Looking To The Future (#11 in the Bregdan Chronicles Historical Fiction Romance Series)

by Ginny Dye

  “And you believe that makes me angry?”

  Carrie shook her head. “I don’t know,” she cried, “but I would think it makes you something!”

  “It makes me more in love with you,” Anthony declared, turning her toward him so he could gaze down into her eyes. “It makes me more eager to marry you, but I realize adopting Frances will probably mean I have to wait longer.” He sighed. “Carrie, I love you. I want more than anything to be your husband, but I told you I would wait. Do I get impatient? Of course, I do. Do I wish things would happen faster? Yes. Do I have any control of that?” He shook his head. “No.”

  “You don’t have to wait,” Carrie whispered. “Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

  “I know I don’t have to wait,” Anthony assured her. “I realize I have the choice to give up on a future with you, but I’m not capable of making that choice.” He tilted her chin up to look into her eyes. “I love you, Doctor Borden. I can’t imagine spending my life with someone else. I would rather be alone than settle for another woman just to have a wife.”

  “It’s not fair to you,” Carrie protested, secretly thrilled he was not willing to walk away. She felt selfish for wanting him to still love her, but she wasn’t yet willing to say she would marry him.

  “Life is not always fair,” he said gently. “We both know that.” He paused for a long moment.

  “What? You were going to say something,” Carrie probed.

  Anthony shook his head slightly, looked over her shoulder, and then sighed. “I know I don’t have a right to ask this question, but I’m wondering if you think you will ever have a desire to have more children of your own.”

  Carrie sucked in her breath. “Is that important to you?”

  “I haven’t decided,” Anthony answered honestly.

  Carrie knew she needed to be equally honest. “I don’t know if I can.” Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them away. “My mother almost died when she had me. She was told it would be dangerous to attempt to have more children. I almost died when I had Bridget. I haven’t asked, but I suspect it would be dangerous for me to attempt to have more children, as well. I don’t know that for certain,” she rushed to add, “but I believe you need to know it might not be possible.”

  Anthony looked off into the distance for a few moments more, and then brought his eyes back to her. “I don’t mind not having more biological children,” he admitted, “but I have always wanted a lot of children in my home. I suppose it comes from having a lot of siblings. Would you be open to more adoptions after Frances?”

  Carrie couldn’t hold back the grin on her face. “I would be,” she assured him. “There are so many children who need a good home.” She hesitated. “I don’t know how that would work with my being a doctor, though.”

  “I don’t either,” Anthony said cheerfully, “but that doesn’t matter right now. We’re not married. We’re not even engaged. We’re just having a conversation. It’s enough for me to know you would consider it.” He laughed suddenly as he pulled her close. As he lowered his lips, he murmured, “I love you, Doctor Carrie Borden.”

  Carrie had just enough time to whisper back. “And I love you, Anthony Wallington.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Frances Harvey!”

  Frances raised her hand timidly. Mrs. Akron wasn’t mean, but the stern, hawkeyed woman still intimidated her.

  “Have you done your homework?” Mrs. Akron asked, her eyes boring into Frances as if she were searching for any hint of an untruth.

  “Yes ma’am,” Frances said earnestly. In truth, she liked going to school. There were lots of the children in the orphanage who complained about it endlessly, but she remembered every word Carrie had said to her. If she wanted to do something with her life, she had to get an education. Everything she had learned so far was only from a neighbor who had taken pity on her because her mama wouldn’t let her go to school—the same neighbor who had been feeding her for the last two months.

  Mrs. Sider was a kind woman, but too old and poor to become the mother to an orphaned child. She had wanted to, but had finally decided Frances had a better chance for a good life at the orphanage.

  “Teacher’s pet!”

  Frances sighed as Isabella walked close behind her and hissed the taunt in her ear, pinching her arm as she did so. She winced and bit her lip. She knew the pinch would leave another bruise to add to her collection, but she had no choice but to endure it.

  The teachers were nice, and the women who ran the home were all kind, but they were overwhelmed with so many children. Frances recognized the same desperate look she had seen in her mama’s eyes many times. She had overheard two of them talking the night before. She hadn’t meant to, but she’d been told to take the food scraps out to the pigs in the back. When she had carried the bucket of slop to them, she heard two of the women talking. They must not have heard her coming over the squeals of the pigs, but they were talking loud enough for Frances to listen.

  The orphanage was supposed to house thirty children. There were close to seventy-five. The war hadn’t just killed a lot of men; it had left too many children homeless. Even if their mother was still alive, many of them couldn’t afford to feed their children now that their husbands were dead. Desperate, they dropped them off at the orphanage.

  “We can’t just turn them away,” one lady had said. “What are the wee children going to do?”

  Frances recognized the soft lilt of the gentle-faced Irish woman she trusted instinctively.

  “I pity them,” the other woman growled, “but how are we going to feed them?”

  Frances envisioned the coarse German woman who belonged to the voice. She was not unkind, but the desperate look in her eyes had grown just in the week Frances had been there. Five other children had been dropped off on the front stoop since she had arrived.

  “We plant more gardens,” the Irish woman answered. “We’ll buy some more pigs. We can’t turn them out on the streets to die.” She had hesitated, her voice growing more distressed. “I saw that happen back in Ireland. The children were starving during the famine. Only then, we couldn’t even grow potatoes to keep them alive. We have to try!”

  “It’s not like we have a choice,” the other woman snorted. “She just keeps letting them stay!”

  Frances knew she was Mrs. Morrow. She felt deep gratitude to the woman who hadn’t turned her away when Mrs. Sider had delivered her here with the story of her parents’ and siblings’ deaths. Mrs. Morrow’s worried eyes had softened with compassion as she nodded her head to indicate Frances could stay.

  Frances gritted her teeth when another girl delivered an additional pinch, but she was learning to ignore their meanness. She didn’t know how long she would have to live in this place, but Mrs. Sider had told her it would be at least until she was sixteen. Frances was determined to learn all she could. She already had a stash of books hidden under her mattress that she had taken out of the tiny bookshelf in the classroom. She would duck into the sleeping room to read every chance she got, and she had learned to hide behind a large tree where she would go undetected while she read.

  It's also where she went to cry. There were moments when she missed her mama and daddy so badly she couldn’t hold back the tears that burst forth like gushing water through a broken dam. Her daddy might not have known what to do with her, and her mama might have kept her from going to school, but she knew they had loved her. She hadn’t known what lonely felt like until she had watched the bodies of her entire family lowered into shallow graves in the paupers’ cemetery.

  Frances straightened on the narrow bench, determined not to miss one single word of what the teacher said.

  *****

  Carrie ground her teeth in frustration. “Will we ever find her?”

  Carrie and Abby had spent the last two days searching for Frances. They had tried to locate where she had lived with her parents, hoping to find the kind neighbor who had helped her, but their attempts had bee
n fruitless. There had been so little to actually go on, and Effingham was larger than she had anticipated. Finally, they had turned their attention toward the orphanages in the town.

  The first two women who had answered their knock at the door simply shook their heads when she asked for Frances Harvey. Carrie was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of need. The orphanages were full of sad-looking children doing their best to make sense of a life that had gone so wrong. She wanted to take every single one of them home with her.

  “We’ll find her,” Abby answered in a determined voice. “We only have two orphanages left to visit.”

  “But what if they were full? What if she was taken somewhere else? What if she’s not still in Effingham?”

  “And what if the sky falls on us while we are looking?” Abby asked with mock alarm.

  Carrie managed a laugh, even if she was far from seeing the humor. “You’re right. I’m worrying when I have no reason to worry.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” Abby responded. “I’m worried right along with you, but I’m choosing to funnel that energy into looking for a wonderful little girl with amber eyes.” She took Carrie’s hand. “We’ll find her, Carrie. We won’t give up until we do.”

  Carrie grabbed Abby in a fierce hug. “Thank you for coming with me. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d been alone.”

  Abby shrugged. “You would have done exactly what you’re doing now.” She grinned. “But, you certainly wouldn’t be having as much fun!”

  Carrie laughed more naturally and then looked up as the carriage they had hired slowed to a stop.

  “This is the next place on your list, ma’am.”

  Carrie took a deep breath and stepped from the carriage. “Thank you. We’ll be back soon.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The driver’s weathered face revealed his age, but his glittering blue eyes belonged to a younger man. “I’ll be waiting right here.”

  Carrie crossed her fingers and sent up a silent prayer as they walked to the front door. Young children were everywhere she looked. She assumed the older ones were in school. None of the children looked mistreated or hungry, but all of them had that same beseeching look as they watched her and Abby arrive. Carrie knew each of them held a wild hope that perhaps they would get to go home with a family that would love them.

  She had talked to enough people to know the orphanages were full of war orphans, but far fewer than she had expected had lost both parents. Many of them were considered half-orphans. Their fathers had been killed in the war. Their mothers, still alive, had no means of providing for their children, so they brought them to the orphanage with the desperate hope they would be fed and cared for.

  Her knock at the door was answered by a gentle-faced young woman with glowing red hair and soft blue eyes. Carrie knew she was Irish before the woman spoke with the lilt she loved so much.

  “What can I be doing for you?”

  Carrie took a deep breath, hoping, even while she steeled herself for another disappointment. “My name is Dr. Carrie Borden. This is my mother, Mrs. Abigail Cromwell.” She had learned early on that identifying herself as a doctor earned her instant respect. She was not above using any possible advantage to find Frances. “I’m looking for Frances Harvey. Might she be here?”

  The woman’s face grew thoughtful as she pursed her lips. “Frances Harvey…” she murmured.

  Carrie knew that with so many children, not all their names might be remembered. “She’s eleven years old,” she offered. “Her parents were both killed when the flu swept through here a few months ago.” Many parents had died during that time, so Carrie didn’t know how helpful the information would actually be. “She has brown hair and amber eyes.”

  The woman’s face cleared. “Little Frances! You’re here for her?” Her eyes sharpened immediately. “And just who are you to the wee one? You told me your names, but I know nothing else.”

  “Of course,” Carrie responded, her heart pounding with excitement to have finally found the little girl. “I became close to Frances last winter, when her family’s wagon was overturned during a blizzard on their way to Santa Fe. I was able to provide medical care.”

  “What were you doing on a wagon train to Santa Fe in the middle of winter?” the woman asked in astonishment.

  “I was on my way to provide medical care to the Navajo Indians,” Carrie said without hesitation. She didn’t know if this Irish woman knew anything about the Navajo, or cared at all, but she certainly wanted to portray herself as a caring person. She’d thought a lot about what she would say if she actually found Frances.

  “And why are you looking for Frances?”

  “I knew her family came back to Illinois after the blizzard. Last week, I received a letter from Francis that let me know her family dies during the flu outbreak.” She paused. “I want to adopt her and take her home.”

  The woman’s eyes widened with surprise, but they didn’t lose their look of suspicion. “Where is home?”

  “My family owns a plantation outside of Richmond, Virginia.”

  “Virginia?” the woman echoed, her eyes growing more, not less, suspicious. “You’re a Southerner?”

  “From the look in your eyes, I should probably deny it,” Carrie replied, “but the answer is yes. I also happen to love Frances, and I know I can give her a wonderful home.” She wondered if every prospective parent had to go through this. She supposed she should be glad, but many children likely went unadopted because of these questions. She had learned a little about the number of children being sent by train to the Midwest from cities like New York and Philadelphia. The number of homeless, orphaned children in the big cities was staggering. They were being sent west with the hope that farm families would give them a good, loving home in exchange for labor. She had heard horror stories, but she’d also learned of well-adjusted children who loved their new families. She was certain there were no perfect answers.

  The lady stared into her eyes for several moments. She must have approved of what she saw, because she suddenly relaxed. “Will Frances know you?”

  Carrie grinned. “Yes.”

  The woman nodded. “My name is Colleen Dempsey.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Dempsey,” Carrie said warmly.

  Colleen nodded and then reached down to scoop up a toddler clutching at her skirt. “Up you go, Pamela. Let’s go to the schoolhouse, shall we?”

  Carrie smiled when the curly-haired child beamed brightly and nodded her head vigorously. She exchanged a look of excited victory with Abby as they followed Colleen around the back of the building to another smaller building. Tall trees, just leafing out, provided shade and limbs for many swings.

  “Wait here,” Colleen said, disappearing through the door.

  Carrie took a deep breath, trying to calm her jittery nerves. After everything she had done to find her, she had a brief moment of worry that Frances may wish to stay in the orphanage, rather than return with her to the plantation.

  “Relax,” Abby whispered, reaching out to squeeze her hand.

  Carrie tried, but then stiffened when the door opened again. Colleen appeared, leading the little girl by the hand.

  Frances, obviously confused to be pulled out of school, glanced around uncertainly. When her eyes landed on Carrie, they opened wide in shock. “Carrie!” she screamed. “Carrie!”

  She launched herself forward, almost tackling Carrie to the ground with the force of her embrace.

  “I reckon she knows you,” Colleen observed.

  Carrie clasped the little girl to her tightly for several minutes, content to merely hold her.

  Frances finally stepped back and stared up into her face. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

  “Finding you was a challenge,” Carrie answered, “but answering the first question is easy. I’m here because I want to take you home with me.” She tipped Frances’ face up so she could look into the amber eyes she remembered so well. “If you would be
willing, I would like to adopt you.”

  Frances gasped and raised a hand to her mouth. “You want to adopt me?” she asked in a quivering voice.

  “I do,” Carrie assured her. “I love you. You are an extraordinary little girl. Nothing would mean more to me than to be your mother.”

  “To replace Bridget?” Frances asked uncertainly.

  Carrie shook her head. “Nothing will ever replace my little girl who died, Frances,” she said tenderly. “You’re not meant as a replacement, darling. I simply want to love you and be your mother.” She took a deep breath. “Would you like that?”

  Frances nodded her head so vigorously, Carrie feared it would fall from her shoulders.

  “I would love that,” Francis breathed. “Are we going to your home in Virginia?”

  “We are,” Carrie answered, curious how she would respond. She and Frances had talked for many hours about the plantation where she had grown up. Last year on the Trail, Frances had never tired of the stories.

  “Will I get to ride horses?” Frances asked, her eyes wide with anticipation. “Will I get to see the James River? And see all the tobacco?

  “Yes, yes, and yes,” Carrie assured her. It was obvious Frances was excited to go back to the plantation, but it was only fair to give her the whole picture. “I don’t know how long we will stay on the plantation, though. I don’t know where my work as a doctor will take me.”

  Frances listened intently. “Will you still want me to be with you if you have to go someplace else?”

  “Always,” Carrie replied firmly. “You are going to be my daughter. Wherever I go, I will want you with me.”

  “And you’re going to be doctoring wherever you go?” Frances pressed.

  Carrie nodded.

  “Then I reckon that will be perfect,” Frances proclaimed, “because I’m going to be a doctor, too!”

  Carrie smiled broadly. “You are?”

  “Yes,” Frances said with absolute certainty. “I watched you save most of my family during the blizzard. I knew if you had been there with your remedies, you would have probably saved them from the flu, too. I want to be able to save people like that, Carrie.”