The Brightest of Dreams

by Susan Anne Mason

  “I will do that. Good day, Miss Holloway.”

  “Good day.” Julia left the room with a new lightness to her step, almost giddy with relief.

  Maybe her life wasn’t over yet. And maybe, despite how it appeared, God hadn’t forgotten her after all.

  CHAPTER 11

  The sun wasn’t even visible over the horizon when Quinn arrived at the Wolfe farm the next morning. He’d spent the night at a rooming house in the center of town, although he’d barely slept a wink, anticipating seeing Harry again this morning. Since Quinn didn’t want Harry to have to walk such a great distance to the train station, especially carrying all his belongings, he rented a small cart and pony at the livery. It would also make for a hastier escape if things went badly with the farmer or the foreman.

  The idea that Quinn might be breaking some sort of law by taking Harry away ate at his conscience. Yet the fact that his brother was a child, one who might be suffering abuse at the hands of his employer, overrode any legal issues as far as Quinn was concerned. The lad had only been seven years old when he was sent to Canada, without any say in the matter. From what Quinn could see, the last five years had not been kind to Harry, and Quinn could not sit idly by and let the boy endure six more years of suffering. If it meant Quinn got thrown in jail, it was a chance he was willing to take.

  The early morning warblers were out in full force, serenading Quinn along the way. He could have enjoyed the tranquil ride through the countryside if only he could be certain what would happen with Harry.

  Please, Lord, let him be ready and willing to leave, and help us get away without any trouble.

  After tying the pony to a tree on the edge of the Wolfe property, Quinn made his way to the barn, a host of nerves swarming in his belly. How would Harry be feeling about the situation today? Would he be brave enough to come with Quinn? Something told him he’d have to deal with Murdoch before he would find out.

  Sure enough, before Quinn even reached the rear entrance, the beefy foreman appeared on the path, a rifle in hand. “You’re trespassing on private property, mister. I’d advise you to turn around.” He raised the weapon and aimed it at Quinn.

  “I’m Quinten Aspinall, Harry’s older brother. I’ve come to take him home.”

  “I don’t care if you’re the king of England.” The big man moved toward him. “The boy belongs to Mr. Wolfe. He has a contract that says so.”

  Heat blazed in Quinn’s chest. The arrogant sod acted as though Harry were his personal property. As though he owned him outright.

  “The only place Harry belongs is home with his mother, and that’s where I’m taking him.” Quinn reached into his jacket. “I’m even willing to offer Mr. Wolfe some compensation. I don’t have much, but . . .” He opened his money pouch and took out some coins.

  “You think that paltry sum will make up for years of lost labor?” The man spat on the ground.

  Anger moved through Quinn’s system. “Harry is not a prisoner. You can’t forcibly confine him.”

  “You’re wrong. The law is on Mr. Wolfe’s side.” Murdoch smirked. “Don’t make me call the authorities.”

  Quinn hesitated. For all his bravado, he really didn’t know if Murdoch was conning him. Would they arrest Quinn for trying to take Harry? Every instinct told Quinn to get his brother away from this place. That Harry was being abused. But would it be tantamount to kidnapping? He decided to call the man’s bluff.

  “Go ahead. Call the authorities if you must. As soon as I talk to Harry, we’ll be on our way.”

  “You seem pretty sure of yourself, English.”

  Quinn clenched his back teeth at the derision in Murdoch’s voice. He glared at Quinn, who held his ground and refused to back down.

  At last the man moved to one side of the door. “You have five minutes to say your good-byes to the kid. If you’re not back by then, I start firing this rifle.”

  Quinn gave a tight nod and strode into the barn. One of the cows inside let out a low moo. Tiny dust motes floated in the air. “Harry? Are you in here?” He continued down the corridor. “Harry?”

  No answer. Was his brother in the barn at all, or had Murdoch let Quinn make an erroneous assumption? Noise drew his attention farther down the aisle. A moaning sound echoed from what Quinn guessed was a tack room or storage area, but when he opened the door, he was unprepared for the sight that met him.

  Harry lay on a pile of straw in the corner, his knees pulled up toward his chest, writhing in pain.

  Quinn rushed to kneel beside him. “Harry, what’s wrong? Are you ill?”

  The boy didn’t answer, just continued to thrash about.

  Quinn looked around the tiny space, not much bigger than the size of a closet. Harry’s boots sat in one corner. His denim overalls hung from a peg on the wall. A metal bucket filled with something putrid stood by the door. Was this where Harry slept each night? Did they not have a room for him somewhere in the house? Surely anything would be more comfortable than this squalor. Even the animals had a nicer area.

  He laid a hand on Harry’s back. Immediately the boy winced and pulled away from him. Quinn looked closer and his gut clenched. Markings he’d thought to be shadows were actually purple bruises encircling Harry’s upper arm.

  He lifted the boy’s threadbare shirt. Large red welts crisscrossed Harry’s back. Reining in his reaction, Quinn gently turned him to take a look at his stomach. More welts and bruising marred the boy’s thin chest and abdomen.

  Harry groaned and finally looked at Quinn. Raw pain and fear darkened his hazel eyes. Quinn pressed his lips together to keep from roaring at the universe. How could someone treat another human being in such a vile manner?

  “Who did this to you? Was it Murdoch?”

  Harry shook his head.

  “Who, then? Wolfe?”

  A flicker of terror flashed over Harry’s face.

  “Your employer did this? What sort of monster is he?” Quinn closed his eyes for a brief moment in an attempt to collect himself. Then he held out a hand to his brother. “Come on. I’m getting you out of here.”

  With Quinn’s help, the boy slowly got to his feet but remained hunched over, unable to stand straight.

  “Where are your belongings?”

  Harry pointed to the straw.

  Frowning, Quinn rummaged under some of the hay and found a small trunk. Harry’s initials were carved in the front. He dragged it over, resisting the urge to open it. “Anything else?”

  “My boots and overalls.”

  Quinn fetched them both and helped his brother into the foul-smelling clothing.

  Layers of newspaper lined the soles of Harry’s boots. Quinn forced a neutral expression as Harry stuffed his bare feet inside. At least he wasn’t insisting on staying.

  Quinn hoisted the small trunk, finding it remarkably light, and wrapped his other arm around Harry’s waist to support him. Thank goodness Quinn had thought to bring a cart. The boy would never have made it to the station on foot.

  But first they had to get past Murdoch. And Wolfe had better not show his face, or Quinn couldn’t guarantee what he might do. His fists burned with the need to give the man a taste of his own medicine.

  Murdoch whirled around, rifle in hand, as they exited the barn. “What the—”

  Quinn shot a glare at the man. “Do not start with me, Murdoch. Not after what you’ve done to my brother. I should call the constable and report the lot of you.”

  “Hey, I had nothing to do with it.” A nerve pulsed in Murdoch’s jaw. Was the bully actually nervous? “Whatever punishment the old man sees fit to dish out is his business.”

  “But you did nothing to stop it, did you?”

  The big fellow shifted on his feet, his expression grim.

  “Tell Mr. Wolfe that as of today my brother no longer works for him. I pray to God he’s never allowed to hire anyone other than an adult again. Someone who can fight back.” He paused. “And tell him I will be reporting this to Mr. Hobday at the Tor
onto office.”

  Murdoch pressed his lips into a hard line but offered no further resistance.

  Without another word, Quinn led Harry away from the Wolfe farm for good. As they hobbled down the dirt road to where he had left the pony, Quinn’s thoughts turned to the promise he’d made to return for Cecil. But as much as Quinn yearned to go back for him, he needed to get Harry to a doctor. Not only to assess his injuries but to determine how malnourished the lad was as well. And since Quinn didn’t know if there was a hospital in the immediate area, that meant traveling back to Toronto right away.

  Cecil would have to wait.

  Julia had just finished her light breakfast when Mrs. Chamberlain bustled into the dining room the next day.

  “Good morning, Mrs. C.” Despite her unsettled stomach, Julia managed a cheery smile.

  “Good morning.” Mrs. C. chose a cup from the sideboard and filled it from the large teapot stationed there. “How are you this fine day?”

  Bright sun streamed in through the window, infusing the room with light.

  “I’m well, thank you.”

  Mrs. C. pulled out a chair and sat down. “I’m so happy about your new position. Working for Violet Middleton is a perfect solution for both of you.”

  “Indeed, I believe it is.” Julia smiled, her mind at ease for the first time in ages. It was wonderful to have new hope for the future when mere days ago everything had seemed so bleak. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Mrs. C. reached for a scone from the basket on the table. “Luckily Violet doesn’t live too far away, so I’m sure we’ll still see a lot of each other.”

  “I’d like that.” Julia swallowed hard. Would Mrs. C. still hold her in the same regard once she learned of her pregnancy? Or would the woman politely distance herself from Julia? “But I won’t be moving out for a week or more yet.”

  “You’re right. No use getting ahead of myself.” Mrs. C. looked up from buttering her scone. “I almost forgot. I have news about Quinten. He telephoned earlier.”

  The air stalled in Julia’s lungs. Despite her erratic heartbeat, she tried to appear unconcerned. “Oh? Has he returned from his trip?”

  “Yes. He arrived yesterday with one of his brothers. Sadly, the lad is in rather rough shape. Quinten had to take him for medical attention.”

  “How terrible. I hope he’ll be all right.” Julia frowned. Quinn must be so disappointed to have his reunion marred that way. “What about his other brother?”

  “There was no mention of him. But I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough. Quinten plans to come by later.”

  Julia almost dropped her teacup but quickly recovered her composure. “It will be good to see him again.” She avoided Mrs. C.’s gaze and focused on her saucer.

  “Do you have to work at the hospital today?”

  “No, I’ve finished there.” She laid her napkin over her plate. “I wanted to be available whenever Mrs. Middleton was ready to come home.”

  “How thoughtful. Though I don’t imagine you’ll miss the manual labor.”

  Julia chuckled. “I won’t, believe me.” She drained her cup and rose. “I think I’ll go and finish a letter I was writing. If . . . that is, when Quinn arrives, will you let me know?” Heat scorched her cheeks.

  “Certainly.”

  Julia rushed up to her room and checked her appearance in the mirror. Why was she so nervous to see Quinn again? It had only been a few days since he left, but it felt much longer. Her resolution to distance herself from Quinn drifted through her mind, but she pushed it aside.

  Instead, she opened her closet and reached for her favorite blue dress. In a matter of minutes, she had it on and had brushed out her hair until it curled softly over her shoulders. She stilled at her reflection in the mirror. Outwardly, her appearance was more than presentable, but it concealed a terrible secret that would destroy any respect Quinn could possibly have for her. And that secret wouldn’t remain hidden for much longer.

  She set her brush down with a sigh. If she were smart, she would tell him straight out that she couldn’t go back to England with him. Sever ties once and for all.

  Yet her heart wasn’t ready to say good-bye.

  For now, couldn’t she simply enjoy his friendship? After all, she owed him a great debt for everything he’d done for her, and if she could help him in any way with reuniting his family, she intended to do her best.

  A knock sounded on her door. “Julia, there’s a telephone call for you,” one of the girls said.

  Julia rose, her pulse fluttering. Was it Quinn calling to say he wasn’t coming after all? She took in a breath, battling a tide of disappointment, and headed downstairs to the parlor, where the phone was located.

  “Hello?”

  “Julia. Thank goodness I found you.”

  She froze at the clipped tone, one that definitively did not belong to Quinn. “Who is this?”

  “It’s Richard Hawkins. Don’t you recognize my voice?”

  She sank onto a nearby chair. “What do you want?” she whispered.

  “I’ve been trying to find you for weeks. I finally went to see Dr. Clayborne, who told me you’d come here.”

  Oh, why hadn’t she thought to warn Dr. Clayborne? As a fellow physician with a former patient in common, of course he would trust Dr. Hawkins.

  “What do you want?” Julia repeated, thankful most of the boarders were out at work.

  “I want to know why you disappeared on me.” His exasperation bled through the receiver. “I realize you were terribly upset over Sam’s death, as we all were, but you acted so strange at his memorial service, and then you simply vanished.”

  A bubble of disbelief rose in her chest, overriding her nerves. “What did you expect after what you did?” She bit her lip and looked around to make sure no one had heard her.

  “If you’re feeling guilty about our . . . encounter, please let me allay your concerns. I’m working to rectify the situation, and I think I’ll have a solution soon. But I don’t wish to discuss it over the telephone. I’d like to come by and see you—”

  “No!” she practically shouted, then grappled for control. The last thing she wanted was for him to show up here and create an unpleasant scene. “We have nothing to discuss, and I have no desire to see you. Kindly leave me alone.” Before he could respond, she hung up the receiver.

  Her heart hammered in her chest as she struggled to even out her breathing. Why would he think she’d want to see him after what he’d done? Surely he didn’t believe he could explain away his actions?

  Mabel entered the parlor and stopped short. “Julia, you’re white as a sheet. Not bad news, I hope.”

  “No. Just someone I didn’t expect to hear from.” She forced her lips into a smile. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to finish something in my room.”

  CHAPTER 12

  After the upsetting telephone call, the morning hours seemed to pass with excruciating slowness. Julia eventually came downstairs and positioned herself in the front parlor, reading from Mrs. C.’s Bible to pass the time. Perhaps Quinn wouldn’t arrive until later in the day. If so, she should really find some chores to help with.

  A loud knock on the front door startled her. What if Dr. Hawkins had ignored her wishes and had come to see her after all? Her first instinct was to hide in her room, but since Mrs. C. was upstairs, Julia shored up her courage and went to answer it.

  Quinn stood on the porch, cap in hand. His features brightened the moment he saw her. “Julia. This is a nice surprise. I didn’t expect you to answer the door.”

  She returned his smile, ignoring the swarm of dragonflies invading her stomach. “Mrs. C. said you might drop by. Please, come in. Shall I run upstairs and tell her you’re here?”

  Quinn followed her into the parlor. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind a few minutes to talk to you, if that’s all right.”

  Pleasant warmth spread through her chest. “I’d like that.” She took a seat on the sofa, while Quinn chose the armchair
closest to her. “So, tell me how your trip went.” She didn’t let on that she knew about his brother. She’d let Quinn relay the details in his own time.

  A shadow crossed his features. “Not as well as I’d hoped. Even though I found my brothers, Cecil barely gave me the time of day and refused to leave the farm. And Harry . . .” He paused, the muscles in his throat working. “Harry is in the hospital.”

  “I’m so sorry. Is he ill?” It must be far worse than she imagined if they kept the boy.

  “It’s not an illness.” Quinn raised his anguished gaze to her. “The man Harry worked for beat him after learning I’d been there. I didn’t think anyone saw us, but someone must have told the farmer Harry was talking to me.” He shook his head. “I came back the next day and found him barely able to stand from the blows he’d received. He has fractured ribs and a dislocated shoulder, among other injuries. The doctors want to run some tests to make sure there’s no internal damage.”

  “Oh, Quinn. That’s truly awful.”

  “Mrs. C. warned me their situations might not be pleasant, but it’s far worse than I could have imagined.” He dragged a hand across his jaw. “Harry’s so thin, I can count every rib and vertebra. They practically starved him. And he was living in one of the barn stalls with nothing more than a bit of straw for his bed.” He paused again, seeming to collect himself. “What I don’t understand is how the authorities could allow this sort of treatment. The superintendent at the Dr. Barnardo office said they sent inspectors only once a year, but even then, shouldn’t someone have noticed the condition he was in?”

  Tears stung Julia’s eyes. Her heart ached for Quinn and his brother. She leaned forward to lay a hand on his arm. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Not as far as Harry is concerned. Other than pray for him.” He hesitated. “But I could use your help looking for Becky.”

  Julia’s composure faltered. She gripped her hands together. “What can I do?”

  “I was hoping you might accompany me to the receiving home where Becky was sent. I had a difficult time at the boys’ home. I can only imagine what type of reaction a man arriving at Hazelbrae looking for a young woman might receive.” His eyes softened, taking on a pleading look. “I figured if you were with me, I’d have a much better chance at gaining any sort of cooperation.”