Little Clara, her hair bow now hanging crookedly over one eye, had climbed onto the chair next to Megan’s. She stared with awe at the audience. “Look at all them eyes!” she whispered.
Frances felt herself drawn to look at the people in the room, fearfully searching one face, then another, for hopeful signs. Round or long, wrinkled or plumply red-cheeked, bushy-eyebrowed or scruffily bearded, no matter; every pair of eyes in every face stared intently at the children. Frances couldn’t tell what they were thinking. She tried to look away, but couldn’t. For a moment she felt dizzy, and her stomach churned. Desperately, she held Petey even more tightly. Who were all these strangers? Would any of them choose the Kelly children to be their own? What if no one wanted them? What would happen to them then?
9
THE ROOM was filled with spectators when Andrew stepped to the front of the platform and introduced himself. “I know most of you have heard about the work of the Children’s Aid Society and the placing-out program that was organized six years ago by Charles Loring Brace,” he said. “And I know that you’re eager to meet the children, so I’ll begin the introductions right away.” He turned and offered a reassuring smile to the children. “I’m going to ask each of you to stand as I call out your name and your age,” he said. “We want these folks to know who you are.”
He began with the children in the front row. Just as Frances was deciding whether it was better to go through the introduction first and get it over with or to have time to prepare, Andrew reached the Kellys.
“Megan Eileen Kelly, twelve years old.”
Megan almost didn’t make it. Her legs wobbled just before she plopped back on her chair. Frances reached out to touch her sister, but suddenly, “Francis Martin Kelly” boomed in her ears, and—with Petey still in her arms, squirming to clutch her tightly around the neck—she stumbled to her feet.
“Francis is thirteen,” Andrew said, “and he’s holding his little brother, Peter John Kelly, who is six years of age.”
As hundreds of eyes examined her, Frances felt her face grow hot with embarrassment Her stomach lurched. If she didn’t sit down, fast, she was going to be sick. No! She wouldn’t let herself. She took a deep breath and dropped to the chair, grateful that Andrew had called Peg’s name.
Peg seemed more curious than frightened, studying the people in the audience as intently as they were studying her, and Danny jumped up with his chin out and head held high. It seemed nothing could keep Danny down, but Mike wasn’t the jaunty, confident boy she knew so well. As Andrew announced, “Michael Patrick Kelly, almost twelve years old,” Mike barely managed to slide from his chair. He hung back, his shoulders slumped, as the audience examined him.
Frances longed to jump up and hug him and reassure him that everything would be all right, but she knew no more than any of the others if it were true. Oh, Ma! she thought furiously. Did you have any idea what would happen to us when you sent us here? When you betrayed us?
When the introductions finally ended, Katherine stayed on the platform with the children, but Andrew jumped to the floor of the room. People came to talk to him, and Frances could see them point to one of the children or another. Husbands and wives were deep in discussion all around the room. Even Mr. Crandon had come, and Frances watched for a while as he moved from group to group, leaning close to whisper. She realized in horror that each couple to whom he spoke would immediately dart a glance toward Mike. Andrew and Katherine were too busy answering questions to notice Mr. Crandon. If he were telling people that Mike had been a copper stealer, it would be very hard for Mike to find a home.
Frances searched the faces in the crowd. There had to be a good man and woman here who would ignore what Mr. Crandon said and who would want Mike because they could see what a fine son he could be. Frances hoped so with all her heart.
Frances watched as a large, blond man with a small, frail-looking wife spoke to Andrew, the wife clasping Andrew’s arm in her eagerness. Andrew nodded, smiled, and led them to the platform directly in front of Danny and Peg.
Immediately after introductions had been made, Mr. Alfrid Swenson asked Danny, “Do you think that small sister sitting next to you would be willing for the two of you to go with me and my wife?”
Mrs. Swenson’s smile was so bright her gentle face glowed. “Please,” she said, and held out a hand toward Peg.
White terror showed around the pupils of Danny’s eyes, and his words rushed out in a stammer as he groped toward Mike. “Sir, my brother. Mike. If you could—could you take Mike, too? Please! You see we—we’ve never been parted so much as a day!”
Frances saw the sorrow in Mr. Swenson’s face. “I’m sorry, son,” he said. “We can only afford to take two children, and we wanted a boy and a girl.”
“I won’t eat much! Neither will Mike!” Danny pleaded.
Before Mr. Swenson, head down, turned completely away, Frances spoke up firmly. “Danny,” she said, “we knew from the start what to expect. Mind your manners now, speak up smartly, and thank Mr. and Mrs. Swenson for offering to give you a good home. You, too, Peg.”
“Frankie’s right!” Mike spoke brusquely, almost angrily. “Get on with it, Danny.”
Danny gulped and managed to whisper to Mr. Swenson, “Thank you, sir.” Frances could see that Danny was making a valiant effort, and she was proud of him.
Peg solemnly reached for Danny’s hand and climbed from her chair.
Andrew motioned to some chairs at the side of the room. “You can sit together and get acquainted,” he said to the Swensons. As the children hesitated, he added, “Don’t worry. You’ll have time to say your good-byes to the rest of your family. You can exchange addresses before you go so that you can keep in touch with one another.”
But Danny and Peg didn’t move. They looked to Frances for help.
“Last night,” Peg whispered, “I dreamed we all lived together in the same house.”
“Dreams don’t often come true.” Frances heard herself echoing Megan’s words. “Little one, I know this must be the best for you, or I wouldn’t let you go. Do you understand?”
The corners of Peg’s mouth turned down, but she nodded.
“Maybe someone will want Mike and me together.” Danny carefully kept his voice low, so the Swensons couldn’t hear, but Frances saw rebellious tears ready to spill from his eyes.
Frances wanted to sweep the two of them into her arms and hold them tightly, but she knew they would have a good home with the Swensons, and she was glad they were together. She had to be as strong as Ma would have been.
“If they did, they would have spoken up by now,” she said, her words masking the terrible ache in her heart. “You need a home, and it’s my thinking that Mr. and Mrs. Swenson will give you a good one. They want to get to know you, so go with them now. Don’t keep them waiting.”
Mrs. Swenson’s eyes were blurry with tears as she turned to Frances. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “We would love to take all of your family, but—but—we’re far from rich, and there are so many of you. If we only could … Please believe me.”
“Don’t be sorry, ma’am,” Frances said. “We’ve known that we’d be separated. But we’ll see one another again, and of that I’m sure. For now, each of us must go where we’re wanted, and that’s the all of it.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Swenson whispered. She held out her arms to Peg, who stepped into them, allowing herself to be lifted from the stage. Peg and Danny walked to the side of the room with the Swensons.
Some of the other children already had left the stage. The older boys—those near the top limit of fourteen—had been chosen quickly, probably, Frances guessed, because they’d be a big help on a farm.
A pleasant-faced couple, squared and solid, glanced at Frances, and she eagerly sat up a little straighter, brushing Petey’s blond curls back from his forehead and smoothing his collar. They seemed to be nice people, and they were discussing Petey and her. She held her breath. But their gaze moved on to F
lora in the second row. They whispered together for a moment, then happily nodded agreement, and soon Frances saw Andrew lead them to where Flora sat waiting. Frances swallowed hard, but nothing would ease the painful tightness in her throat. It’s all right, she told herself. There’s sure to be someone else.
Katherine’s voice sounded close to Frances’s ear, and she turned quickly to see Katherine kneeling next to Megan, one arm around her shoulder. “Do you see that couple standing back there with Andrew and smiling at you?” she asked.
Megan nodded silently.
Frances searched them out. They were young. Even from the platform, Frances could see laugh crinkles at the corners of the woman’s eyes. That was a good sign.
“Their names are Emma and Benjamin Browder, and they very much want you to come live with them, Megan. Mrs. Browder called you a beautiful little girl.”
Megan smiled cautiously. “I’ve always been called plain. Maybe people are kinder in the West.”
Katherine chuckled. “You’re a lovely young lady. You just haven’t noticed. In any case, the Browders arrived in town to get supplies, heard about the Orphan Train, and came to this meeting. As soon as they saw you they wanted you.” Katherine paused. “I know them well. They’ll love you, and you’ll love them.”
Frances leaned back in her chair, relieved. If Katherine spoke for them, then they must be good people.
“Do they live near here?” Megan asked, her eyes wide with hope.
“That’s a problem,” Katherine said. “They live many miles west of here in Kansas Territory. It would mean you’d be far from your brothers and sisters. You might see some of your family only once a year or so, when the Browders come to St. Joe for supplies and bring you with them. You do have a choice, Megan. You can go with the Browders or wait to see if another couple asks for you.”
Megan climbed stiffly from her chair, her face paler than before. She turned to Frances and whispered, “What can I hope for? I’ve always been a bad-luck penny.”
“No, you’re not!” Frances insisted.
But Megan had taken Katherine’s hand. “I’ll go with them,” she told her.
The Browders were hurrying to the platform. Katherine introduced them to Megan.
Mrs. Browder laughed with delight. “There is so much I want to learn about you,” she said to Megan. “Do you like books? Do you like to read?”
Megan blushed and glanced once more at Frances. “I’m not much at reading, ma’am,” she replied hesitantly.
Frances ached for her sister. She knew how hard it would be for Megan to tell her new parents that she had always busied herself with chores, never learning to read.
But Mrs. Browder reached out and pulled Megan into her hug. “If you can’t read, I’ll teach you,” she said. “You’ll learn to love books as much as I do.”
Megan’s courage seemed to desert her. “Fr-Frankie!” she whimpered, turning toward her sister.
Frances couldn’t speak. She knew she should give strength to Megan, but her throat was choked with tears, so she helplessly shook her head.
“There will be time for good-byes later,” Katherine said. “Megan, let’s find a spot for you and the Browders to talk to one another.” She pointed. “Look, back there. I see some empty chairs.”
Megan, her face tight with misery, walked hand in hand with Mrs. Browder to the back of the room. Frances was glad for Megan’s sake. She could tell that the Browders were kind people. Mrs. Browder looked at Megan as though she were a wonderful Christmas gift, so Megan would have a good home. In spite of herself, Frances felt her eyes fill with tears. How could she bear to part from her shy, loving sister, who had always been her dearest friend?
Many of the children had already left the platform when little Clara, her chin jutting out in determination, climbed down from her chair and marched to the front of the platform. To Frances’s surprise, Clara faced the audience and shouted at the top of her lungs, “Doesn’t anyone want to adopt me?”
A red-cheeked woman, as round as an apple, called, “I do! Oh, dear little Liebchen, I do!” and raced toward the platform, clutching her shawl around her with one hand and tugging her surprised husband behind her with the other. She enfolded Clara with such enthusiasm that all that Frances could see of Clara, as she was carried away, was her wobbly hair bow and her high-buttoned shoes.
Frances glanced to each side and felt her cheeks grow warm again. She, Petey, and Mike were the only ones left in the front row, and very few children were still seated in the second row. What would happen if they weren’t chosen? Would they have to go back? Back to whom? The mother who didn’t want them? The sudden, sharp memory of the judge telling Mike he’d have to go to Tombs Prison if he ever returned to New York City made her gasp aloud. Someone had to take Mike!
There was a slight commotion near the double doors as a rotund family—mother, father, and son—pushed their way into the room. The son was scowling as they entered; and the man’s expression, as he looked up at the platform, became a matching scowl.
“I told you to hurry or we’d be late,” he loudly complained to his wife. “Look! All the older, stronger boys have been chosen.”
Frances shivered, wishing that these awful people would turn and leave. She didn’t like them.
Andrew suddenly spoke to Frances. She swung to see a tall, pleasant-faced couple standing beside him. “Frankie,” he said, “I’d like you to meet Jake and Margaret Cummings. They’d like you to come and live with them.”
Frances’s arms tightened around Petey, and she gulped back disappointment and frustration. Here, at last, were people who wanted her, and she had to turn them down. Her throat was suddenly so dry and tight that it hurt to speak. “Thank you,” she whispered to the Cummingses. “But I can’t accept your kindness. I must stay with my little brother.”
Mrs. Cummings smiled and took a step forward. “We didn’t make it clear. We want both of you. Little Peter, too.”
Petey squirmed, trying to break Frances’s strong grip. “My name is Petey,” he said.
“We live close to the Missouri border in Kansas Territory, not far from St. Joe,” Mr. Cummings said. He added to Petey, “We have a farm with cows and horses.”
Petey pushed himself upright, nearly falling off Frances’s lap. “Horses to ride?” he asked.
“That’s right.”
With a frantic wiggle Petey managed to jump from Frances’s lap. He took Mr. Cummings’s hand. “I would like to ride a horse,” he said.
“Then so you shall,” Mr. Cummings answered.
Mrs. Cummings smiled at Frances. “I’m afraid that my husband wants the two of you to come with us so much that he’s not above using a bit of bribery. Please, Frankie, will you come home with us?”
“Yes,” Frances said quietly. Mike? she thought. What will I do about Mike? But she had Petey to think of, too. “Thank you,” she remembered to tell the Cummingses.
“Then suppose you find a spot to talk together,” Andrew began.
He was interrupted by the family who had arrived late. The man slapped a pudgy hand on Andrew’s shoulder, forcibly turning him. “That boy,” he said, pointing at Mike. “We want to take him.”
Frances, who had jumped from the platform, whirled to look at Mike. He was the only child left of those who had come on the Orphan Train. His face was red with embarrassment, and Frances knew he was holding back tears with great difficulty. Her heart breaking, Frances took a step toward Mike, but the fat woman pushed between them.
Frances saw a frown draw Andrew’s eyebrows together. “Mr. and Mrs. Friedrich,” he said, “you understand that these children are to be treated like family members. They are not to be used as hired hands.”
“Of course, of course,” Mrs. Friedrich said. “He’ll be another son to us. We’ll give the boy good food.” She smiled and glanced quickly at her husband. “The boy needs only some good food to make him grow tall and strong.”
“Our own son works beside me on our fa
rm. I will not ask more of the boy than of my son. But it makes no matter. We have been approved by the committee,” Mr. Friedrich stated, as though that should settle it. He asked Mike, “What is your name, boy?”
“Michael Kelly, sir,” Mike said.
Mr. Friedrich turned to Andrew. “Where are the papers we are to sign? It is almost a two-hour ride back to our farm. We don’t want to waste any time.”
But Andrew looked carefully at Mike. “Do you want to go with them, Mike?” he asked. “It’s your choice.”
Frances listened for his answer as intently as Andrew did.
Mike looked about him at the otherwise empty platform, and Frances could see that he tried to put on a brave face. “It seems to be my only choice, Mr. MacNair,” he said. “Yes, I’m game for it.”
“Frankie? Are you coming?” Mrs. Cummings put a hand on Frances’s shoulder, urging her toward where Mr. Cummings and Petey were waiting.
“Yes, ma’am. Just one minute, please,” she said. She squeezed past Mrs. Friedrich to reach Mike and hugged him. “Go with them only if you really want to,” she whispered.
“It couldn’t be as bad as if I’m sent back,” he mumbled against her ear.
“They don’t seem like very kind people.”
“Have you ever known me not to be able to hold my own?” He pulled away, squared his shoulders, and attempted a smile.
“You can say good-bye later,” Andrew reminded them, so Frances reluctantly let go of her brother’s hand and followed Mr. Cummings.
All of us have homes, just as Ma wanted, Frances thought, but she gave a glance back at Mike, hoping his new family would turn out to be better people than she guessed them to be.
The next few minutes were a blur of new faces, voices, and papers to sign. Then Katherine and Andrew came to stand in front of Frances.
A Family Apart Page 9
