Passengers streamed in, looking weary from their travels and more than eager for a hot meal. Mr. Monroe came in for breakfast as well, and his warm smile was a welcome sight. She could use a spot of cheerfulness. A moment later, Colonel Gordon entered the dining room, and Posy guessed that they were meeting about the job over plates of flapjacks and eggs.
She approached their table, putting on a smile she didn’t feel. “Good morning, Colonel, Mr. Monroe. What can I get you?”
“Hot coffee, please, eggs and bacon. Toast with marmalade,” the colonel replied.
“I’ll have the same,” Mr. Monroe added, and she gave them each a nod.
“I’ll be right back.” She hoped this interview went well for Mr. Monroe. He seemed like a trustworthy sort, someone who would wear a deputy badge proudly and serve the town well. The fact that he was pleasant to look at also crossed her mind, but that didn’t have much bearing on his ability to keep the peace.
She collected their food, delivered it, and noted that the two men seemed to be chatting like friends. That was a good sign—it meant they’d likely work well together. She wasn’t sure why she cared about the outcome of this meeting—it didn’t have any impact on her, did it? As she crossed the floor to the next table, she admitted to herself that yes, it did matter somewhat—she wouldn’t mind one bit if Mr. Monroe stayed in town, and that didn’t have anything to do with the job.
She had lived a rather sheltered life, not leaving the safety of her village very often, but she did know when a man was interested in her, and while Mr. Monroe had been a perfect gentleman during their conversation, his curious glances into her eyes let her know that he would like to get to know her better. She’d probably given him some indications as well, even though her mind had been preoccupied with worry about Nora. Some things happen naturally without much effort at all.
She delivered the remainder of the meals, began stripping the tables of their linens once the train passengers left, and still, Colonel Gordon and Mr. Monroe kept talking. She refilled their coffee and told them there was no rush for them to leave.
She was, however, growing impatient for news from upstairs.
The tables had all been reset—except for the one where the colonel and Mr. Monroe were chatting—when Dr. Wayment finally wandered into the room and flopped into a chair. Without asking, Posy grabbed a cup of coffee and brought it out to him, along with a freshly refilled sugar bowl. She’d seen him after enough stressful cases to know that he’d want a lot of sugar in his coffee, and she was right. He didn’t speak until he’d spooned three mounded heaps into his cup and stirred it all up.
“It’s a girl,” he said after he swallowed. “Nora is doing well, but she’s exhausted. Jeanette and Elizabeth are with her, but I imagine they could use a break.”
“I’ll go right up,” Posy said, already reaching for her apron strings as a zing of relief raced down her arms. “Would Jeanette like some coffee?”
“She’d love some, I’m sure,” Dr. Wayment replied.
Posy stepped into the kitchen just long enough to deliver the good news to the other girls and to pull out a tray. Sarah placed a fresh pot of coffee on it, along with three cups. Ruth set some sliced bread and a pat of butter in the corner, and Grace found some leftover pie.
“Are you sure I can carry all this up two flights of stairs?” Posy asked, hefting the tray.
“You’re a good waitress—I’m sure you can,” Emma replied with a wink.
Posy wasn’t as confident, but she would do her best. She maneuvered down the hallway and up the stairs, pausing for a moment to collect herself before beginning the last climb so she wouldn’t spill.
When she reached the top, she set the tray down on a table near the door. Nora had been moved to the bed Grace was no longer using now that she was married, and Jeanette was making Nora’s bed up fresh with new linens. Elizabeth held a tiny bundle and rocked back and forth, crooning. She looked up at Posy with tears running down her face.
“Come see,” she said quietly.
Posy tiptoed across the wooden floor and peeked. Framed in the blanket was a beautiful miniature face with little fingers curled around it, and it was so sweet, it took Posy’s breath away.
“She’s precious,” she whispered, reaching out to stroke the baby’s soft cheek.
“And she’s absolutely perfect,” Jeanette added. “She had a little bit of a hard time getting here, but she weathered it like a true champion.”
Posy went back to the tray and poured cups for everyone. “Are you all right, Nora?” she asked as she worked.
“I’m all right, but I feel like I could sleep for a week,” Nora replied.
“And that’s the best thing for you.” Jeanette gave the pillows an extra pat. “Let’s get you tucked in where you belong—you’ll sleep better over here.”
She supported Nora’s arm and helped her back into her own bed. “Now that everything’s squared away, Dr. Wayment and I are going home to get some rest ourselves. We’ll have Goody Smith come over to keep an eye on things, all right?”
“Thank you for everything,” Nora said, reaching out to grasp Jeanette’s hand. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, but you’re welcome.” Jeanette smiled. “We’ll be back later. Try to get some good rest.”
“When . . . when will the Osbournes be here to take her?”
Posy’s heart clenched. It had been decided months ago that Pastor Osbourne and his wife would be raising the baby—they’d wanted one so badly, and in Nora’s situation, it was the best choice for her as well. But now the moment was looming, and she couldn’t begin to imagine how Nora felt.
Jeanette paused before answering. “When would you like them to take her?”
“I . . . I don’t know. Probably soon, before I get attached . . . but I’m already attached, aren’t I?”
Jeanette sat down on the chair next to Nora’s bed. Posy glanced over at Elizabeth, wondering if there was anything they could do to help their friend. Elizabeth’s eyes were on the baby, but Posy could tell she was listening to every word.
“You will always feel a connection to this baby,” Jeanette said. “You carried her inside you for nine months—she was a part of you. Giving her away will be the hardest thing you’ve ever done and probably ever will do, but it’s also the bravest thing you’ll ever do.” She squeezed Nora’s hand. “Are you having second thoughts?”
“I don’t know. I keep thinking about it from both angles. If I kept her, I wouldn’t be able to provide for her very well—she’ll need so many things as she’s growing up, not the least of which is a father, and I have no idea if I’d be able to give her one of those. We’ve told everyone that I’m a widow and that has helped somewhat, but still, what are the chances of finding a man who would marry me with a child? And then of course I’d want to tell him the truth, and how would he view me then . . .? I’m so confused. I just want her to be happy and fed and clothed and loved. I want her to have the very best life she can.”
“If you did keep her and raise her yourself, that’s also very brave,” Jeanette told her. “I think you should sleep for a few hours and then think about it more. Right now, you’re so tired, and you need a clear head to puzzle this out.”
Nora nodded. “You’re right. And I’m keeping you from going home—please don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Go sleep.”
Jeanette stood up. “I won’t argue with you. Goody will send for us if there’s any need, and in the meantime, try not to be anxious about this. You don’t have to make this decision today or even tomorrow. If you change your mind, the Osbournes will respect that.”
Nora pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I wouldn’t disappoint them for the world.”
“I don’t think that should be part of your decision-making process. Your focus should be on the baby and what’s right for her—but think about that after you’ve slept.” Jeanette turned to
Elizabeth. “You look exhausted too. I’ll send someone else up to take a turn with the little miss here.”
Elizabeth smiled. “I am tired, but I hardly feel it. Isn’t she magical?”
Jeanette grinned down at the baby. “She really is. But don’t wear yourself out while you’re basking in all that magic.”
She headed down the stairs, and Posy reached out to take the baby from Elizabeth’s arms. “You should rest too,” she said.
“But you haven’t slept either,” Elizabeth pointed out.
“None of us really did, but we’ll survive it all right.” Posy cuddled the baby close to her chest, marveling at how light and tiny she was, how complete and perfect she was—every little eyelash and fingernail. “Please, Elizabeth—go rest.”
Elizabeth tried to stifle a yawn even as she protested. “All right, I’ll go,” she said, shaking her head. “I suppose I can’t fight it any longer. But I’m sending reinforcements.”
Emma and Carrie came upstairs just moments after Elizabeth disappeared. “We’re taking over for now,” Carrie announced, walking up to Posy and holding her arms out for the baby. “Oh, my goodness. I’ve never seen anything so pretty.”
Emma took a peek too. “Oh, she’s lovely.”
“Isn’t she?” It was hard for Posy to let go of the baby, but she did, knowing she needed at least a short nap. “Wake me up in a little bit, okay? We’ve got the next train coming in soon.”
“Actually, Mr. Brody came up with a brilliant plan,” Carrie said. “Ruth and Sarah are going to plate the food and set it out on a long table. Then our customers will just come along and pick up what they want, and Mr. Brody will stand at the end and tally it all up. Giselle says she and Grace can clear the tables without trouble, and that we aren’t to worry.”
“That really is brilliant,” Posy replied. “If it works too well, though, we might be out of our jobs.”
“Oh, I doubt that. He’ll always need someone to wash the dishes.” Carrie gave Posy a little nudge. “Go to bed. You’re asleep on your feet.”
Posy took one last glance at Nora, who seemed to be resting peacefully. Then she climbed into her own bed, her last conscious thought to realize that Goody Smith had arrived, and all would be well. The midwife didn’t handle the more complicated cases, but she was an excellent nurse, and both Nora and the baby would be in good hands.
Chapter Three
Parker Monroe saw Colonel Gordon to the front door of the hotel, shook his hand, and watched as the man made his way down the sidewalk. The job was his—what a relief. He’d been inquiring for several months now, hoping to find the right fit, and when he’d ridden into Topeka, he’d hoped this would be his answer. The colonel seemed like a fair man, and they’d found several things in common—that always made it easier to work with someone, and he felt comfortable accepting this position.
Now for the task of making the move.
Parker’s father had died when he was ten, and he’d become the man of the house, watching over his mother and his little sister, Miranda. When his mother passed away the year before, Parker and Miranda sat down and talked things over. Their little homestead was too small to farm, and there weren’t enough jobs available at the time. Selling their home and moving seemed like the best option. Miranda still looked to him for guidance, and so he’d made the best decision he could—which, hopefully, would be a new start in Topeka.
Colonel Gordon had told him of a small house that would be made available to him as part of his salary, and he planned to go look at it in the afternoon. First, though, he needed a nap—traveling so late into the night, then being unable to sleep, had taken a toll on him, and he felt his eyelids trying to close even as he climbed the stairs to his room.
He took off his shoes and suspenders, then lay down on the bed. He expected sleep to come immediately, but instead, his mind began to churn with everything he had to do. He’d told the colonel he could start in one week—that would give him time to go back, get Miranda and their belongings, and return. He already had a buyer for the homestead, one who had waited—although impatiently—for him to find work, so that was one hurdle crossed. He would send a telegram to Miranda while he was out that afternoon and give her the good news, letting her know when he’d be there and asking her to finish up the packing as much as she could without his help.
Then his thoughts turned in another direction—toward the pretty dark-haired waitress he’d encountered twice the night before. Posy McVey—a Scottish last name, but he’d never met any Scottish lasses by the first name of Posy. He liked it—it suited her. She was something rare and unique, and she deserved a rare and unique name.
What was it about her? Something in the inflection of her voice, perhaps. Or her eyes, so dark that they looked like pools of ink. He couldn’t pick out just one aspect that captivated him—he just knew that she was special, and when he got settled in town, he wanted to learn more about her.
It was only when he’d promised himself that yes, Posy McVey would become a top priority that he was finally able to drift off to sleep.
***
When Parker woke up, he blinked a few times, trying to remember where he was. Then the whistle of a train sounded outside, and he nodded. That’s right—he was at the Brody, right next to the train tracks. He’d done enough traveling while looking for work that the whole thing was quite confusing.
He put on his shoes and suspenders, checked his hair in the mirror, and pulled on a jacket as he descended the stairs. He had a great many things to get done that afternoon, but first, he’d have some lunch.
When he entered the dining room, he was surprised to see that the customers were serving themselves. That wasn’t a problem in the slightest—he was used to lending a hand where needed and doing things for himself—but he was disappointed not to see Posy.
After he’d picked up a serving of chicken and dumplings and another of apple pie, he approached Mr. Brody, who stood at the end of the table with a notebook in hand. “Where have all the waitresses gone?” he asked. “Surely they didn’t all quit at the same time.”
“No, not today.” Mr. Brody laughed. “How can I help you, Mr. Monroe?”
“I didn’t need anything in particular. I just hoped to say hello to someone.” Parker felt a little foolish, admitting it aloud.
“Oh? Who might that be?”
“Miss McVey. I enjoyed the conversation we had last night, and I thought we might continue it sometime.”
“She is a very pleasant girl. I’ll make sure she knows you were looking for her.”
That was a dismissal as surely as if he’d said the words outright, and Parker nodded as he stepped away. He shouldn’t pry into other people’s affairs, as much as he’d like to know where Posy had gone. He supposed he’d just have to wait until she reappeared.
***
Robert Osbourne and his wife, Olivia, stepped into the parlor of the hotel, looking excited and apprehensive all at the same time. Posy tucked her dust rag in her apron pocket and greeted them, sure they must be bundles of nerves.
“Hello, Posy. We were told that this afternoon might be a good time to come visit,” Olivia said. Posy didn’t think she’d ever seen the pastor’s wife looking so jittery—the woman was usually quite composed. “Is Nora awake?”
“I don’t know, but I can go check,” Posy offered.
“Would you? We’d appreciate it.”
Posy lifted the front of her skirt and trotted up the stairs. Nora had still been sleeping when she came down an hour before, but that didn’t mean she was still asleep now. Sure enough, when Posy reached the attic dormitory, she saw Nora sitting up a little in bed, holding the baby, with Goody Smith standing nearby.
“This young lady seemed rather reluctant to hold her young one until I practically plopped the baby on her lap,” Goody said. “How is she ever to get to know her own child if she won’t hold her? She’s a mother now, for gracious’ sake.”
Posy glanced over at Emma, whose li
ps were pressed firmly together. Carrie had gone downstairs to help wash the dishes, leaving Emma by herself to contend with the outspoken Goody, and apparently, it hadn’t gone well. Nora looked helpless too.
“Goody, I wonder if we could talk over here,” Posy said, motioning to the head of the stairs. There wasn’t a lot of privacy in the attic, so that was as good as it was going to get.
Goody followed Posy with a questioning look on her face.
“Nora has agreed to let the Osbournes raise the baby,” she said, keeping her voice down. This wasn’t a secret from anyone in the room, but it seemed more appropriate to talk about it this way than to say it loudly.
Goody blinked. “She’s not keeping the baby?”
“She feels that this would be best, considering her widowed circumstances.”
“I see.” Goody nodded a few times. “Well, I can’t say as that I agree, but it’s not my choice to make, is it? I think it would do her a lot of good in grieving her husband if she had their child around as a reminder, but that’s just my opinion. I can’t force anyone to my way of thinking, and that’s a fact.” Her voice was getting a little louder with each sentence. “If she wants to give her baby away to someone else, that’s between her and God.”
“Yes, it is,” Posy replied. “Whatever her choice might be, it’s between her and God, and we should support her in it.”
Goody opened her mouth to say something else, but then she closed it again and nodded. “I understand. Well, I won’t be talking about it, I promise you that. No, I’ll be as quiet as can be—I know how delicate situations like this are. I won’t utter a peep about it.”
“Thank you, Goody. And thank you for everything you’ve done today. We wouldn’t have made it this far without you.”
A Passing Glance Page 3
