Through his blurry vision, he witnessed Carrie bending over him, horror on her face. “Dear Lord in heaven, what did I do? Ollie! Ollie, are you all right?”
His head hurt so badly he wished she’d knocked him unconscious. Unfortunately, he felt every fierce throb. He moaned, “Don’t you know how to knock?”
“I’m so sorry. Here, let me help you.”
He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted her help, but he didn’t resist when she took his hands and pulled him into a sitting position. He bent his knees and pressed his palms against the crusty floor to give himself a more secure base. How could his head spin so wildly and remain attached to his shoulders?
She caught his chin between her fingers and angled his face toward the weak band of sunlight flowing through the open door. She grimaced. “You’re going to have a black eye, I’m afraid. It’s already swelling and turning colors.”
“Dandy.” Oliver gingerly fingered the knot forming on the back of his head. No blood, so he hadn’t broken the skin, but it stung like fury. At least if that spot bruised, his hair would cover it. Maybe he shouldn’t have shaved off his whiskers after all.
Carrie wrung her hands, deep furrows lining her brow. “Do you think you can stand?”
“I’m not even sure I can think.” Rolling onto one hip, he caught hold of the bench, and then he slowly pulled himself upright. He wobbled, but he managed to keep his footing. He sucked in several deep breaths, willing the throbbing in his head to abate.
Once he’d proved his ability to stand, Carrie seemed to lose her deep concern for him. She leaned sideways, peering past him first on one side, then the other. She turned a frown on him. “The children aren’t here?”
“They were here. But when I showed up, they went out the window.”
Her eyes flew wide, just as the children’s had when he’d burst in on them. “You let them go?”
Oliver cupped the side of his head and scowled at her as best he could through his swollen eye. “I might have caught them had you not knocked me flat.”
She grabbed his hand and pulled him out the door. “Come on! We have to find them!”
The rapid movement brought a new rush of dizziness. He yanked free of her grasp and caught hold of the porch post. He clung, panting. “I … I can’t run. Not yet.” Closing his eyes, he waited for the spinning to pass. “Go ahead on your own. They can’t have gotten far.”
He expected to hear her receding footsteps, but instead the porch boards bounced beneath his soles. An arm slipped around his waist. He popped his eyes open—well, one of them—and looked into her upturned, penitent face.
“I’m truly sorry I hit you with the door. It was an accident.”
“I know.” He draped his arm over her shoulders and allowed her to lead him off the porch. They moved slowly across the bare, muddy yard toward the road.
“I’ll take you to Kesia’s and have her see to your injuries. I’m sure some of the regulars there will be willing to form a search party and help me find the children. Then you can rest.”
Rest sounded good. He couldn’t recall ever experiencing such an intense headache. “Thank you, Carrie.”
“It’s the least I can do.”
“I should say so.”
She shot a startled look at him, but she apparently saw the grin twitching his lips, because she released a light, airy laugh. “I suppose if you can tease, it means you’re going to live after all.”
“Unfortunately, I believe I shall live, although I dare confess, given the incredible discomfort now pervading my skull, a lack of consciousness is much preferred.”
She drew him to a stop. “Ollie, are you still teasing?”
He blinked at her, confused. “What?”
She shook her head. “Never mind. Let’s get you to Kesia’s.”
Caroline
He’d done it again—slipped into a mode of speech incompatible with that of a laborer. In fact, he’d just delivered one of the most eloquently phrased statements she’d ever heard. Would a bang on the head cause a tongue to form flowery locution? She’d not encountered such an odd reaction to a head injury in the past, and given her line of work, she’d delivered her fair share of clops to others’ heads. But this was her first unintentional one. She only wished Ollie hadn’t been the victim of her ill-timed burst through that doorway.
The moment they crossed the threshold of Kesia’s café, the owner rushed to them, hands outstretched.
“Oh, just look at your poor face!” Kesia curled her arm around Ollie’s waist on the other side and guided him to the closest stool, which happened to be occupied. “Rupert, shift offa there an’ let this poor boy sit. Why, he must’ve been besieged by bandits!”
Caroline cringed. “No bandits, Kesia. Just a door.”
“And a bench,” Ollie added, dropping onto the stool. He placed his bent elbow on the counter and rested his head in the V.
Kesia looked from Ollie to Caroline, her face registering bafflement. “Have all his senses been knocked loose?”
Caroline quickly explained the circumstances of Ollie’s injuries, including their pursuit of the Holcomb children.
Kesia shook her head, clicking her tongue on her teeth. “Such a sad situation all the way around. A father gone, a man wounded, an’ children wanderin’ around sad an’ lost. Gonna be spendin’ time on my knees over these situations, I can assure you.”
Caroline left Ollie in Kesia’s care and turned to the men seated around the counter. “As I just told Kesia, the two little boys who have been taking their meals here and their older sister are missing. They’ve run away.” How it hurt to know they’d run from her. She pushed aside her bruised feelings and used her briskest, most professional tone. “I would very much appreciate assistance in locating them. Would any of you be willing to aid in the search?”
The men muttered, looking at each other or down at their plates.
Kesia smacked her palm on the counter, and the men all jumped. “Listen here, you well-fed bunch o’ ne’er-do-wells. If you ever want to taste my peach pie or apple cobbler again, you’ll hop down off them stools an’ turn this city upside down. ’cause I’m tellin’ you right now, until those youngsters are safe under Miss Carrie’s roof, my stove won’t be holdin’ one pan o’ baked goods!”
“Aw, Kesia,” one of the men groaned, “you can’t mean that. We don’t even know those young uns.”
She jammed her fists on her hips and bounced a fierce glare across each face. “That don’t matter. The Good Book says, ‘Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.’ You wanna try explainin’ to the Lord Almighty why you’re turnin’ your back on some o’ His precious children?”
Mutters rolled around the room.
Kesia pointed her finger at the door, her double chin quivering. “Now, every last one o’ you, get out there an’ find those young uns! The man who hauls ’em here to me’ll be rewarded with a triple-layer sour cream cake.”
The man who’d previously argued sat up straight. “With chocolate icin’?”
“On top an’ between the layers.”
With a whoop he leaped off the stool and scrambled for the door. The others swarmed after him.
Kesia turned a triumphant smile on Caroline. “That’s how you get things done.” Then she placed her hand on Caroline’s arm, her expression serious. “Sure am sorry to hear about Mr. Holcomb dyin’. The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. I’d hoped He might answer our prayers on the givin’ side this time.” She sighed, and tears welled in her eyes. “What’ll those poor children do without him?”
“They have an aunt in Baldwin City,” Caroline said, hoping to comfort Kesia. “I’ve contacted her, and I trust she’ll come. She’s reluctant. According to Letta, she hasn’t seen the family in several years. But they are her brother’s children. Surely when she meets them and sees what fine children they are, she’ll have a change of heart and decide to give them a home.”
“I’ll surely be prayin’ for that.” Kesia returned to Ollie, touching his shoulder. “An’ as for you, my dear Ollie, I’m thinkin’ a cold rag on that bruise’ll do you some good.”
Ollie didn’t lift his head. “Thank you, Kesia. I shall welcome your ministrations.”
Kesia’s fuzzy eyebrows lowered into a sharp V. “Huh?”
Caroline pursed her lips and shook her head. She pointed to her own temple, then Ollie’s, sending a silent message to the older woman.
Kesia angled an odd look in Ollie’s direction, but then she shrugged. “Carrie, you gonna go hunt our missin’ youngsters?”
With the men eager to earn their sour-cream-cake reward, Caroline trusted the search to them. “No, ma’am. I need to arrange their father’s burial and visit the telegraph office to check for a reply from their aunt.” And from Noble as well. She eased her way to the door. “I’ll come back later to see how Ollie fares. Hopefully someone will have located the children by then. If so, please keep them here until I return.”
“Oh, I’ll hang on to them rascals. I’ll tie ’em to the stools if I hafta.”
Caroline laughed. “I doubt that will be necessary. Ply them with cookies, and they’ll stay.” Kesia waved her out the door, and Caroline headed for the undertaker’s. But halfway there, she changed course and went to the telegraph office instead. If the children’s aunt was coming, she should make the funeral arrangements for her brother.
A sense of unease filled her. She couldn’t quite determine the reason for her discomfort, but she knew it related to the children’s aunt. As Noble and Annamarie had taught her, she turned her concern into a prayer.
Lord, work Your will with the children and their aunt. Letta, Lank, and Lesley need someone to care for them, but if this woman isn’t meant to be the one, please make that clear. But please move swiftly. My time here is nearing its end, and I can’t leave them unless I know they’ll be all right.
Caroline
Noble and Annamarie’s train was scheduled to arrive Tuesday morning, so Caroline stayed awake to meet them at the station. The past few days she’d caught only snatches of sleep, and one more day of wakefulness couldn’t do much more damage.
She walked to the station, her breath forming little clouds of condensation. The weekend’s rain had brought fall temperatures, and even though it was only the end of October, the air held a nip that reminded Caroline of snow. Letta, Lank, and Lesley scuffed along behind her, keeping just out of arm’s reach. The children, having been located by one of Kesia’s most loyal customers and brought back in disgrace, hadn’t spoken a word to her since their return. She blamed their closed mouths and hunched shoulders on the cold, but inwardly she knew she was being punished for some unknown misdeed.
Caroline prayed that Noble or Annamarie, with their experience in reaching out to troubled children, might work a miracle and heal whatever had been damaged between the trio of red-headed waifs and herself. She also hoped Noble would offer advice on how to respond to the telegram she’d received from Gertrude in Baldwin City. Such a terse message: “Send them on next train.” Send them? To a complete stranger? And without a chaperone? Any number of dangers could befall three children traveling alone. Caroline had sent yet another message, politely requesting the woman make her own travel plans to retrieve the children, but as yet no reply had arrived.
She glanced over her shoulder at Letta. The girl held her head low, her lips set in a grim line. Should she have shared the telegram with Letta? She’d kept it secret, believing the girl had enough worries without fearing she and her brothers would be sent to the aunt they hadn’t seen since she was a small girl. Maybe asking Letta’s feelings about her aunt’s message would allow them to talk freely again, the way they had before.
At least Letta had participated in choosing a location for her father in the paupers’ graveyard east of town. She’d selected a spot beneath a towering oak tree. Although now almost barren of leaves, come spring the tree would provide a lovely canopy. There’d be no marker and not even a coffin. Instead, the hospital mortuary had wrapped his body in strips of cloth cut from tattered white sheets. But the chapel minister, Reverend Willoughby, had agreed to meet them that afternoon and speak some words, giving the children at least the semblance of a service.
Kesia promised to attend, Noble and Annamarie would certainly go, and of course Caroline would be there to offer moral support to the children. But Ollie would be absent. Kesia had been so concerned about Ollie’s strange demeanor that she had brought in a doctor. The man determined Ollie had suffered a concussion when his head hit the bench and had ordered three days of bed rest. She was glad the door hadn’t caused the greater injury, although had she not conked him with the door, she supposed he wouldn’t have fallen at all.
Thinking about standing at the graveside without his strong presence left her unsettled. She gave herself a mental shake for her ridiculous feelings. The night she’d come so close to falling into his embrace haunted her. She’d never behaved so brazenly with anyone before. Yesterday’s separation from him had offered her an opportunity to process her strange desire, but she hadn’t come to any conclusions. Perhaps a private talk with Annamarie would help her make sense of these unfamiliar feelings for Ollie Moore.
The Number Fourteen—Noble and Annamarie’s train—had already arrived, its gleaming engine belching clouds of steam into the air, when she and the children reached the depot. Her dear friends stood beside the baggage car, Noble’s arm wrapped protectively around Annamarie’s slight frame. Caroline’s heart lurched when she spotted them. No matter how old she got or how short their time apart was, whenever she joined them again, it was a sweet homecoming.
Pointing, she whirled and told the children, “They’re here! Come!” Then she dashed ahead, trusting the three to follow. At her approaching footsteps, Noble turned, and the fan of lines beside his eyes spread with his beaming smile. He held his arms wide, and she catapulted against him, as uninhibited as a child.
He laughingly scooped her off the ground, dislodging her knitted scarf so it fell down her back. “You said you’d be sleeping! What a fine surprise to see you here.” He set her feet on the boardwalk, tugged the scarf back in place over her hair, then chucked her under the chin with his knuckles—a gesture left over from her childhood.
Caroline flashed him a bright smile, then turned to Annamarie. The hug she bestowed on Noble’s wife was gentle, cautious, but no less sincere.
Annamarie hugged back, her thin hands curled over Caroline’s shoulders. Tears filled the dear woman’s eyes. “Ah, our Caroline. How good to see you again.” Then clinging to Caroline’s arm with one hand, she turned to the row of silent, staring children. She smiled warmly at each in turn, completely unaffected by their indifference. “And you must be Letta, Lank, and Lesley. No school today?”
Caroline said, her voice low, “Their father’s burial is today. I kept them out.”
Annamarie nodded, sympathy softening her expression. She extended one hand toward the children. “I’m so glad to meet you. Carrie told us all about you, and I’m so eager to become friends.”
After a moment’s hesitation Lesley stepped forward and took Annamarie’s hand. She leaned down a bit, her movements stiff, and looked directly into the little boy’s eyes. “I’m very sorry to hear about your father, Lesley. My father died when I was just your age—eight—and I remember how sad it made me to know he was gone.”
Lesley curled his stubby little fingers over Annamarie’s and wrinkled his nose. “You were sad to lose your father?”
“Yes, I was. I loved him very much.”
Lesley caught his lower lip between his teeth and ducked his head as if fighting a private war. Then he rose up on tiptoe so his mouth was near Annamarie’s ear. “I loved my father, too, even though he was mean sometimes. Letta an’ Lank aren’t sad, but I am. I wish he didn’t hafta die.”
Annamarie cupped Lesley’s chapped cheek with her arthritic hand. Although Lesle
y fell silent and Annamarie didn’t say a word, the pair seemed to communicate silently. The little ragamuffin boy and the gray-haired, humpbacked woman—so different yet woven together by a ribbon of grief.
Looking on, Caroline battled tears. She risked a glance at Letta and Lank and noted tears swimming in their eyes. Within minutes of arrival, Annamarie and her gentle ways had already begun to melt their hardened hearts just as she’d managed to break through Caroline’s carefully built defenses more than a dozen years ago. The woman worked magic with children.
Caroline sent up a quick prayer of gratitude, then issued a soft introduction. “Letta, Lank, these are my dearest friends, Mr. and Mrs. Dempsey.”
Neither child spoke, but they shook Noble’s and Annamarie’s hands by turn, nodding when Noble and Annamarie offered words of greeting. Then Letta curled her hand over Lesley’s shoulder, pulling him against her side. Lesley went, but he kept his face aimed toward Annamarie as if fearful of losing sight of her.
Noble stepped near, transferring Annamarie’s hand from Caroline’s elbow to his own. “I hired a closed carriage so Annamarie needn’t breathe in the cold air. There will be room for all of us.” He angled an impish grin at the children. “But of course none of you would like to take a carriage ride, am I right?”
Lesley wriggled beneath Letta’s restraining arm. “Is it gonna be pulled by reindeer?”
To Noble’s credit he didn’t laugh. “What makes you think reindeer might pull our carriage?”
The child pointed to Noble’s full, white beard. “Ain’t you Santa Claus?”
Caroline coughed to cover her amusement. She’d wondered the same thing when she’d first met Noble. And over the years she’d discovered he possessed a heart as giving and open as Saint Nick’s.
Echoes of Mercy: A Novel Page 17
