The Hope of Azure Springs

by Rachel Fordham

  “Did the train stop often? How did you end up so much farther across Iowa than her?”

  She faced him. “Look at me, Caleb. Look at me! I’m plain. I’m scarred.” She pointed to her burn. Normally she did all she could to conceal it, but today was different. “Not to mention that I was twelve, angry, and broken. I stood with my number pinned on me at every station from Beckford to the one George picked me up at. No one wanted me.” A painful laugh came then. “They wanted the others. Little boys and girls found homes at each stop. More children were separated, friendships torn apart. But they were wanted. Not me—no one wanted me. I’d accepted the fact that I’d be living on the streets again as soon as the train returned. Then at the end, when there was no one else to take, George took me and it was over. I failed. I failed Lucy. And now I have to find her. I have to fix it.”

  Caleb ran his hands through his hair. Then he looked hard at her and shook his head. “How did you fail? None of this was your fault. None of it. You were a child.”

  “I’d been taking care of Lucy her whole life. While my ma worked as a maid, I cared for her. Before my ma died, she told me to look after Lucy. I tried, but I didn’t know how.” The mood was dark, the despair palpable in the air. “I failed. The only person who needed me and wanted me was taken, and I’ve not been able to find her.”

  “How long were you on the streets? Let it be my second question if you must,” Caleb said.

  Em took a deep breath and then gave him a weak smile. “Very well. My ma died after I had turned eleven and Lucy was six. We were no longer welcome in the tenement because we had no money to pay our share of the rent. We found an abandoned building and moved in there. For a couple months we lived off of food we found and what I could buy with the money we made selling newspapers and doing odd jobs.”

  “Even then you were clever,” Caleb said.

  “I tried, and yet there were certain things I refused to do. I saw them though. Other girls who lived on the streets told me how they made money. I even ventured over to where they did business while Lucy was sleeping one night. I knew then what my ma had warned me against, and I ran back the entire way to Lucy. I picked her up in my arms and held her that whole night. I knew somehow I had to find another way to survive. I had to take care of her, but I was too afraid to sell myself. I wonder now if I made the right choice.” Em couldn’t meet Caleb’s eyes as she continued.

  “The next day I stole. I never had before. And as good as the bread tasted, I hated myself for taking it. But Lucy seemed stronger that night, more alive. The food had been good for her. I hadn’t noticed until then just how thin she’d become. I pushed my guilt away and began stealing more often. I never liked it, but I didn’t know what else to do. Everything went along all right for a couple more weeks. Lucy turned seven and we spent a happy day together, just playing, pretending life was not such a heavy burden. We made dolls from sticks. Like the ones you found. It was all I could give her. I wanted so much to give her more. I wanted her to be happy like the little girls I saw playing outside with their families. Like Mae and Milly are.”

  Em hesitated. She needed to finish her tale, but it was hard putting the past into words and hearing them out loud. “On the way back to our shelter, we saw a public hanging. I covered Lucy’s eyes and distracted her, but I watched. The boy who was swinging looked so young. I asked a man what had happened. He said the boy was twelve and old enough to know stealing was wrong. That night I imagined Lucy living on her own and me swinging from the gallows. The image was so real that I emptied my stomach because I felt so sick. And so afraid.”

  Caleb was near her, his hand on her shoulder. Had it been there long? Em was not sure. “We went to the Aid Society the next day. We’d heard of their trains and decided it was best. We spent a night there, only to have someone tell us there was a chance no one would take us together. We snuck off the next day because we were unwilling to risk losing each other. One more night was all we spent in our abandoned building. Everything was against us—the building caught fire in the night. Lucy’s dress went up in flames. I put it out and pulled her from the building. When we were safe, I looked at my arm. It was mangled and raw.” Em ran her hand along the gruesome scar. “I’d seen what could happen when injuries were left to fester. I was not so afraid of dying as I was of leaving Lucy all alone.”

  Caleb reached a hand down and touched the scar. His fingertips brushed across it. “Does it hurt you?”

  “It did hurt, but now it’s not so bad. It gets stiff and it’s ugly. The memory hurts worse than the arm.” Continuing her tale, she said, “I could think of no other way to protect Lucy. We went back to the Society and agreed to take their train. They told us there was one leaving soon. We spent only a couple of weeks at the home before we boarded the train and headed to Iowa. My arm festered and ached the entire time. But nothing hurt like being torn from Lucy.”

  They stood in silence. Caleb still rested a hand on her shoulder. Part of her welcomed his touch while the other part wanted to run and hide. Never had she imagined sharing her tragedy. What must he think of her now? Did he think she’d done right or did he blame her like she blamed herself?

  She stepped away from his hand and moved for the door.

  “Wait. You don’t begin work for two more hours—where will you go?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll just walk and try to lock it all back up. It’s hard having a past like mine.” Pressing a hand to her heart, she said, “It hurts, more than any burn. More than the pain of being hungry. More than being unwanted. I miss her. Every single day I miss her.”

  “But now I know, and you don’t have to lock me out. I’ll carry it with you.” He stepped toward her. “Let me walk with you. Fresh air will do us both good.”

  “Your job is sheriff. You don’t have to fix this. Even if you wanted to, you could not.” Em opened the door and walked out.

  Caleb followed.

  Others were around them now. They walked in silence, away from the town and the people. The farther they got, the more alone they were—trees and shrubs their company. A trickling brook sounded in the distance while birds celebrated the day, naive to all pain, and a squirrel jumped from limb to limb. All so carefree.

  Caleb was the first to speak. “When I was a boy, I wanted to live on a big spread of land. Big enough that I could look in any direction and not see anyone else. I wanted a big old tree growing in my yard and a brook. Being outside in the open, that was always my favorite.” He was doing it again, using his words to make peace.

  “I didn’t know there were such wide-open spaces when I was a child,” Em said. “I did love the time we lived in a room with only our family. And I liked going to the little parks with Lucy. She always said the grass under her feet felt like a carpet rolled out for a princess.” Em smiled. It was the first time in a very long time she’d smiled at a memory of Lucy.

  “What else did Lucy do?” His eyes looked deep into her own. She believed that he really wanted to know.

  “Well, she loved to sing. She would sing to herself little made-up songs. She also loved stories. Just like Mae and Milly. The three of them would have gotten along well. Each night she begged me to tell her stories. Even when she was small she liked them. I remember telling her tales before she could talk and it would soothe her to sleep.” Em stopped walking when they reached the brook. “She would have loved this. I know she would. I remember her splashing her feet in the puddles after the rain. This water is so clean—she would have been thrilled.”

  Caleb sat on a log and started taking his shoes off. “Let’s go in. For Lucy. Let’s go in for my brothers too.”

  Em felt a moment of hesitancy, then she thought again of Lucy and her puddles. She nodded in understanding. “For Lucy and your brothers,” she said as she sat down next to him and unlaced her secondhand boots. “But I can only get my feet wet. I have work today.”

  He didn’t respond, just gave her that same crooked smile she’d come to love. With her
shoes off, she stood, ready to dip her feet in. Before she knew what was happening, big arms came around her—one around her waist, the other beneath her legs. She was in Caleb’s arms. His grip firm. “Would Lucy want you getting only your feet wet?”

  Not waiting for an answer, he spun in a quick circle, making her laugh despite her melancholy. He ran for the brook and then jumped in, their combined weight causing water to splash up over them. Em could feel drops of water on everything—even her nose. Caleb proceeded to stomp around in the brook with Em in his arms. Clinging to his neck, she laughed and laughed. He laughed too—a big, deep laugh that made his chest shake. He marched about in the creek, shouting proclamations such as, “This is for you, Lucy. This is for you, Reggie.”

  And then, for no reason at all, she cried. Laughter and tears were a strange combination. Burying her head in his neck, she tried to muffle the sound and sight of her emotion. Rather than let her down, he pulled her tighter. His marching slowed.

  Soon it stopped completely. Caleb stood still—an island in the brook, holding her as she sobbed. Seven years’ worth of tears rushed from her like a thrashing river.

  When she finally lifted her face, their eyes met and she saw tears on his cheeks too. Unlike her, he did not hide them. Instead, he spun one last time, pulled her tight to him, and kissed her on the forehead. He held her for a brief moment longer before stepping out of the brook and setting her back on the log.

  Bending his long legs, he sat beside her. He rested his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. She wanted to reach out and comfort him or ask what he was thinking, but she feared his response. Was he thinking of his brothers? Of Lucy? Was he regretting the kiss?

  They sat silently, letting the warm sun dry their clothes. Em lost in thought. Where Caleb was, she was not sure.

  At last Caleb lifted his head and looked up at the sun. “I think it’s nearing twelve. Let’s get back so Mrs. Anders isn’t kept waiting.”

  Ten

  Don’t work too hard,” Caleb said before leaving Em at Margaret’s door. Walking to the train station, he reflected on the morning. It hadn’t gone as planned. Some of it had. He felt as though he was getting somewhere with Alroy and his gang. Then there was the reading lesson, which had gone well. He had no doubt Em would catch on quickly. She was smart, and it irked him that she’d never been given a chance as a child.

  And then she’d let him in. Opened up about her pain, shared with him the burden she carried. Watching her struggle as she remembered had tortured him. Every part of him had wanted to do something, anything, to fix it. All the years of loneliness, the struggle she’d endured to survive, the misery of living apart from the only family she had—each piece of her story was tragic.

  Kicking at the loose rocks on the road, he battled his own emotions. Life was full of so much suffering. So much pain and hardship. So many trials. As he thought about the despair and unfairness of it all, a drop of water that had managed to evade the heat of the sun—like a message from above—ran down his forehead. He pictured the brook. There they had not just mourned their losses but laughed and celebrated their loved ones. Leaning on each other for a moment had been good. More than good. Since meeting Em, he’d felt more connected to Reggie and Sam and Marvin. And she’d smiled, remembering Lucy. Em understood pain and loss, and he’d felt safe sharing with her.

  He’d never expected to find a friend in her. But he had. And now he hoped his impulsive kiss would not frighten her off. He hadn’t planned to do it; it’d been an instinct. Seeing her grief had made him want to help, even in some small way. What did she think of him now?

  He worried over it the entire way to the train station.

  “How much is a ticket to Beckford?” he asked the man behind the counter.

  “Depending on the season, should cost you between six and seven dollars. Could be a little more or a little less if they change prices before you leave. When you planning on traveling?” the agent asked. His long mustache shook as he spoke.

  “Not for a few months. Maybe longer.”

  “You’re welcome to check back anytime and see if the fares have changed. And when you’re ready, we’ll get you booked.” The man pulled out a little notebook and began writing in it. Caleb couldn’t think of anything else to ask, so he walked away.

  How long would it take Em to earn six dollars? Weeks or perhaps months, maybe longer—hopefully longer. No, that wasn’t fair. He wanted her to find Lucy and yet he wasn’t sure he wanted her to leave. Without meaning to, he’d become used to her. He enjoyed her. Plus, she needed help with her reading, and Mae and Milly would be sorry to have her gone.

  As he headed back across town, he hoped she was enjoying her first day at work. He looked for her but did not see her as he walked past Margaret’s boardinghouse.

  For a moment he stared at the bright yellow house until he remembered all the many things he was supposed to be doing. He had a telegram to send and the Alroy case to work on.

  But first he was going to have a word with Silas at the saloon. Today he’d remind the worthless man how women were supposed to be treated. Parts of his job gave him a great deal of personal pleasure.

  “You’re on time,” Margaret said as she opened the door. “From now on, you just come right in. No need to knock.”

  Em stepped inside, ready to dive into whatever work Margaret needed done. She looked around for a spot to set the pail that held the meal Abigail had so lovingly packed for her.

  Margaret must have noticed her darted glance. She stepped closer and looked into the pail. “That looks like it hasn’t been touched. Best sit down and eat it quick before we start. Rumor is you were shot not so long ago. I won’t have you losing strength on my account.”

  Margaret motioned her into the dining hall. Em took a seat on one of the long wooden benches and then began pulling out the contents of her meal. Bread, cheese, and meat. She paused when she pulled a napkin from the pail. Such a simple luxury. She placed it in her lap and began eating as quickly as she could so she could get to work.

  “No need to swallow it all at once. I’ll go and butter a roll and enjoy it with you.”

  When Margaret returned, she sat herself right next to Em. “It’s been far too lonely since my Scarlett left. This place can get awfully busy, but it’s usually a houseful of starving men who aren’t much for conversation. Sometimes a woman just needs to sit and talk to another woman.”

  “I’ll be glad for the company too. Although I’m not sure I’ll have anything interesting to say,” Em said between bites.

  “Of course you will. I have a feeling you’ve a far more interesting story than most of the townspeople. You’ve probably seen things I never have.” Margaret winked at her. “In fact, I think I would be entertained just hearing about your morning.”

  Em gasped. Her morning of tears and memories and the brook. “I . . . it was . . .”

  Margaret patted her hand. “You don’t have to tell me now. But in time I hope we become dear friends. Then I’ll tell you my secrets and you can tell me yours.”

  “I’d like that.” Em tucked her napkin back into her pail. “I’m finished. What can I do first?”

  Nodding her head, Margaret said, “The bedrooms. All of them need the sheets stripped from the beds. Then we’ll boil them and hang them on the line. If we work quickly, we should be able to put them back on the beds before dinner.”

  “I can do that.” Em nodded, then made her way up the stairs to the bedrooms and busied herself.

  She worked hard and fast, her hands doing what she told them to as quickly as possible. Meanwhile, her mind constantly disobeyed her and wandered back to the brook.

  Within her mind’s eye she saw the clear water and the morning sun. She saw the trees and she saw Caleb. Handsome, kind Caleb. Men had always scared her, except for her father, but he’d been dead so long she had few memories of him. Caleb was different. He was big and strong like other men. Capable of tearing her apart if he wished or at
the very least belittling her, making her feel worthless and unimportant, like other men she’d known. But he hadn’t done that. He had held her, even when she cried. And then he’d kissed her, but not like the vicious kisses she’d witnessed in the city. No, his kiss had been full of kindness, as though he wanted to kiss the pain away.

  Someday Caleb would find a beautiful princess to marry. They would live happily ever after just like in all the stories. Em hoped he would get his stretch of land for them to grow old on. Land with a tree and a brook. When he was married and settled, she would be happy for him. Of course she would, he was her friend. Friends are supposed to want good things for each other, aren’t they? No matter what the future held for Caleb, Em knew she would hold the memory of being in his arms and the feel of his kiss on her forehead in her heart always.

  Daydreaming as she worked, she allowed herself to pretend he had kissed her because he cared for her and thought she was the most eligible maiden.

  “What has you smiling? Or do you always smile while you work?” Margaret asked, pulling Em from her fantasy.

  “I . . . I’m just happy to have a job. Never have I had a job like this, with regular hours and pay.”

  “And I’m very glad to have you. But I think you’re smiling about something more.” Margaret tugged off the last sheet and together they walked through the house and out the door, settling in a spot behind the building to start washing and hanging them on the line. “I saw a similar look on my Scarlett’s face only months before she up and married Benjamin. You aren’t planning on running off with some beau are you?”

  “Me? A beau?” Em was shocked that Margaret thought it even possible. “No, there’s no one. I have no plans to ever marry.”

  “No plans to marry? Certainly you have plans to marry. Being married to a good man, toiling with him day in and day out. Laughing together about things no one else is a part of. All of it, the good and the bad, is where you find real joy.”