Together Forever

by Jody Hedlund

  “Who are we?” The lanky one lifted an eyebrow at his companions and then sauntered down the aisle. “Everyone knows who we are, don’t they?” He glared at the orphans as though daring them to defy him. From the fear on their faces, it was clear the children were familiar with the boy.

  Marianne guessed he was from one of the many local street gangs that lived in the alleys, who made terrorizing, stealing, and fighting a way of life. She wouldn’t be a match for these boys if they decided to harass her, and the thought made her muscles turn to jelly. But she forced her feet to carry her to the aisle toward the newcomers and not away as she was tempted to do.

  “Apparently your fame isn’t as widespread as you believe, because I have no idea who you are.” If only she was braver like her sister. Elise would have known what to do to scare them off the train before they hurt someone. Instead, Marianne floundered, praying the boy couldn’t see her ineptness.

  When his grin inched higher, Marianne knew her prayers were for naught. The boy realized she was afraid and was planning to use that to his advantage.

  “You better do what we were told,” one of the other older boys said, his voice hinting at worry, “or you’ll git us kicked off.” He was the shortest and thinnest of the three boys with a swarthy complexion that highlighted a long white scar across one eyebrow. A purple half-moon colored the skin under one of his eyes, likely the result of a fistfight.

  Did these boys believe they were coming along on this trip?

  She took in their clean trousers and pristine shirts along with their shiny shoes. Alley boys, especially those belonging to gangs, didn’t dress like this. In fact, none of the children in Manhattan wore such fine clothes . . . unless they were part of the Emigration Plan. The Children’s Aid Society believed the orphans must look as well groomed as the children in the community where they were going in order to offer them the best chance possible of attracting a family to take them in.

  Who had given leave to these boys to join their group? She frowned her displeasure. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing barging into our group like this, but you’re not welcome.”

  “Come on, Liverpool,” the boy near the door said again.

  Liverpool? What kind of name was that? Marianne knew she shouldn’t be surprised. Nicknames abounded among the street urchins—Smack, Yankee, Picket, Smalley. Left to their own vices, the children became expert thieves, liars, profane swearers, and beggars, taking names to suit their lifestyles and often to avoid detection and repeat offenses with the police.

  Liverpool didn’t listen to his companion but continued toward Marianne until he was standing only a foot away. The pockmarks on his face were more pronounced up close. Even though his face had been scrubbed, a line of scum still rimmed his hairline.

  “How about if I make myself welcome?” Liverpool took off his hat, licked his hand, and smoothed his rusty brown hair back. “I’ve been told I’m a good kisser.”

  Some of the children around her tittered.

  Marianne didn’t know whether to laugh or to slap the boy on the cheek for his forwardness. Before she could decide, a man’s voice carried through the passenger car, making everyone jump.

  “Liverpool, I told you to stay away from Miss Neumann.” Drew Brady ducked into the car. His tone was deadly, his expression severe.

  The sight of him relieved her so much she sagged back a step. “Since you seem to know these young men, Mr. Brady, I’d appreciate it if you’d escort them off the train.”

  Drew’s scowl was trained on Liverpool’s face as he shouldered his way past the other two and made his way down the aisle. “You didn’t touch Miss Neumann, did you?”

  Liverpool lifted his bony shoulders and shrugged. “How was I supposed to know this was Miss Neumann?” Even though his expression was full of innocence, something glittered in his eyes that said he’d known well enough.

  Drew stomped toward Liverpool. “I warned you.”

  The boy spread his feet and lifted his chin. “You told me to stay away from the pretty young lady. You didn’t say anything about the girls.”

  Pretty young lady? Drew Brady thought she was pretty? A flush of warmth spread through her at the realization.

  Before the boy could react, Drew grabbed Liverpool by the shoulders, spun him, and locked his head into a tight hold. “I’m not an idiot,” Drew growled, “so don’t treat me like one.”

  Liverpool’s lips pressed together, and his fists clenched. Although he clearly wanted to lash out at Drew, he didn’t move.

  Drew twisted Liverpool back around and looked the boy in the eye. “I want you to go on this trip. I really do.” Drew’s voice lost its edge. “But if you come, you have to do what I tell you to.”

  Liverpool’s eyes flashed with defiance.

  “Can you follow my orders?” Drew asked. “Because if you can’t, you’ll have to get off right now.”

  For a long moment, their compartment was absolutely quiet, which magnified the noises of the other locomotives coming and going around them. A steam whistle wailed with a long burst followed by a short one. Wheels clattered and scraped against railroad tracks. Train cars rattled in passing.

  Marianne had taken her first train ride earlier in the year when she’d gone to Illinois to visit Elise in Quincy. She’d hoped to see Reinhold on her trip. Her longtime friend had moved to Quincy shortly after Elise had gone there. He’d done construction work in the new town, sending money back to his destitute family in Kleindeutschland. When he’d left Quincy, he hadn’t told anyone where he was going. Even now, six months later, Marianne still didn’t know where Reinhold was.

  Guilt nagged at Marianne for having told Drew yesterday that Reinhold was her fiancé. Although she wished it were true and had always fancied Reinhold, he’d technically never made any mention of marrying her. She just hoped that this journey would help her not only locate Sophie’s whereabouts but also find some link to Reinhold.

  Whatever the case, she was thankful for already having the experience of riding a locomotive so that amidst all the other anxieties, at least the sounds and sensations of the train wouldn’t be new.

  “I believe what I told you last night,” Drew said, his sights sweeping over all three of the older boys. “This trip could give you a better life, better than anything you could dream or imagine.”

  The stiffness began to ease out of Liverpool’s shoulders until finally he nodded. “Fine. I’ll do what you tell me.”

  “Good.” Drew released his grip on the boy and propelled him toward his friends at the front of the car. “You fellows sit in the front rows.”

  Liverpool rolled his shoulders as though shaking off a disease. He walked lazily back to his friends, a grin playing on his lips. He slid across the first bench and swung his legs up, taking up the whole space. His friends glanced between Liverpool and Drew, the uncertainty on their faces almost comical. It was clear they feared both man and boy. They both sat on the opposite bench that faced Liverpool’s.

  As the children resumed their conversations, Drew turned to her, concern creasing his forehead. “He didn’t touch you, did he?”

  She shook her head. “No. I wouldn’t have let him.”

  “He’s a strong kid.”

  “Well, I’m stronger than I look.” At least she wished she were stronger.

  “If he bothers you again, I’ll send him back to the city.”

  “I didn’t realize we had any more children coming.”

  He shrugged. “I was hoping more of the boys from the Lodging House would want to come this time. But I only convinced the three.”

  She wanted to ask Drew why he was bothering to bring such a hardened, troubled boy in the first place, but now was neither the time nor the place. She returned to the window she’d previously been trying to open, and she yanked on it. “I hope we have enough food for everyone.”

  “I’m not worried. If we need more, I’ll buy it along the way.”

  “Very well.” She tugged
on the window, but again it didn’t budge. “I’ll add them to the list of children and will get their information from you later.”

  He reached an arm around her, released a leather strap, and slid the window down effortlessly. The breeze rushed into the stuffy compartment, bringing cooler air but also the fumes of burning coal.

  When she turned around, she found herself practically in his arms. Flustered at the impropriety of the situation, she attempted to put proper distance between them and flattened against the window.

  Apparently noticing their close confines, Drew took a rapid step away and cleared his throat. “Are we all set to leave?”

  “I believe so.” She was keenly aware of the children around them watching every move they made. Although there were certainly no romantic inclinations between herself and Drew Brady, she would have to be careful to conduct herself with the utmost integrity to be above reproach in all things.

  The agent who’d trained her had warned that she was not allowed to fraternize with the other agent during the journey. Their attention was to remain focused on the children. Her instructor had implied that any reports of misconduct between agents could be the cause of dismissal.

  As though remembering the same, Drew retreated another step, bumping into the bench directly across the aisle.

  “Mr. Brady,” called one of the younger boys several seats back. “Will you sit with us?”

  Drew made his way to the cluster of boys, speaking to each by name, ruffling hair, joking with them, and drawing grins from even the most timid. He did the same with a pair of siblings sitting across the aisle.

  Marianne’s heart warmed at the smiles and giggles and renewed excitement that were quickly replacing the fear that had been present only moments before. With a sense of relief, Marianne lowered herself to the bench in the middle of the passenger car where she’d decided to sit for the journey. She’d hoped being at the center of the activity would allow her the best position for overseeing the orphans.

  But as Drew settled himself into the group of boys, she wondered if she should have sat with the children too. She’d wanted to keep appropriate boundaries. The youngsters needed to know she was in charge, that she wasn’t their friend, didn’t they? The agent who’d instructed her on her duties had said she shouldn’t form attachments; otherwise the orphans might have a difficult time leaving her when the time came for them to part ways.

  No attachments to the other workers. No attachments to the children. It was bound to be a lonely trip. She released a brief sigh. Good thing she was used to loneliness.

  Retrieving her notepad from her valise, she opened it and added three more digits to the end of the list, bringing the total number of children from twenty-eight to thirty-one. She was tempted to march right up to the three newcomers and get their names and information herself. But after glancing at Liverpool and the hardness of his contours, she decided she’d better wait for Drew. She’d been around enough boys like Liverpool to know they were unpredictable and easily provoked.

  When the train lurched and the steam whistle blew, the children’s voices rose in a clamoring of anticipation. The younger ones pressed their faces against the windows in their eagerness to experience the train’s increasing speed. Even the older children vied for spots at the windows where they could watch the shifting scenery.

  Marianne couldn’t keep from staring out the window as the buildings began to whiz past at an almost dizzying speed. Although the train would eventually gain speeds of thirty miles per hour, the current pace was faster than any carriage could travel, faster than most of them had ever gone. She felt the children’s exhilaration in her own blood.

  When the busy and crowded thoroughfares of New York City gave way to a more rural landscape of farm fields and woodlands, she expected the children to settle into their seats. But they continued to crowd against the windows, making exclamations about everything they saw.

  “What’s that, mister?” The questions flew at Drew, who reclined with both arms spread across the back of his seat, his legs stretched in front of him. He answered every question with saintly patience.

  “Look at them cows!” squealed one girl, her eyes round in wonder. “My mother used to milk cows.”

  “What’s a-growin’ in that field, mister?”

  “Ah, fellers, see all the sheep!”

  On and on the exclamations rose at each new sight. Many of the children had never seen anything but the crowded tenements and streets of the city. Marianne could completely empathize with their excitement. She’d felt the same way on her first trip out of the city, like she’d traveled to a whole new world, one she’d never realized existed except in fairy tales—a world that was clean and fresh and beautiful. So unlike the filthy, crowded, stale streets and alleys that were home to far too many people.

  Some of the children extended their arms out the few windows that had been opened, and she was tempted to insist they draw back inside. But Drew sprawled in his seat, his posture relaxed as if he were on a pleasure trip instead of supervising thirty-one orphans. He didn’t seem to be worried about the possibility of a younger child falling out. So Marianne bit her tongue and swallowed her apprehension.

  After almost an hour of high-pitched enthusiasm, many of the children returned to their seats. Some were already quiet, contemplative as if realizing how different their lives would be, how much was changing, and how far from home they were going.

  “Everyone’s attention, please!” Drew’s voice boomed through the passenger car. The orphans swiveled to face him, and their clamor dimmed.

  He was standing in the aisle, one hand holding the bench to keep himself steady against the lurching movement of the train. With the other hand, he held his hat. “As we start our trip together, I don’t want to neglect the most important part of the voyage.”

  Marianne nodded and opened her notebook wider, pressing on the spine and smoothing her hand down the pages. After the long walk to the station, as well as the busyness of the depot, they surely needed to make sure each child was accounted for. She should have thought of taking roll call herself.

  “Let’s bow our heads and ask God to be present with us on our trip,” Drew said.

  Was he praying? Did he think that was the most important part of the trip? Marianne’s pencil slipped from her fingers, and she fumbled to grasp it only to knock her notepad off her lap. It fell onto the plank floor with a slap.

  Over the heads of the children, Drew’s gaze met hers. The sincerity in his green-blue eyes and the earnestness of his expression told her he was serious about his statement. He believed prayer was the most important aspect of their journey. And something in his eyes beckoned her to join him in his effort.

  His words from last night came back to her. He’d told her he was glad she was coming and that they would make a great team. At the time, she’d appreciated his confidence in her and was relieved that, in spite of her poor background, he still wanted to be her partner.

  But if he expected her to pray with him, he was in for a big disappointment. God wasn’t about to listen to her prayers, much less answer them. She’d sinned too often, displeased Him too many times. And now she deserved whatever ill will might come her way.

  Yet she didn’t want Andrew Brady knowing she felt unworthy of God. She wanted him to see her as the person he did last night—the one he wanted as a partner and not the failure she really was.

  Dropping her sights to the notepad on the floor, she broke the connection with Drew. She bent and fumbled for it, fidgeting with the pages, opening and closing them at least three times before sitting up and shutting her eyes as though waiting for him to begin his prayer.

  He was silent a moment, and then his voice carried through the compartment above the clacking of the wheels. “Father, we need you to guide us each step of the way. We ask you to go before us, that you prepare even now a home for each of these children, that you bring them to a place of love and joy like they’ve never experienced.”

/>   Drew’s prayer was so personal and sincere that Marianne at once sensed God’s presence in a way she hadn’t in a long time. From the peace that emanated from Drew, she knew God was listening to him and that he was a righteous man. Part of her liked him even more for it. But another part shrank at what Drew would think if he ever saw deep inside her.

  As handsome and sweet and godly as he may be, she’d have to keep her distance from him during the voyage. She simply didn’t know how she could live with herself if she let one more person down.

  Chapter 5

  They’d been traveling for twelve hours, yet it felt like twelve days.

  Marianne combed the sweaty strands off Dorothea’s forehead. The little girl was asleep with her head on Marianne’s lap and her legs curled on the bench. The stench of the girl’s vomit still lingered in the air around them, having splattered not only on Dorothea’s new outfit but also onto Marianne’s.

  The three-year-old had been heartbroken at the sight of the red jelly stains on her pretty dress. And Marianne had to question the wisdom of the agent who’d decided they should have jam sandwiches for their meal. Why not cheese or even just bread and butter?

  Marianne let the cool night air from the open window brush the hair from her overheated face and tried to make herself more comfortable on the hard bench.

  On the other side of her, seven-year-old Jethro had laid his head against her arm and finally dozed. He’d been sick from the motion too but thankfully hadn’t vomited like poor Dorothea. His coarse, prickly hair stood on end like a rooster’s crest and was nearly as bright red. His impish face was sprinkled with freckles, and he’d lost his top front teeth so that he spoke with an adorable lisp.

  He’d told her bits and pieces of his life, particularly about his time doing odd jobs on the docks, how he’d dressed in sailor’s ragged castoffs, which had been much too large for him. With his father in prison and his mother deceased, he’d resorted to gathering up the twigs and chips left behind on the docks after piles of firewood were loaded onto steamers. He’d sold the wood shavings until he saved up twenty-five cents.