Where We Belong

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Where We Belong Page 34

by Lynn Austin


  He nodded as if he understood, but he didn’t. He climbed onto the driver’s seat and drove the rest of the way home, unable to control his tears or his trembling hands.

  Andrew banished him from the carriage house when he saw his bruised horse and learned what happened. “Go back inside and work as a footman, if they’ll still have you. But you’re not coming near my horses again.” Soren slunk into the house by the back door and was passing through the hallway near the pantry when he heard the sisters talking in the kitchen.

  “We should help him find his brother,” Miss Rebecca was saying. Soren’s heart began to race. “We could at least give him a chance to see that his brother is well cared for, and to say good-bye.”

  “Becky, the adoption records are sealed to everyone but the director, including me.”

  “That’s ridiculous. You not only founded that orphanage, but you contribute great sums of your time and money to it. Why on earth can’t you see the records?”

  “They’re kept in Mr. Wingate’s office under lock and key.”

  “Listen, God commands us to pursue justice and to love mercy, and Soren’s situation clearly falls into those categories. What was done to those brothers was a grave injustice, and we need to extend mercy to them.”

  “How?” Miss Flora asked.

  Miss Rebecca was silent for a long moment. Soren was about to tiptoe away when she suddenly said, “We haven’t gone on an adventure in a long time, Flora.”

  “I suppose that’s true. . . . What do you have in mind?”

  “Something a little unethical—and perhaps slightly illegal—but it’s the right thing to do in this case. Don’t you want to help right this terrible wrong?”

  “Of course I do. But Gunnar has a new family now. We can’t disrupt his life.”

  “I’m not suggesting we kidnap the child. I simply want to give Petersen a chance to visit him for a few minutes.”

  “I would like that, too, but Mr. Wingate isn’t going to let us waltz into his office and look at his records.”

  “Then I suppose we’ll have to break in. We’ll wear masks and dress all in black and smash a window in the dead of night. This could be fun!”

  Soren wondered if Miss Becky was serious. She was unlike any woman he’d ever met, and he didn’t doubt for a moment that she was capable of doing it. But when Miss Flora laughed, he realized she’d been joking.

  “We’ll do nothing of the sort, Becky. But if you can think of a way to distract the director for a few minutes, perhaps I could sneak in and look through his files—”

  “Nothing doing, Flora. I would much rather play the part of the burglar. I don’t have as much to lose as you do if I get caught and sent to prison. You’re a much-loved member of Chicago society. I would hate to see your reputation soiled. Or Edmund’s, either, for that matter. You need to think of him.”

  “You just want to have all the fun, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do. How soon can we go on this caper?”

  “Let me think. . . . Our annual Easter party is coming up in a few weeks. If Mr. Wingate is at the party with all the children, we might have a chance to sneak into his office.”

  “Perfect. It’ll be your job to keep him occupied, Flora.”

  “That will be a challenge, since there’s no love lost between Mr. Wingate and me.”

  Soren’s heart had begun to beat so loudly in his ears that he didn’t hear the cook come in through the back door until it was too late. “Hey, there!” she shouted. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I . . . I was just . . .”

  “You were eavesdropping, weren’t you?”

  Miss Rebecca came to the door a moment later. “What’s going on?”

  “I caught Petersen eavesdropping,” the cook said.

  “But you were talking about me and Gunnar. I want to be there to help you, Miss Rebecca. Let me drive the carriage—”

  “Absolutely not! You must promise that you’ll stay right here at home and not go anywhere near the orphanage. If Mr. Wingate sees you, it will ruin everything. He’ll figure out what we’re up to.”

  Soren wanted to punch the wall in frustration. Miss Flora came to the doorway, too. “Do you trust us, Soren?” she asked. Experience had taught him to trust no one, but he had no choice. He nodded.

  Soren felt as though he couldn’t breathe as he watched the carriage leave on the day of the Easter party. The housekeeper put him to work polishing the silver while he waited, and it was the longest afternoon he could ever remember. The moment he heard the carriage returning, he dropped his polishing cloth and raced outside. “Did you find out where Gunnar is?”

  Miss Flora smiled. “Everything went smoothly,” she said. “We have his address. Let’s go inside so we can talk about what comes next.”

  “Please, tell me where he lives,” Soren begged as they went indoors. “I need to see him!”

  “Rebecca and I will visit his new home first and—”

  “No! I want to go with you! I want to see Gunnar! Please!” He hated to beg, but it was the only way he could see his brother. The ladies removed their hats and wraps and handed them to him to put on the hall tree, but he wasn’t leaving them without an answer.

  “We can’t let you disrupt Gunnar’s life,” Flora said. “We learned that he lives in a very nice neighborhood, and his adopted father owns his own business and makes a good living. Gunnar has been with them for more than a year—”

  “I need to know if they’re treating him right.”

  “You can trust Becky and me to investigate and tell you the truth. If it isn’t a good home, I promise we’ll get the proper officials involved and have him taken away from his adoptive parents.”

  The tears that burned in Soren’s eyes made him furious, but he pressed on. “I promise I won’t disrupt anything. Please let me see him. Let me talk to him. I never even had a chance to say good-bye.”

  The sisters looked at each other, silently communicating. “Do you promise you won’t try to run off with him?” Miss Becky asked.

  “How can I promise that until I see how he’s doing and how they’re treating him?”

  “If there’s any abuse or mistreatment, you have my word that we’ll report it to the authorities,” Miss Flora said. “But we’ll only give you a chance to see each other if you promise not to interfere with his new life.”

  “And you’ll have to promise not to make a scene,” Miss Rebecca added. “Can we trust you?”

  Hope made Soren’s heart pound painfully. “Yes. I promise.”

  Miss Flora turned to her sister. “Are you ready for another adventure, Becky?”

  “Do I get to wear a mask this time?”

  “No. But you’ll probably get to tell a pack of lies, God help us all. Will that do?”

  “I suppose it will have to.”

  Miss Flora laid her hand on his arm. “Now, I need you to understand, Soren, that it’s wrong to tell lies—”

  “Except to save a life,” Miss Rebecca quickly added. “Or to correct an injustice when there’s no other way to do it. Remember how Rahab lied to save the Hebrew spies? And didn’t King David’s wife, Michal, lie to save her husband from King Saul?”

  Soren had no idea what they were talking about. “When do I get to see Gunnar?” he asked.

  “As soon as Becky and I come up with a plan.”

  Soren heard them whispering and plotting all week, but they were always careful to keep him from overhearing their plans. He struggled to be patient. Even Mr. Edmund noticed how jittery and anxious Soren was while he waited. “They’re going to help you, Petersen,” he assured him. “You can trust them.”

  Finally, more than a week after the sisters learned Gunnar’s address, they called him into Miss Rebecca’s study after breakfast. “Here’s what we’ve planned,” she began. “We’ll visit your brother’s new home on the pretense that we’re making a follow-up call for the orphanage.”

  “Now remember, lying is a terr
ible thing to do,” Miss Flora interrupted, “and I’m sorry that we’re forced to do it. We just can’t see any other way to pursue justice and show God’s mercy to you and your brother, so this is the way it has to be.”

  Miss Rebecca smiled as she rolled her eyes. “Hopefully, the Good Lord will forgive us just this once, as long as we don’t get into the habit of lying or make it a way of life. Now, Flora will stay inside and talk to Gunnar’s new parents about any problems they may have encountered, and ask them if they have any suggestions to make future adoptions go smoothly. Meanwhile, I’ll ask Gunnar to walk outside with me—where you’ll be waiting. You’ll have a very small window of time to talk with him, Soren. Then we’ll have to leave. Understand?” He nodded.

  “No, you need to give me your word,” Miss Flora said. “The same way you did after we paid all that money to bail you out of jail. You’ll get us into terrible trouble if you don’t keep your word.”

  Soren didn’t want to make that promise. He had searched for Gunnar for more than a year, and now he longed to run away with him. But if he didn’t do exactly as the sisters said, he might not have a chance to see him at all. He swallowed hard and said, “You have my word.”

  Waiting was the hardest part. The sisters didn’t tell Soren when they were going until the morning arrived. Miss Flora insisted that Andrew drive the carriage, and Soren rode inside with the window shades pulled down. “So no one sees that you’re with us,” she said. But Soren knew it was so he wouldn’t see where Gunnar lived. His stomach burned as if it were on fire.

  When they first started out, he tried to pay attention and count the turns but there were too many. Besides, Andrew might be driving on a winding route on purpose. It was a gray day without any sunshine, so Soren couldn’t even use the sun to keep track of which direction they were going. He listened to the sound of the road beneath the carriage wheels, and for other clues such as streetcars rumbling past and train whistles in the distance. A fishy smell in the air told him they might be near Lake Michigan or maybe the Chicago River. Then they halted, and he recognized the creaking, groaning sound of the swing bridge opening to let ships pass. Miss Flora talked to Soren all the way there, asking him questions about his brother and what their life was like before they moved to the orphanage as she tried to distract him. In the end, after traveling for more than an hour, Soren had no idea where he was.

  But he would see Gunnar again. Tears sprang to his eyes just thinking about it—and he was much too old to cry. Could he really keep his promise not to snatch his brother and run? Soren decided that the answer would depend on Gunnar. If he was happy there, and if living with his new family was truly a better life than the one Soren could offer, then he would let him be. Soren had failed all of the other people he had promised to care for—Hilde, Greta, his mama—and he feared that he would fail once again with Gunnar if they ran away together.

  At last the carriage halted. “We’re here,” Miss Rebecca said. “It’s the house on the right.” Soren lifted the shade and peered out. A row of trees shaded the street, and he heard birds singing. The two-story brick house had big windows and green grass in front. It was the kind of house he would never dare to dream of living in when he was Gunnar’s age. Before they got out, the sisters joined hands with him so Miss Flora could pray. Soren’s heart thumped so loudly in his ears he barely heard a word until she said “Amen.”

  “Remember, wait here in the carriage until Flora and I are both inside,” Miss Rebecca told him. Soren nodded. His hands trembled as he lifted the window shade again to watch them walk up the steps and stand on the porch. A woman came to the door. He held his breath as the sisters talked with her for a moment. Was she a servant or Gunnar’s new mother? What if Gunnar wasn’t home? Then the woman opened the door a little wider, and Miss Flora and Miss Rebecca disappeared inside. Soren thought his heart would burst as he stepped out of the carriage.

  “Good luck, Petersen,” Andrew said from his perch on the driver’s seat.

  Soren looked up and nodded. Then he hurried around to the backyard as the sisters had instructed him to do. It was a small, grassy space with a big tree in the middle and flowers all around. He found a place to wait, half-hidden behind a bush, and watched the back door. After what seemed like an eternity, Miss Rebecca came outside, holding Gunnar’s hand. Soren’s vision blurred with tears as he stepped from the bushes, careful not to startle his brother. “Hey, Gunnar. Remember me?”

  “Soren!” His brother gave a cry of joy and raced into his arms. His little body felt different to Soren after more than a year—stronger, more filled out—yet achingly familiar. They belonged together, he was convinced of that.

  “Hey, let’s have a look at you,” Soren said as he pulled away, wiping his eyes. “You look great, Gunnar. I see you got some new clothes. Those look like pretty nice shoes, too.”

  “They told me you didn’t want to be my brother anymore,” Gunnar wailed. The look of desolation on his face ripped Soren’s heart in two. He pulled him into his arms again.

  “That’s a lie, Gunnar! The man at the orphanage tricked both of us. You’ll always be my brother, forever and ever. Nothing will ever change that. That’s why I came here today. I’ve been trying to find you ever since they stole you away from the orphan’s home. I’ve been searching and searching, taking streetcars to every neighborhood in Chicago. Miss Flora and Miss Rebecca helped me find you.”

  “Can I go home with you now?”

  Soren closed his eyes. How he longed to take him home! He chose his words carefully, aware that Miss Rebecca was listening. “Do they treat you pretty good here?”

  “Yes. . . . I have a new mama and papa now,” Gunnar said, managing a weak smile. He wasn’t thin anymore, and his cheeks looked as bright and healthy as two red apples. He must be eating well and playing in the fresh air and sleeping in a soft bed at night, with a mother to kiss him and sing to him the way their mama used to do. Soren knew he couldn’t give his brother any of those things. He brushed his fingers through Gunnar’s silky hair.

  “That’s great, Gunnar. Do you have fun with your new family?”

  “Papa carries me on his shoulders when we go to the park, way up high in the air. And Mama reads me stories at night. . . .” Soren looked away, swallowing tears.

  “That’s good, then. They must love you, right? And you love them?”

  “Yes . . . but I miss you, Soren. I want to be with you.”

  He remembered how he’d failed to take care of Hilde and Greta and knew he couldn’t take care of Gunnar, either. Miss Flora was right—this was where Gunnar belonged. Soren loved him more than anyone in the world. He had to do the right thing. “You have a pretty nice home, here,” he said, gesturing to it. “I can’t give you a house like this or nice clothes to wear or food to eat. I would love to do all those things for you . . . but I can’t.” The truth was like a knife in his heart.

  “Why don’t you come here and live with us? I’ll ask Papa if—”

  Soren pulled him into his arms again and held him tightly. “No, don’t do that. Don’t say anything to your new papa. He doesn’t know that I came to see you today. He might get mad at Miss Flora if he finds out, and I don’t want to get her into trouble.”

  “But I don’t want you to go away again.”

  “And I don’t want to go, believe me. But it’s just for now. Remember what Mama always said?”

  “No trees grow to the sky,” Gunnar said softly.

  “That’s right. We have to live apart for now. But I promise I’ll come back, Gunnar. Miss Flora and Miss Rebecca will help us figure out a way that we can see each other once in a while.” He looked up at Miss Rebecca from where he was kneeling in the grass and saw her nod as she dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. “I’m a grown man, Gunnar, too old to have parents taking care of me. But I’m glad that you have a mama and papa who love you.”

  “Do you still live in the orphan home?”

  “No, I work for Miss Flora and Mi
ss Rebecca. I live in a nice house, too.”

  “I’m sorry, but it’s time to go,” Miss Rebecca said, glancing at the back door.

  Soren hugged his brother again. “I have to say good-bye. It may take a while, but I’ll be back to see you again.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.” He squeezed him tightly one last time. “Now dry your eyes and go inside with Miss Rebecca, and don’t let anyone see that you’ve been crying. This has to be our special secret for now.” Gunnar hugged him in return. How Soren missed the warmth of him, the comfort he felt by having him near. “See you soon,” Soren whispered, then released him.

  Miss Rebecca reached for Gunnar’s hand. Soren watched them go up the back stairs and into the house. He turned and sprinted back to the carriage and ducked inside. Then his tears came. He covered his face with his hands and sobbed for all the people he had loved and lost—for Mama and Papa, Hilde and Greta, and most of all, for Gunnar. He considered leaping out of the carriage again and hiding in the bushes where the sisters couldn’t find him. Maybe he could live on the streets and watch his brother from afar and talk to him once in a while. But Soren didn’t run. Gunnar was happy here. Besides, the sisters trusted him to keep his word.

  They came out of the house a few minutes later and climbed in beside him. “Thank you, Lord,” Miss Flora said with a huge sigh. “Everything went well.” Miss Rebecca closed the curtains again as Andrew whistled to the team and the carriage rolled forward.

  Soren wanted to say something to them, to thank them for helping him find his brother and giving them a chance to see each other. But he couldn’t speak past the knot that choked his throat. Saying good-bye to Gunnar was the hardest thing he had ever done.

  Chapter 27

  CHICAGO

  1889

  ONE YEAR AGO

  Soren took each step carefully, trying to keep the tray of food steady and not spill anything as he climbed the stairs to Mr. Edmund’s bedroom. What had begun as a bad cough had left Mr. Edmund bedridden, and Soren had been taking care of him for several weeks, helping him use the bathroom, fetching things for him, carrying food upstairs when he felt well enough to eat—and ushering in the steady stream of doctors who came with medicines and poultices and remedies to ease Mr. Edmund’s cough and fever. Nothing helped, and his cough was so bad at times he couldn’t catch his breath. Soren had to pound his back until he could breathe again.

 

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