What Once Was Lost

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Boots clomped on the porch. Hinges complained, and a click signaled the door had closed. Then footsteps approached. A soft movement of air let Tommy know Mr. Jonnson had passed in front of him, and he scooted closer to the armrest when the sofa sank beneath Mr. Jonnson’s weight. A hand—a strong hand, with fingers that gripped but didn’t bruise—landed on Tommy’s shoulder.

  Tommy lifted his chin and clenched his fists, grabbing hold of all his gumption. “Mr. Jonnson, I got something to say to you.”

  Cora held her skirt above her ankles as she walked to the boardinghouse with Miss Willems. Although they used the wooden walkways rather than walking in the street, the wood was warped in places and held puddles of rainwater. Cora didn’t want to soil the hem of her brown serge skirt—the nicest skirt she’d ever owned. She’d had to move the button on the waistband a good inch in order to fasten it this morning. By next Sunday she might not be able to wear it at all. She couldn’t deny a rush of sorrow at the thought. In this brown serge she felt pretty. Respectable. Emmet Wade would probably tell her she looked like a lady.

  But she knew better.

  She sighed, watching her brown lace-up shoes to avoid stepping directly into a puddle as she moved along. Maybe it was time to put this skirt in the wardrobe. It wasn’t a work skirt, after all. Starting tomorrow, she’d be clerking all day at the Creeger Mercantile, and her calico dress would better suit such a position.

  Excitement danced in her belly. Having lunch with the Creegers—watching how they smiled at each other, touching each other’s hands all soft and tender—had sealed her decision. She liked them. They were good people. All they needed was a baby to make their family complete. And Cora would provide them with one. Just like the preacher had said, all things worked out for good.

  At least most things. It would be hard to leave Miss Willems. Especially knowing the woman would have to take care of Mrs. Beasley’s boarders all by herself. But pretty soon Miss Willems would be back out at the poor farm again, and Cora’s leaving would make room for some other person who needed a place to stay. So it’d all be for the best eventually. She soothed herself with the thought.

  They turned onto the dirt pathway leading to the boardinghouse’s back door. Just before stepping inside, Cora touched Miss Willems’s arm. “Ma’am, I …”

  Miss Willems paused and looked at Cora. Her eyes seemed sad. They’d been that way since she’d talked with Mr. Jonnson at the hotel. What had the man said to upset her so? Funny how Miss Willems reacted to Levi Jonnson. Sometimes after she’d seen him, she’d be all quiet and almost fluttery. Sometimes spitting mad. Other times—like now—she was troubled. In Cora’s experience a woman’s emotions got tangled up when she cared for a fellow. But Miss Willems surely hadn’t gotten herself attached to the mill owner, had she?

  “Cora, we need to go in. What did you want?”

  Miss Willems’s question pulled Cora out of her musings. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to let you know, I’m …” Was she doing the right thing? What would happen when the Creegers discovered her secret? She wouldn’t be able to hide behind aprons and shawls much longer. Would they cast her out of the store? Maybe she should just stay with Miss Willems. Or maybe she should leave altogether before these people she admired learned of her downfall. She gulped.

  Suddenly Miss Willems offered a nod. A sad smile appeared on her face. “You’re taking the job at the mercantile, aren’t you?”

  Cora hung her head. She had to take it. She had to find a good home for the babe growing inside of her. “Yes’m.”

  “When do they wish for you to start?”

  “They said if I wanted to, I could come over tonight and get settled—start workin’ in the morning.” Cora could hardly believe her good fortune. A job and a little room all to herself. Ma would be so surprised.

  “Well, I won’t lie and say I won’t miss you.” Miss Willems’s voice trembled a bit, but when Cora peeked at her, her eyes were dry. “Even so, I’ll not hold you back. It’s a fine offer, and the Creegers are good people.”

  Cora nodded. The Creegers would give her baby the best home. She just knew it. “Yes’m.”

  “You should be proud, Cora, taking a job and providing for yourself. Not many women your age would possess the strength and courage to be self-sufficient.”

  Warmth flooded Cora’s face. Oh, such feelings washed through her at Miss Willems’s praise. Her tongue felt too clumsy to speak, so she just smiled her thanks.

  Miss Willems smiled, too. A less-sad smile. Then she embraced Cora. And for once Cora didn’t stiffen up. “After supper I’ll let Mrs. Beasley know you won’t be working here any longer, and then I’ll help you take your things to the Creegers. Does that sound fine?”

  A lump formed in Cora’s throat. It was fine and dandy for her. But poor Miss Willems, left here alone … She stood within the circle of Miss Willems’s arms and blinked back tears. “Yes’m. Thank you.”

  The woman released her and stepped back. “It’s all settled, then.” She turned to the door, her movements brisk. “Supper, and then we’ll send you out on your new adventure.”

  Levi clamped his hands over his knees and held tight. The temptation to take hold of the boy and shake the obstinacy out of him became more difficult to resist by the minute. After Tommy had blurted out his intention to take himself far away from Brambleville, the poor farm, and the mill, he’d sat as silent and unmoving as if he were carved of stone. Levi had repeated the same question multiple times, but Tommy refused to explain why he was so adamant about not returning to the poor farm and to Miss Willems.

  He waited, listening to the steady tick, tick of the mantel clock counting the minutes. Two minutes. Three. Then four. The muscles in his arms twitched. If he’d pulled such a stubborn act as a boy, his father would have taken the razor strop to him. Part of him wondered if a few whacks across the boy’s backside would loosen his tongue, but he knew he’d never find the wherewithal to actually do it. Maybe he was a little like Miss Willems after all.

  He slid his hand along the sofa and touched Tommy’s arm. The boy jerked, but he didn’t speak. “Tommy, whether you answer me or not, it doesn’t change anything. You can’t go off to a big city by yourself. Not until you’re grown up. You’ll have to go back to the poor farm.”

  The muscles in the boy’s jaw tightened, but he kept his face aimed straight ahead rather than turning toward Levi.

  Levi went on, using his gentlest voice. “You being here … was just for a while.” As he spoke, he examined Tommy’s profile. No reaction. What would it take to get through to the boy? He blew out a noisy breath, shaking his head. “Listen, Tommy, I know it’s hard for you to be different. I understand why you’d want to settle in one place, a place where you feel secure and maybe where you don’t have to worry about people staring at you or ignoring you. But you can’t spend your life hiding. You—”

  Tommy leaped up so abruptly Levi fell backward. The boy swung to face him, his lips twisting into a snarl. “You don’t know nothin’. You don’t understand.”

  Levi rose. “Then explain it to me, Tommy. Help me understand.”

  “No!” Tommy whirled and took off at a trot, plowing straight into Levi’s rocking chair. The chair teetered, and Tommy went with it. Levi grabbed his arm, but Tommy shook loose. “Don’t help me! Just … lemme alone!” He pushed himself upright. Sobs racking his shoulders, he stretched out both hands and stumbled across the room to the front door. He pawed along the doorframe until he located the porcelain knob, then yanked the door open. One foot inside and one foot on the porch, he gulped great breaths of air until his crying ceased.

  Gazing outward, he spoke in a cold, emotionless tone that pierced Levi to the center of his being. “You acted like my friend, but you’re just like all the others. I used to love you, Mr. Jonnson. But not anymore. I hate you.” He shuffled to the edge of the porch, sank down next to a square post, and pressed his forehead to the wood.

  Levi eased back onto the sofa
and stared through the open doorway at the boy’s lonely, dejected pose. He didn’t know how to help Tommy any more than he’d known how to help his father when he’d escaped into a bubble of self-pity. And in that moment he hated himself.

  Chapter 28

  Was as she foolish to love her new job? The worrisome question had toyed at the back of Cora’s mind off and on all day, all week long, and even woke her at night to tease her with misgivings. As much as she might like to, she couldn’t work at the Creeger Mercantile forever. When this baby was born, she’d have to leave. So maybe she should try harder not to like stocking the shelves just so, cutting dress goods into rippling lengths, measuring flour and sugar and good-smelling cinnamon into brown bags. Maybe she should eat by herself in her small but cheerful room instead of sitting down with Mr. and Mrs. Creeger—or Pa and Ma Creeger, as they’d laughingly told her to call them—for their evening meal.

  She could hardly believe it when she found out the Creegers were a year older than Ma. Ma had been just seventeen when she’d birthed Cora, so being a year older than Ma meant they were thirty-six. Cora’d come to think that being thirty was old. Ma sure seemed old, with her round shoulders, long lines dragging down both sides of her mouth, and thin hair always hanging in her face. But the Creegers didn’t seem old to Cora. Not at all.

  Oh, little fan lines showed at the corner of Pa Creeger’s eyes, and Ma Creeger’s chin wasn’t quite as firm as it might’ve been in previous years. But they both moved sprightly and laughed loudly. She never saw either of them lean against a wall or a table and sigh as if life was weighting them down. In spite of the babies they’d lost, the same way Ma had lost babies after bringing Cora into the world, the Creegers still wore joy. Ma only wore bitter sorrow. Maybe, Cora mused, joy kept a person looking young.

  And they’d be even more joyful when she put this baby growing inside her into their empty arms.

  Knowing her time with them would be short, Cora tried hard to keep her distance. Every morning she told her reflection in the little mirror above her washstand, “Now remember, don’t be so friendly with ’em. Just gonna get yourself hurt in the end.” But every day, even before noontime rolled around, she’d be laughing and talking, teasing with Pa Creeger and letting Ma Creeger catch her in a hug. Cora had never liked anybody as much as she liked the mercantile owners, and a part of her couldn’t wait to tell them she had something very special to give them. But another part of her dreaded the day, because it meant she’d have to move on.

  On Saturday at the end of her first week as the mercantile assistant, she slipped on her faded pink calico dress. She pushed the top three buttons through their holes, but the last three—the ones that should march across her belly—wouldn’t reach no matter how much she tugged at the fabric. Thankfully her full-bibbed apron covered her front. She tied the strings loosely, hoping the draping fabric would hide the growing mound beneath. Then she trotted down the narrow stairs to the mercantile floor.

  Ma Creeger was already there, tacking little handwritten placards to the shelves underneath the day’s special items. She smiled when Cora pattered into the room. “You’re just in time to unlock the door, Cora. Already shoppers are lined up on the porch waiting to come in. Looks like it’ll be a busy day!”

  That suited Cora just fine. She’d never been afraid of hard work, and keeping busy meant she didn’t have time to think. She dashed to the door and twisted the lock. The moment she opened the door, womenfolk with baskets over their arms and youngsters in tow spilled through the doorway. Just as Cora had wanted, the early morning hours passed quickly. She stayed busy filling orders, bustling to the storeroom to bring out more sweet potatoes or canned peaches, and carrying crates of goods to waiting wagons.

  Between tasks she munched salted peanuts. She’d never been overly fond of peanuts, but for some reason she craved salty foods, and the bin of peanuts proved to be a temptation she couldn’t resist. She had her hand in the bin for the fourth time that morning when Pa Creeger called, “Cora! Miss Willems just came through the door. Do you want to see what she needs?”

  Guilt immediately smote Cora. She’d been enjoying her new job and nice place to live so much she hadn’t even thought about Miss Willems all week. She brushed her palms down the front of her apron, removing the salt from her fingers, and darted around the corner. “Miss Willems!”

  “Cora …” Miss Willems opened her arms.

  Cora’s legs turned stiff as she moved forward to receive the hug. She pulled back after only a few seconds, keenly aware of her blossoming belly. She stared into Miss Willems’s tired face, and another rush of guilt brought the sting of tears. The woman appeared to have aged in the past six days. “How … how’re you doin’?”

  “I’m fine.” She spoke in a cheery voice, but the dark circles under her eyes told a different story. “Busy, of course, but …” She lifted her hand and touched Cora’s cheek—a light, motherly touch. “You look good. Your face is filling out, and you have some color in your cheeks. The Creegers are treating you well?”

  Cora twisted her hands together. “Yes, ma’am, they surely are.” Better than she deserved. But then, so had Miss Willems. She blurted, “I miss you.” Truthfully, she’d forgotten all about her friend working alone at the boardinghouse, but she’d never say so.

  Miss Willems smiled. “That’s good to hear. I miss you, too, but I’m very happy for you.”

  Cora wondered if Miss Willems might be fibbing a bit, too, because the smile didn’t reach her eyes. She gnawed her lower lip, seeking some means of encouraging the woman. Before she could find anything, though, Miss Willems took a step back. She glanced around the store, seeming to count the customers.

  “I won’t keep you from your duties, but it’s so nice to see you, Cora.”

  “But don’tcha need something?” Cora, embarrassed by her blunt question, laughed self-consciously and recited the greeting Ma Creeger used with customers. “I mean, may I help you with somethin’?”

  Miss Willems patted Cora’s arm. “Not this time. Go ahead and see to the other customers. I came to see Mr. Creeger.”

  Cora watched Miss Willems move across the pine-planked floor to Pa Creeger. Although she took brisk strides, her shoulders were bent as if she carried a load on her back. When she reached him, she took something from her dress pocket and held it out. Light glinted on silver. What was Miss Willems doing with the etched pocket watch she always wore on a chain around her neck? Cora had often admired that watch. The design on the cover was pretty, and Miss Willems kept it polished so it shined like a full moon in a cloudless sky.

  Together, Miss Willems and Pa Creeger moved to the counter, and Pa Creeger took out his cashbox. The two began what appeared to be an intense conversation. Curious, Cora eased up to the counter and began sorting suspenders by color. She tipped sideways and listened in.

  “… from Mama to Papa for Christmas in 1863. She’d received a small inheritance from her grandfather and wanted to give Papa something that would last.” Miss Willems laughed softly—the saddest laugh Cora had ever heard. “He carried it in his pocket every day. He was always so proud that Abraham Lincoln had one just like it.”

  Pa Creeger took the silver-cased watch from Miss Willems’s hands and turned it this way and that. “No doubt the Waltham Company knows how to put together a quality watch,” he said. “And even though the William Ellery wasn’t one of their top watches, it’s still a good one.” He snapped the cover and peered at the face. “Keeps perfect time. Reckon that’s why most of the railroad men carry ’em.”

  “Yes.” Miss Willems sounded so forlorn, Cora’s heart ached. “I hate to part with it, but I … I find myself more in need of funds than a timepiece. I realize you aren’t a purchaser, but I thought perhaps …”

  Cora gulped. All those letters Miss Willems had been sending to the mission board hadn’t done any good at all. They weren’t going to give her money to fix the house. Miss Willems shouldn’t have to sell something so dear to
her. Cora held her breath, caught between hope and fear that Pa Creeger would buy it.

  Pa Creeger worked his jaw back and forth, cradling the William Ellery watch in his palm. “You’re right, Miss Willems, that I’ve not done any buyin’ of used items to resell in the store. I’m not real certain I can even give you what your mama must’ve paid for it. But …” He puffed out his cheeks, holding in a big breath. After several seconds he blew out the air in a noisy rush. “I could do ten dollars. How’s that?”

  Cora’s heart pounded like a tom-tom and seemed to beat out the message Don’t do it! Don’t do it!

  Miss Willems lowered her head and closed her eyes. Was she praying? Would God tell her to keep the watch her mama’d given her papa? The woman sighed and lifted her gaze to Pa Creeger. “I’ll take it. Thank you very much.”

  Pa Creeger pressed a crumpled bill into Miss Willems’s hand. He placed the watch in the cashbox and closed the lid with a snap. “Can I help you with anything else?”

  Miss Willems stared at the box. Her chin quivered. “No, thank you, Mr. Creeger.”

  He pushed the box to the far corner of the counter and bustled off to see to other customers. Cora stood, hands gripping a pair of blue-and-green-striped suspenders, and watched Miss Willems. Agony ebbed from the woman, and Cora ached to do something to help. But what? She didn’t have ten dollars to offer. And she didn’t have any words of wisdom to share either. So she just mourned the loss along with the heartbroken woman until a customer walked between the two of them and tapped Cora’s arm.

  “Miss, I need a quarter pound of pepper and a pound of salt.”

  Cora nodded briskly, setting the suspenders aside. “Yes, ma’am.” She scurried behind the counter and bent down to retrieve two brown paper sacks. When she rose, she glanced toward the spot where Miss Willems had been standing. She was gone. For a moment Cora froze, sadness squeezing her chest so tight it hurt to breathe.