by Annie Boone
After a long day of caring for babies, playing with small children and doing laundry, every part of Lana’s body ached. Once back at the nunnery near the orphanage and church, she walked into the kitchen and went straight to her small cot, falling into it. She let her feet hang just off the bed since she was too tired to take off her boots, and she didn’t want to soil the bedding. Maybe after a brief nap, she would take them off.
Lana closed her eyes and the sweet brown eyes of a little girl named Jess filled her mind. The little girl with brown curls had wanted to sit in Lana's lap and stroke her curls. Jess had called her a princess and told her she must be from a faraway land with dragons. That child had quite the imagination. For several minutes, Lana had listened to her tell a story of dragons and wizards who come to save the day always rescuing the maiden from the bad place. If only Lana could be a fairy godmother that could magically provide that child with a family.
“You’re quite exhausted, my dear,” Sister Mary said.
Lana pushed her creaking body up and nodded. She rubbed her arms that ached from holding children and scrubbing laundry. “I am, but...” She looked off to the side. “Are we going back tomorrow?”
The older woman quirked a brow. “Why do you ask that?”
“Because I want to go back. I want to help.”
The woman nodded and turned to the stove. She shoved a few coals in it and lit a small fire. Lana pushed from the cot, although her body begged to lie back down. She picked up a knife and stood next to Sister Mary and began helping her peel potatoes.
Sister Mary smiled, her light blue eyes contrasting with the gray strands poking from under her habit. “We’ll go back tomorrow, lamb. That is what we do every day. Care for the little ones that find their way into St. Raphael's orphanage. But you just remember something.”
“What's that?”
“Sometimes the only way to help is to make a small difference.”
Lana stilled, squeezing the knife. “What do you mean?”
“My dear, I like the kind heart I’m seeing from you. And I don’t want to damper your enthusiasm. But you must understand, small differences can mean so much more than you can imagine. Focus on them or you’ll just get discouraged.”
Lana nodded and began chewing on her bottom lip. Small differences. Sister Mary’s words made sense, but in so many ways it sounded like accepting defeat. Lana thought of all the little ones at the orphanage. Little ones who would grow up without homes and the love of a mother and father.
Small differences, but she wanted to make a large one. How could she possibly do both? She thought of the manuscript lying under her cot. The story seemed so inconsequential when she thought of the children. Maybe she could find a way to use her love of writing to help those children. If only she had Max to talk to. But how could that ever be?
Chapter 16
Max pushed open the door of the brownstone building that now completely belonged to him. The scent of hickory and sage floated to him as he scraped his shoes on the entry mat. His feet barely wanted to move but they must. He had searched all night, knocking on every neighbor’s door on his street but not one person had seen Lana.
He had spoken with the priest of St. Raphael’s Catholic Church, but yet again, he came up empty. The one bright spot there was that the priest promised to check with the nuns. He left his address in case that turned into a good lead.
The police said that they would look into the matter, but he knew that with their caseload, they didn’t have time to track down one young woman who wasn’t even from New York. He’d used his new status, but that didn’t make the policemen have more time.
He made his way to the parlor and fell onto the settee. He wanted to sleep, to rest, but he couldn’t. How could he rest when his love was somewhere in his city? Alone, frightened. Had someone kidnapped her? Hurt her? No one had heard any screaming—he’d asked everyone. Wouldn’t someone have heard a commotion if she’d been taken? It didn’t seem likely in Wells Borough that someone would be kidnapped in the middle of the day.
After he scoured Wells Borough and the surrounding neighborhoods, he had gone to the telegraph office early this morning and sent a message to Josh. How he hated to let him know of his sister’s disappearance, but he hoped Josh might have received word from her and would let him know where she was. Tomorrow and every morning he would search until he found her.
Max closed his eyes, but the sound of footsteps kept him from relaxing. Miss Markson walked into the parlor carrying a tray of tea and cookies. She was still here. He would have thought she would have left for the doctor’s office by now. After all, that was her job. She would have to go soon.
It wouldn't be proper for her to remain in the house now that Mr. Hightower had died. Her services were no longer needed. Dark circles surrounded her eyes and several strands of her brown hair had escaped from her bun. Her dress looked wrinkled as if she had spent the night in it. Had she?
She set the teacup down and sat at his feet, folding her hands in her lap. He turned to looked at her expectant eyes as guilt crashed into him. He had left yesterday without a word, probably making her and everyone in the house wonder what had happened to him. He imagined she had spent the whole night wondering why he hadn’t come home. But that was the least of his worries. The real problem was that he had given her hope. Hope that there might be a future for them, especially when he had held her yesterday and cried. But he was going to have to crush that hope. When he found Lana, he planned to marry her. Immediately, and work out the details later.
Max sat up and gripped the teacup, raising it to his lips, but then lowering it. She had made it just how he liked it, with a little cream and honey. However, the thought of taking a sip of the sweet drink made his stomach feel sour.
He set the cup down and leaned back, closing his eyes. Lana’s eyes filled his mind. Where could she be? Had she found someone to take her in? Was she staying at an inn? So many questions filled his mind. Questions that wouldn’t let him rest until he found the answer to them.
“Did you go the office?” she asked, a strain in her voice.
“No, I had to see to someone’s welfare.”
She furrowed her brows.
“I received a telegram that a friend would be coming here, but for some reason, sh... this person never showed up.”
“Who is that?”
“Someone I met in Cutter’s Creek.” He pushed to his feet. He needed to escape her before she figured out whom he referred to. He also needed to find a way to let her know that another woman had a claim on his heart. He just didn’t know how to do it without hurting her.
He had given her reason to hope and he was to blame for this mess, but she must know they would never be a couple. He shook his head and turned from her. Now wasn’t the time for that conversation. He was too tired and too preoccupied.
“I need to rest. Let me know if anyone comes to the door looking for me.”
“I will,” she said her voice just above a whisper.
He walked out of the parlor and practically stumbled to his room. He would try to get a few hours of sleep and then resume his search for Lana. He would began checking the nearby inns. Maybe she had rented a room. But why would she do that instead of seeking refuge here? Something just didn’t make sense.
He kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the bed. Closing his eyes, they flew back open. A million thoughts of what could have happened to his love filled his mind as fear sliced through him. He was never going to be able to sleep. Why had he come home? He should be looking for her. But even as he thought to pull himself up, and put back on his shoes, his lids closed. As images attacked him, he slipped off to sleep. Just a few hours and then he’d find her.
A giggle floated to him, as warmth filled his body. He walked around the corner of St. Raphael's orphanage and spotted Lana sitting on the floor. Her blonde curls falling around her shoulders. A little girl sat on her lap, telling her a story about fairies who rescued all lost little girls. He leaned
in the doorway, a smile pushing back his cheeks. Lana looked as though she belonged. As if this might be her purpose in her life.
The sweet world with Lana and the child slowly faded and he opened his eyes slowly. Darkness surrounded him. He jolted up, focusing on the open window, spotting stars. How long had he been asleep? Too long.
He rushed to his shoes forcing them on. He didn’t even bother to tie them as he grabbed his coat off his chair, racing out of his room. He sprinted down the stairs and skidded to a halt. Miss Markson stood in the foyer holding a tray of food. Was she about to bring that to him? In his room?
“Did anyone come by?”
She shook her head.
He skirted around her, and gripped the doorknob, flinging the door open. The cold air slammed into him, and he noticed a few flakes falling to the ground. Snow. He shook his head and forged on. He would take the carriage and travel to all the nearby inns. He must find her. He had already wasted too much time sleeping. He should have told a footman to wake him.
“Where are you going now?” Her words rang out. He stopped on the bottom step and turned to her. “If anyone comes by, please let them in and ask them to wait for me. I need to do something.”
“What about preparing for the funeral?”
He knew he needed to be attentive to the details of the funeral. He wouldn’t let Paul be forgotten, but this had to come first. Paul had told him to find his one true love. Lana was it.
“Just tell Harralson to put any details he needs me to see on my desk. I’ll attend to it as soon as I can.”
He then spun around and raced to the carriage house. He had to find her. And he had to find her soon.
Chapter 17
Lana walked out of the nursery, trying to ignore the cry of little baby Melly who had started fussing as soon as she set her back in the crib. If she could have only held her for more than five minutes—but there were so many children who needed her attention.
She walked down the long narrow hall with a dim light. This orphanage needed more windows instead of the narrow two in each room. She turned a corner and made her way to a small makeshift school room for the girls. She looked in and spotted at least fifteen little girls of various ages, sitting behind rickety desks, watching Sister Grace at the front of the room, writing letters on the board.
Through the door, she could hear the voices of the little girls, as they repeated the letters. In the back, she spotted little Jess who seemed to be half paying attention since she kept looking down at the slate on her desk. Probably writing a story. A smile tugged at the corners of Lana’s mouth. She remembered doing exactly the same thing in school.
Sister Grace finished her lesson and dismissed the class. Lana took a step back, as the door opened and in a straight, orderly line, the little girls made their way to their next lesson. A lesson on how to be a maid. Most of these girls were destined to be domestic servants working for New York’s elite families. Today, the little ones would work on folding napkins and the older ones would focus on more challenging tasks such as setting a fancy table or dressing a lady.
Lana stepped in line behind the young ladies. She was to serve as the lady, allowing the older girls to fix her hair into a fancy chignon.
Jess stopped and turned, running back to her. She held out her hand, and a warmth filled Lana as the little girl slipped hers in Lana’s.
“How are you, little miss?” she asked.
“The fairies came to my window last night.”
Lana chuckled but tried to hide it. She raised her eyebrows and showed how interested she was in her story. “They did?”
“Yes, they told me I was to help get you ready for your prince.”
Lana patted her hand. She should tell this little girl that fairytales didn’t always end happily, but not today. The little girl needed some hope to cling to. “Well, I shall be delighted to get ready for him. Do you think I should string hay into my hair?”
“No, silly...”
The little girl coughed and her hand flew to cover her mouth. Lana stopped and watched the little girl bend over as she continued to cough. Tension filled her. What was wrong with the poor dear? She bent and tapped her back. Soon the coughing ceased and little Jess straightened. Her face was pale and she was taking deep breaths. She raised her arm and wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve. Normally, Lana would have cringed at such an action, but over the last few days, she had grown used to spit up, dirty diapers, and poor manners.
“Are you all right, my dear? That seemed like such a nasty cough.”
The little girl pushed a stray strand of hair off her face. “It’s just a wizard spell. Once your prince comes, I’m sure he’ll make it go away.”
Lana nibbled on her bottom lip, studying Jess’s glassy eyes. The child seemed energetic and her imagination was still fully active, but a dread filled her. She tried to push the frightening thoughts from her mind, as she followed the other children into a wide-open room.
Sister Mary ushered her to a stool, and she sat. Each of the girls nearing sixteen practiced different designs in her hair. She was prodded, and twice pins had poked into her scalp, but she kept her eyes focused on little Jess, who sat in a circle with five other little girls near her age.
The little girl fumbled with trying to fold the napkins just right. But as the hour progressed, her movements seemed more lethargic, and several times she had stopped to cough. At one point, she noticed Sister Mary watching her as if she realized something might be wrong. Could the little girl have caught a cold? Colds were curable.
The rooms in this building were quite drafty and she couldn’t imagine they had plenty of tea to provide the children when a sickness assailed them. Lana thought of the few coins she had left. Maybe she could purchase some to help the little girl if she fell sick. More coughing sounded, and she noticed a little girl next to Jess had stopped her work and covered her mouth with her hand as her blonde hair covered her face. Would she have enough to help?
That night as Lana sat on her bed covered in her coarse bedding, listening to the soft snores of the nuns in the nearby rooms, she looked down at the empty journal she had brought with her. A story line floated through her mind. A story of a sweet little girl, trapped in an orphanage who waited every night for fairies to visit. Faeries that would tell her stories and promise someday to find her a family. She thought of plot lines, story threads, and villains who sought to destroy the little girl’s happiness. The villain couldn’t be the nuns. Perhaps the nuns were the fairies’ helpers. The villain would have to be a rich businessman, who thought that profits were more important than ensuring that hardworking families were able to provide for their children. Yes, that would make the perfect villain.
Lana placed her pencil on the paper, knowing she would have to make the best of the materials she had. She had no manuscript paper to rewrite the story on and only one pencil that would quickly run out, but she wanted to save her coins for medicine if the need arose. Lana let the story unfold creating the character of a sweet little girl named Jess who every night prayed for a family. Every night as she slept, the fairies would visit her, telling her someday she would have a mother and a father who would love her and care for her. The little girl just needed to be patient.
Footsteps made her still, and the kitchen door creaked open. Sister Mary walked into the kitchen and smiled at her. She wore a wrinkled wrap and her gray hair fell down her back in a tight braid.
The older woman smiled at her and then bent her head to the side. “I would have thought exhaustion would have sent you off to dreamland.”
Lana looked back at her manuscript, noticing she had written quite a few pages. “I just wanted to do something.”
Sister Mary set a kettle on the stove to boil and then walked over to her, and looked down at the manuscript. “What are you doing? Writing in a journal?”
Lana lay the pencil in the journal and set it on her lap. What would she think of her story? She would probably find it silly. But m
aybe she’d understand. No matter what the woman thought, Lana was tired of hiding her gift and her passion. “I’m writing a story. A novel, I guess.”
Sister Mary quirked a brow. “Are you now?”
“Yes, about the orphans. I guess I want everyone to know about them. I know it seems silly, but it’s one thing I can do. It helps me clear my head, too.”
Sister Mary lay a hand on her head and caressed some of her curls that lay in a tangled mess. She cared very little to dress it in the morning. It just seems silly to spend so much time on hair in light of the plight of the orphans.
“You care for them already, don't you?” Sister Mary asked.
She sniffled. “Yes, and I want to make a difference. A small difference, like you said. But I just can’t help but hope maybe if more people learn about how much they need families, people would help them. And maybe my story could do that.”
The whistle of the kettle pierced the air. Sister Mary turned from her and walked to the stove before pouring water to make tea into two teacups She then brought the drinks and handed one to Lana. Lana looked down at the liquid as steam floated up to her.
“It's fruitless, isn’t it?”
Sister Mary took a sip of her tea and then lowered the teacup. “Perhaps when you go back to Cutter’s Creek, you can finish it and publish it. And perhaps the good Lord could use it. He has many ways to speak to us.”
Lana nodded, as a tear slipped down her cheek, plopping to her lap.
Sister Mary patted her shoulder. “Get some rest, lamb. The little girls will be waiting for you tomorrow.”
Sister Mary turned and left the kitchen. Lana set the teacup on the floor and put her journal next to it. She lay down and watched the shadows from the flames. She didn’t want to go back to Cutter’s Creek. She wanted to stay and help with the orphans. Something told her that the nuns wouldn’t be able to keep supporting her for long, and when Josh sent the train ticket, she would have to leave. But she knew when she left, she would be taking the memory of each little child’s face with her.
