With You Always (Orphan Train Book #1)

by Jody Hedlund

  Reinhold’s arms slid around Elise, and he pulled her into an all-encompassing hug. He buried his face against her shoulder and her hair, and for a long moment held her tightly. When he lifted his face, consuming love shone from his eyes.

  The jab in Thornton’s chest intensified. The man wasn’t family. A family member wouldn’t cling to Elise for quite so long or quite so possessively. And he wouldn’t look as though he’d just walked into heaven instead of a train depot.

  Elise struggled to pull back, and Reinhold reluctantly released his hold on her. Thornton could see him work to hide his emotions so that by the time she looked at his face, his eyes were veiled and his expression controlled.

  “What are you doing here?” Thornton heard Elise ask, her tone still excited, her face the happiest he’d seen it. Did she love this man in return? And if so, why had she never mentioned him?

  Thornton’s ire stoked to a low-burning flame. If she cared for someone else, why had she spent time with him? Just as quickly as his irritation fanned to life, the cold waters of reality doused it. Who was he to condemn her, when he’d done the same? He hadn’t ever mentioned the fact that he was courting Rosalind Beaufort with the intention of marriage. How could he fault Elise for not being candid when he’d been less so, not only about his future plans but about his family?

  “I came west to find work,” Reinhold said. “Since I had to come, I figured I might as well find you too.”

  She didn’t resist when he reached for her hands. “Did you see Marianne and Sophie and the two little ones before you left?” she asked. He nodded, but before he could speak, she barraged him with more questions. “How are they? They’re still staying with Miss Pendleton, aren’t they? Are they getting enough to eat? Has Marianne found employment?”

  Reinhold patiently responded, his answers soothing the worry lines in her forehead. The sting in Thornton’s chest prodded him forward. He wanted to be the one to alleviate Elise’s troubles, to wipe away her anxiety and earn her smiles. He crossed the waiting room until he stood next to them.

  At his presence, Reinhold quickly broke away from Elise and put a proper distance between them. Thornton’s ready scowl eased as he appraised Reinhold. He was shorter than Thornton by a couple of inches, but was much stockier, his muscles and build showing him to be a man who was accustomed to heavy lifting and hard labor. He had a pleasant face, certainly not as good-looking as Thornton’s, yet he wasn’t sore on the eyes by any means.

  “I see we have a new arrival,” Thornton said. “A friend of yours, Elise?”

  Wariness immediately dropped over her features, and she seemed to be waging an inner war over whether or not to speak to him. Her courtesy must have won the battle, for she nodded and replied, “Yes, this is Reinhold Weiss.”

  Reinhold studied Elise’s face as though reading a message there before he looked Thornton up and down. A sudden spark in Reinhold’s eyes said he’d guessed Thornton’s attraction to Elise and didn’t like it. But as with his other feelings, he shelved it out of sight and instead respectfully stuck out a hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr.—”

  “Mr. Quincy.” Thornton returned the handshake, perhaps a little too tightly. He waited for the implication to make its impact. As Reinhold’s eyes widened and his shoulders straightened, satisfaction sifted through Thornton. The man was apparently as bright as he was strong.

  “I couldn’t help overhearing that you’re looking for work.” Thornton released his grip on Reinhold and stepped back.

  “That I am, sir.”

  Elise shot Thornton a dangerous look, one that warned him against hurting Reinhold. So she cared about this man? For just an instant, Thornton had the impulse to send him to a different town so he was far from Elise. But what would Elise think of him if he did that? She already thought he was a cad of the worst kind. Maybe helping Reinhold would help win back Elise’s favor. Besides, it was the right thing to do.

  “Well, if you’re looking for work, then you’re in luck,” Thornton said. “I might have employment I can offer you.”

  Reinhold nodded. “I’d be grateful, sir.”

  “What’s your trade?”

  “No trade,” Reinhold admitted reluctantly. “But I have worked in construction.”

  “He helped to build tenements,” Elise added with a note of pride.

  Thornton scrutinized Reinhold, noting again his weathered skin and brawniness. Though he’d already hired a dozen new construction workers, he could always use another, especially if Reinhold had experience. “Good. Then you’re hired.”

  Reinhold’s face registered surprise, and he smiled tentatively. “Just like that?”

  “Just like that. Elise’s word is good enough for me.” Elise’s expression toward him softened, and he took hope in it. Maybe he could yet repair the damage he’d done and build some kind of bridge with her. “Find one of the construction crew supervisors about town. Tell him I hired you and have him put you right to work.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Reinhold said. “I appreciate it.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Reinhold turned to Elise eagerly. “Won’t everyone at home be glad when they hear I found work in the same town as you?”

  Elise’s smile slipped away, and she glanced down at her carpetbag. Reinhold’s gaze shifted to the luggage as well before darting back up, his face stricken. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

  She started to nod, but then Thornton interrupted. “Of course she’s not.”

  “I was fired from my job today.” She met Thornton’s gaze with a chilly one, all the hurt and bitterness from earlier securely back in place.

  “Fired?” Reinhold looked as if he wanted to reach out and grasp Elise like one might grab a silky scarf the wind was blowing away.

  “What Elise meant to say is that she’s had a job change today,” Thornton said.

  “No, I was most certainly fired—”

  “She’s been hired into a new position.” Thornton scrambled to find any excuse to keep Elise from leaving. He glanced around the depot, to the door leading to the street, to the windows. What other work was there for a woman like Elise in Quincy? “Yes, I thought she might be better suited to something besides laundering.”

  “She’s a good seamstress,” Reinhold offered.

  “Quincy already has a seamstress,” she explained.

  Think, Thornton, think . . .

  Mrs. Gray limped out of the dining room carrying a steaming cup of coffee. “Mr. Quincy, here’s that cup of coffee you wanted.” The woman was petite and thin—too thin. She’d suffered from polio earlier in her life and as a result had always had difficulty walking. But she was as kindhearted as her husband, even if she wasn’t much of a cook.

  Thornton took the cup from her and tried not to notice the coffee grains floating in a greasy film at the top. “Thank you, Mrs. Gray. You’re a dear.”

  She patted his arm before retreating to the dining room.

  He blew across the top of the liquid in an attempt to cool it and buy himself a little more time to find a solution regarding what to do with Elise.

  Elise took one look at the sludge inside his cup and her nose crinkled in clear disgust.

  “She means well,” Thornton whispered in reply, “but apparently making good coffee takes a certain special kind of person.”

  Both of Elise’s brows rose as if to say, You must be jesting. How hard is it to make coffee?

  The cogs in Thornton’s mind finally began to churn. He glanced from Elise to the dining room and back. “That certain special kind of person is you, Elise. As a matter of fact, I’m hiring you to be in charge of my dining room.”

  It was the perfect solution. Why hadn’t he thought of it earlier?

  “In charge of the dining room?” Her voice rang with surprise, and she turned her full attention to the deserted room.

  “Yes. I need a good cook. Even more than that, I desperately need someone who knows how to make coffee that isn’t a choking
hazard.”

  “Elise knows how to do both,” Reinhold said.

  Her brow was still lifted, her beautiful blue eyes skeptical.

  “Of course, as manager,” Thornton continued hurriedly, “I’ll double your wages.”

  “Double?”

  “Does that sound reasonable to you?”

  “Yes.” She visibly swallowed hard. “That would be fine.”

  “Good.” He was tempted to pat himself on the back but refrained and instead grinned.

  She didn’t smile back, but her eyes lit with what he hoped was excitement. “When should I start?”

  He handed her the cup of coffee. “How about now. With a fresh pot of coffee?”

  “I think I can manage that.”

  “Great. While you do that, I’ll inform Mrs. Gray she’s getting some help. I have a feeling she’ll be relieved.”

  He knew Mrs. Gray would be happy to hand over the responsibility of the kitchen and instead assist where needed. But Hewitt would be a different matter. The young assistant would skewer Thornton with his pencil when he discovered the plan. Nevertheless, Thornton couldn’t quell the rising thrill he felt at coming up with a manageable solution to the problem of Elise’s employment.

  She might still despise him. But he’d made a step forward, hopefully, in regaining the friendship he’d lost. And that was all he wanted, wasn’t it—friendship?

  Chapter 14

  Elise stirred the butter and molasses together with firm strokes. She already had a pot of chicken soup bubbling on the range and biscuits in the oven. The aroma of the chicken and thyme and parsley radiated throughout the kitchen, making her almost giddy.

  All morning she’d been tempted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming that she was in the kitchen, the place she loved most in the world, doing what she loved best. She dipped her finger into the gooey mixture in the bowl, lifted it to her lips, and tasted its sweetness. If she was dreaming, then she didn’t want to awake.

  She looked around the kitchen to prove to herself once again that she was really here. A large cast-iron stove stood near the rear entrance, the coal bin next to it heaped to the brim. A sturdy indoor washbasin rested on thin legs against another wall with a drain that released to the outdoors. While they still had to haul well water inside, at least they didn’t have to carry the dirty water back out.

  A hutch contained plates, cutlery, crockery, and an assortment of other supplies needed for the dining room. The worktable in the middle was adequate to do most of her chopping and rolling and mixing. It wasn’t nearly as large as the table that had been in her father’s bakery, but she couldn’t complain. She was working in a kitchen and that alone would have been enough, even if she’d had to do her mixing on the floor. She grazed the pots and pans and utensils hanging overhead. Their metallic clinking together was beautiful music to her ears.

  The sound brought back the happy memories of the times she’d spent with her father in the kitchen, the low rumble of his laughter, the scrape of his spatula, the tantalizing aromas in his pots and pans. He’d introduced her to all of his spices as if they’d been dear little friends he called out to play.

  “What else can I do, dear?” Mrs. Gray asked, coming into the kitchen with her uneven step, the limp having grown more pronounced throughout the morning. The woman’s narrow face was pale and pinched. Though she tried hard to hide her discomfort, she was clearly in pain.

  “You can go and rest your feet,” Elise said as she beat the cake batter faster. “You’ve been running around here all morning and you deserve a break.”

  Mrs. Gray laughed. “You’re a sweetie. But I’m much sturdier than I appear.”

  Chagrined, Elise stopped stirring. “I didn’t mean to insinuate you can’t handle the work—”

  “I know you didn’t.” Mrs. Gray patted Elise’s arm. “You’re a good girl and so considerate. No one has ever looked out for my well-being before—except of course, Mr. Gray.”

  Mrs. Gray had maple-syrup-brown hair that was pulled back into a bun, revealing her sharp, angular face. Her features were somewhat severe, yet her eyes were soft and kind. She didn’t have any silver in her hair, and her skin was unwrinkled from age, though there was definitely something old and wise about the woman, as if she’d already lived a long life. Whatever the case, Elise was relieved Mrs. Gray hadn’t been resentful yesterday when Thornton introduced her as the new manager of the kitchen and dining room. In fact, Mrs. Gray had breathed out a long sigh and whispered, “Thank you, Jesus.”

  They’d worked together to cook something for dinner last night. Due to the limited amount of time, Elise was only able to prepare a simple fare of fried salt pork, boiled carrots and cauliflower, and corn bread. Even so, Mrs. Gray had come back into the kitchen relaying compliments from everyone, including one from Thornton.

  Elise had lingered in the kitchen late last night, long after they’d washed and put away the last of the dishes. She’d taken stock of the supplies in the pantry, planned a menu for the coming week, and then put together a list of ingredients she would need in the near future. Although Mrs. Gray had informed her they purchased some of the food from local farmers, most of the supplies had to be ordered and shipped from Chicago.

  She’d awoken well before dawn. While it was still dark, she walked the short distance from the hotel to the dining room, breathing deeply of the cool autumn air. In the quiet of the deserted Main Street, she’d almost whispered a prayer of gratefulness for how swiftly her situation had changed from one of complete and total despair to delight.

  Not only did she have employment again, but it was her dream job. Was it another miracle, like the one she’d experienced when God had brought Miss Pendleton into her life to rescue her from being homeless?

  When she’d arrived at the dining room, Mrs. Gray had already been awake at the early hour, and together they’d prepared eggs, bacon, and thick griddle cakes for the few construction crew supervisors and other men who lodged at the hotel and relied upon the dining room for their sustenance.

  Once she and Mrs. Gray had cleaned up breakfast, they started right away preparing for the noon meal. There was no doubt Mrs. Gray was a hard worker. But after watching the woman burn nearly everything she touched—and after having eaten her less-than-digestible meals for the past week—Elise understood Thornton’s desire to have someone new take over the meal preparation.

  Elise reached for the raisins and dumped them into the batter. “I’m well on track for getting this plum cake into the oven and will probably have time to rest my own feet before the noon meal. So I don’t see why you can’t do so.”

  Mrs. Gray chuckled. “Well, if you put it that way, dear, I guess you leave me little choice but to sit down for a spell.”

  “You deserve a break.” Elise folded the raisins into the batter. “I don’t know how you managed to run this dining room all by yourself up until now.”

  “In the beginning, there were only a few of us needing to eat,” Mrs. Gray replied, flexing her shoulders and wincing in the process. “But as more people arrived in Quincy, it’s been getting harder to keep up. Mr. Gray has helped when he can, but he’s been busier too.”

  Elise had met the stationmaster, a tall man with a long mustache and full beard who appeared to take his position very seriously, always busy cleaning the depot, greeting the arriving trains, helping with the refueling and unloading, and bustling about at Thornton’s beck and call.

  “Now go and rest,” Elise said again to Mrs. Gray.

  The relief in the woman’s eyes told Elise she’d been right to insist. “Maybe for a few minutes.”

  “We won’t be serving lunch for another hour. Why don’t you take a cup of coffee and sit outside in the sun.”

  Through the window that was dusty with coal soot, Elise could see the late September morning was still gloriously sunny. When she’d gone outside earlier to fetch more water, the coolness of the morning had been giving way to a pleasant warmth. The sky overh
ead was bluer than Elise had ever seen before, and when she peered across the train tracks to the prairie with its tall yellowing grass fluttering in the breeze, she was filled with a sense of awe at the amount of space, all untouched and unblemished, the way it had been probably since the first days of creation.

  With a cup of coffee in hand, Mrs. Gray paused by the door. “You’ll join me when you’re finished, won’t you, dear?”

  “I might,” Elise said. But the truth was she didn’t want to leave the kitchen. Perhaps a tiny part of her feared that if she left, she might wake up and lose this beautiful dream she was in.

  She added the final ingredients to the cake mixture and ended by scooping in the flour. She stirred and tested it until it reached the right consistency, then poured it into the greased pan. The leftover cake batter in the bowl was too hard to resist. She slid her finger across it until she had a glob and then stuck it in her mouth.

  “Mmmm,” she murmured.

  “Are you planning to share?” came a voice from the doorway leading to the dining room.

  She spun to find Thornton leaning casually against the doorframe, watching her. How long had he been standing there? She’d wanted to stay mad at him for leading her on during the train ride here. She’d wanted to hate him for being a Quincy. She’d wanted to blame him for the awful working conditions the women had to suffer through.

  But at the moment, with her shirtsleeves rolled up and her hands coated in cake batter, her heart was too full of gratefulness to have room for bitterness. She held out the spoon. “Would you like to lick the spoon?”

  His brow lifted, widening his rich brown eyes. “Lick it?”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve never licked batter off a spoon. It’s one of those sacred childhood milestones right up there with building a snowman.”

  “It would appear I’ve had a very deprived childhood because I’ve done neither.”

  She thrust the spoon into his hand. “Then we need to remedy that right now.”