly confused. “Their new home? What new home?”
Mrs. Spencer dropped the shirt into a basket near her feet and stepped away from the line. “The Kansas Children’s Home, of course.”
Both Louisa and Rose gasped. Christina pressed the watch to her chest. “You … you sent them away?”
“Not me.” The woman edged even closer, confusion marring her brow. “A man came by here yesterday. He said he was to take the twins to the children’s home.”
Christina’s knees went weak. She staggered to the edge of the yard where a painted bench sat beneath a tall elm tree. As she sank onto the bench, Rose and Louisa scurried over and began patting her shoulders. Pressing her hands to her pounding temples, Christina stared at Mrs. Spencer, who slowly followed. “Did he say anything about Tommy?”
“The little blind boy? No.” Mrs. Spencer frowned. “But I can’t imagine an orphanage taking in a child who can’t see. With all the children in their care, they wouldn’t have time for one who needed extra attention.” Mrs. Spencer perched on the bench beside Christina. “I assumed you’d arranged it. He made it seem as though you wanted the twins in a different place—a place with other children. I’m so sorry. I thought you knew.”
The children … gone? Christina’s head spun. “The man who came … did he tell you his name?”
“Yes. He introduced himself as Mr. Silas Regehr.”
Mr. Regehr had indicated the mission board would arrange placements for the poor farm residents, but she hadn’t imagined him taking the children without her knowledge. And to an orphanage, where they would be lost among a veritable sea of other needy children? Joe and Florie wouldn’t receive the care and attention to which they’d grown accustomed during their year with Christina. Rose, especially, had doted on the pair.
Christina leaped up and charged across the yard toward the street, her watch bouncing. Mrs. Spencer called after her, but she ignored the woman and aimed herself for the train station. She pumped her arms, her skirts swirling around her ankles. Her pulse pounded in her temples.
Louisa and Rose puffed up beside her. “What are you going to do?” Rose asked.
Christina barely flicked a glance at the woman. “I’m going to get those children back.”
Rose clapped her hands together. “Praise be! An orphanage is no place for our Joe and Florie.”
“But how will you get them back?” Louisa’s fretful tone pierced Christina’s ears. “You don’t have money for a train ticket, do you?”
Rose added her concerns. “Three tickets … That will cost dear.”
Christina stopped as abruptly as if she’d encountered a stone wall. What was she thinking? She didn’t have travel money, not for herself or the twins. Even if she did, she might need to complete some sort of paperwork and receive approval before the children’s home director allowed her to take them. That could require days. Which would mean paying for meals and a hotel room.
She drew in deep breaths, bringing her galloping pulse under control, and forced herself to think rationally. Mr. Regehr had taken them away. She’d simply insist he bring them back. By next week the poor farm house would be repaired so she and the others could move in again. He’d have no reason to keep the children away from her once she could put a solid roof over their heads. It would be hard to wait—everything within her wanted to demand their immediate return—but the mission board would be more likely to heed her request if her house was ready for occupation.
“You’re right.” Christina reached out, and Rose and Louisa each took one of her hands. She clung hard, seeking comfort from their firm grips. “I can’t go chasing after them. But”—she gave each woman a determined look—“next week, when we’re all in our house again, those children will come back to us. You’ll see.”
Chapter 23
Levi smiled as he observed Tommy rubbing a rag over the breakfast dishes and then fingering the plate to be certain every bit of cornmeal mush was washed away. The boy groped for the drying towel, wiped the plate with it, then inched his way to the cupboard and clanked the plate into place.
Tommy’s face broke into a grin. “All done! Let’s get to work.”
No one would be able to deny the pride in his tone and in his erectly held shoulders. In the past week Levi had seen confidence bloom in the boy. And most of it came from the progress he was making in learning to cane. He wasn’t adept enough yet to tackle a chair seat or any other project, but his nimble fingers could form discernible patterns with canvas strips that Levi had cut to emulate cane. The canvas didn’t cut his fingers the way hemp had, but the boy had shown Levi his callused fingertips before bed last night and crowed, “Look! I’ve got working hands, just like you.” Something warm and welcome had flooded Levi’s chest at the comment, and the good feeling was with him still this morning.
He slapped an arm around Tommy’s shoulder
s. “Let’s go.”
They stepped from the porch to the yard and headed in the direction of the mill. They’d taken only a few strides before Tommy stopped and sniffed the air. “Smells like rain’s comin’.”
Levi searched the sky. Overhead it was mostly clear—just a few wispy streaks of white way up high—but in the north it appeared a thunderstorm was building. He shook his head in wonder. How had Tommy detected rain clouds from miles away? “I think you’re right, Tommy, but I bet it won’t hit until this evening.”
The boy scowled. “Miss Willems, she’s countin’ on gettin’ the house done so we can all move in again. If it starts rainin’, will the men be able to build those walls at the poor farm?”
Levi nudged Tommy’s elbow to get him moving again. A rainstorm could delay the rebuilding. Miss Willems had come out twice during the week to check on Tommy, and each time she’d assured him they’d be back in their own home soon. She seemed to need the assurance even more than Tommy did—the boy was content with Levi. And Levi had to admit he had come to enjoy having the boy around. But he didn’t mind Miss Willems showing up on his porch now and again either. What man wouldn’t enjoy looking at her comely face?
He choked out a startled cough, sending away the thoughts of Miss Willems. “Kansas storms blow through pretty quick. If it lets up by morning, they can probably still work. It’ll just be messy.”
Tommy offered a slow nod, but he didn’t smile. “Oh.”
Levi paused, stopping Tommy with a hand on his arm. “What’s the matter?”
“Once the house is fixed, I … I’ll have to leave.”
Levi’s chest tightened, but he forced a cheery tone. “Well, sure. But that’s a good thing, right? Don’t you miss Miss Willems and the others?”
“I guess so.” The boy’s thick lashes swept up and down a few times. “Miss Willems took good care of me. Cora an’ Wes an’ the others—they all took care of me.” A hard edge crept into his voice.
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