by Lynn Landes
“That’s perfectly normal. It’s only been a few weeks, Jordan. Grief doesn’t end, but it can change. I need you to understand that it’s not a destination where you can stay. You owe it to your family to keep pressing on.”
“Please don’t tell me that you are here to press me to sell my business and marry Orson Barnaby too!” Anger has her leaping to her feet.
He watches calmly, “No. I’m not.”
“Oh,” she deflates and walks back over to sit down. “Everyone seems to know what’s best for me, but me,” she explains. “I want to throw things, rage, scream at the injustice but what good would it do?”
“Oh child, anger is a part of the process. The Lord knows how you feel, and he can take it! In fact, he wants you to come to him with your pain, and anger, not just your joy and happiness.”
“What?” she asks in surprise. “I thought he would be ashamed of me,” she sniffs.
“No. He wants a relationship that is true, that reveals the true depth of your person. It is only through those emotions that we deepen our walk with the Lord.”
“I, I don’t know what to say to that,” she whispers.
“Just think about it. Pray and give it all to him. Don’t hold back, Jordan, show him what your feeling, I promise he’s listening.”
“I’ll try,” she promises.
“Wonderful, to that cause, I brought a friend with me, I hope you don’t mind, but he’s suffering too.” Before she can protest, he opens the door and holds out a hand. “Tony?”
A dark-haired child enters the room and stares at her. Jordan’s eyes instantly fill with tears at the sight of Erin’s best friend. “Oh,” she draws in a shuttered breath and Tony runs to her and throws his arms around her neck as she breaks down and sobs.
“Tony!” she weeps and rocks him.
“It’s okay, Ms. Jordan,” Tony whispers and hugs her back, allowing her to draw him into her lap.
“I’ll leave you two alone for a few minutes,” Pastor Greigh smiles and wipes at his eyes as he closes the door and accepts a cup of tea from Taylor, the housekeeper.
“They need a few minutes.”
“I’m sorry,” Jordan accepts a dirty handkerchief from him and smiles as she wipes her face and eyes.
“It’s okay, Miss Jordy, I cried too,” he murmurs and misses the way she jerks at the sound of her nickname.
“Erin used to call me that,” she says.
“I know,” he smiles and pushes off her lap. “I’m going on the train in a few days. They are gonna find me a new family.”
Jordan pushes aside her own feelings and stares at the little boy in front of her. “How do you feel about that?” she asks.
He shrugs his shoulders, “I don’t have anyone left here,” his dark eyes jump to hers. “Pastor Greigh says I should trust the Lord, but I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Why not?” she asks.
“This God he’s always talking about, he only seems to take.” Rage flickers in the child’s eyes and Jordan feels like she’s looking in a mirror. She senses a nudge in her soul, pressing her to guide him.
“Tony, I know exactly how you feel,” she replies.
“You do?” Surprised eyes jump to hers.
“Yes, I do, and you know what, we must not give up,” she whispers. “We must not give up,” she says louder.
Tony stares at his feet, “Sometimes I’m tired,” he balls up his fists at his side and Jordan reaches out and tugs him close.
“Me too, Tony and you know what else, sometimes I’m mad!”
“You?” he gapes at her and she nods.
“I was so mad yesterday that I threw my brush against the wall,” she almost laughs at the look of shock on his face.
“Did you get in trouble?” he asks softly.
“No, but I felt ashamed. Pastor Greigh says we should give it to the Lord, but I worry, Tony, that even God would be shocked by the anger inside of me.”
“Yep,” Tony nods in agreement, “and what if he doesn’t love us cause we’re naughty.”
“The Bible says that we can’t hide from our Father, Tony, he knows our heart even if we don’t share it, but the real miracle is that he loves us anyway.”
“He does?” Tony frowns at her.
“Yes, he sent his only Son, Jesus to save us and wash away our sins, but he had to watch as his only son died and he understands the loss,” oh God, her heart cries out, “he understands better than anyone.”
Jordan begins to sob in earnest now, and she holds on tight to the little arms that wrap around her head. “It’s okay, Miss Jordy, I’m going to pray for you.”
“Thank you,” she struggles to stop crying and wipes her eyes again.
Pastor Greigh returns and finds them like that. “Can I pray with you?”
“Please,” Jordan asks. Together they pray and Jordan looks up at Tony, “You should know, that whoever gets to have you in their family will be very lucky. Erin would want you to be happy.”
“Thank you,” Tony whispers and glances at his shoes.
“I’ll see you again soon,” Pastor Greigh says and offers a hand to Tony.
Jordan watches them leave and feels a weight lift from her heart. “Thank you for the lesson,” she whispers to the Lord.
Chapter 9
“Thank you for loaning Tony to me, Ms. Alcott,” Pastor Greigh says to the older woman. Tony waves and runs, hurrying to the kitchen to see about a snack.
“Of course, Pastor. Sunshine Orphanage is all about spreading the love. I’m sure Tony told you the Orphan Train will leave in three days. It’s been a huge success, Pastor.”
Ms. Brown walks in with a tray of tea. “Tea, Pastor Greigh?” she asks.
“Oh, no, thank you. How many will be on the train this time?”
“Twenty-five,” Ms. Alcott smiles at him.
“Last month we were able to place fifteen!” Ms. Brown replies proudly.
“You are doing God’s work,” the pastor brings out an envelope and offers it to the ladies. “The congregation took up a collection to help cover some of your expenses. It isn’t much, but we help where we can.”
Ms. Brown accepts the envelope and smiles crinkled eyes at him. “That’s very generous, thank you.”
“Let me know how the adoptions go when you return. I’ll just see myself out. Good afternoon, ladies.” They wait until the door closes behind him to talk.
Tony watches the Pastor leave in his carriage and shoves the biscuit in his pocket to eat later in his room. He pauses at the door when he hears the older woman’s voice.
“How much is it this time?” Agnes Brown snaps and slams the tray on a table, rattling the cups.
“Fifty-two dollars,” Martha stares into the envelope and sighs. “Fifty-two dollars to care for eighty-three orphans!” She smooths her blonde hair and sits heavily.
Agnes walks over and pulls out the day’s messages. “Here, hopefully the city will come through with more money.”
Martha accepts the mail, stopping on a sealed envelope. “I saved you a plate on the stove.”
“You take good care of me,” she smiles at the younger woman. “Are you sure I have to be on the train this time?”
“Very sure,” she laughs at her disappointment. Martha opens a letter and pulls out the message before falling back into a chair with a frown of concern.
“What is it?”
“Forgive me, Ms. Brown, it’s just that Mr. Orson Barnaby is inquiring about his project,” she whispers.
“For five thousand dollars he can ask whatever he wants,” she demands, sipping on her tea.
“Five thousand each,” Martha hisses. “He wants us to deliver it on Friday.” Martha jumps up and starts pacing.
“I’ll be on the orphan train. You meet with him and get that money!” Agnes snaps.
“I’ll handle it. Is it still safe?” Martha demands. Tony creeps closer to listen.
“Absolutely. No one ever goes into the attic. I keep it locked
. Besides, It’s hardly aware of anything around it.” Martha smiles and grips her hand. “With that money we can get out of here!”
Tony glances up the stairs and frowns. “The attic?” Curiosity has him walking up the three stories to the attic space door. He tries the door and finds it locked. Twisting the handle, he frowns.
“I’ll have to come back tonight, after I find the key,” he breaks a piece of the biscuit off and nibbles on it as he runs back to the second-floor rooms.
“There you are, Tony. We need to go over the rules for the train. Meeting in the sitting room in fifteen minutes,” Martha says.
“Yes, Ms. Alcott,” Tony says and stares at the necklace with a key around her neck. He grins and runs off thinking about five thousand dollars. He wouldn’t need to be adopted then.
Time to get that key and take whatever’s in that room! He is smiling as he skips to the sitting room for the meeting.
Chapter 10
“Forgive my late arrival,” Orson says as he greets Mark and Felecia at the table. “Bring a bottle of red wine.” Orson tells the waiter after he shakes Mark’s hand and sits.
“Not a problem,” Mark smiles at Felecia. “Anytime with my wife is a gift.”
Felecia smiles, blushing slightly at his words of praise.
“You’re a very lucky man. Have you eaten here before?” Orson picks up the menu and smiles. The Chateau Benoit is the new French Restaurant and way too expensive for them to normally visit.
“No, we haven’t,” Felecia glances around in awe of the beauty. It is decadently dressed with glittering chandeliers, crystal on white linen-covered tables and soft music playing from a string quartet.
“Allow me to order for you,” Orson snaps his fingers, and the waiter comes immediately. They converse in French for a few moments before the waiter hurries away.
“That’s very kind of you. Where did you learn French?” Felecia asks while Mark sips on his wine.
“My family likes to visit our chateau in Paris every summer. I learned to speak as a child.” Orson sips his wine and glances at Mark. They enjoy a leisurely meal, and after dinner, Felecia leaves the table to visit with a friend from church.
“Did you bring the contract?” Mark asks softly.
“Of course,” Orson removes a file from his briefcase and offers it to Mark. The moment Mark tries to take the file, he grips it tighter. “I need this signed by the end of the month. No more stalling.”
Mark frowns, thinking of how combative Jordan was. “I’m going over in the morning to speak to her.” Orson releases the folder and nods.
“That’s good. She’s running out of time,” in more ways than one, Orson thinks grimly. “On a nicer subject, I’m looking forward to you joining Barnaby Steel. Dinners like this and visits overseas, could become normal for your future. Just think about spoiling your wife, Mark. Life doesn’t have to be hard,” Orson sips his wine and watches Mark’s face when he glances at his bride.
“That sounds nice,” he replies.
“To the future,” Orson holds up his glass and taps it to Mark’s. Orson watches them leave and frowns. The past month has been difficult, considering the work he’s put into getting ahold of Regent Steel, but it will all pay off soon. He grins and orders another bottle.
Chapter 11
Donovan Foster passes a large group of children dressed in identical clothes being fussed at by two women. Little eyes follow him as he offers his tickets to the conductor.
“Welcome aboard, Mr. Foster,” a porter greets him as he boards the train.
“Thank you,” he waits patiently while he’s guided through the train. “This way Mr. Foster, I will be your porter during your stay.” The young man is dressed proudly in a black suit and white shirt. “Anything you need, anything at all and you let me know.”
He leads him into a luxurious car. It is lavishly decorated with floral arrangements, and seating for relaxation. A large piano is in one corner with couches and chairs displayed in conversation areas. The interior is mahogany lined panels with gleaming brass fixtures. Large glass windows for observation line both sides of the car.
“This is one of three lounge cars. Here you can have early hors d'oeuvres, drinks, and listen to music. There are two dining cars, which are by reservation only. We reserve them for the guests that are traveling in the Pullman sleeping cars.”
“I understand they are full this trip,” Donovan Foster replies.
“Unfortunately, yes. This trip we are traveling with the orphans.” He explains as they walk through.
“Orphans?”
“Yes, Sir. At the end of the month the Church sends a group of orphans, chaperoned, of course. At each large city, they take the children to the church where they are offered up for adoption. The train is at capacity, which is why all the sleeper cars are full.”
Donovan frowns and thinks that sounds remarkably like how I buy my cattle, but wisely keeps the thought to himself. The trains are usually stuffy, narrow, with low ceilings, but this one is just the opposite. It has extra space and is exquisitely designed. They stop for a moment to take in the train's beauty before continuing on. He follows the porter through the lounge car and into the next car.
“Welcome to the dining cars, these are designed for intimate luxury. Tables are for two or four people you will find flowers at every table and waiters anxious to serve you. This is one of two dining cars, not all guests will have the privilege of dining here.”
“It’s lovely. It has the feel of a beautiful restaurant. When is dinner served?” Donovan asks.
“The dining room is open at seven for dinner by reservation. Should I make reservations for you tonight?” he asks.
“Yes, please.” Donovan smiles. “I look forward to tasting the food. I’ve heard its remarkable.”
“Yes, Sir, you are in for a treat. Our chef is renowned. I will make that reservation straight away, once you’re settled. I was told to give you the grand tour, shall we continue?” he asks.
“Please do. This is impressive,” Donovan says.
“In the middle of the train are the passenger cars. Those cars are for travelers who are taking day trips. This is also where the orphans will be this trip. I’d avoid it, Mr. Foster, it will be loud and crowded. Attached to those cars would be an observation car.” They step through the door and onto the walkway between the cars, passing into a new car.
Donovan looks around. It is luxuriously decorated, as they all are. Plush carpet and emerald panels, which shine from the exceptional care taken to keep them clean. Everything has a new smell.
“This particular train has six private sleeping cars. If we had an opening, you could have upgraded to one of these cars. All feature private windows, and each is staffed with care. They will turn down your bed and leave the next day's itinerary for you. You can also choose to have breakfast delivered to your suite and pick coffee and or tea. Each suite has a private sink and water closet with a full bed. Two chairs and a table are provided for your convenience.”
“Amazing,” Donovan murmurs. “It’s like a luxury hotel on wheels.”
“Exactly. Keep that in mind if you travel with us in the future. The final remaining cars are mail cars and baggage cars. All of your baggage is in the final car.” He glances down at his watch when a whistle blows and smiles.
“Time to get you settled. Our train will depart in twenty minutes. Follow me, please.” They quickly pass back through the sleeping cars to the first-class passenger cars. He stops and unlocks a pocket door, sliding it inside the wall and steps back.
“This cabin is made for two people. There’s a pull-down bed above and watering closet attached to the right.”
He opens the curtains over the large window and turns to smile. “We will be at your service for the entirety of your trip. Your cabin comes with turndown service. Dinner is served in the dining car between six and eight p.m. Your reservation will be waiting. Enjoy your trip, Mr. Foster.” The young man leaves him to settle in and
Donovan sits with a smile. He removes his hat and jacket, hanging it on the provided hook and stretches his large legs in front of him.
Running a hand through his silver laced black hair, his wedding band gleams, reminding him of his bride. “Maybe the next trip I’ll bring my Loren with me and reserve a car.” He leans back and sleeps until the train moves.
A knock startles him, and he is surprised to see a young boy at his door.
“Treat for your journey, Sir?” a timid young voice asks, holding up a tray of delicious looking baked goods.
“I don’t mind it if I do,” Donovan says with a grin and grabs his wallet from the jacket on the wall. He pulls out a dollar as the child walks inside. Dressed in brown pants, brown shirt and a hat, the boy looks to be about seven or eight years old.
“Thank you, Sir,” he smiles revealing missing teeth. Instantly Donovan is reminded of his son, Ryder, at that age.
“What’ve you got for fifty cents?” Donovan asks and watches the way the child’ blue eyes light up at the sight of his money.
“We have popcorn, brittle, and fudge,” the child lifts the tray and Donovan steps closer to look. “They are ten cents, but the best is the hot cross bun. Though they cost a… dollar.”
“That must be one special hot cross bun.” Donovan says and grins, “I’ll trust you and take one,” Donovan accept the food and the child snatches the money and grins.
“Thank you,” he moves out into the hall.
“What are you doing?” a loud voice says, and it draws Donovan to the door to watch just as the women snatches the tray from the young boy. “I’m so sorry Sir,” she says to Donovan and turns to the Porter who is frowning at them.
The child backs into Donovan’s cabin and Donovan places his large body in front of him, feeling protective after noticing the way he seems to shrink in on himself.
“Ms. Brown, you promised you’d watch the orphans,” the porter snaps and glances down at the tray. “Those are from the restaurant! How on earth did he get them?”
