No Ocean Too Wide

by Carrie Turansky

  The crewman nodded and continued up the deck to speak to the next group.

  Henry glanced at Rose. “This is a wonderful answer to prayer.”

  “Yes. I’m so relieved.” Rose’s gaze traveled over the girls. Some were stirring now, and a few sat up and looked their way.

  Rose sent them a warm smile. “Good morning, girls. We have very good news. The Lord has answered our prayers, and the fire has been put out. We are released to return to our cabins.”

  Some of the girls squinted up at her and rubbed their eyes while others woke their friends nearby. They spent the next few minutes waking the rest of the girls, folding blankets, and gathering the girls into a line.

  Andrew stepped up next to Laura. “Shall we help you take the girls down to their cabins?”

  “Thank you, but I’m sure we can manage.”

  Andrew lifted his hand to his bristly jaw. “All right. We’ll head back to our cabin and clean up before breakfast.” But rather than turning to go, he waited there, watching as she helped the last few girls fold their blankets and move into line.

  “Miss Hopkins?”

  She turned his way. “Yes?”

  “If I’m going to assist you with the…project we discussed, then it would be helpful to meet with you again to gather some more information.”

  Pleasant warmth filled her. “All right. That would be fine.”

  “When would you be free to meet with me?”

  She thought for a moment. “I could be free after lunch for an hour or so.”

  “Shall we meet here on the promenade deck at one thirty?”

  She nodded and sent him a smile. “I’ll see you then.” Her heart lifted as she ushered the last little girl into line, then walked with them inside and started down the stairs. Andrew Frasier had proven his commitment again.

  * * *

  The old conductor walked up the aisle of the train car and nodded to Katie. “Roslin. This stop is Roslin,” he called in a singsong voice.

  She glanced out the window, looking for a town, but saw only a few scattered buildings. The train’s brakes squealed as it slowed to a stop. She rose and collected her travel bag, then made her way to the back of the car.

  The conductor opened the door and stepped down. She followed him and looked out across the sagging wooden platform toward the small station building beyond. It was painted gray and had a lone window but looked deserted.

  Past the station, she saw a general store, a livery, and a white church with a steeple rising above the buildings around it. Beyond the church were a few other homes and businesses, but not many. Only fourteen miles north of Belleville, Ontario, Roslin was a tired-looking town, much smaller than Belleville and definitely nothing like London. The streets were muddy and rutted, and weeds flourished around the station. Thick trees filled the land on both sides of the tracks leading away from town.

  A man dressed in a navy blue uniform and cap walked out of the station. He carried a gray canvas bag and crossed to meet the conductor. “Morning, Hector.”

  “Morning, James. I have a trunk for the girl.” The conductor nodded toward Katie, then pulled open the door to the baggage car. The two men grunted as they tugged the heavy wooden trunk toward the opening. They lifted it down to the platform, where it landed with a loud thump.

  The stationmaster picked up the gray canvas bag he’d set aside and handed it to the conductor. “Here’s the outgoing mail.”

  “We’ll take care of it.” The conductor tossed it into the baggage car and slid the door closed with a bang. He glanced back at the stationmaster and touched his hat brim. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  The stationmaster lifted his hand. “See you then.”

  The conductor turned and waved toward the engineer as he climbed aboard the last train car. The whistle blew a loud blast. Clouds of steam puffed out as the train slowly pulled away from the station.

  Katie watched it go, and an uncomfortable lump lodged in her throat. Every step of this journey took her farther away from home and farther from those she loved. She tried to pull in a deep breath, but her chest felt so tight it was nearly impossible.

  The stationmaster turned to Katie. “Morning, young lady. What’s your name?”

  “Katie McAlister, sir.”

  “Well, Miss Katie, who is coming for you?”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Howard Hoffman.” She had memorized their names, hoping that would make her feel as though she were going to stay with friends rather than strangers.

  The stationmaster tipped his head and studied her with a slight frown. “You don’t sound like you’re from ’round here.”

  “No sir. I’m from London, England.”

  His eyebrows dipped. “All the way from England?”

  “Yes sir.”

  He lowered his chin and looked at her over the top of his spectacles. “You’re not one of those home children, are you?”

  Katie paused, considering how to answer. From the look he gave her, it seemed he didn’t approve of home children any more than Dr. Richardson did.

  Why were people so set against orphans? It wasn’t right to look down on someone just because her parents were no longer living.

  She straightened her shoulders. “My parents were fine folks, but they passed away. So I’ve come to Canada to make a new life.” That wasn’t the whole story, but it was all she was going to tell him.

  “So you are a home child.” He narrowed his eyes. “You say you’re going to the Hoffmans’?”

  “Yes sir.” She had spent the entire train ride trying to imagine what life would be like with this new family and what she might do to please them and make them want to keep her.

  He shook his head. “Now that’s a shame…a real shame.”

  Katie’s face flamed. Was he saying that because she was a home child, or was something wrong with the Hoffmans?

  He motioned toward a wooden bench by the door to the station. “You can sit over there and wait for them if you like.” After looking her over once more with a slight frown, he walked back toward the station with a shuffling gait.

  She sighed, lifted her traveling bag, and followed him across the platform.

  Clouds scuttled across the sky, blocking the sun. She pulled her sweater tighter around herself. It wasn’t too cool, but she shivered just the same. She took a seat on the hard wooden bench, then lowered her bag to the platform beside her.

  She glanced around the deserted station and bit her lip. Why wasn’t anyone here to meet her? Had the Hoffmans forgotten she was coming today? What would she do if they never came? She had no money to take the train back to Belleville, and the stationmaster didn’t seem to be very sympathetic. She doubted he would help her, but he wouldn’t leave her here alone all night, would he?

  Closing her eyes, she reached up and laid her hand over her cross necklace beneath the fabric of her dress. Running her fingers over the shape reminded her of Mum’s love and strong faith. Mum always told her if she was feeling low, she should count her blessings and it would lift her spirits. This was certainly a good time to remember those words of encouragement.

  She opened her eyes, settled back, and listened. Birds called to one another from the trees beyond the tracks. She couldn’t see them, but she could enjoy their songs. The sky held some clouds, but it wasn’t raining. That was a blessing. Roslin had a lot of nice tall trees and plenty of fresh air. She might even find some wildflowers when she was free to look around.

  Best of all—the Lord was with her. She was not alone. That thought brought the most comfort. Surely if He’d brought her here, then He would help her through whatever was coming next.

  The sound of horses’ hoofbeats, squeaking wagon wheels, and jingling tack sounded off to the right. She turned that way as a horse-drawn wagon rolled around the side of the station.

  A st
out man with curly blond hair sat up front, and a small blond boy who looked about six or seven sat next to him. The wagon rolled to a stop at the end of the platform, and the man looked her way. He was dressed in a stained blue shirt, brown work trousers, and heavy leather boots. The little boy’s face was smudged with dirt, and she could barely tell what color his clothing was because it was so ragged and soiled.

  The man studied her, and his eyebrows dipped. “You the girl from Belleville?”

  “Yes sir. I’m Katie McAlister.” Her voice came out with a slight tremor.

  “How old are you?”

  “Fourteen.”

  He grimaced and jerked his thumb toward the wagon. “Climb in back.”

  She stared at him. He wasn’t even going to step down to meet her? How could he expect her to just climb into the back of his wagon and ride away with a man she didn’t know? A sense of panic rose in her chest.

  He cocked his head. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

  “That’s…that’s my trunk.” She nodded toward it.

  Scowling, he grumbled something she couldn’t understand and jumped down from the wagon. He strode across the platform, grabbed the handle on one end, and scowled at her. “Get up and take the other end!”

  Katie grabbed her bag, hurried forward, and reached for the opposite handle. The man lifted his side, and Katie strained to raise hers.

  “You’ll have to do better than that.”

  She gritted her teeth and tugged harder, raising the trunk a few more inches. He cursed under his breath and set off toward the wagon. His steps were so quick she could hardly keep up. The strap of her traveling bag slipped down her arm and the bag banged against her knees, nearly tripping her.

  They reached the wagon, and the man hoisted up his end. Katie tried to lift her side higher, but it was no use. He grunted and shifted his hands toward her side, finally shoving the trunk onto the wagon.

  He huffed and wiped his hands on his trouser legs. “What do you have in there, rocks?”

  “No sir, just my clothes and a few books.”

  He shook his head and walked toward the front of the wagon without another word.

  Katie gulped. The bed of the wagon was higher than her waist, and she wasn’t sure how she could climb up without his help.

  He stepped up and took a seat on the front bench, then lifted the reins. The young boy beside him stared at Katie, his blue eyes wide and his mouth hanging open, but he didn’t say a word. Dried tracks from his tears ran down his dirty cheeks, making it look like he hadn’t washed his face in a week.

  Mr. Hoffman looked over his shoulder. “I don’t have all day, girl. Get in the wagon.”

  She bit her lip, tossed her traveling bag in the back, then scanned the side of the wagon, looking for a foothold.

  Mr. Hoffman jerked around on the bench. “Land sakes, girl, are you daft? Just step up on the hub of the wheel.”

  “Yes sir.” She gripped the board on the side, stepped up, and climbed into the back of the wagon. There was no bench, so she crawled over to sit against the opposite side. Before she was settled, Mr. Hoffman clicked to the horses, and the wagon jerked and rolled down the road.

  Katie lifted her hand to her hat and tugged it down so it wouldn’t fly off in the breeze. The wagon rattled over the rough road, shaking her so hard she thought her teeth would surely fall out. She held on tightly to the side, looking ahead and trying to take in her surroundings.

  They passed through Roslin in less than two minutes, then traveled down a country road between open fields and patches of shady forest. Her stomach ached from hunger and worry, and she longed for a drink of water. She had no idea how long the trip would take, and she didn’t dare ask Mr. Hoffman. He was a fierce-looking man, and she’d already angered him with her heavy trunk and slow response to his order to get in the wagon.

  About ten minutes later, the wagon turned off onto a side road. They passed a large barn with faded red paint. Broken-down farming equipment sat in front with tall weeds growing around it. The wagon rolled to a stop beside a run-down two-story house. It looked like it used to be nice, but now the white paint was peeling off the wooden siding and two of the upstairs windows were cracked. Some of the dark green shutters were broken, and a few others hung loose, swinging in the wind. Part of the picket fence in front had fallen down and was overgrown with weeds. Four chickens strutted around in front of the house, clucking and pecking at the dirt.

  A dog ran out from behind the house, barking as Mr. Hoffman jumped down from the wagon. The chickens squawked and ran to hide under the porch.

  Katie tensed as she watched the black-and-white border collie. But his barking sounded more like a happy greeting than a dangerous threat, and he wagged his tail as he circled around the wagon.

  Mr. Hoffman lifted the boy to the ground and gave him a little swat on his backside. “Go on up to the house.”

  The boy glanced up at Katie with a solemn expression. The dog sniffed his hand, but the boy ignored him and walked toward the house and up the porch steps.

  A woman pushed open the screen door and walked out to the front porch. A little girl with blond curly hair held on to her skirt with one hand and sucked her thumb with the other. She looked about three years old. Katie guessed the woman was Mrs. Hoffman, and the little girl must be her daughter.

  The woman’s light brown hair was tied back, but several straggly pieces hung around her pale, lined face. She carried a baby wrapped in a blanket, but not in the careful, tender way most mothers held their babies. She didn’t call out a greeting or smile as her husband approached.

  Her sagging shoulders and vacant expression sent a tremor through Katie. What was wrong with Mrs. Hoffman? Why didn’t she hold her baby close or say hello?

  Mr. Hoffman stopped on the porch and looked back at Katie. “The girl is from the home in Belleville. She’ll help you with the children and housework.”

  The woman stared at Katie with gray, solemn eyes, but she didn’t say a word.

  Frowning, Mr. Hoffman motioned to Katie. “Come on down out of the wagon.”

  Her stomach twisted as she climbed over the side. She glanced at her trunk and traveling bag and decided she should leave them there for now. Summoning her courage, she hopped down, walked across the hard-packed dirt, and climbed up the porch steps.

  All the while Mrs. Hoffman just stood there watching her with the sleeping baby sagging in her arms.

  Katie’s mouth felt so dry she could hardly form her words. “Mrs. Hoffman, I’m Katie McAlister.”

  “Take her, will ya? I got no strength left.” She shoved the baby into Katie’s arms.

  Katie sucked in a quick breath and grabbed hold. She adjusted the baby to a better position and smoothed the blanket away from her face. “What’s her name?”

  Mrs. Hoffman shook her head. “She’s got no name yet.”

  Katie blinked. “How old is she?”

  “Goin’ on six weeks. No…must be seven or eight weeks by now.” Her voice sounded almost as hollow as her vacant eyes. Katie watched her with growing unease. All mothers were tired after bringing a new baby into the family, but this woman’s tiredness seemed to run much deeper.

  Katie looked down at the baby and ran her hand over her soft head and pale blond hair. She was a beautiful baby, with rosebud lips and long, light brown eyelashes, and her skin was so pale Katie could see the blue veins beneath. Her nose was a little crusty, and so were the corners of her eyes. She needed her face washed almost as much as her brother.

  The little girl with the blond curly hair looked out from around her mother’s skirt and pulled her thumb out of her mouth. “I’m hungry.” She sniffed and rubbed her dirty hand under her runny nose.

  Mrs. Hoffman sighed. “Take Daisy inside and give her something to eat.”

  Katie stared at the woman. “Wh
at…what shall I fix for her?”

  “There’s some leftover mush on the stove.” The woman pulled her daughter’s hand away from her skirt. “Go on now. She’ll feed you.”

  The little girl whimpered and popped her thumb back in her mouth, but when Katie held out her hand, Daisy reached out and took hold.

  Mrs. Hoffman sank down onto an old wooden chair on the porch, and her gaze drifted off toward the fields.

  Katie’s hands were full, and she struggled to open the screen door, but she finally managed. The house was dim, and a bad smell hung in the air. Was that stench rotten potatoes or something worse?

  “Daisy, can you show me the way to the kitchen?” Katie tried not to breathe too deeply as the little girl led her toward the back of the house. The awful smell increased with each step she took. When they walked into the kitchen, Katie’s stomach dropped and her mouth fell open.

  The counter and sink were piled high with dirty dishes. Crusts of bread and greasy bits of meat littered the plates on the table. Boiled-over food had dried on the side of a pot on the stove. Other pots and pans were half-full of burnt food she couldn’t even recognize. Big flies buzzed around the room and crawled over the stinking mess.

  Lord, help me. I don’t even know where to start.

  Daisy tugged on her hand. “I’m hungry.”

  “All right. I’ll fix you something in just a minute.” Katie looked around for a safe place to lay the sleeping baby. She walked into the pantry and found some towels and an empty crate.

  Daisy followed Katie, sucking on her thumb and watching everything she did with wide blue eyes.

  “This should make a nice soft bed.” Katie arranged the towels in the crate and carefully placed the baby inside. She couldn’t leave the baby in the pantry, so she carried the crate back into the kitchen and cleared off the bench by the back door. She set the crate down and watched the baby for a few seconds. Somehow the little one had slept through all the jostling and seemed content.

  Katie walked over to the table and scanned the disgusting scene once more. She would have to start there if she was going to feed Daisy. Holding her breath, she scraped and stacked the dirty dishes, then found a clean cloth and wiped off the table.