With You Always (Orphan Train Book #1) Page 7

  “You’re living in the Seventh Street Mission?” he asked, his brows lifting and almost touching the brim of his hat.

  She nodded. “We have jobs as seamstresses—”

  “But isn’t it a place to reform prostitutes?”

  Marianne flushed and glanced down at the cracked pavement.

  “Pardon my vulgarity,” he was quick to add. “It’s just that I never thought to inquire there. I never imagined you or Elise would do something like that—”

  “Reinhold Weiss!” She stomped her foot and almost reached up to slap him. “How dare you think Elise or I would stoop to doing something so shameful?”

  “I didn’t think so—”

  “You better know so.” She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest to keep herself from doing him bodily damage.

  He searched her face. Apparently he found the answer he was looking for, because his taut features relaxed. “Then you’re truly safe and secure?”

  “Truly.”

  “Sophie and Olivia and Nicholas?”

  “They’re all fine.”

  “I just wish Elise would have sent word to ease my mind.” It was his turn to look down at the sidewalk. “Why didn’t she?”

  When he finally glanced up again, she was taken aback by the hurt in his eyes. “We’ve been really busy working. And she was afraid of Uncle or Friedric finding out where we were.”

  “But surely she knew I wouldn’t tell them.”

  “I know.” Marianne released a long sigh. “I told Elise we should send you a note.”

  “And what did she say to that?”

  “She said we would once we were settled.”

  Reinhold mulled over her words and seemed to take comfort in them. Then he squeezed her arm. “I’m glad you’re okay, Marianne.”

  She wanted to tell him she was okay now that she was with him, but at the sound of shouting around the corner, he propelled her backward behind him. “Maybe you should go.”

  He was right. She needed to get away before anyone else recognized her. And she needed to return to the mission before Elise grew suspicious and realized she was gone.

  She was tempted to hug Reinhold again, except he’d already put another step between them. “When will I see you again?” she asked, not caring that her tone was laced with desperation.

  “Now that I know where you’re living, I’ll try to visit soon.”

  His words brought a smile to her heart. “I’ll be waiting.”

  He gave her a fleeting wave. As she turned to go, she realized she would be counting the days until his arrival.

  “I won’t go,” Sophie said. She sat in the only chair in their third-story room and held Nicholas on her lap. The little boy sucked the thumb of one hand and absently fingered the silky end of Sophie’s braid with the other.

  “You have to go,” Elise insisted. Her frustration was mounting with each passing minute. At half past six in the morning, that didn’t bode well for the day.

  Sophie didn’t budge from the chair. “I’m staying here to watch Nicholas and Olivia just like I have every other day this summer. I don’t know why that needs to change.”

  Elise wanted to roll her eyes and say, Because whether we like it or not, life changes. Instead, she took a deep breath, counted to five, and tried to respond calmly. “I know you’re not hard of hearing, Sophie. And I’ve already told you why at least a dozen times.”

  According to Miss Pendleton, the state of New York had passed its Truancy Law last year, the first state to make such a law. All children between the ages of five and fifteen had to go to school, unless they were gainfully employed. If they were caught by the police, they could face jail or indenture.

  “But I have a job.” She drew Olivia to her side and kissed the girl’s head. Olivia gave a sleepy yawn but hugged Sophie back.

  “You know as well as I do, watching Olivia and Nicholas isn’t a job.” Elise held Sophie’s gaze, which was as stubborn as her own.

  “Someone has to watch them,” Sophie said. “They can’t be alone all day.”

  “They won’t be. Marianne and I will check on them.” Elise didn’t like the idea of Olivia entertaining Nicholas for hours on end, but at least she and Marianne were close by, and Olivia could come get them if she needed something—unlike most of the other workers who had no choice but to leave their young children home at the mercy of neighbors or nearby relatives.

  In the early morning light cascading through the open window, Elise could see the battle raging across Sophie’s delicate features. She’d been caring for the two children for months and had become like their mother. In fact, Sophie was a better mother to Olivia and Nicholas than their real one ever had been. They adored Sophie as much as she adored them.

  Elise wondered if Sophie had grown too attached to the young orphans and they to her. She worried about the day when someone stepped in and decided the children needed a real home. What would Sophie do then? How would she ever be able to let them go?

  As kind as Miss Pendleton had been in allowing them a room for a pittance, it wasn’t a permanent solution. How could it be? Living at a mission among former prostitutes was not the kind of life she’d envisioned for herself or her sisters. No, it was only a short-term arrangement. Eventually she hoped to save enough money so they could find their own apartment and live independently.

  In the meantime, she planned to make the most of their time here. That included sending Sophie to school. “Vater would have wanted you to go to school,” Elise finally said, voicing her truest and deepest reason for wanting Sophie to attend school. “He’d be very disappointed if you don’t get an education.”

  “Then it’s a good thing he doesn’t have to know.”

  “Sophie,” Marianne chided from where she stood fixing her hair into a coiled braid. “Both Elise and I were lucky to get as much education as we did. Now you have the opportunity to go, and you should take it. Not everyone can.”

  “Stop treating me like a child. I’m educated enough.”

  When Vater died and they’d had to stop school to work as seamstresses, Sophie had already learned to read and write and do some arithmetic, but she hadn’t been in school for long. Not long enough to please Vater. “You don’t have many more months until you turn sixteen,” Elise said, “until you are no longer required to attend school. So just go.”

  “No.”

  Elise released an exasperated sigh and threw up her hands in defeat. “Then you’ll have to be the one to tell Miss Pendleton you’re not following her wishes. I won’t do it.” Elise crossed the room that had become their home. It was still in need of repairs and crawling with rats and cockroaches and other vermin. But they’d worked hard in the evenings to scrub it as clean as they could and had even painted the walls white.

  In addition to a bed, Miss Pendleton had found an old chest of drawers for the room. Sophie had displayed her brass candle holder, a kneeling angel holding up a lampstand. It was a gift from Mutti, as Elise’s cross ring was. Next to the candle holder sat Marianne’s music box with a figurine of a girl tending her geese, another deathbed gift from Mutti. Other than the clothes they wore, these items were all that remained of the life they’d once known, all they had to remind them of the happy family they’d been in the days before Count Eberhardt had ruined it all.

  As Elise began to open the door, Sophie spoke firmly but with a hint of apology. “I promise I won’t cause any trouble for us. In fact, I have a plan I’ve been meaning to talk to Miss Pendleton about.”

  Elise paused.

  “You know how Miss Pendleton doesn’t like that the women have to leave their children at home alone when they come to work? And you know how she’s been trying to find a solution?” Sophie paused as though to ensure she had Elise’s full attention. “Well, I’ll offer to watch their children for them—for a small fee, of course.”

  Marianne’s hands stilled with a pin only half in her coil. “Can they afford to pay you?”

  “I w
on’t charge much.”

  Elise regarded Sophie for a moment, struck once again by how girlish she looked. But how much of her girlhood had been lost to poverty and despair? At least she and Marianne had memories of happier times to keep them company on the darkest of days.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” Elise finally said. Her workers would be arriving soon, and she liked to make sure all the supplies were ready by the time they sat down to sew.

  Elise made her way down the hallway to the steep stairwell.

  “Elise, wait,” Marianne called after her.

  Slowing a little, Elise allowed her sister to catch up.

  “I saw Reinhold yesterday,” Marianne said over the loud clattering of their footsteps against the plank stairs. Her sister’s words seemed more a guilty confession than a simple sharing of information.

  “Where?” Elise came to a halt, and Marianne bumped into her.

  “He said he’s been searching for us all of these weeks.”

  At the thought of Reinhold worrying about them, remorse rushed in. She should have tried harder to get him word of their whereabouts. But she supposed that if she was completely honest with herself, she’d been afraid of telling him because she was sure he’d insist again that they get married. She didn’t know if she’d be able to resist another proposal.

  “I can’t see him, Marianne.”

  “Why? He misses us.”

  Elise didn’t know how to explain her feelings regarding Reinhold. He was a good man. He’d make a fine husband. But she didn’t want to marry him because he felt obligated to take care of her. If she married him someday, she wanted it to be because they loved each other. She wanted a marriage like her parents had. Was that too much to ask for now? Could desperate people be so choosy?

  Before she could formulate an answer to Marianne’s question, loud voices came from the first floor. The commotion was unusual for such an early hour.

  Elise hurried down the stairs and hallway toward the original workroom that was already lit. As she drew nearer, she recognized Mrs. Watson’s English accent along with Reverend Bedell’s. When she entered the room, Mrs. Watson and several other workers were speaking in urgent tones with the reverend. Their faces were pale and somber. If they noticed her, they didn’t acknowledge it.

  “All the outsiders working for Lewis and Hanford were told they won’t have any sewing this morning either,” Mrs. Watson was saying.

  “We have nothing to worry about,” the reverend said. “Mr. Devlin runs a sound business. Even if some of the other garment manufacturers are having trouble and laying off workers, we’ll be just fine.”

  “But we heard there’s a panic at the banks too.”

  “It will pass.” The reverend spoke the words with too much force, as though perhaps he was attempting to convince himself as much as the women.

  Only then did Elise notice how wrinkled the reverend’s shirt and trousers were, the same garments he’d worn yesterday. Had he slept in them? From the dark circles under his eyes and the way his hair was sticking up in places, Elise suspected he hadn’t gotten much slumber, if any.

  Something was definitely wrong, but it was clear the reverend was trying not to worry them.

  “Then the women should still plan to come to work this morning?” Mrs. Watson asked.

  “Yes, of course,” Reverend Bedell responded.

  Mrs. Watson hesitated, and the women with her wore guarded hope in their expressions.

  The reverend waved a hand at the tables that were already filled with the precut shirt pieces they’d received yesterday. “As you can see, we have shirts to sew. You may let everyone know we’ll begin work at the usual time.”

  As the women exited the building to deliver the news to the workers lined up at the door, Elise wavered a moment in the workroom, wishing the reverend would reassure her too. But he turned and fingered one of the cut pieces of cloth, evidently not realizing she was still there.

  His shoulders dropped as did his head, as if without the women in the room he couldn’t bear the weight of his troubles any longer.

  For as much as he’d tried to instill hope into Mrs. Watson, he obviously didn’t feel the optimism for himself. If Lewis and Hanford, the city’s biggest manufacturer of clothing, had no work for seamstresses, then was it only a matter of time before the economic troubles spread to D. and J. Devlin too?

  Elise could only pray it wouldn’t be so, that the reverend was right in saying they had nothing to worry about. However, something told her trouble was on the horizon and it would be only a matter of time before it rumbled their way, bringing the worst storms yet.

  Chapter 7

  He was losing the challenge. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t deny the facts.

  Thornton stood at the train depot and surveyed the buildings along Quincy’s Main Street. In two months, the construction crew of Irish immigrants he’d hired had built the train depot with its public dining room, a hotel, the livery stable, general store, and a crude tavern. Several other identical buildings stood side by side, waiting for their new business owners to take possession—the tailor, blacksmith, and butcher. Thornton had already connected with each of the men who’d purchased the lots and buildings from him. Any day now he expected the new families to arrive to set up shop.

  A Methodist church was half constructed, as were several private residences on North First Avenue. He hoped to have the houses completed within the week so the new families could move right in.

  Thornton was pleased he’d had no trouble selling off the platted lots in town. He tried not to feel guilty that he’d succumbed to using the Illinois Central pamphlets, which pictured Illinois as The Garden State of the West, with a snug farmhouse, trees shading it, and well-fed cattle grazing in the foreground next to an enormous fenced-in field of corn.

  Although the picture was more of a fairy tale than a reality for the almost treeless stretch of prairie that surrounded Quincy, he’d used the advertisement anyway. After all, the 700-mile-long track that ran through the entire length of Illinois was now the longest single railroad in operation in the United States. The state was bound to prosper eventually.

  Like other towns to the north that the railroad had already created, Quincy would serve as a service center for the surrounding farmers, who would benefit from the ease of transporting their crops and livestock to eastern markets. The railroad would profit as well once Thornton sold the town lots and the rest of the area’s farmland. Even if Quincy Enterprises had to invest capital initially, in the long run such development would generate a greater demand for passenger and freight services and bring substantial profits.

  The only problem was that he still couldn’t keep up with Bradford’s progress. No matter how many more workers Thornton hired, Bradford always seemed a step ahead.

  “What can I do, Hewitt?” Thornton asked, lifting his hat and letting the hot breeze ripple through his hair. The clock was ticking. With August almost over, he had only four months to go.

  His young assistant rubbed his hands together as though washing them in the warm air. Behind the rims of his spectacles, Hewitt surveyed each building before coming to rest on the ramshackle wooden structures with dirt floors that stood at the edge of the town and provided shelter to the construction workers, mostly single young men who caused a ruckus every night at the tavern. Even if they were loud and unruly, they were dependable workers. Thornton couldn’t complain.

  “You need to hire more workers, sir,” Hewitt said. “Bradford has twice the number of construction workers you have.” Though Hewitt was a year younger than Thornton, he’d done a stellar job surveying and platting the town, and he continued to be an invaluable help to Thornton.

  Thornton watched as a group of men raised a beam for the second-story frame of one of the private residences. If he hired more workers, he’d have to find a way to house and feed them. He’d need more supervisors. And he’d have to increase the shipment of lumber coming down from the mills in
Chicago.

  “You should hire women, sir.” Hewitt made a womanly gesture with his hands. “They can cook, clean, wash, and sew. And you don’t have to pay them as much as the men.”

  True. He’d be able to cut some of his costs and perhaps invest the money into building a school. He had told the immigrant farmers he’d have a school for their children this fall, but in reality the school was low on his priority list. Yet if he hired more workers and minimized the amount he had to pay them, then he might just be able to fulfill his promise. Besides, a school would make his town look complete and would definitely impress his father.

  A swirl of dust rolled down Main Street, bringing with it a distant train whistle. Far to the north on the horizon, a plume of black rose into the cloudless blue sky. The billowing smoke was a beautiful sight, almost as pretty as the New York skyline at dusk.

  Hewitt patted his bowler hat, which already sat as low on his head as it could go. “News is that more businesses in the East are closing their doors every day. Lots of people are losing their jobs. The lucky ones who still have work are forced to take a cut in wages.”

  Thornton had been in New York two weeks ago, and Wall Street was bedlam. What started with the Ohio Life Insurance and Trust Company suddenly closing its doors had escalated into an all-out panic. Banks and businesses were in an uproar. Westervelt and Company had just defaulted. As one of the city’s largest shipbuilders, thousands of workers were laid off as a result. Putnam’s Magazine had gone under. Cyrus Field’s paper business had been suspended.

  New York City was a disaster, and most other East Coast cities were following suit. After spending as much time as possible with Rosalind, Thornton had wrapped up business as quickly as possible and then returned to Illinois to get away from all the problems. The recession wasn’t impacting Quincy Enterprises too heavily. In fact, the financial crisis seemed to have given his father a boost of energy he hadn’t had in months. The last Thornton had seen his father, he was out of bed and on his way to his office. His father thrived on the failures of others, especially by moving in and buying them up.