With Endless Sight

by Allison Pittman

  “Do not tell me what I mean.” Mother got up from her chair. “Think about what I’ve said, Robert.”

  She left without another word, and the silence that settled in the kitchen demanded an apology.

  Before either of us could rise to the occasion, though, the back door opened and the object of Phoebe’s affection walked in. I wondered if Phoebe would have been so enamored if she had a chance to see him now. His dark curly hair was dirty and unfashionably long. His red eyes were rimmed with dark circles, and he brought with him the smell of sour cigar smoke, dense as a cloud.

  “G’morning, Dad,” he said, somehow impressive in his lack of penitence.

  “Chester,” Daddy’s voice was tightly controlled, “are you just getting home?”

  “Nothing quite like a saloon full of farm boys in the big city for the first time.” A slight smile broke on Chester’s scruffy face.

  “Belleville is hardly a big city,” I said.

  “Tell that to these rubes.” He rubbed his hands together.

  “Never mind about that,” Daddy said. “Right now you need to get up to your room before your mother comes down and finds you here like this.”

  “Let me get some coffee first.”

  We were long past the days when the relationship between Chester and my parents was characterized by submission and obedience. Daddy and I watched Chester pour a cup of coffee, add a spoonful of sugar from the bowl kept next to the stove, then take an experimental sip before committing himself fully. All the while, Daddy clenched and unclenched his fists, probably wishing Chester’s throat were grasped within. He waited to speak until my brother had his hand on the swinging door that led to the dining room.

  “We leave in three days you know, Son. That’ll be the end to these late-night games.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Dad,” Chester said, sending the smile I imagine he unfolded every time he laid down a winning hand. “It’s the biggest gamble of all.”

  3

  The first leg of our journey lacked the romance of any great odyssey. We simply boarded a train headed north to St. Louis. Gathered in a little group at the station, dressed in our best traveling clothes and carrying a bundle of boxed lunches for the trip, we looked like any other family off for a summer holiday. It occurred to me then that nobody had consulted Chester about our decision to bring along Phoebe, as he had an expression of mild surprise when she showed up carrying her small carpet bag—the only additional cargo Daddy would allow her.

  The only sign that we were embarking on something grand was the final embrace between Mother and Aunt Nadine, who clung to each other as if doing so would reverse the tide that had swept us up and out with the rest of the country.

  Phoebe and I stood by, watching. My heart ached knowing how much Mother loved her sister and her life here; Phoebe wore the same resolved, scowling expression she always did. When Aunt Nadine finally released Mother and held out her arms to her daughter, Phoebe walked into them as if each step were a small battle.

  “My precious girl.” Aunt Nadine crushed Phoebe’s body fully against hers, laying her cheek to the top of Phoebe’s head. “Are you certain this is what you want to do? It’s not too late to change your mind, you know.”

  “I have to go, Mama.” Phoebe’s voice was muffled by the piles of lace at Aunt Nadine’s throat.

  “That’s nonsense. There’s absolutely no reason—”

  “There’s every reason.” Phoebe pulled away from Aunt Nadine and looked straight into her eyes. Her hands hung to her sides just as they had throughout the embrace, and now I could see they were balled into fists. “We’ve talked about this. I don’t belong here.”

  “Of course you do. Papa and I love you so much—”

  “This is what I want.”

  Daddy’s head appeared in the train window, and he gestured wildly for us to join him. Mother took one more step toward Aunt Nadine, but Phoebe stayed her ground between them. She took Mother’s arm and led her onto the train, leaving me alone to say good-bye to my aunt.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come?” I said. “There’s plenty of room.”

  Aunt Nadine laughed, then dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. “Take care of your mother. She wasn’t born for this.”

  “I will,” I said.

  “And watch over Phoebe. I don’t know where she got this idea—”

  “She’ll be fine.”

  I began inching backward toward the train, eager for the first time to be speeding away on it. But she caught me on my third step and pulled me into her perfumed bosom. Her hand clutched the back of my head, and I felt a succession of kisses in my hair. I remained, not fidgeting, as long as I could, even as I felt the image on Aunt Nadine’s cameo etching itself into my cheek. But the thought of being left at the station to become Uncle Silas and Aunt Nadine’s newest foundling seemed very real. I wrapped my arms around her thickening waist and squeezed before prying myself out of her embrace.

  “Good-bye, Aunt Nadine,” I said before turning and heading for the train.

  “Belinda?”

  I turned around again.

  “I’ll be praying every day that God will watch over you.”

  “So will I.” I gave her a final wave before boarding.

  It took just a minute for my eyes to adjust to the dim interior of the train. Even though we weren’t moving, I still felt a little unsteady on my feet as I made my way down the narrow aisle. Mother always insisted on sitting right in the middle—as far from the lavatories as possible. I touched my fingers lightly on a leather-upholstered seat with each step.

  When I came upon my family, it occurred to me that no casual observer would ever guess that we shared a common destination. Chester was slouched in his seat, his arms folded across his chest, his hat drawn low over his face. Next to him was Daddy, his tattered copy of The Emigrant’s Guide to Oregon and California open in his lap, making little notations in the margins with a stub of pencil. Across the aisle, Mother sat, staring out the window, her face streaming with unchecked tears while her seatmate, Phoebe, stared forward with just a hint of a satisfied grin on her face.

  I scanned the car looking for an empty seat and found one just a few rows behind my family.

  “I guess I’ll be back here,” I said. No one said anything, though I thought I detected a slight grunt from under Chester’s hat.

  I’d spent my fair share of time in cities before, going to Chicago to visit my cousins nearly every summer, but nothing compared to St. Louis. Given the chance, I could have traversed this city without touching the ground by walking across the backs of the horses and shoulders of the people that created a constant sea of movement between the wagons and carts and carriages in the streets. A massive structure—white stone, domed roof, six columns—loomed over all. Daddy told us it was the courthouse, and Mother commented on the appropriateness of St. Louis having such an impressive building, as this city was the last bit of law and order we’d see for perhaps the rest of our lives.

  Her spirits revived when we walked into the Rutledge Hotel, where we would stay for nearly a week awaiting the steamboat Daddy had booked our passage on. The lobby was large and bright, with windows that stretched from the rich, carpeted floor to the embossed ceiling. A dozen crystal chandeliers dispersed the sun’s rays throughout the room, and I could only imagine how beautiful it all would be when the candles within them were lit. At the center of the room, a fountain surrounded by a dozen potted palms gurgled as if it was a promise of the refreshment to come with a proper bath in the luxurious rooms upstairs.

  While Daddy made the arrangements at the front desk, Mother and I sat on one of the brocade sofas near the wide, carpeted staircase. I perched on the edge of the cushion, taking it all in, but Mother collapsed in her seat, her feet extended so far in front of her I feared she might slide right off.

  “You can’t begin to understand the depths to which travel exhausts me.” Mother tugged at the strings of her bonnet, then
left them dangling, as if removing the hat was too overwhelming.

  “Mother,” I said, “we were only on the train for a few hours. At this rate, you’ll never survive the journey to Oregon.”

  “Sometimes I think that is exactly what your father had in mind.” She narrowed her eyes at Daddy, who was engaged in a lively conversation with the desk clerk. “At some point his eyes will open and he’ll see the folly of this all.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to happen, Mother.”

  “Oh, it will, my darling. You can be sure of that. But there’s no use telling him now. No man will ever admit that he is following a fool’s route. And he’s surely not going to listen to a mere woman.” She managed not only to sit up a little straighter, but to pop the bonnet off her head and begin to pick bits of dust and ash out of its impressive arrangement of feathers. “No, I’ll just keep quiet, and soon enough he’ll wake up, look around, and realize just how ridiculous all of this is, and we’ll pack up whatever we have left and head straight back home. The key there is not to gloat, not to give off a superior air.”

  I don’t believe my mother had ever taken so much as a single breath without giving off a superior air, and I couldn’t recall five minutes’ worth of conversation when she had ever kept quiet. But I didn’t want to bog down in detail.

  “You know, Mother,” I said, “that seems rather dishonest.”

  “Nonsense, Belinda. It’s biblical.”

  “Biblical?”

  “ ‘Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands.’ ” Mother turned her hat over in her hands as if reading the words in the velvet lining. “So here I am. Submitting.”

  “But you’re rooting for him to fail.” I looked over at my father, who was now writing in the little leather-bound journal he carried with him everywhere, and felt my spine stiffen in defense. “I don’t think that’s the spirit a wife is supposed to have.”

  “Of course I don’t want him to fail.” She put her hat in her lap and looked at me. “If he fails, we’ll all be dead. I just want him to come to his senses.”

  Just then Daddy headed our way, and Mother managed to have a weak and nearly welcoming smile by the time he settled into the chair facing us.

  “The rooms are ready.” He held up a set of keys triumphantly. “The boy will take our bags and meet us upstairs, and we’ll have a little time to refresh ourselves before they serve supper in the dining room.”

  “That sounds lovely, Robert,” Mother said with surprising sweetness.

  Daddy turned in his chair and looked around the lobby. “Where’s that son of ours? And Phoebe?”

  “Find one, find the other,” I said, not quite under my breath.

  “What’s that?” Daddy asked.

  “Chester decided to take a quick walking tour of the block.” Mother sent me a sidelong glance. “I’m sure he wants to ascertain the nature of the night’s entertainment.”

  “Ah,” Daddy said, and for a brief moment he and Mother were united in a breath of disappointment. “And Phoebe?”

  “Isn’t she here?” Now it was Mother who turned around in her seat. “Did she come in with us? Belinda, do you see her?”

  I didn’t, and to my shame I couldn’t recall if she had even walked into the lobby with us. I could picture her, one-and-a-half steps behind Chester, her pale eyes fixed on his dark head, following him through the crowded streets, ducking into doorways on the off chance that he might turn around and see her. I didn’t share this vision with my parents, however. I simply said, “No. I’ll look for her,” and made my way to the hotel’s massive front doors.

  I didn’t have far to look. She was standing on the sidewalk just outside, leaning against a light post.

  “Phoebe?” I had to repeat myself to be heard above the street noise before she would turn and acknowledge me. “Are you going to come inside? Our room is ready.”

  “In a minute.” She turned her gaze back to the street.

  “Where’d he go?”

  “I’m not sure. I followed for a little while; then I was afraid I’d get lost so I came back here. But I think there’s a saloon down there.”

  “Daddy will be furious.”

  “He’s a grown-up man, Belinda.”

  “And you’ll do well to remember that too, Phoebe.”

  She smiled. “I know he doesn’t love me. Not yet. And back home there were so many other girls. So many distractions.”

  “And there aren’t here?” I drew her attention to a pair of women crossing the street. Their hair was piled high and their bodices were cut low, showing bare shoulders in the middle of the day. Something that would have put my mother in a full swoon.

  “We aren’t staying here,” she said, as if speaking to a child.

  “You’re right. Then it’s off to the steamboat. With a hundred other people. And a saloon. And dozens of women just like them.”

  Phoebe had a certain smile that I likened to the last vision an unsuspecting baby bird has before it is snatched in the jaws of a cat. She looked like that now, and though we were in the middle of a crowded St. Louis sidewalk, I knew her mind was miles away.

  “But after that,” she said, her voice dreamy, “it’s just us. On a stagecoach for days upon days. Just us. Out in the wilderness. He’ll get lonely, Belinda.”

  “Good heavens, Phoebe, what are you planning to do?”

  She sneered at me. “Oh, nothing immoral, so there’s no need for you to look at me with your little sanctimonious preacher eyes. I’m just hoping that maybe, if I can have him to myself for just a little while …”

  “Be careful, Phoebe. Chester isn’t always … kind.”

  “Neither am I,” she said.

  The luxury of the lobby didn’t quite reach to the rooms. Phoebe and I would share a bed that, while ample enough, was outfitted with bedding of a lesser quality than what I had at home. There was a dressing table, a washstand, and an armoire that made walking about the room difficult. The floor was bare, though a worn rug lay at the foot of the bed, and the curtains were just beginning to yellow at the hem.

  “It’s lovely.” Phoebe walked around the room, lightly touching each furnishing. Her reaction didn’t surprise me—Aunt Nadine kept a modest home—and I felt guilty for my initial disappointment.

  “It is nice,” I conceded.

  I knocked on the door that joined our room to my parents’, curious to see if any of the downstairs glamour lurked behind it. Daddy opened it, and I could see just over his shoulder that Mother had encountered her first real disappointment of the journey.

  “You would think for this money—”

  “Oh, stop it.” Daddy’s voice coming as close to being harsh as it ever did. “You’ll feel better once you’ve had a bath.”

  Apparently he was right, because when we all gathered in the dining room later that night, Mother seemed rested and genuinely happy. In fact, our entire little party had the air of embarking on a grand adventure as we gathered at the linen-covered table. We had a platter stacked with sliced ham, a large bowl of mashed potatoes with red gravy, a plate of steamed radishes, and a basket of warm biscuits.

  Chester joined us midway through the meal, and the young woman who served our table immediately went to the kitchen to fetch him a warm plate.

  “Glad you could join us, Son.” Daddy speared a slice of ham with his fork. “How did you find the city?”

  “Ah, Dad, it’s amazing.” Chester heaped his plate full, scraping the sides of our serving bowls. “Are there any more biscuits?”

  “You can take mine. I haven’t touched it.”

  “Thanks, Phoebe.”

  They smiled at each other, and I nudged her under the table hoping she could get her face under control.

  “I take it you haven’t been to your room yet?” Daddy said.

  “Not yet.” Chester signaled for a fresh glass of water.

  “Well, you’re up on the third floor.” Daddy handed over the key. “I had the porter take your bags up al
ready. Now, about our sojourn here.” He dabbed the corners of his mouth with his napkin, set it down, and rubbed his hands together, getting the gleam in his eye that he always did whenever he spelled out the details of our emigration. “I trust we will all find adequate amusements for ourselves.”

  “Oh, Robert, do you think we might be able to go to the theater?” Mother’s voice held more excitement than it had for any other part of our journey.

  “I don’t see why not, my dear. It might be a fun outing for the girls.”

  Phoebe and I exchanged excited looks, but only for a brief second before Phoebe turned away. “Will you go with us, Chester?”

  My brother had a smile that could make you think you’ve just said the only kind words he’s ever heard. It’s warm and wide and gracious, and I could see Phoebe falling under its spell.

  “No, thanks, Phoebe. I’m sure I can find other amusements for myself.”

  “Found a good card game, have you?” Daddy didn’t try to disguise his disapproval.

  “Now, Robert, he’s just a young man,” Mother said. “No harm’s come of it.”

  “Not yet. But we’re not back in Belleville. You can’t stay out till all hours of the night, Chester.”

  “Or morning,” I couldn’t help add, immensely proud of the amused expression I brought to my brother’s face.

  “I promise to be safely tucked in well before dawn.” Chester raised his glass in a salute that brought the waitress scurrying over to refill it.

  “I’m not joking here,” Daddy said. “We don’t know this city. Or the people here. They could be a much rougher crowd than what you’re used to running with.”

  “I don’t plan on running with anybody, Dad. And if it would make you feel any better, I could just bring in a bedroll and bunk on the floor with you and Mother.”

  “Don’t be silly, darling,” Mother said in the voice she always used when she was intervening between Daddy and Chester. “We’re concerned, that’s all. We want you to be careful.”