by Gina Welborn
Disease is not a moral but a sanitary problem.
Not something she needed any health inspector to tell her. Diphtheria, typhoid, cholera, smallpox, yellow fever—most of the tenement deaths in the last decade had been from one of those diseases. Including her mother’s. Showing her the official letter from the Health Department made no sense. Mr. Deegan was as literate as she. If anything, this was for show. To remind those in the tenements of his power and control.
“According to this, you”—she fixed him with a pointed look—“have been issued citations for multiple offenses.”
“Offenses I am not at fault for.”
Did he think she was stupid? Despite their repeated requests for repairs, not a shingle had been replaced or window resealed. One of the walls of the privy they shared with the Jaegers still had bullet holes from the last street fight.
She glanced around to see a growing crowd on the street despite the chill in the air. “Sir, our monthly rent, which has been doubled from three years ago, is sufficient to cover cost for repairs.”
“Au contraire, my dear.” He whisked the paper from her hand and read, “‘Remedies for violations include repairing defective plumbing, construction of new sewers and drains, ventilation applied to waste and soil pipes, cleaning privy vaults, and lime-washing rooms. Thirty dollars will do.’” Mr. Deegan refolded the paper. “To be fair, I’ve divided the cost of repairs equally among each tenement. You have until this time Monday.”
“You expect me to come up with thirty dollars in two days?”
He nodded. “I’m a generous man. Considering this is the fourth notification in the last two months, I could evict you instead.”
Emilia flinched. Fourth? Her heart pounded against her rib cage. For all Deegan’s sleaziness, he didn’t look to be lying. Da had to know about the inspection report and extortion demand and had kept the truth from her. But why? She had the travel money from Finn, plus what she’d saved by working an extra shift. They needed every penny for train fare. She couldn’t leave her family. She wouldn’t.
She swallowed to ease her tight throat. “We don’t have the money.”
“How strange.” His left eye twitched; the corner of his mouth curved. “I know that wealthy rancher of yours wired train fare for you to come to Montana. Thirty dollars, I hear. Enough to buy his mail-order bride a first-class ticket in the ladies’ car. He must think highly of you.”
Emilia gritted her teeth.
At her silence, he smirked. “Miss Stanek, unlike you, your sister is quite the hostess. Cordial, inviting, talkative.” He stepped closer, close enough she could smell the bitter coffee on his breath. “You’d be wise to stop thinking you’re better than everyone else in these parts. You ain’t going nowhere. This, dearie, is your lot in life.” He tipped his hat to her—“Until this time Monday”—and then to the crowd, which began to disperse with mumbles and backward glances.
Without another word, Mr. Deegan mounted his horse and rode off.
Emilia gasped for air. She dashed up the stairs to their two-room tenement and jerked the door open; the smell of coffee and stew hit her. “Da!” She closed the door hard. He exited the bedroom Emilia and Roch shared with their twelve-year-old younger sister, Luci, who followed. Before either could speak, Emilia pulled the haversack’s strap over her head. “Were you watching through the window? Did you hear everything? When were you going to tell me Deegan wants a payoff?”
Da and Luci exchanged glances, their dark eyes wide.
“I’ll set the table,” Luci muttered. As she went to work, Da stroked his salt-and-pepper beard like he always did when pondering what to say.
Emilia hung her bag and coat on an empty wall hook next to the door. Roch’s coat was missing. If he wasn’t home soon, he’d break the curfew she’d insisted Da give him. Someday he wouldn’t need a curfew. Someday Roch would have his own room and not have to sleep on the floor. Da would have one, too. No more sleeping on the couch for him. No more living in cramped spaces with grimy, paper-thin walls and sharing a privy with another family. This was not their lot in life. Once she married Finn, they would have privacy. Their lives would be better. Once they moved to Montana.
If they moved to Montana.
She clasped her hands together to contain the shaking. Took several deep breaths. She had to regain control. She had to be calm. She had to find a way to solve this problem. She would find a way. She always found a way. If she—
“Emilia, I know what you are doing.” Da’s Polish accent sounded like he’d immigrated to America recently instead of twenty-six years ago.
She stared at him. What was he talking about?
“You think you will find way to solve this.” He frowned. “Stop! We are doing it my way this time.” Da motioned to the table where Luci was placing bowls of stew. “We eat.”
His way? Emilia found her seat next to Luci. Something odd had come over her father. His face held more color than she’d seen in months, his shoulders seemed straighter. And he wasn’t coughing. Though his clothes hung on his lithe frame, Da looked like he had renewed purpose, determination. A plan. How could this be? Da believed in living in the here and now, not dreaming of the future—an odd belief considering the years he’d fought in the War Between the States to prove his loyalty to his new country.
They bowed their heads.
Emilia stared absently at her lap as her father asked for the blessing. If Da were well enough to travel, then they could leave for Montana sooner. All they needed was—
“Amen,” Emilia blurted the moment the prayer ended. “I will write to Finn, explain the situation, and—”
Da groaned, then looked up. “This I did already.”
“What?”
“Keep your voice down.” His voice lowered. “The walls have ears.”
Emilia fingered her spoon but didn’t pick it up. “When did you do this?”
“Two months ago, after Deegan made the first demand.” He took a bite of stew and then another. “Eat.” The moment she obeyed, he spoke barely loud enough for her to hear. “Finn has agreed to marry you by proxy.”
She collapsed against the back of her chair. “What?”
Luci grabbed the loaf of rye bread. “It means he marries a girl who is pretending to be you, and then when you arrive in Helena, you’ll already be his wife. He must really love you to agree to a proxy.” She tore off a chunk then handed the loaf to Da. “Right?”
“My girl listens well.” He broke off a section of bread then gave the remainder to Emilia, his brown eyes narrowing on her. “Listening is as much as virtue as persistence.”
Emilia straightened. She listened quite well, despite what he thought. She ate several bites of the bland, meatless stew and the hard bread to keep from blurting the myriad questions flooding her mind. Once she had all the information Da was withholding, she’d be able to figure out what to do next. No one could make a plan like she could. No one could solve a problem like she could.
His bowl empty, Da left the table. He slid a box out from under the couch. He withdrew a buff-colored, paper-sized envelope, then walked back to the table.
Da sat next to Emilia, in Roch’s empty chair. He spoke in a hushed tone. “This is a power of attorney granting a woman named Yancy Palmer permission to stand in for you as Finn’s proxy bride. Monday morning you will take it to a notary, who will watch you sign.” He handed her the envelope. “Keep it safe because you must file it once you reach Helena to make the marriage official. Usually, it must be in the judge’s hands before he will agree to perform the proxy, but we don’t have time to mail it, and Finn has arranged for the judge to act based on our word that it has been signed.”
Emilia stared at her father, overwhelmed at the news.
“After it is notarized,” Da continued, “you will then meet us at Dearborn Station. Once the judge in Helena telegrams that the marriage has taken place, you, Roch, and Luci will buy train fare to St. Paul, and then on to Helena. I will move into the
Old Soldiers’ Home. I will take odd jobs over the next three months to earn my train fare.”
“No, our plan has always been—”
“Listen!” Da barked in a tone he usually reserved for Roch. “The plan has to change.”
Emilia squirmed as she sat under his chilling gaze. She didn’t like this change. Da needed to trust her to do what she did best: find a solution and make it work. She had found Finn’s mail-order bride advertisement. She had convinced Da to move to Montana. She had taken the extra job. She had even figured a timeline for leaving that accounted for Da’s health and Roch and Luci’s school schedule. Changing plans based on a frantic response to a crisis wasn’t wise.
Luci moved around the small table and crawled onto Da’s lap, laying her head against his chest. By the look on her face, Emilia knew her sister was close to tears.
Da kissed the top of Luci’s head. “We have to be practical, Emme. You don’t have enough to pay my fare, too.”
“I’ll buy tickets for the emigrant car.” Better to have her father with them, even if it meant the unpleasant prospect of riding in an open train car for three days.
“You know my lungs can’t—”
“But ours can! You can stay in second class.”
“There isn’t enough money for us all. You need money for food. You have to pay the lawyer for the power of attorney.”
Luci broke into tears. Da held her tight.
“Please, Da,” Emilia leaned forward, stretching her hands to grip his arm. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. “We have to stay together. I can find a way to buy us all tickets. Give me time.”
He shook his head. “There’s no time left.”
The front door opened. Roch, his face red and chest heaving, dark hair tussled by the wind, stepped inside. He closed the door. “I returned her books.”
Emilia straightened in her chair. Why were they making plans and not including her in decisions? She glanced between her father and brother. “What books?”
Roch shrugged off his woolen coat. “The library ones.”
“I wasn’t finished researching—”
“Shhh,” said Da and Luci in unison.
“Someone had to,” Roch groused, “so you have nothing to keep you here.”
“And I bet you happily volunteered to take them,” Emilia snapped.
“If it gets you outta here quicker . . .” He shrugged. “Good riddance, I say.”
His hateful words ripped into Emilia’s heart. She held his gaze, waiting for a flicker of remorse, waiting for some sign he didn’t mean what he said. Something in the last year had caused him to hate her, but once they were all in Montana, and life was good again, he would appreciate what she’d sacrificed for him to have a better life. He would remember he loved her.
Roch rolled his eyes. He tossed his coat onto a wall hook then headed to the stove. “I’m starving.”
Emilia stared at her brother. His words—if it gets you outta here quicker—resonated in her mind.
She gave Da a questioning look. “Doesn’t he know he’s—”
Da shook his head, cutting off the rest of her question. “You have to trust me, even with what doesn’t make sense.”
Luci managed a smile. Weak though it was, it seemed to say, it will all work out, Emilia, just trust Da.
Emilia clenched her hands together, lips pursed tight. Too much of his plan didn’t make sense. Roch would not get on the train without Da. She knew it. Da knew it. This new plan was destined to fail, at Dearborn Station to be precise, and then where would they be? Stuck in Chicago for another year, maybe longer? Or, worse, their family divided and living three states apart? Da’s lungs couldn’t take another year of working in the cotton mill. The family was stronger when they stayed together. She had to find another solution.
Roch filled a bowl with the last of the stew. He sat in Da’s usual seat and began eating.
Da patted Roch’s back. Then his knowing gaze settled on Emilia. “Emme, if you can’t trust your father, who you do see, to do what’s best for you, how can you trust God, whom you don’t see?”
How dare he—!
Emilia snatched the envelope and walked to her bedroom without another word. Da’s question was a slap in the face. This had nothing to do with God or her faith or even trust; it was about doing whatever necessary to keep their family together.
She’d lost Mama.
She wasn’t about to lose another person she loved.
About the Author
GINA WELBORN worked in news radio until she fell in love with writing romance novels. She’s the author of twelve inspirational romances, including the 2014 Selah finalist “Mercy Mild” in ECPA-bestselling Mistletoe Memories. She serves on the ACFW Foundation Board by helping raise funds for scholarships. Gina lives with her pastor husband, three of their five children, several rabbits and guinea pigs, and a dog that doesn’t realize rabbits and pigs are edible. Visit her online at GinaWelborn.com.
About the Author
BECCA WHITHAM is a multi-published author who has always loved reading and writing stories. After raising two children, she and her husband faced the empty nest years by following their dreams: he joined the army as a chaplain, and she began her journey toward publication. Becca loves to tell stories marrying real historical events with modern-day applications to inspire readers to live Christ-reflecting lives. She’s traveled to almost every state in the U.S. for speaking and singing engagements and has lived in Washington, Oregon, Colorado, Oklahoma, and Alaska. Visit her online at BeccaWhitham.com.