Together Forever

by Jody Hedlund

  Whatever the case, Reinhold tried to keep himself out of the whole messy business. Sure, he’d been the one to bring the murdered body into town. But other than uncovering the corpse, Reinhold didn’t want any other part in the situation. He was too busy trying to figure out his own future and save his family to worry about what a murderer may or may not want from him.

  The sheriff led Reinhold behind his desk and into the back room of the building. Bars ran from floor to ceiling through half the room and formed a cell that was much too small for a grown man. Even so, a man sat on the wooden bench, a blanket bunched against his back serving as a cushion against the wall. He had a thick book spread open on his lap. At the sight of Reinhold, he closed the book, which Reinhold could now see was a Bible.

  “Got you the visitor you wanted,” the sheriff said.

  Even with the window open, the air in the back room was sour from body odor and urine. Flies buzzed around the chamber pot and an empty dish that sat on the floor outside the cell.

  Mr. Brady moved slowly and stiffly, like a much older man with arthritic joints.

  “You should let Mr. Brady out to walk around now and then,” Reinhold suggested.

  “I ain’t taking any chances on this one running off.”

  Reinhold stared at the young man. His face was unshaven, his hair unkempt, and his clothes were dirty. Aside from that, he appeared to be a nice-looking man, perhaps one the ladies would consider handsome. He didn’t look like a child-killer.

  Mr. Brady remained on the edge of his bench and seemed to study Reinhold with the same measure of scrutiny, as if Reinhold was the one about to undergo a trial and not the other way around.

  “So you’re Reinhold,” Mr. Brady finally said in a voice rusty from disuse.

  “Yes.” The man seemed to know him. Should he know something in return? Reinhold studied Mr. Brady more closely. He’d only seen him briefly at the church service the Sunday the orphans had been in town.

  “I’m glad you found Ned’s body,” Mr. Brady said softly. “Thanks for pulling him out of the pond so he could have a proper burial.”

  Reinhold crossed his arms, not sure how to respond. He didn’t make a practice of fraternizing with murderers, so he wasn’t an expert in the matter of innocence or guilt. But the man’s statement didn’t sound like something a murderer would say.

  “Ned was a good boy,” Mr. Brady continued. “I thought he could escape the city and find a better life here. I never imagined it would end this way for him.”

  Again, Reinhold didn’t know how to respond. So he said nothing. For a long moment the only sound was the whistle of a train and the whirring chug chug as the engine picked up speed.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Brady?” Reinhold asked.

  Mr. Brady glanced at the sheriff, who leaned against the doorframe, clearly not intending to allow them any privacy. “I’d like for you to consider marrying Marianne Neumann.”

  The statement was so unexpected that Reinhold started to choke. “What?” he managed to say.

  “Marianne Neumann,” Mr. Brady repeated. “You do know her, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I’ve been friends with her family for a while now.”

  “Good. Then you need to marry her.” Mr. Brady closed his eyes as though it had cost him all his strength and will to speak the words.

  Reinhold had never been witty or eloquent. He was more deliberate and liked to think things through before answering or making decisions. He supposed that was one of the reasons why he’d lost Elise. He hadn’t been quick enough to claim her. He’d been too deliberate and had wanted to plan his life before asking her to marry him.

  But marry Marianne? He didn’t have to think about that for even a second to know he didn’t love Marianne Neumann the same way he’d loved Elise. He wasn’t sure that he’d ever love anyone else the way he loved Elise.

  Even now, he pictured her sitting on the train the day they’d parted ways in Quincy. She’d been so regal and strong. His heart beat painfully just thinking about how beautiful she looked then. Even when he’d first met her in Kleindeutschland, when she was scrawny and pale, he still loved her.

  “Mr. Brady,” he started. How did Mr. Brady know Marianne? And why was he making this strange request? Was Marianne in some kind of trouble? “You’ll need to explain yourself better.”

  “Miss Neumann—Marianne—is my partner, the other placing agent who came with to help the orphans find homes.”

  The news didn’t surprise Reinhold. After Sophie had run away, he expected Marianne to take the responsibility upon herself to locate the missing girl, and she wouldn’t stop until she found her along with Nicholas and Olivia. That’s just the way Marianne was. She had a tender heart. Not that Elise didn’t, but Marianne’s was more fragile.

  “Marianne told me she was looking for you,” Mr. Brady continued. “She confided in me that the two of you had talked about getting married.”

  Surprised, Reinhold was rendered speechless. Why had Marianne mentioned such a thing when they’d never spoken of it, not even once? His thoughts returned to Marianne’s claim last year that she’d been pregnant with his child. At the time he’d received the news from his aunt, he was baffled since he’d never touched Marianne, except to hug her as he would one of his sisters. He’d never imagined her feelings for him went deeper.

  “I’m sorry to say,” Mr. Brady said, dropping his head into his hands, “she thinks she’s enamored with me.” The thick tension in his voice gave away his feelings for Marianne. He’d apparently become enamored with her too. “I have nothing to offer her anymore. She’d be better off with someone else who can give her happiness and security.”

  “And you think I can give her that?”

  “Yes. She talked about how much she admired you. I know you can make her happy so she forgets about me.”

  Reinhold shook his head.

  “You can help her find Sophie,” Mr. Brady cut off his protest. “And she can help you. She told me about the situation with your sisters in New York City. Surely she can be a mother to them now that they have none. As your wife, she could become their guardian and watch over them in New York until you can send for them.”

  Reinhold wasn’t sure he’d be able to find a rebuttal even if he’d wanted to. Mr. Brady was handing him the perfect solution to his difficult predicament. If Marianne admired him and had already talked about marrying him, then why not make her his wife and secure a caretaker for his sisters?

  Maybe he didn’t love Marianne the same way he loved Elise, but over time he’d grow in his love and desire for her. There were plenty of marriages that started from convenience but turned into something rich and deep as time passed. That would be the case for Marianne and him.

  Reinhold hesitated. “Mr. Brady—”

  “Call me Drew.” His voice had gained strength during their conversation. “You’ll bring me great peace if I know Marianne will be taken care of. I’ll be able to go forward and accept my fate if I know she’ll find happiness.”

  Reinhold’s mind spun with the possibilities. Marianne could find a small apartment in New York City for herself and the girls. He’d send her money, and his brothers would help as much as they could too. Maybe Marianne would even be able to secure work as a seamstress again. He’d heard some of the businesses were recovering from their financial problems and were hiring workers once more.

  Then after he bought the farmland and built a house, he would send for them. Marianne would be here to mother the girls and help him with all the work that needed doing. Even if she didn’t know anything about farming, she’d learn quickly. She was cheerful and made the best of situations. He’d always liked that about her.

  “What do you think?” Drew gripped the bench with both hands so tightly his knuckles turned white. His sad eyes pleaded with Reinhold to say yes.

  Reinhold decided he liked Drew. Drew had enough worries of his own, and yet he was more concerned about Marianne’s well-being. He was putting
her interests first, trying to secure her future. He was a strong man, a good man.

  So how could such a good man commit murder? The longer Reinhold stood talking with Drew, the more out of character it seemed that Drew would even consider such a thing.

  “I like your plan,” Reinhold said, “but I need to discuss this with her first—”

  “Don’t discuss it,” Drew interrupted. “You shouldn’t have any trouble finding her. She’s in the area doing follow-up visits on the children we placed. When you see her, pull her in your arms and tell her you love her and want to marry her. She’ll melt like butter.”

  Reinhold suspected Drew knew this information from firsthand experience, and he was surprised by the twinge of jealousy that slashed him. “You seem to know her well.”

  “We became close,” Drew replied more vaguely. “And maybe there was a time when we both thought it could work out between us, but I’m not the man she needs. You are.”

  Reinhold watched as emotion played across Drew’s face, and then he realized something. Drew was in love with Marianne. “What if she doesn’t think I’m the man she needs?”

  “Then convince her.” Drew’s expression turned desperate. “Please.”

  Reinhold didn’t look away. He studied this man before him intently with growing unease. He didn’t seem guilty of murder. Not in the least.

  If it meant so much to Drew to take care of Marianne, how could he say no? Especially now? Reinhold swallowed his objection and nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Will you keep our conversation private? I don’t want Marianne to think I was meddling.”

  “I won’t say a word.”

  Drew nodded, then dropped his face into his hands again. His shoulders sagged in defeat. Reinhold had the feeling Drew was done with the conversation, that he wanted to be alone to grieve in private over all he’d lost.

  Reinhold could relate to the depth of Drew’s loss. His chest tightened with a burning he hadn’t felt since walking away from Elise. With a nod at the sheriff, Reinhold spun on his heels. If for no other reason, he’d take Marianne as his wife because he didn’t want to let Drew down.

  Chapter 21

  As the wagon came to a halt in front of the white clapboard farmhouse, Marianne expelled a full breath, the first since leaving the last farm. They’d gotten stuck in the muddy roads only once. Her hired driver had gotten out and pushed while she directed the team.

  “I’ll try not to stay as long this time,” she said, climbing off the wagon and trying to remain graceful but tangling in her wide hoop skirt anyway.

  “No matter to me, miss,” the old driver said, “so long as you pay me what you said.”

  Even though she tried to find firmer ground, one of her feet sank into a puddle. Overhead, the skies were still gray, but thankfully the rain had taken a day off. The wet days of late slowed her follow-up visits by turning the roads into rivers of mud. She was bruised and sore from the constant jostling and jerking. However, after almost two weeks in Mayfield, she’d finally managed to visit all but two of the orphans they’d placed in the area.

  She hadn’t been able to find one of the orphans, since the child had been relocated to a different family, and no one was able to give her any information on the new situation. This visit was one she’d been dreading, and so she put it off until last. After it was finished, she’d move on to the next town. Maybe she’d leave tomorrow or the next day.

  She never imagined the follow-up visits would be so time-consuming and difficult. Not only had the weather and roads played a factor, but she’d had to travel quite a distance to reach some of the families. In fact, she’d been obliged to stay the night at one of the homes because of how late she’d arrived.

  “If you’d be so kind as to hand me my valise.” Marianne nodded at her bag, which contained the record book. She’d taken the book to each visit and had attempted to put down as much information as possible about each of the children’s homes, new families, and how they were adjusting.

  The driver nudged the bag toward her with his muddy boot.

  She would have preferred to talk with the children alone, so they could honestly respond to her questions. After all, the orphans would feel they must answer positively or face repercussions from their family after she left. As it was, only one of the boys mentioned that he was hungry. Upon further inquiry, the father stated that he’d disciplined the boy once or twice for his laziness by depriving him of meals. “He who does not work, neither shall he eat” was the father’s motto.

  In another home, the child was found to be exceptionally dirty, the outfits provided for him by the Children’s Aid Society already stained beyond recognition. The other four or five children in the family were equally filthy and their clothing more ragged. Marianne had taken note of the state of the home, the unwashed dishes, filthy linens, and dilapidated furniture. She’d come to the conclusion that any child would have a difficult time remaining clean in such an environment. However, the parents had been kind enough, and the children seemed not to be suffering from any ill treatment.

  Marianne left that home and others with great uncertainty. Were the children really better off in such places? Or had they merely traded one kind of oppression in the city for a different kind in the country?

  Of course, the poor living conditions of some of the children had only brought back nightmares about Dorothea. The little girl’s cries would jolt Marianne out of a deep sleep at night, and she’d tremble at the thought of Dorothea lying alone in the night with no one to hug her or comfort her.

  She wished she could discuss her questions and fears with Drew. He would have known whether to remove the children and try to find new and better homes for them, or to leave them where they were.

  But she hadn’t attempted to see Drew again since the day last week when she walked out of the sheriff’s office. She’d wanted to go visit him again. At times, the need to be with him had almost pained her. She’d passed by the sheriff’s office and had to physically force herself to keep walking, reminding herself he hadn’t wanted to see her. If she went in and he refused to see her again, she’d be utterly humiliated and devastated. She couldn’t risk it.

  She squared her shoulders and faced the two-story farmhouse, trying to squelch the unrest within her, especially the thought of facing Liverpool. Even though she’d considered skipping his visit, she knew she couldn’t. She simply had to put aside her fears and do her job.

  Remember the good, she told herself. Amidst the questionable situations, some of the children seemed genuinely happy in their new homes. She’d visited George and Peter two days ago, and she was delighted to find them both still together and seemingly content in their home with a dairy farmer south of town. The couple who’d taken them in was older. They had two grown sons, who helped with the business. One was already married and lived in a small home next to the farm, and the other was engaged to be married. Even though the couple hadn’t needed the extra help with the milking, they’d decided to do their Christian duty by taking in an orphan boy. Somehow Drew had persuaded them to take both.

  When Marianne arrived, she’d hardly been able to believe the two were the same timid and scrawny brothers who’d survived the trip. They were well fed and properly clothed in shirts and trousers their new ma had made for them. They’d been proud to show her the clothes and their bedroom on the second floor across the hall from their ma and pa. And they’d wanted to demonstrate how they’d learned to milk the cows.

  The couple seemed just as proud of the boys as the boys were of themselves. They praised the boys and encouraged them and hugged them. But they also weren’t afraid to reprimand or correct the boys when necessary. After only a few hours with the family, Marianne sensed theirs was a special home and that the couple would change George and Peter forever.

  If only the Children’s Aid Society could find more families like that for all the children.

  Marianne made her way up a stone path that led to the front doo
r of the farmhouse. The marigolds on either side were planted in neat rows and had been recently weeded. A big fenced-in vegetable garden behind the house also appeared to be well tended. The bleating of sheep in the barnyard and the clucking of the chickens in their coop were welcoming sounds, better than the dog barking that usually greeted her arrival.

  Late in the afternoon like this, she figured any womenfolk would be inside preparing supper and that the men were in the barn feeding the animals. She knew it was an inconvenient time to be paying a call, but she’d learned she had little control over the roads and weather and that she was lucky to arrive to any of the houses at all, much less at any particular time.

  Even so, she expected someone to step outside to greet her and was surprised by the quiet of the place. She raised her fist to knock when the clatter of another team and wagon caught her attention. It was approaching on the road that came from Mayfield, and it turned onto the lane that led to the farmhouse. A stocky man and a thin boy sat on the bench.

  Marianne stepped away from the door and waited patiently for the wagon to approach. As it drew nearer, she realized that the thin boy was Liverpool. The cocky, almost defiant, way he held himself was easy to spot.

  From first glance, he seemed to be faring well. Maybe she would greet him quickly, ask him the standard questions, and then be on her way. She could check him off her list. Surely if there were any problems, Liverpool would have run away by now.

  A gust of wind blew against her, bringing with it the scent of manure and wet soil. She grabbed her hat to keep it from blowing off, and as she did, her sights landed upon the driver.

  She found herself looking at the handsome ruddy face of the man she’d loved for so many years. He was hunched over the reins, but his familiar brawny build and broad shoulders were difficult to miss.

  “Reinhold Weiss?” she exclaimed, unable to contain her smile.