by Ginny Dye
“I have some good news for you, Emma.”
Emma locked her eyes on Janie’s face. “My husband?” she asked hopefully.
Janie nodded. “A wire came through a little while ago. He arrived in Buffalo this afternoon, and he will catch the next train to Angola.”
“Alexander…” Emma murmured.
“Yes,” Janie said sadly. “He will grieve his brother, but he still has his wife and his daughter. I’m sure he knows he is a lucky man.”
Emma gazed into her eyes for a long moment. “Thank you,” she whispered as her eyes fluttered closed.
Janie continued to hold her hand for several minutes, knowing Emma needed rest more than anything. When she was confident Emma was asleep, Janie looked around the room and then moved into the hallway. She stopped a village lady bustling by with a pail of warm water. “Where is Minnie?”
“The little angel girl?” the woman said tenderly. Her eyes were tired, but her face radiated kindness. “A friend of mine who recently had a son is nursing little Minnie until Emma can do it again.”
Janie smiled. “What a wonderful thing for her to do.”
“Our village knows how to care for its own,” the woman said. “Since all you folks dropped off our bridge, you are our own to care for, too.”
“Thank you,” Janie whispered. She watched the woman hurry off, and then turned to Matthew.
“Are you ready now?”
“Yes.” Janie knew that Christiana and her children had been taken to Buffalo earlier that day. The train that would take the three Justins to Buffalo would be arriving soon. She couldn’t quite imagine getting on that train and rolling across the bridge, but there was no other way to reach their destination, and she knew Matthew would hold her until they were on the other side. “I’m ready,” she said bravely.
Chapter Thirteen
Abby looked up when Thomas walked into the bedroom. She was putting the final things into their luggage before they left for the plantation. “Hello, dear,” she said. A good look at his face dimmed her smile. “What is wrong?”
“Why don’t you come downstairs,” Thomas invited. “May has some hot tea waiting for us.”
Abby followed him silently. A hot cup of tea would be welcome if she was about to hear bad news. She pushed aside images of what the news could pertain to. She would know soon enough—there was no point in making something up.
Thomas waited until May had served their tea and departed, glancing over her shoulder in concern.
“What has happened, Thomas?”
Thomas sighed and handed her a copy of the Philadelphia Inquirer. “This came today.”
Abby’s eyes caught on the headline, “The Angola Horror,” before she realized the article was written by Matthew. She gazed at Thomas for a moment and began to read. Her face whitened as the details of the wreck unfolded in the article. “My God…” She gasped. “Matthew was on the train? Matthew and Janie? Are they all right?”
Thomas handed her a telegram.
“Janie and I were on the train that wrecked in Angola. Janie’s car derailed, but by a miracle she is unharmed. We are on our way to Richmond now with my twin brother. We will all be there for Christmas.”
Abby stared at the telegram. “Janie’s car went over the bridge?” She shuddered as the images brought to life by the article spun through her mind. “She’s alive?”
“Matthew said they were on the way to Richmond,” Thomas reminded her. “That must mean she is more than alive. She must truly be all right.”
Abby shook her head, her eyes catching on the other part of the telegram. “Did you know Matthew has a brother? A twin?” She frowned. “I’ve known Matthew for ten years. How could I not know he has a twin brother?”
“I’m sure we’ll have answers to all our questions in time,” Thomas said.
“How soon?”
Thomas smiled. “Their train arrives in one hour. We’ll all leave for the plantation together in the morning.”
“I need to let May know we will have more for dinner,” Abby said.
“I already got more food goin’ in the oven!”
Abby smiled when May’s voice floated in from the kitchen. “I should have known she would hear every word.”
“‘Course I do,” May retorted. “How you think I keep on top of things ‘round here?”
Abby laughed but grew grim as she read the article again. “Thomas, this is horrible. Those poor people! Train travel seems to have gotten more dangerous. I thought it would get better, but it seems to only get worse.”
“I believe it will start to change now,” Thomas replied gravely.
Abby looked for a paragraph she had already read. “Matthew believes the train wreck in Angola must become the tipping point for the railroads to make improvements.”
“He’s right,” Thomas agreed. “It’s wrong that it so often takes a great tragedy to create change, but I believe this wreck may become the rallying cry that will transform how the railroads operate. People are changing how they see things,” he said thoughtfully.
Abby cocked a brow.
“The war years changed our nation in so many ways. Before the war, I believe most Americans would have accepted the Angola wreck simply as the mysterious workings of an unseen force—the providence of God. Now, more people are beginning to believe they should know why and how things are happening. They want answers and solutions.”
“As they should,” Abby retorted. “It’s ridiculous not to understand there are scientific and mechanical explanations for accidents like this. But explanations are not enough—there must be accountability.”
“Spoken like a successful businesswoman,” Thomas said admiringly. “If everyone in our country had your mind, change would come much sooner. Until people clamor for change, though, wrecks like this will only happen over and over.”
Abby held up the paper. “I suspect Matthew is not going to allow that to happen.”
“I suspect you’re right,” Thomas said with a nod. “Matthew’s article was one of the first to hit the major papers. It will take weeks, perhaps months, for the news to spread across the country, but already there are other writers demanding accountability and change. It seems this will truly be the tipping point Matthew proclaimed.”
Abby shook her head sadly. “I suspect that is no consolation for the families who have lost loved ones.”
*****
Carrie was waiting eagerly on the porch when the carriages arrived. “You’re here!” She ran laughing down the steps when they pulled to a stop.
Rose, Moses, Annie and Susan stepped out onto the porch behind her. “Welcome!” they cried in unison.
Carrie hugged her father and Abby first. It felt like much more than ten days had passed since she had returned from Richmond. Knowing this might be the last Christmas all of them would be together made it even more special than usual.
She turned to embrace Janie and stopped abruptly, stepping back in shock. “Janie! What happened to you?”
Janie turned to Matthew. “You told me it looked better,” she accused.
“It does,” Matthew assured her, a gleam of amusement shining in his eyes. “But I don’t recall saying it looked good.”
“What happened to you?” Carrie’s blood chilled. “Did someone attack you?” Anger blurred her eyes as she envisioned opponents of women medical students beating her friend. She whirled on Matthew. “Did you find them?”
Janie managed a laugh. “I was not attacked, Carrie.”
The whole group fell silent as they waited for Janie’s explanation.
“I was in a train wreck,” Janie said quietly. “The car I was riding in came off the tracks while we were crossing a bridge.”
Carrie stared, certain she had not heard what she thought she was hearing. “I’m afraid I need you to repeat that.”
Abby stepped between them. “You’ll get the whole story inside,” she said. She reached behind her and pulled a man forward. “I would like all of
you to meet Harold. He is Matthew’s brother.”
All eyes left Janie to inspect the man standing before them.
“You have a twin brother?” Carrie asked in a stunned voice. She spun and stared at Matthew. “A twin brother? Why do none of us know about him?” She turned back to Harold. “Where have you been?”
“That’s a rather long story,” Harold said with an easy smile. “I’m afraid I was stupid enough ten years ago to push Matthew out of my life. It took a war and losing my family to bring me to my senses.” He glanced over at Matthew. “Thankfully, he was willing to let me back into his good graces.”
Carrie gazed at him and then turned back to Matthew. His look of happiness told her all she needed to know. She rushed forward to give him a hug, and then warmly welcome Harold, before embracing Jeremy and Marietta. “Everyone is here,” she announced. “Let’s get this holiday started.”
*****
Carrie was standing by the fire when Harold came over to join her.
“Your home is beautiful.”
Carrie smiled and looked around. Greenery adorned every window frame and encased every door. Cedar boughs, interspersed with bright red holly, lined the hearth over the fireplace that leapt with flames. Candles flickered in the windows, competing with the soft light from the kerosene sconces decorating the walls. A huge tree, cut fresh the day before, stood guard in the corner. Felicia, Amber and John had worked tirelessly all day to decorate it with the items Carrie had hauled from the storage room. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I have so many memories of Christmas on the plantation, but I believe this one will be the most special.”
“Why?”
Carrie looked up at Harold, once again feeling the strangeness of looking at someone who was almost a replica of Matthew. His hair was longer, and his beard was a little fuller, but everything else was identical, including the kindness in his eyes. “Because I suspect this may be the last Christmas we are all here together. Some of us were separated during the war, but now it will be choices that take us apart.” Saying the words created a wave of sadness that swept through her.
“I know about choices,” Harold said.
Carrie examined his eyes. “What happened with you and Matthew?”
“I thought that being right was more important than having a brother.”
Carrie had only just met Harold, but the resemblance made it seem she had known him long enough for her to be intrusive. “How?”
Harold shrugged. “I won’t go into the whole story. Let me just say we had a political difference that I couldn’t seem to move beyond.” He paused. “Wouldn’t move beyond is probably more the truth. Matthew very accurately pointed out that my belief was based on pure and simple greed. His position wasn’t political,” he mused. “It was a core moral issue for him. I wasn’t willing to accept the truth at the time because what I wanted was the most important thing to me. I hated that his observations made me feel guilty, however, so I told him I never wanted to see him again.” His lips twisted with self-loathing. “I was an idiot.”
Carrie listened quietly.
Harold looked down at her, waiting. “Aren’t you going to tell me I wasn’t an idiot?”
“Why would I do that?” Carrie asked. “You were an idiot.” She softened her words with a smile. “Our country just finished a war that decimated both sides because leaders couldn’t find a way to make choices for our country as a whole. Political decisions were made that were based solely on personal agendas and greed. I believe all of them forgot they are Americans and not only a political party or a belief.”
Harold continued to penetrate her with his blue eyes. “You believe the war could have been avoided? Do you believe slavery could have been ended any other way?”
Carrie considered his question. “We can never know for certain, but I do believe whatever has to be done in the future to prevent such a thing from happening again, must be done. We have to learn from our mistakes or there is no value in making them.”
Harold nodded. “I understand why Matthew thinks so much of you.”
Carrie smiled. “I love your brother. He helped me tremendously when my husband was murdered this spring.” Sadness swamped her as she thought of how much Robert had loved Christmas. Memories of the last Christmas they had spent together almost overwhelmed her.
“My wife and daughters died two years ago,” Harold said, only his eyes revealing the depth of his agony. “From cholera.”
Carrie reached out to grip his arm. “I’m so very sorry.” It was heartbreaking to know she could probably have saved all of them with the same homeopathic remedies she had used in Philadelphia. Her determination to become a doctor solidified even more as she read the pain in Harold’s eyes. “And I understand.”
“I know. Matthew told me about Robert and Bridget.”
Carrie felt her breath catch.
“I try to focus on being grateful that I had them for as long as I did,” Harold said, shaking his head. “Enough of this kind of talk. It’s Christmas.” He turned to look out the window. “Those are beautiful horses out there. Even with their thick winter coats, I can tell all of them are special.”
“Those horses were Robert’s dream,” Carrie replied. “He poured everything he had into them.” She followed his gaze to where Granite galloped around the pasture, his head and tail held high. Several of the yearlings were chasing him in wild pursuit, their snorts hanging in the air as frozen clouds. The sight made her laugh. “Would you like to go see them?”
“Very much,” Harold answered. “Might I go for a ride while I’m here?”
“Of course,” Carrie promised.
*****
Janie was waiting on the porch when Carrie returned to the house. She had left Harold to talk horses and breeding with Clint. Matthew rode well, but his brother was obviously a horseman through and through.
“When were you going to tell me?” Janie demanded.
Carrie chose ignorance. The anger shooting from Janie’s blackened eyes was disconcerting. “Tell you what?”
“Don’t even try that with me, Carrie Borden,” Janie snapped. “You’re not coming back to school?” She stepped closer. “You are going to New Mexico? What are you thinking?”
Carrie sighed, realizing she wasn’t going to avoid this conversation. “The Navajo on Bosque Redondo need me,” she responded. She prepared herself for an argument, though she was not at all certain why they were even having one. She had honestly believed Janie would be excited for her. “Janie, I…” As she looked more closely at her friend, she saw the tears. She stepped forward and grabbed Janie’s hands. “What is it?”
Janie’s tears dissolved into sobs that shook her slender shoulders.
“Janie!” Carrie pulled her friend into her arms. The cold air wrapped around them as she let Janie cry. The why of it would come out soon enough. The only important thing now was to be with her. Carrie had heard enough about the train wreck since their arrival to know Janie had been deeply traumatized. Matthew had revealed there were terrifying nightmares every night.
“I’m… sorry,” Janie finally gasped.
Carrie allowed her to step back, but she didn’t release her hands. “Tell me,” she invited.
“I know the Navajo need you,” Janie managed, “but…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes filled with shame. “I do, too,” she finally murmured. “I’ve been counting on you being in Philadelphia.”
Carrie battled with the guilt Janie’s words created. She knew how hard it had been for Janie to admit how she felt. She gazed at her friend, torn about what she was to do. Everything in her said to go to Bosque Redondo, but was her determination based more on the fact that she didn’t want to be in Philadelphia again, or was she really being called to New Mexico? Suddenly, Carrie wasn’t sure. Janie had always been there for her. How could she not be here for her friend when she needed it? The questions rampaged through her head.
*****
“You’re quiet,” Matthew said
as he snuggled with Janie later that night. The crackling flames in their bedroom fireplace created a cozy cocoon against the cold wind rattling the windowpanes.
“I know,” Janie admitted.
Matthew frowned at the fatigue he heard in her voice. He felt the tension in every part of her body. He recognized the signs of trauma. They were the same signs he had seen in so many soldiers during the war. “Can I help?”
“Carrie is not coming to Philadelphia. She is going to New Mexico. She will finish her degree by completing an internship helping the Navajo on the Bosque Redondo Reservation.”
Matthew absorbed the news quietly, pained by Janie’s emotionless, flat voice. “How did you find out?”
“Rose told me. She thought I should know. I talked to Carrie and she believes she must go, though I know I made her feel guilty.”
Matthew ached at the sadness in Janie’s voice. “You need her to be in Philadelphia.”
Janie stiffened as if she was going to protest his observation, and then she slumped against him. “Yes.” The single word was clogged with raw emotion. “I don’t know that I’ve ever felt this way, Matthew.”
“You haven’t,” Matthew assured her, praying he would say the right words. “Carrie reached her breaking point this spring when Robert was murdered. You reached your breaking point when your train car flew off a bridge. The fact that you lived is amazing. Instead of being cared for, along with everyone else on the train, you chose to take care of them.”
“I had—”
Matthew held a finger to her lips. “I know you had to, because it’s who you are. But all of us have a breaking point. We reach a point where we simply can’t take another blow. It makes everything seem overwhelming.”
Janie listened as she stared into the flames that shot dancing shadows around the room and then sighed. “What do I do? I can’t pretend the train wreck comes close to Carrie losing Robert, but I don’t want to close down and shut anyone out. She and I have talked so much about the regrets she has from doing that. I just don’t know what to do,” she said.