by Tricia Goyer
“That was Miss Middleton. She’s already boxed up the train for you. She said her niece insists that she come stay with her for a week or so, and she wants to make sure you get it before she leaves. She said she’s leaving at noon.”
“But I have school.” Emily twirled a strand of blonde hair around her finger. “Unless you wanted me to miss or something … I wouldn’t mind.”
“I don’t think so.” Her grandma poked her arm playfully.
“I can get it if you need me too.” Grandpa poured himself a glass of milk and drank half of it in one gulp.
“No, I can run into town. I don’t mind at all,” Grandma said. “A few of us were going to stop by the library and talk to Mary Louise’s niece anyway. She was going to show us the pictures she has before she puts them on display. We might be able to borrow some for our 130th anniversary celebration.”
“We saw the photos already.” Andrea said from the dining room. “They are super.” Andrea rolled her r’s and gave two thumbs-up, making Ashley break into uncontrolled giggles.
“Oh, while you’re there, can you pick up some copies she said she’d make for us? It’s research facts and stuff for our presentation.”
Grandma moved to the desk where the computer sat. “I better write this down. I know I’ll forget.”
Grandma jotted a note to herself and then went to her china hutch, where she’d left the journal. “Now, girls, are you ready for this? I think you’re going to love some of these parts where my great-grandmother talks about being a settler and how the train affected their lives. I found a few references the first time I read it, but I was mostly just skimming. This morning I went back and read more.” Grandma smiled. “Some things, I think, will surprise you.”
Chapter Twenty
Charlotte could tell something was different about Sam when he walked in the door later that evening. His cheeks were bright red and his ears were too. He was trying to hide a smile, but he wasn’t too successful at it.
“Sam, where in the world is your hat?” Charlotte rose from the table where she’d been reading the journal with the girls. “Look at you. If you’re not careful you’re going to get frostbite.”
“Yeah, then they’re going to have to cut your nose off. I read that in a book once,” Christopher called from where he was doing his math homework on a TV tray by the couch.
“Grandma, I’m fine.” Sam let out a heavy sigh.
She sniffed the air. “Well, you don’t stink, so I suppose that’s a good thing.”
She forced a smile, knowing she had an audience. As soon as the girls saw Sam they were no longer interested in the journal or in working on the posters.
“Where have you been?” She folded her arms across her chest.
Sam bit his lip as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know how to say it. He stuck his hands in his pockets but didn’t take off his coat.
Charlotte waited for him to answer. “Well?”
“I can’t tell you. I promised I wouldn’t. But …” He blew out a long breath. “I can show you something if you promise you won’t tell anyone.” He pointed to the girls at the table. “That includes all of you too.”
The girls nodded. Charlotte didn’t answer. She didn’t like this type of promise, but it didn’t matter. Sam acted as if he were going to burst if he didn’t tell. He dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a silver object.
“Is that a woman’s hair comb?” Charlotte took it from his outstretched hand and held it up to the kitchen light to get a better look. It had five prongs and had a Victorian tiara pattern. Although it was tarnished it looked like it was made from sterling silver. “Wow, Sam, this is beautiful.”
Bob sauntered over and took a look. “I remember my grandma having something like that. Not so fancy though.”
“Hank said women used to use these for their hair. He said if I get it cleaned up we can take it to the antiques auction. He told me he’s seen one like this go for fourteen hundred dollars before.”
“Did you say fourteen dollars or fourteen hundred?” Bob coughed as if the thought of such a thing took his breath away.
“Fourteen hundred.”
“You’re joking,” Christopher butted in, peering at the comb to get a better look.
“No, it’s an antique. Some people spend a lot of money on antiques.”
Bob looked around the room at all the items—on shelves, on the wall, in cabinets. “If that little thing is worth that much money then we need to clean house. Why, we could retire and move to Florida with all the money we could make from this place.”
Charlotte chose to ignore his comment. “Sam, do you have anything else?”
He pulled an old spoon from his pocket.
“Let me guess. That’s worth two thousand?”
Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. Hank’s going to look it up tonight. Kendall says he has all types of books on antiques. It’s his passion. In fact, that’s why they live on a bus. They move into an area, look it over, and then move out. He—” Sam paused and then his eyes grew wide. He pressed his lips together as if he’d said too much.
“Can we see?” Emily and her friends approached, and for the next few minutes they ogled the object.
Ashley held the spoon with her little pinky sticking out and pretended to be eating from an invisible cup of soup. “Where did you find this stuff?” she asked.
“Oh, just in the sewer.”
“What?” Ashley opened her fingers as if she’d just been scalded. The spoon dropped to the floor. “Are you serious?” She hurried to the kitchen sink and began scrubbing her hands.
Sam laughed, and then he bent down to retrieve the spoon. “No, I’m not serious. But you’d better be careful. You’re going to dent it.” He brushed it against his pants.
“Are they yours to keep?” Ashley asked.
Sam frowned. “No. They belong to Hank. I forgot they were in my pocket. He said I’ll get part of the profit once I sell them.”
The girls watched with interest.
“So, where did you get those things?” Charlotte dared to ask.
Sam shrugged.
“I don’t know. Someplace.”
“You’re not going to tell us?” Bob stepped closer. “I don’t like the sound of this Sam. It’s as if you’re hiding—”
“I’m not hiding anything, okay?”
“Well, if you’re not hiding anything then you can tell us.” Bob stood in front of Sam with his hands on his hips. It was clear he wasn’t going to let Sam get out of this one.
Sam lowered his voice. “We went to the Driggers’ farm. There’s an old soddie on the back forty—or what used to be an old soddie.”
He placed the items on the counter and then moved to the fridge. “Got any leftovers?”
“In the red plastic container. Don’t reheat it in that bowl though; it will melt.” Charlotte looked at Bob, and she could tell he was thinking the same thing she was. This conversation wasn’t over yet, even if Sam had tried to change the subject.
“So …” Bob walked to the kitchen and leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Did you get permission—you know, from the Driggers?”
Sam dumped the leftover egg noodles into a glass bowl. “Um, I don’t know.”
“You don’t know, or most likely, the answer is no and you don’t want to tell us?” Charlotte asked. She turned to the girls and waved them back in the direction of the dining room. As she did, a great wave of fear hit her heart as if someone had taken it out of her chest and dunked it in ice water. She glanced back and realized Lily was here, and she had no doubt that not only would this episode be passed on to Lily’s mom, but also soon the whole community would know.
“I don’t think that’s right. Those things belong to the Driggers. It’s their property,” she said.
“Not only that, but they could have arrested you for trespassing,” Bob added.
Sam put the bowl in the microwave and set the timer for o
ne minute. “Wow, you guys are making a big deal out of nothing. The truth is that the Driggers haven’t paid attention to that soddie in twenty years. They just planted around it. Also, the Driggers didn’t own the property when the soddie was there. And before that the Native Americans were free to roam the land. Who gave us the right to start taking it away from them, dividing it up, and fencing it off? If anyone has a right to take what they want it’s the Native Americans.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
Sam took his food into the dining room and sat between Lily and Ashley. Then Sam started asking questions about their project and the posters they were making, making it clear that he was done with the conversation.
“Sounds like that Hank is feeding a lot of information into that boy’s head—more than just information on spoon prices,” Bob said.
“Yes, Kendall’s family is sure having an impact on Sam. I just don’t like it very much,” Charlotte answered.
Charlotte thought about what she and Pastor Evans had discussed. Was she being too critical? Maybe she was; maybe she wasn’t. But perhaps it was better to be safe than sorry.
“Humph.” Bob kept his gaze focused on his oldest grandson. “How long did Sam say they’ve lived here?”
“I think he said about a year.”
Bob nodded. “That’s good. Maybe it means they’ll be rolling out of town soon.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Charlotte hoped her face didn’t look alarmed as Lydia Middleton welcomed her into her house. The woman was just a little-bitty thing anyway, but Charlotte had never seen her so frail.
Lydia coughed, and the motion of it shook her frame. “Hurry in, dear. You don’t want to let the cold air in.”
Charlotte hurried inside and thought she would be knocked over from the heat. A fire blazed in the old wood stove in the corner and the whole house smelled like dust. Charlotte wondered if Lydia had had any help with the housecleaning after Emily’s and Ashley’s summer job ended. She doubted it.
“I’m so glad you could come. I was worried about Emily not being able to use the train. I was so excited when she called. She is a dear girl, you know.”
“Yes, well, she appreciates you sharing it. She’s been working hard on this school project. She’s looked up photos and journals from 1880 …”
“Eighteen eighty?” Lydia interrupted. “I think I have some letters from that time period.” Her small eyes brightened. “In fact, I was cleaning the other day and I came upon them again. Last week when I was dusting, I accidentally dropped our old family Bible. I had forgotten how heavy it is. I’m not as strong as I used to be, and the letters tumbled out onto the floor.”
Charlotte’s heart skipped a beat as she followed Lydia to the bookcase. Lydia reached for the Bible, and her hand trembled from the weight of it. Charlotte quickly reached to take it from her friend’s hands. It was big, but not that heavy. Her concern for Lydia increased. How old was she now? Eighty-nine?
Charlotte opened the front of the Bible. The letters were addressed to Iva Spilko.
“Iva was my mother’s best friend. They were neighbors for many years. She spoke with a thick accent, and there were times I couldn’t understand a word of what she was saying, but I always understood her hugs and kisses. It did my young heart good.”
Lydia’s voice was shaky, and Charlotte tried to picture her as a young girl. Was her hair once blonde? Dark? It was hard to tell now because it was white—whiter than Charlotte had ever seen. Charlotte turned over the envelope. “Do you mind?”
“No, go ahead and open it.”
Charlotte sucked in a breath as she noticed the date on the envelope: April 7, 1879. Only one week after the money was lost!
Charlotte scanned down the page, and the joy emptied out of her as if someone had pulled the plug. “It’s … it’s not in English.”
“Oh, yes, dear. I should have told you that. Iva was from another country. Germany maybe? Her mother was also German, and she lived in Omaha. Iva saved all her letters. When her mother died, Iva was given all her mother’s letters too.”
“So you have a whole box of them?”
“No. I saw the box when I was younger, but it got lost over time. That’s why I was so surprised to find these in the Bible. She must have pulled them out for some reason. Maybe they’re special.”
“I only wish we could read them.”
Lydia scratched her white hair and narrowed her gaze as if she were thinking hard. “Do you know anyone around town who speaks German?”
“Oh, maybe Greta Harbinger. I believe she was born in Germany. Maybe I can bring her over …”
Lydia shook her head. “No, that won’t do. I’m leaving, remember. I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”
Charlotte put them back in the Bible. “I understand. Maybe when you return we can get together.”
“Aren’t you listening?” Lydia chuckled. “Or maybe it’s just me talking when I’m half-tired.” She took the letters from the Bible and placed them back in Charlotte’s hand. “Take them. It’s not like I’m going to need them anytime soon. Ask around, and if you find someone be sure to let me know what they say.”
Charlotte placed her hand on Lydia’s, “Are you sure?”
“Yes, dear.” She turned back to the box with the train. “Oh, I should have asked you to bring Bob or Pete. I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you carry that box.”
“Oh no, Lydia. Don’t worry about it.” Charlotte tucked the letters into her pocket and then lifted the box by the handles. It was surprisingly light, but she didn’t let on.
With her hands full, Charlotte lifted her chin to wave as she went out the door. “Please enjoy your time with your niece, and thank you for doing this for Emily. I’ll take some photos of the presentation so you can see it.”
Lydia offered Charlotte a tired smile. “Thank you, dear. I appreciate it.”
Charlotte hurried out to her car, reminding herself that she’d need to return those letters when she returned the train.
For now, she wanted to try to get in touch with Greta Harbinger and see if she’d be willing to take a look at the letters.
She let her to-do list of the day play through her mind: lunch and quilting with Rosemary, grocery shopping, and then a stop at the pharmacy to pick up Bob’s prescriptions. Last night she’d remembered that Christopher had set up a time to meet with Mr. Barnes after school, and she was about to cancel her time with Rosemary when Dana had offered to pick up Christopher.
“I’m heading out to the farm to bring some photographers’ portfolios,” she’d said. “Maybe you can help me get Pete to actually sit down and look at them—so I can get Christopher if you’d like.”
Just remembering Dana’s kind gesture put a smile on Charlotte’s face. Is this what it would be like to have another woman around again? Someone to help share the load? To jump in and offer to help? The idea made her smile.
As Charlotte drove to Rosemary’s she realized she hadn’t had that type of relationship in a long time—if ever. Denise had left when she was just eighteen, and their relationship after that had mostly been over the phone. Anna was a wonderful wife to Bill, but she and Charlotte had never gotten really close. Charlotte attributed that to the fact that their interests and hobbies were different, and also because Anna’s mother lived near to her and was a big part of her life.
Maybe I should invite Dana to the quilting group sometime in the summer when she’s not teaching.
Even as Charlotte thought of it she grew excited. Another name to write into the front page of their family Bible. Another heart to graft onto her own.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dana and Christopher were sitting at the table when Charlotte entered the house with her arms full of groceries.
“Do you need help?” Dana rose from the table and hurried over. Then she motioned to Christopher. “Come on. Let’s help your grandma.”
Christopher jumped from his chair and approached Charlotte wi
th Toby trailing by his side. “Is there more in the car?”
Charlotte placed the bags on the counter. “Actually, there is. Thank you, Christopher. Thank you, Dana.”
Dana shrugged. “No problem.” She started emptying the items from the bag on the counter. “He’s young and strong, and it’s never too early to start training a gentleman.”
“Training up gentlemen, yes. I did my best, but I think we could’ve done better in that area.”
Dana opened the fridge and put away the fresh produce Charlotte had just bought. “I don’t know. Pete tries to act tough and manly around here, but he does pretty well. He opens doors for me, and last week when he picked me up at school he engaged in polite conversation with some of the other teachers, even though I could see from his gaze that he was completely bored.”
Charlotte chuckled. “Better than I’d expect.”
Minutes later the groceries were put away and Charlotte was enjoying a cup of coffee from the pot Dana had made. “So, I’ve been waiting to hear. Did Mr. Barnes find anything?” she asked.
“Yes!” Christopher held up a file.
“Unfortunately,” Dana opened it up, “we looked through it, and there isn’t anything different from what we already knew.” She spread out some of the headlines on the table.
BEDFORD MAN ACCUSED OF ROBBING FROM CHURCH
BEDFORD ROBBERY SUSPECT PLEADS NOT GUILTY
CHURCH MEMBERS OUTRAGED OVER “LOST” MONEY
THOU SHALT NOT STEAL?
Charlotte felt a lump growing in her throat. “Oh my, these …. these are from newspapers all around Nebraska.”
Christopher nodded. “Mr. Barnes said it was quite a story. He also said I still have a couple of weeks to work on my story. He wouldn’t run it anyway until it was closer to the open house thing at church. He said he thought it might be a good advertisement for it—it will give people something to talk about.”
“Oh, dear. This isn’t how it was supposed to be at all. The church wants to have a celebration of the beginnings of the church. They want to display the highlights of our congregation over the years.” Charlotte rose and moved toward the phone. “Maybe I should call Mr. Barnes and explain. Maybe I need to call Pastor Evans too and apologize. If anything happens to darken the mood of this celebration I won’t forgive myself.”