What Once Was Lost (22 page)

Christina stood with the other parishioners as the minister delivered a closing prayer. Worshiping with fellow believers had always provided peace and joy in the past, but on this Sunday morning she fought an element of discouragement. Even though several men had approached her before the service started and had offered to help rebuild the fire-damaged walls, even though Tommy was in attendance, even though Reverend Huntley presented a beautiful sermon on maintaining one’s faith in the midst of conflict, she felt unsettled.

While Reverend Huntley prayed, she offered a private, internal prayer.
God, bring us all back together quickly so I can resume my ministry. I miss my family desperately, and I feel so lost …
Tears stung, and she blinked rapidly to clear them as the minister said, “Amen.”

She took Tommy’s hand and followed the others into the yard where the March sun beamed bright and cheerful in a clear blue sky. A brisk breeze carried scents of springtime—aromas that had always given her heart a lift. She breathed deeply, but the sweet potpourri of new growth failed to raise her spirits. Only reconstructing the poor farm walls would rebuild her contentment. When she took Tommy to meet Mr. Jonnson—the man had indicated he would wait at the livery stable—she would ask when he intended to deliver the lumber to the poor farm. She hoped it would be soon. Already nearly three weeks had slipped by, with her charges spread from hither to yon. Oh, how she longed to be under one roof again.

“Miss Willems?” Rose’s voice cut through Christina’s thoughts. “Did you hear what Alice said?”

Christina shook her head.

Alice’s daughter, Laura, stepped forward, her face beaming. “Miss Claussen says we should all come to her place today for Sunday dinner. She fixed a big pot of lamb stew, and I helped her make biscuits last night. She says we can use her parlor and visit all afternoon if we want.”

The spinster seamstress had a very small house, and extending such an invitation had to be a sacrifice. Christina owed so many people a debt of gratitude. She forced a smile to her face. “That’s very kind of her. Is everyone going?”

Laura said, “All but Joe an’ Florie.”

Her brother, Francis, made a sour face. “I was wantin’ to play some with Joe. But the Spencers already left.”

Christina hadn’t even had a chance to greet the twins and inquire after them. She swallowed her disappointment and put her hand on Francis’s shoulder. “Perhaps Mr. Jonnson will approve Tommy staying with us for lunch and the two of you can spend some time together.”

“Not the same,” Francis mumbled, and his mother gave him a hard nudge. The boy blushed crimson. “I mean, spendin’ time with Tommy’ll be just fine.”

“You children take the others to Miss Claussen’s house now,” Alice said to
Laura and Francis. “I’ll walk with Miss Willems to the livery.” She sent Christina a hesitant look. “I need to talk with you.”

Christina’s stomach rolled over in apprehension, but she merely nodded.

“C’mon!” Francis headed off with Laura, Wes, Rose, and Louisa trailing behind.

Alice fell in step with Christina as they walked toward the livery. “Miss Willems, as kind as Miss Claussen has been, that room I’m sharing with the children is getting smaller and smaller.”

Christina cringed. “I know. But it shouldn’t be much longer. Perhaps by this time next week, we’ll—”

“We won’t be here by next week.”

Christina stopped, forcing both Alice and Tommy to come to a halt. She gawked at the woman, her heart pounding. “Where will you be?”

“In Detroit. My husband’s sister-in-law lives there. She wrote last week and told me that since her youngest got married and left home, she’s got room now for the children and me. She said there’s a lantern factory that hires both men and women, and I could probably get a job. She even offered to send train fare—it arrived yesterday.”

An expression of wonder crossed the woman’s face. “Why, when Oscar died, I thought I’d be beholden to others for the rest of my life. But now …”—she sighed, a smile toying with the corners of her lips—“now I’ll be able to provide for myself and my youngsters. Laura’s really taken to cooking and cleaning since we’ve been with Miss Claussen, so I know she’ll be a big help to me. Maybe, if the job pays enough, I’ll even be able to get us a small house of our own so we won’t need to share with my sister-in-law.”

“Oh, Alice …” Christina embraced the woman, happiness at Alice’s prospect of beginning a new life in Detroit warring with a sadness she knew was selfish. But how she would miss Alice, Laura, and Francis. For three years they’d called the poor farm home.

Alice pulled loose and linked arms with Christina, urging her to move forward. “We’ll leave on Tuesday’s train, and we hope you’ll come say good-bye
before we go. You and your father were angels on earth to my youngsters and me. We’ll never forget you.”

Christina didn’t answer. Her throat ached too badly to form words. They reached the livery, and Mr. Jonnson sat on a bench just inside the barn’s double doors, which were rolled back to allow in a breeze. He rose and met them on the boardwalk.

Tommy blurted, “Miz Deaton, Laura, an’ Francis are movin’ away. To Detroit.”

Mr. Jonnson offered a polite nod. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” Alice said, her cheerful voice a direct contradiction to the sorrow weighting Christina’s heart. “We’ll be leaving on Tuesday.”

“I wish you well,” Mr. Jonnson said. He turned to Tommy. “You ready to go?”

Tommy didn’t release Christina’s hand. “Can I stay an’ eat lunch with Miss Willems an’ the others? It’ll give me a chance to say good-bye to Francis an’ Laura.”

Mr. Jonnson scratched his chin. “I hadn’t intended to stay in town all day.”

“Perhaps you’d like to join us for lunch, too.” Alice issued the invitation. “We made plenty, and I’m sure Miss Claussen wouldn’t mind one more around the table.”

“Or,” Christina cut in, fearful the man might agree to join them but uncertain why the idea bothered her, “if you need to return to your mill, I could have Wes drive Tommy out to your place early this evening.”

The man nodded, flooding Christina with alternating waves of relief and disappointment. “That sounds fine. And while you’ve got Tommy, I’ll load up that lumber and haul it out to the poor farm so it’ll be ready whenever the men have time to get the walls put up.”

“Aren’tcha gonna help with the buildin’?” Tommy asked.

Mr. Jonnson aimed a smirk at Christina. “I think Miss Willems has things well in hand. No need for me to oversee the project.”

Christina’s face became a raging furnace. He’d only reiterated what she’d said yesterday. Why did it sound so petty and childish when uttered by him? She gave Tommy’s hand a little tug. “Come now. The stew will be cold if we don’t hurry to Miss Claussen’s.” She scurried off before the mill owner could make her feel any smaller than she already did.

Chapter 22

“Are you going to wear an apron to the train station to say farewell to Alice and her children?”

Cora, caught in the middle of loosening the strings on one of Mrs. Beasley’s voluminous aprons, turned slowly to face Miss Willems. The woman wore her familiar dark green muslin dress, but she’d donned a straw bonnet with tiny pink silk roses and green leaves sewn all along the brim. She looked trim and perky. Cora felt frumpy by comparison in her oversize, stained apron with strands of lank hair hanging along her jaw.

Miss Willems held out a second bonnet—dyed blue straw with a cluster of snow white ribbons hanging down the back. “Why not wear this instead? Miss Claussen was so kind to share some of her millinery with us.”

“I, um …” Cora gulped. She wanted to see the Deatons off, to wish them well on their journey and new place to live. But how could she remove the apron? She’d missed five of her monthlies, and the little bulge was becoming a big bulge. Her dresses were so tight she could barely button them. Now that the weather was mild, she couldn’t hide beneath a coat. The apron, especially since it was cut to fit a larger woman, concealed her growing belly. She didn’t dare leave it off.

She tangled her hands in the apron skirt’s folds. “You just go an’ tell ’em so long for me. I’ll stay here an’ get lunch started.”

Miss Willems offered a puzzled look. “But we just put away the breakfast dishes.” She lifted her watch and checked it. “We have sufficient time to go to the station, give Alice, Laura, and Francis a proper send-off, and then return to prepare lunch.”

Something within Cora’s middle shifted—a little foot? Lately she’d been feeling more movements. After seeing her ma lose three babies in a row, she
knew she should be grateful this babe thrived. But Cora’s heart pounded. What would she do when her belly grew so large an apron wouldn’t hide it? What would she do when the babe emerged from her womb? Fear made her mouth dry. She turned her back on Miss Willems and started fussing with the clean mixing bowls on the sideboard.

“I thought to bake some egg pies. We’ll need ’em cool before we serve ’em, so …”

Miss Willems moved up behind Cora and touched her shoulder. Cora braced herself for the question she knew would come one day soon. Miss Willems said in a tender voice, “Is it too hard for you to tell them good-bye, Cora?”

Cora’s stiff shoulders slumped. Saying good-bye was hard, so she didn’t need to fib. She nodded.

“Well then, you stay here. I’ll be sure to give each of them a hug from you. Will that be all right?”

Guilt smote her. She should go—should tell Alice, Laura, and Francis good-bye herself. They were her friends, and hiding away might be hurtful to them. But not hiding away might reveal things she wasn’t ready to confront. Still facing the sideboard, Cora whispered, “Thank you, ma’am.”

Miss Willems gave her shoulder a pat and then stepped away. “I shouldn’t be gone long. Alice said the train leaves at nine.” A sad sigh reached Cora’s ears, and Cora looked over her shoulder. Tears had welled in Miss Willems’s eyes. “How strange it will be to return to the poor farm without them.”

Cora swallowed. She sought a means of comforting Miss Willems. “But me an’ Wes an’ Tommy an’ Rose an’ Louisa an’ the twins—we’ll be there. An’ maybe there’ll even be somebody else who needs a place to stay.”

Miss Willems smiled and whisked her fingertips beneath her eyes. The tears disappeared. “Of course you’re right, Cora. My father would say this is God’s way of making room for someone else in need.” She turned the knob on the door. “I’d better go before I miss them.” With another quick smile she left.

Cora stood at the window and watched Miss Willems scurry across the steppingstones that led to the front walk. The woman held her head high, her slim
figure moving with grace. Pressing her hands to the mound beneath the apron skirt, Cora pondered how much longer until the bulk made her clumsy and slow.

Miss Willems disappeared from Cora’s view, and she turned her attention to mixing a crust for pies. As she rolled the dough into an ever-widening circle, she envisioned her belly growing bigger, bigger. With a little cry she sank into a chair and buried her face in her elbow. “Make it go away, God,” she moaned, soaking her sleeve with hot tears. “Make it go away …”

The train chugged around the bend, carrying Alice, Laura, and Francis away. Christina remained on the depot platform, watching and waving, until the smoke from the stack floated over the treetops, and the bright red caboose was swallowed up by brush along the track. Then she turned to the others who’d gathered to tell Alice good-bye. Wes, Rose, and Louisa all wore sad faces. Christina forced a smile, determined to cheer them.

“What a wonderful opportunity Alice and the children have waiting. God has certainly blessed them.”

Wes rocked on his heels, his mouth forming a deep frown. “Almost feels like we had a buryin’. We won’t never see Alice an’ the young uns again.”

“We will miss them for sure. But it’s better for them to be with family,” Rose said staunchly, giving Wes’s arm a brisk pat.

Wes hung his head and scuffed his toe against the wide, weathered planks. “I thought they was with family, bein’ with us.”

Christina’s heart lurched. She well understood Wes’s sadness. Over their years together she and the poor farm residents had become a family of sorts. With both Papa and Mama gone, she had no one else to call kin. Partly to comfort Wes, but mostly to comfort herself, she said, “But we still have each other, Wes. And very soon”—to her great relief the men intended to meet at the poor farm this coming Saturday to erect the walls—“we’ll be back in our home again.” Surely the mission board wouldn’t send away the one responsible for rebuilding the walls.

Wes sighed, his large shoulders rising and falling. “That’ll be nice, Miss Willems. That’ll be right nice.”

The group turned and ambled toward the center of town. Wes walked ahead, and Rose and Louisa flanked Christina. As they passed the schoolhouse, Rose pointed to the wild game of tag taking place in the schoolyard. “Listen to those youngsters.”

Christina peeked at her watch. “Hmm, it’s rather early in the morning for a recess.”

Rose chuckled. “Don’t reckon the time matters much to the students. The teacher’s probably giving them some extra breaks with spring arriving. This nice weather’s got them all wound up.”