No Ocean Too Wide

by Carrie Turansky

  Her smile widened, she nodded, and then she waved again. She touched Anna May’s shoulder and pointed to him. The little girl’s eyes rounded, she rose up on her toes, and she sent him a vigorous wave. Soon the other girls saw him and waved too.

  Henry chuckled. “It seems you’ve made quite an impression on those girls and a certain young lady.”

  His chest expanded. He hoped the girls would remember him, but even more than that, he hoped he had gained Laura’s trust and perhaps even a place in her heart.

  * * *

  “Go on! Get out of this house!” Mr. Hoffman’s angry voice vibrated through the hot evening air as Katie dashed out to the porch and let the screen door slam behind her in silent protest. Brushing a tear from her cheek, she marched down the steps.

  How dare he yell at her like that!

  It was true she had broken a dinner plate. But it had slipped out of her hands when she’d tried to stop Daniel from hitting Daisy. She wasn’t being careless. She was simply trying to protect the little girl from her beastly brother.

  Mr. Hoffman let loose another string of curses. Katie cringed and hurried around the side of the house. Mrs. Hoffman shouted back at her husband, and the children all began crying.

  Please don’t let him hurt them, Lord.

  Katie sniffed back her tears and strode down the path, past the outhouse, and on toward the barn. Red and gold clouds streaked across the sky where the sun dipped below the recently planted fields in the west.

  She stepped through the open barn doorway and pulled in a deep breath of hay-scented air. The Hoffmans’ two horses nickered and looked up from their stalls. The milk cow munched on her feed, and doves cooed high up in the rafters. A little mouse skittered around the corner into the farthest stall, but that didn’t frighten Katie. She liked the quiet company of the barn animals, even the mice.

  She wiped the last of her tears from her cheeks and climbed the ladder to the loft. The temperature rose with each step she took. It felt like all the heat of the day had soaked into the old wooden barn. She usually took a break from her work each afternoon and opened the big loft door to let some of the hot air escape, but she had forgotten to do it today. Now the loft felt like an overheated oven.

  She followed the path between the piles of hay and pushed open the loft door, but the air outside felt almost as hot. And though the sun had set, not even a slight breeze stirred the air to cool the temperature in the barn.

  She brushed the back of her hand against her sweaty forehead. No way would she be able to sleep up here tonight. She’d have to find a spot down below where it would be at least a little cooler.

  She grabbed the raggedy old quilt Mr. Hoffman had given her and was about to throw it down, but she noticed bits of hay stuck to the fabric. She gripped the edge, lifted it higher, and snapped it hard, hoping a good shaking would make the bits of hay fall off.

  High-pitched clicking and squeaking sounded overhead. Katie looked up as two bats swooped down toward her. She screamed and dropped the quilt over the side of the open loft floor.

  “Get away!” She ducked and tried to dodge the circling bats, stepping closer to the edge. One more step back and her foot met air. She teetered on the edge, gasped, and dove toward the floor.

  Facedown in the hay, she felt her heart race and body tremble. Dear Lord, please let those bats leave me alone!

  Down below, Charger barked. Katie crawled to the edge of the loft floor and looked over.

  The collie pranced up and down the aisle of the barn and looked up at her with his tongue hanging out. Poor thing. He was probably thirsty.

  Katie looked up, searching for the bats, but in the fading light she couldn’t see them anymore. Mr. Hoffman never allowed her to take a lantern or candle to the barn, so she’d grown used to going to bed in the dark. Crouching low, she crept over to the ladder and climbed down as quickly as she could.

  Charger met her at the bottom, pressing his warm, wet nose to her hand. She knelt and stroked his back, and he leaned against her leg. She ran her fingers through his warm, silky hair. Her eyes filled, and her nose tingled.

  “You’re a good boy, such a good boy.” She bent down and pressed a kiss to Charger’s head. “Come on, let’s get you a drink. She grabbed a bucket from the hook on the wall and walked out to the pump at the side of the barn. With a few swift pumps of the handle, water gushed out into the bucket.

  Charger didn’t even wait until she finished but dipped his head in and lapped up a long drink.

  Katie ran her hand along his back again as he continued drinking. Finally, he pulled back and looked up at her with a drippy wet smile.

  Katie’s heart melted, and she knelt down and laid her head on Charger’s neck. The dog nestled closer, his tail wagging at a steady pace. She sighed and looked into Charger’s face. “What would I do without you? No one else here cares a fig about me.”

  Charger nosed her hand as she stood, then he circled around her legs. It almost seemed as if he understood her words and felt the same.

  “Come on, boy. Let’s find somewhere to sleep tonight.” She walked back into the barn, picked up the quilt, and shook it out again. No bats circled around this time, and she released a grateful sigh. Charger waited patiently, then followed her to the fourth stall.

  The hay smelled sweet and looked clean. She spread out her quilt and lay down. She should change into her nightgown, but the light was almost gone, and she was so tired she just closed her eyes.

  Charger lay down beside her. She scooted closer and rested her arm across his neck. The weariness of the day faded away as the comfort of her companion lulled her into a dreamy sleep.

  17

  Laura pushed open the window and welcomed the fresh breeze blowing in from the west. It carried the scent of field grasses and forests on the outskirts of town. She hoped it would blow away the stale air, heavy with the unpleasant smell of illness.

  More than two weeks had passed since she’d arrived at Pleasantview, the children’s receiving home located on the edge of Belleville, Ontario.

  She’d spent the first week helping oversee her girls’ placements. She knew that was the reason they’d come to Canada, but it had been difficult to say goodbye and see each girl leave with a different family.

  Jenny was placed with the Jacksons, a farm family who lived two miles outside of Belleville. They had four children, and one of the girls was near Jenny’s age. Laura hoped they would become friends and that would be a comfort to Jenny. She’d given Jenny a hug before she left and encouraged her to write to the home and let them know how she was doing.

  Anna May was placed with Mr. and Mrs. Crawford, a middle-aged couple who lived in town and had no children. Mr. Crawford was a quiet man who oversaw the Belleville telegraph office. Mrs. Crawford seemed like a kind woman who was eager to care for Anna May, but Laura couldn’t be sure of their intentions, and that had made it hard for her to sleep the last few nights.

  Would her girls be well treated, or would they suffer from the stigma of being home children, outsiders with shadowed pasts? With all her heart she hoped for the best, but she couldn’t seem to quiet her anxious thoughts.

  While she’d helped with the placements, she discreetly tried to learn if her siblings had passed through Belleville or been dropped off at Kingston or some other town. So far she hadn’t learned anything, and her worries deepened with each passing day.

  She sighed and leaned back from the window. She’d had no word from Andrew, and if she didn’t hear from him very soon, she would have no choice but to speak to the matron by herself. When Mrs. Woodward learned her real name and reason for coming to Canada, she would probably sack her, but she had to learn where her siblings had been sent and find a way to contact them.

  One of the girls coughed, and her thoughts shifted back to the children in her care. Now that all her girls had been placed
, she’d offered to stay on and help out in the third-floor infirmary. A sheet hung down the middle of the long room, separating the boys from the girls. Children who had returned to the home to recover from a serious illness or injury filled eighteen of the twenty beds.

  She scanned the room, her stomach tensing as she remembered the sorrowful stories she’d been told about these children.

  Thomas, the twelve-year-old boy in the first bed at the far end of the room, had been badly burned in a house fire—one he was blamed for starting, though he adamantly denied he was responsible. White cloth bandages covered his head, hands, arms, and torso, and he’d spent most of the day moaning in pain. Laura had badly burned her hand on the stove when she was younger, and she remembered how much it hurt. Thomas’s burns were more extensive, and she couldn’t imagine how he could endure that much suffering.

  The next boy, ten-year-old Leon, had fallen down an old well on the farm where he’d been working. He’d broken both of his legs and his wrist, and now plaster casts encased his legs and right arm. The doctor said he was lucky to have survived, but he was miserable and begged anyone who would listen to send him home to England.

  Six-year-old Holden lay in the next bed with a pale face and blue-tinged lips. He had an illness affecting his lungs, and watching his panicked expression as he struggled to breathe sent tremors through Laura. The doctor had come yesterday afternoon and given him medicine to help him rest, but it lasted only a few hours before he was back to struggling for every breath.

  Randal and Oscar, blond-haired brothers who were seven and nine, lay in the next two beds. They both looked so thin and frail, Laura thought they were much younger when she met them. Tears had burned her eyes when she heard the boys had been starved and beaten by the farmer who had taken them in because they couldn’t do as much work as he expected.

  She shook her head, overwhelmed by the sorrowful stories and harsh treatment some of these children had received. All they had suffered had taken a great toll on their bodies, minds, and spirits, and some of them might never totally recover.

  On the girls’ side, the stories were no better. Fourteen-year-old Louise lay in the bed closest to the door. She had nearly drowned in a farm pond just outside Belleville. Louise was still alive, but she was unresponsive. The man who brought her in said it was an accident, but one of the other girls who knew her said Louise had been lonely and heartsick and she had probably tried to end her life by drowning. Yesterday Mrs. Woodward had whispered that they didn’t expect Louise to last more than another day or two. All they could do was make her comfortable and pray for a peaceful passing.

  The ache in Laura’s heart deepened as she studied the dark-haired girl. What a tragedy! And soon she would leave this earth surrounded by strangers in an infirmary rather than in a loving home with family gathered around to grieve her passing.

  Frieda, a thirteen-year-old with flaming red hair, had a broken arm, multiple bruises, and lash scars across her back and legs. She’d run away from the farm where she’d been working as a domestic. When she’d been found and returned, the farmer had beaten her again. Finally, a neighbor reported her treatment to the local minister and he contacted the home. They removed Frieda and brought her back to Pleasantview to recover. Her scars might fade with time and rest, but would she ever feel safe and loved after all she had endured?

  Vivian, the girl in the bed beside Frieda, was weak and sick with a high fever and painful rash. She coughed so long and hard she could barely catch her breath, and that gave her little chance of getting any peaceful sleep. The doctor expected her to recover, but it could take several weeks of nursing care before she would be well enough to return to the family who took her in as a domestic.

  Laura shifted her gaze away from the children’s faces and straightened Vivian’s blanket. Her throat ached, and tears threatened to overflow her eyes. She pulled in a calming breath through her nose, trying to gain control of her emotions.

  Not all of the children who came from England to Canada suffered like those in the infirmary. Rose had reassured her of that fact last night, but Laura couldn’t help worrying about her girls and Katie, Grace, and Garth. What if they were ill or had been placed with families who were harsh and uncaring? That thought kept returning, and it made her so anxious she had a difficult time focusing on her tasks.

  Rose walked into the infirmary carrying a pile of clean folded sheets. A thin, sloped-shouldered girl walked in behind her. She wore a loose, shabby brown dress and was barefoot. Laura guessed she was fifteen or sixteen, but it was hard to tell for sure.

  “Come with me, Jane.” Rose set the sheets on a chair and crossed toward Laura.

  Jane’s wavy brown hair fell forward, covering half of her face.

  Rose glanced at Laura, sending her a silent plea, then looked back at the girl. “Jane, this is Miss Hopkins. She’ll help you get a bath and give you a clean nightgown.”

  Jane looked up with wide blue eyes and quickly folded her arms tight across her chest. “I don’t want a bath.”

  “It’s all right,” Rose said in a gentle tone. “You’re quite safe here, and you’ll have privacy to bathe and dress.”

  Jane darted an anxious glance at Laura, then turned to Rose. “Do I have to?”

  “Yes, everyone who comes to stay has to bathe and change.”

  Laura watched their interaction with growing unease. What brought Jane to the infirmary? She didn’t look ill or injured. Why was she so wary of them?

  Rose nodded to Laura. “Will you please show Jane to the bathroom and be sure she has everything she needs?”

  “Of course.” Laura sent Jane a tentative smile. “You can come with me.”

  Jane stared at Laura, her lips quivering, but she didn’t move.

  “It’s all right, Jane.” Laura copied Rose’s gentle tone. “It’s just down the hall this way.”

  Jane glanced past Laura toward the hall, then finally gave a slight nod.

  Questions tumbled through Laura’s mind as they walked toward the bathroom and stopped to pick up a nightgown from the wardrobe. Perhaps if she could engage Jane in conversation, that would help her feel more at ease.

  Laura glanced over her shoulder at Jane. “Pleasantview is a beautiful old house, isn’t it?” The girl nodded but didn’t speak. “It was built for the Simpson family back in the 1860s. Mr. Simpson was a railway tycoon, and he wanted his family to have the best of everything. When he passed away, his wife moved to a smaller residence and donated Pleasantview as a receiving home.” She pushed open the door to the spacious bathroom. “We even have hot and cold running water.”

  Jane stopped in the doorway and stared at the claw-foot bathtub.

  “Come and see.” Laura motioned her closer, then turned on the tap in the tub. She held her hand under the stream of water and turned the two handles to adjust the temperature.

  Jane slowly crossed the room and stood next to Laura.

  “Is that hot enough for you?”

  Jane reached down and tested the water. “Yes. It’s fine.” Her voice sounded so soft Laura could barely hear her.

  “All right.” Laura rose and took a bath towel and washcloth from the shelf. She draped them over the side of the tub and smiled at Jane. “I’ll leave you to it…unless you’d like me to help you undress.”

  The girl’s eyes flashed wide. “No, no…I don’t need any help.”

  “All right, then.” Laura crossed the room. “You can lock the door after I leave.”

  Jane nodded but stood frozen to the spot.

  Laura stepped out and closed the door behind her. She waited in the hall, and a few seconds later she heard the lock turn.

  Rose approached from the far end of the hall. “Did you convince Jane to take a bath?” she whispered.

  Laura nodded. “I think so. What brings her to the infirmary?”

  Rose’
s eyes clouded, and she shook her head. “I can hardly speak of it.”

  A tremor raced down Laura’s back. “If you don’t think you should tell me, it’s—”

  “Come with me,” Rose whispered. She took Laura’s arm and guided her a safe distance away from the bathroom. She glanced down the hall, then turned to Laura. “Jane is with child.”

  Laura raised her hand to her mouth. “Oh dear.”

  “But you mustn’t think poorly of her. She’s not to blame.”

  Laura cringed, but she had to ask. “What happened?”

  “She has been working as a domestic for a farm family up near Roslin.” Rose clasped her hands in front of her heart. “And I’m afraid the farmer forced himself on her…more than once.”

  Dread churned Laura’s stomach.

  “The wife finally realized her…condition, and she demanded to know who the father was. Jane told her what her husband had done, and the wife went into a rage. She said it was Jane’s fault, and she demanded Jane be sent back here.”

  “How dreadful! That man ought to go to jail.”

  “Of course he should, but I doubt it will happen. The wife insists Jane tempted her husband and she is the one to blame.”

  “That’s ridiculous! She’s just a girl, and a shy one at that.”

  Rose glanced toward the bathroom door. “I feel terrible for her.”

  “What will happen to her…and her baby?”

  “Mrs. Woodward is going to look for someone to take her in, at least until the baby is born.”

  “What about after that?”

  “I’m not sure. I doubt Jane could find a respectable family willing to take them both under the circumstances.” Worry lines creased Rose’s forehead. “If she’ll give up the child, she might be able to find work with another family.”

  “But to separate them…Is that the only answer?”

  Rose lifted her hand to her forehead. “I don’t know. It’s such a difficult situation. We must be very kind and patient as we care for her.”