by Jody Hedlund
The farmer’s face went red, and he drew back his hand into a fist. Liverpool and the other two older boys stiffened, bracing themselves for the first blow. But the farmer just gave a low, forced laugh before pushing Liverpool and Ned aside and instead grabbing Timmy, the tallest and quietest of the three boys.
“I’ll take this one,” he shouted over at the reverend as he gripped Timmy’s arm and dragged him toward the committee finalizing the matches.
“I need your information, sir,” Marianne called. “Your name and where you live.” She was beginning to understand why the records of each child were so sparse. Even if she’d had more time to make notes, she wasn’t sure what information was essential for the placement. Obviously she needed to record the name and address of each family. But what else was important? How much or how little would help?
“I’m n-n-not leaving w-without George” came a plaintive wail from the line of children. The cry was filled with desperation and pained Marianne’s heart even before she realized what was happening.
A different man, this one with work-roughened hands and brawny muscles, had a hold on Peter and was pulling him away from George, who’d been pinned to his side since the moment of his return. “I can’t keep you both,” the man said apologetically. “I only got room for one in the loft above the livery.”
“We d-don’t n-need much r-room,” stuttered Peter, who clung to George’s hand even as the man was still attempting to wrench him free.
“No, kid. I’m only taking one of you. Besides, I don’t want a boy who wanders off whenever it fancies him. I need someone responsible.” The liveryman yanked Peter, who refused to let go of George. Peter cried out again, tears streaming down his face as he fought to stay with his little brother.
“Wait!” Marianne called. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—let anyone separate the brothers. It was clear they loved each other and needed to be together. She untangled herself from Dorothea and set the little girl off to the side.
Before she could intervene, the commotion caught Drew’s attention, and he rushed over to the boys. She braced herself for his coaxing. He’d surely do what they’d been trained to do—place the children in interested homes, even if they had to split families. Mrs. Trott had warned her that although the arrangement would be difficult on the siblings at first, they would eventually adjust.
She was surprised when instead of prying George loose from Peter, Drew forced the man to break his hold of the boy. “These two stay together,” Drew said in a low voice, his expression as hard as stone.
“I don’t need two,” the liveryman insisted.
“Then find a different boy.” For a long moment, Drew held the man’s gaze, and Marianne was afraid he’d protest again. Instead, he sighed and turned to another cluster of boys.
Peter and George were crying and embracing again. Over their heads, Drew’s eyes found her. There was something haunted in his countenance, something that told Marianne his heartache went beyond this incident with Peter and George, that he was suffering much more deeply than he wanted to admit.
She gave a nod, hoping he could read her understanding as well as her appreciation for keeping George and Peter together, but then a piercing cry came from behind her. She spun around to see what was wrong.
Dorothea.
Marianne saw a couple kneeling before the girl, apparently attempting to converse with her. The smiles that had graced their faces were rapidly fading at the sound of Dorothea’s high-pitched screams.
She returned to Dorothea, dropped to her knees, and dragged her into an embrace. She murmured reassurances and rocked her, attempting to quiet her sobs.
Marianne was rewarded when the orphan hugged her back. Dorothea breathed out a shuddering sigh that warmed Marianne’s neck. The little girl’s silky hair tickled Marianne’s cheek, and the thin arms tightened into a hold Marianne didn’t want to break.
She was needed. Again. And she liked that feeling.
Fingers touched her shoulder—Drew. She glanced up at him and smiled. “She’ll be all right now.”
“Good.” He shot a sideways look at the young couple still watching Marianne and Dorothea. The husband had wrapped his arm around his wife’s waist, and she had wound hers behind him.
She was wearing a stylish gown with large hoops that made the skirt form into a bell shape. She had on gloves and a wide-brimmed hat that rested on her beautifully coiffed hair at a jaunty angle. Everything about her spoke of wealth and a life of ease. Her husband was attired in a gray suit that was very much like the expensive suits Thornton, her brother-in-law, wore most of the time.
“What’s her name?” the young woman asked.
“Dorothea.” Marianne said the name reluctantly. There was no sense in their knowing Dorothea’s name when the girl clearly didn’t want to have anything to do with them.
“That’s very pretty,” the woman replied.
“Yes, very,” her husband echoed.
“I’m Elizabeth, and this is my husband, Harold. Harold Garner.” She spoke the name as though it ought to mean something, but Marianne didn’t care. She wished the couple would go away and bother another child, so Dorothea would be able to settle down again.
“Mr. Garner is president of the bank here in Benton,” Drew offered. He lifted his brows and cocked his head at Dorothea. He was trying to communicate something. Was Marianne supposed to make more polite conversation?
“So,” Marianne said, “you’re here to give a home to one of the children?”
The couple glanced at each other and then down at Dorothea. Elizabeth leaned into her husband’s shoulder briefly, as though gathering strength before replying. “Yes. I . . . we thought it might be nice to pick out a little boy or girl.”
“Well, you’re in luck because we have plenty of adorable children.” Marianne made a point of turning toward the other orphans, particularly in the direction of the youngest at the end of the line. “I’m sure any one of them will make a good choice.”
Again the couple exchanged a look, a look that made her hug Dorothea tighter.
Thankfully, Drew saw the silent communication between the couple. He’d know what to say and would come to Dorothea’s aid just as he had with George and Peter. He’d help the couple find another child, one who wasn’t quite as needy as Dorothea, one they could truly be happy with.
“Maybe you can introduce the Garners to some of the other children?” she asked him with a smile.
He didn’t smile in return. Instead his expression turned almost sympathetic, as if he felt sorry for her.
Why would he feel sorry for her? Marianne buried her face into Dorothea’s hair again and breathed in deeply.
“Why don’t you let the Garners have another chance at speaking with Dorothea?” Drew suggested.
She shook her head. “Dorothea is already upset enough for one morning.”
“She’ll be fine.” This time his words were not a suggestion.
Marianne pulled back a little and pleaded with him to understand. “No, she won’t.”
The blue-green in his eyes turned the color of steel. “I need to talk to you for a minute. In private.” His tone gave her no room for arguing. Now she understood how one look or one word from him was enough to make the children comply.
She started to rise, but Dorothea clung to her. Marianne gently began the process of loosening Dorothea’s hold, all while whispering to her that everything would work out for the best. When Dorothea was finally standing in front of her, Marianne brushed the girl’s wispy hair from her tear-streaked cheeks. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”
Dorothea’s bottom lip began to tremble. Marianne shot Drew an I-told-you-so glare.
He crossed his arms with a glare that said I don’t care.
Marianne sighed and then placed a gentle hand upon Dorothea’s head. “I won’t be long.”
Elizabeth Garner bent toward Dorothea so that she was at eye level. “While we’re waiting, I can show you how to play the pian
o, if you’d like.”
Much to Marianne’s surprise, Dorothea didn’t start screaming again. In fact, she studied Elizabeth’s face as if trying to decide whether she was trustworthy or one more person who would end up breaking her heart.
Elizabeth held out a gloved hand in invitation. Dorothea’s gaze dropped to the hand.
Marianne was about to issue a word of warning but grew motionless at the sight of Dorothea hesitantly placing her hand in Elizabeth’s. The pretty lady smiled encouragingly at Dorothea before she stood and moved gracefully toward the piano, speaking quietly with Dorothea the entire way. When they reached the bench, Elizabeth slid it out. Dorothea offered no protest when the young lady picked her up and carefully situated her on the bench before sitting down next to her.
Marianne could only watch with a strange pain wrenching her heart. When Drew propelled her away, she didn’t resist. He led her to an empty corner near the back of the sanctuary. She could still see Dorothea at the piano with Elizabeth. The young woman played a cheerful tune that was much more complex than anything Marianne could manage.
“Marianne,” Drew said softly, his voice no longer steel.
Even so, she didn’t want to talk to him. Her throat ached too much, and her eyes stung.
“They’re perfect for her,” he began.
“You don’t know that,” Marianne replied, blinking back tears before they could spill over. “She’s going to cry again, and that woman won’t know what to do to console her.”
“You learned. What makes you think Elizabeth Garner won’t be able to?”
“Because Dorothea is more sensitive than the rest of the children and having a harder time than the others.”
“You’ve done well with her.” Drew paused. “But you’re not the only one who can love Dorothea.”
The words hit her hard in her chest, knocking the breath out of her. Elizabeth had just finished playing a short song and was smiling at Dorothea in obvious delight. The amazing thing was that Dorothea was looking back. No, she wasn’t smiling, but neither was she crying.
Elizabeth Garner seemed a gentle soul. The woman was handling Dorothea smoothly so far. But after only a few minutes of observation, how could they know for sure that Elizabeth would be a capable parent?
“The children need us for just a little while,” Drew continued. “We’re like a train conductor—there to help them during this part of their journey, this transition from one destination to the next. But we were never meant to have a permanent place in their lives.”
His words made complete sense, yet she still didn’t like them. She didn’t like this process of not knowing these people, of not being able to screen the families more vigilantly, to see what they were really like when no one else was looking.
Shouldn’t they exercise more caution? Shouldn’t they conduct thorough investigations into the families’ living situations, their motivations for taking the children, and their plans regarding the children’s care? Surely they could sit down with each prospective parent and talk with them, ask them more questions and perhaps get character references from neighbors who knew them.
Although Elizabeth Garner seemed like a very nice lady, anyone could put forth her best image for a short while. Marianne would have felt much better if she’d been able to visit the Garners’ home, learn more about them, and determine if they’d truly be the best match for Dorothea.
Instead, she’d been forced to hand the little girl over to a complete stranger. One minute Dorothea was safe with her, and the next she was gone to only God knew where, with people doing only God knew what.
“I just wish we could make sure this is right for Dorothea before giving her to them.”
“We can never be completely sure of anything.” Drew brushed back a stray strand of Marianne’s hair from her eyes.
She stepped out of his reach. Deep inside, she knew he was right. But that didn’t stop the frustration and sorrow that came pouring through her as the reality of the situation settled upon her. Whether she liked it or not, whether the Garners were capable or not, Dorothea was going home with them. Her little girl was leaving.
And that was exactly the problem. Dorothea wasn’t her little girl. As much as Marianne had invested every ounce of energy and time into soothing and caring for Dorothea over the past week, the girl had never been hers and never would be.
“The first trip is always the hardest,” Drew said, his brow lined with earnestness. “You’ll eventually learn how to love them, but also be able to let go when the time is right.”
Marianne shook her head and swiped at the tears that somehow managed to escape. “You’re wrong. I’ll never get used to this. I’ll never be able to love with just part of my heart. And I’ll never be able to make another one of these trips.”
She was too weak to handle having her heart ripped out every time she had to say good-bye to the children. She cared too much to leave them with strangers. She cared too much to walk away before knowing if they’d be happy and safe. She cared too much to sever the ties without the reassurance that they truly were in a better place.
Once she was back in New York City, she’d resign from her job as an agent and live with the fact that she simply was never meant to be strong. She’d always be too tenderhearted, too emotional, and too tempted to fall in love with those she shouldn’t.
Chapter 12
In spite of all her misgivings, Marianne somehow managed to do the right thing with Dorothea. She encouraged the little girl to go home with her pretty new mommy, who could play the piano for her whenever she wanted because she had one in her house.
She kissed Dorothea’s head, and when the little girl attempted to cling to her, she placed Dorothea’s hand in Elizabeth’s, reminding the orphan of the piano that awaited her at her new home. Marianne held back the tears when Dorothea walked down the aisle toward the door. She even smiled and waved when the little girl looked back at her over her shoulder.
But when Dorothea disappeared out the door, she hadn’t been able to stop the tears any longer. They slipped down her cheeks as silent sobs tore at her chest. She rapidly swiped them away and forced herself to go back to the other children who still needed her.
The train ride to Mayfield had been difficult without the little girl by her side. Her absence only stirred Marianne’s worries, not only about Dorothea but about all the children. Through her turmoil she could only pray there hadn’t been any mistakes in the placements and that each of the children would be better off, as Drew believed.
In the evening, they arrived at Mayfield, their next destination along the Illinois Central. They had dinner at the Mayfield Inn and went to bed early in rooms reserved for them. Marianne wasn’t the only one who’d been quieter. Everyone seemed more subdued and contemplative, the thrill and newness of the trip stripped away and replaced by the cold, stark reality of what had happened in Benton and would happen again now in Mayfield.
The next morning, with half of the children remaining, she found them much easier to supervise as they played outside the church where the meeting was to be held at two o’clock that afternoon. Standing in the shade of the building, she was already sticky from the thick humidity that had moved in with yesterday’s rainstorm.
Mayfield looked to be much like all the other towns they’d been in, with its main street near the train depot, lined with the usual businesses and storage silos. The street was rutted and marked by mud puddles. She prayed the children would remain clean before the meeting but guessed many of the boys would be splattered and dirty in no time.
“Stay here in town,” Drew said sternly to the boys as he prepared to go inside for a meeting. “Don’t wander off this morning.”
“What? Now you’re my father?” Liverpool twirled a long stem of grass between his teeth.
“No,” Drew said. “But after what happened in Benton with losing George, I want everyone to play close to Miss Neumann while I’m gone.”
“Oh, so you think we’re babies
who need a nanny?”
“Just stay here.”
“Mister, I’ll do what I want, when I want.”
In two long strides, Drew crossed to Liverpool and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. “Listen, so long as I’m in charge, you’ll do what I want, when I want. Understood?”
Liverpool smirked and nodded behind him at passersby, who had stopped to witness their interaction.
Drew glanced over his shoulder at the townspeople, then released Liverpool with a shove. “If you hope to get a placement here in Mayfield, you’d better start behaving. I’d hate to have to take you back to New York.”
“I’m not going back to the city nohow.” Liverpool pulled himself up straight. “Me and Ned might just head out on our own. Ain’t that right, Ned?”
Ned stared at Drew with hostile eyes. “All I know is that I didn’t come out here to end up with a new family that’s gonna take up where my pa left off. No way. I’ve had enough of that.”
Marianne wondered if he was thinking of the farmers who’d poked and prodded them yesterday. She couldn’t blame the boys for not wanting to go through that again.
Jethro and Sammy had stopped their game of chase to watch the big boys. Jethro’s thick red hair was impossibly frizzy and unmanageable in the humidity, and it stood out from his head in all different directions. No amount of taming on Marianne’s part had made the slightest difference today.
“I’m going in to talk with the committee right now.” Drew’s voice was threaded with frustration. “We’ll do the best we can to place you both with families who will treat you fairly.” The skepticism on Liverpool and Ned’s faces didn’t waver. “In the meantime, stay out of trouble.” His command was sharper than usual.
As he bounded up the wooden steps that led to the door of the church, Marianne caught a glimpse of the determination lining his face. Ever since losing George, Drew hadn’t been quite the same. He’d been more on edge, the haunted glimmer always present in the depths of his eyes.