Looking To The Future (#11 in the Bregdan Chronicles Historical Fiction Romance Series)

by Ginny Dye

  Carrie laughed. “Everyone out,” she ordered. “Mama needs to give her son his first meal, and they need to get some rest.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Wally Stratford settled himself in the chair across the desk from his friend, Ralph Cook. “Thank you for seeing me.”

  Ralph smiled and sat back, resting his hands on his ample girth. Steady brown eyes that carried both authority and humor gazed at him. Silvery hair topped deep wrinkles. His impeccable dress revealed his wealth. “When I’m visited by one of the most successful realtors in New York City, I always find time.” He cocked his head. “Assuming, of course, that you haven’t come to tell me I’ve violated some property code I’m not aware of.”

  Wally chuckled. “Nothing that dire for you personally.” He straightened. “But something much more serious.”

  Ralph’s smile disappeared. “I suspected this was not simply a social call to remind me of some kind of meeting I was about to forget.”

  Wally shook his head. “No, I’m afraid it’s not a social call. Rather than take up your valuable time with idle chatter, I would prefer to get right to it.”

  “And I would prefer you did,” Ralph replied. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his desk. “What is this about?”

  “Sherman Archer.”

  Ralph’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Sherman Archer? I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “You will,” Wally promised. “What can you tell me about his position in the Pennsylvania Railroad Company?”

  Ralph hesitated. “Something tells me you already know a great deal.”

  “Perhaps, but I suspect you can tell me more.”

  Ralph hesitated again. “And when I give you the information you’re looking for, you will reveal why you’re asking?”

  “You have my word,” Wally promised.

  Ralph gave him another searching gaze, and then began to speak. “Sherman Archer is a fine young man. He’s been with the company about five years, recommended by his father who has been a close friend for many years.”

  Wally listened closely, knowing this revelation would probably make what he had to say more difficult, but he believed it could be used for his advantage.

  “Sherman heads up our advertising and publicity division,” Ralph continued. “He has played a large role in the rapid growth of the company. I consider him a valued employee.” He settled back in his chair. “Now,” he declared, “you need to tell me what this is about.”

  Wally was the one to lean forward now. “I suspect you would not want a scandal involving the Pennsylvania Railroad to come to light at this point in your growth.”

  Ralph’s eyes narrowed. “I’m a patient man, Wally, but you need to tell me what you’re referring to.”

  Wally nodded. “Sherman Archer may be a fine businessman, but he is not such a fine person,” he said. He held up a hand when Ralph opened his mouth to protest. “You asked me to tell you why I’m in your office. You need to hear me out.”

  Ralph nodded curtly and sat back again in his chair. “Continue,” he growled.

  “Are you aware Sherman Archer is married?”

  Ralph looked puzzled. “Yes, of course.”

  “Do you know Sherman’s wife?”

  Ralph looked more impatient. “Yes, I’ve met Mrs. Archer at several social events. She is a fine, lovely woman.”

  “Did you consider her insane?” Wally asked casually.

  Ralph leaned forward in his chair and thumped his meaty hands on the desk. “Wally, I am running out of patience.”

  “Just answer that last question,” Wally insisted.

  “Mrs. Archer is a delightful, intelligent woman. We’ve had several conversations. Do you know she is getting her medical degree?”

  Wally nodded with satisfaction. “I do. And are you aware that Sherman Archer has had his lovely, intelligent wife committed to the Women’s Insane Asylum on Blackwell’s Island?”

  Ralph stared at him with a shocked expression and then fell back against his chair. “What? That’s not possible,” he protested. He took a deep breath. “Though I suppose you’re sure, or you wouldn’t be here.”

  “I’m sure,” Wally said. “My wife and I have known Alice for several years. In the last five weeks at the asylum, Mrs. Archer has been beaten, starved, humiliated, and held under water in a freezing tub until she passed out.”

  Ralph whitened, his dark eyes sparking with distress. “I had no idea,” he exclaimed. “No idea at all.” He slammed his hands on his desk. “This cannot be allowed to continue.” He stood. “I will bring Sherman Archer in immediately.”

  Wally remained seated, but waved Ralph back to his chair. “I believe we need to be quite strategic about this, Ralph. While Alice is quite sane, I do question the sanity of any man who would do such a thing to his wife.” He paused, knowing he must be calm, but direct. “We want to handle this so that it has as few consequences for the company as possible.”

  Ralph sat back down heavily. “What are you talking about?”

  Wally shrugged. “If it were to get out that one of your top executives has his very successful, and very sane wife locked up in the Women’s Insane Asylum, I’m afraid it might undo all the goodwill you have worked so hard to develop after the recent spate of accidents.” He watched as Ralph absorbed the impact of his statement.

  “Who knows Mrs. Archer is locked up there?” Ralph demanded.

  “Quite a number of people,” Wally revealed. “One of Mrs. Archer’s neighbors was outside with her dog on the night Sherman had three strong men abduct his wife and carry her off to the asylum, holding her mouth closed while she fought them.”

  “Good God…” Ralph muttered. “I can only imagine the terror Mrs. Archer must have felt.” He shook her head. “Or the horrors she has lived in the last weeks.” His eyes blazed. “What are we going to do?”

  Wally felt a surge of genuine affection for his friend, relieved beyond words that his sense of integrity and his concern for Alice outweighed his concerns for the company. “I believe I have a plan that will work.” He met Ralph’s eyes evenly. “I don’t know how much longer Mrs. Archer will survive in there. We must act quickly.”

  “Please tell me your plan,” Ralph responded. “I’ll do whatever is necessary.”

  *****

  Carrie was shivering from the cold when Sarge dropped her off after a long day at the clinic. All she wanted was to soak in a hot tub while she dreamed of escaping the Philadelphia winter. She hoped Marietta had a blazing fire that would take off the worst of the chill.

  “You need to take a day off, Miss Carrie!”

  Carrie smiled at Sarge’s scolding tone as she stepped down from the carriage. “I’m fine, Sarge.”

  “That be pure nonsense,” Sarge snorted. “You be at that clinic every hour of the day.”

  Carrie took a deep breath, praying for patience as she glanced at the front door that led to warmth and food. “Why did you wait until we got home to start fussing at me?”

  Sarge narrowed his eyes. “You don’t even know you done slept most all the way home.”

  Carrie hesitated. She knew she had closed her eyes at some point, but she honestly didn’t remember sleeping all the way. She shrugged sheepishly. “I suppose I’m a little tired.”

  Sarge raised a brow as his lips thinned. “I ain’t picking you up in the mornin’. You gonna take a day off, Miss Carrie.”

  Carrie froze and turned to stare up at him. “You have to pick me up tomorrow, Sarge,” she protested. “I appreciate your concern, but I have at least fifteen new patients coming in tomorrow. The flu is hitting Moyamensing badly. We’re all working hard to make sure no more die.”

  “And what if you get sick?” Sarge demanded. “You done told me last week to make sure I got plenty of rest so I didn’t get this flu. Sounds like you ain’t listenin’ to your own advice.”

  Carrie paused, grateful for his concern. “You’re right,” she admitted. “I promise to get a go
od night’s rest. I won’t even stay up and play with the twins. I’ll eat and go straight to bed.” In truth, that was all she wanted to do. She knew the long days were taking their toll on her.

  “You promise?” Sarge said suspiciously. “You ain’t just sayin’ it to make me shut up?”

  “I promise,” Carrie repeated. “It actually sounds quite wonderful. If anyone wants anything from me, I’ll tell them I can’t break my word to you.”

  Sarge peered at her suspiciously for a few moments, and then waved his hand. “Go on in that house and get out of the cold, then. I’ll be back tomorrow mornin’.” He scowled. “But if you ain’t lookin’ better than you look right now, I ain’t gonna take you.”

  “Thank you, Sarge,” Carrie murmured, stepping close to the carriage to place a hand on his arm. “You’re a good man.” Sarge ducked his head, but not before she saw the glow in his eyes and the smile on his lips.

  “Get on with you,” Sarge commanded. “I got me some hot stew waitin’ for me at home.”

  Carrie dashed up the stairs, wondering what Marietta would have waiting for her. She was famished. She pushed open the door, sagging in relief when the warm air enveloped her like a cocoon.

  “It’s about time you got home,” Marietta declared as she appeared in the kitchen door.

  Carrie hung up her coat, removed her snow boots, and walked over to put her hands out to the fire. The furnaces were casting heat through the house, but nothing felt better to her than a blazing fire, and it took all of them to beat back the brutal cold gripping Philadelphia. She raised her head and sniffed the air. “Something smells wonderful. What is it?”

  “Beef stew and biscuits,” Marietta reported. “I’ll admit it’s wonderful, but not as good as the letter you have waiting for you.”

  Carrie stepped away from the fire. “Alice?” she asked hopefully.

  Marietta frowned. “Not yet, Carrie, but I know it’s coming soon. You know Wally said things were moving forward.”

  Carrie nodded, but was still deeply disappointed. She didn’t know how long Alice would survive in the asylum. “Then who is the letter from?”

  Marietta shook her head and grinned. “Well, I’m only assuming it is similar to the letter I received, though I’m sure yours says more.”

  Carrie held out her hand. She was far too weary for guessing games.

  Marietta shook her head. “You look exhausted. You’ll get the letter once you’ve eaten.”

  “You’re not serious!” Carrie cried. “Give me that letter right this minute.” She searched the room with her eyes.

  “You won’t find it,” Marietta promised. “I knew I would need leverage, so I hid it. You promised you would be home by four o’clock. You’re two hours late. You are working too much, and you’re not getting enough rest.” She pointed toward the kitchen. “Go in there and eat if you want the letter.”

  Carrie chuckled despite her frustration. “You and Sarge,” she muttered.

  “What? He told you that you’re being stupid, too?”

  Carrie tossed her head. “I wouldn’t go that far,” she protested. “He simply said he wouldn’t pick me up tomorrow morning unless I promised to get a good night’s sleep.”

  “At least you’ll listen to one of the men in your life.”

  Carrie spun around to see Anthony walking down the steps with a rueful look on his face. She put her hands on her hips. “Just why does everyone in my life think they should tell me what to do?” she retorted.

  “Perhaps because you don’t seem to have enough sense to take all the advice you love to dish out,” Anthony retorted back.

  Carrie was torn between amusement and annoyance. “I worked far harder than this during the war,” she replied, trying to hide the irritation creeping through. “I won’t walk away from need when I see it.”

  “And I can appreciate that,” Anthony said evenly, “but business has taught me a few things about being in something for the long haul.”

  “I would love to hear it,” Carrie lied, “but I have orders to eat dinner if I want a letter I am dying to read.”

  Anthony nodded sagely. “I’m sure it’s one you’ll be excited about.”

  Carrie whirled toward Marietta. “Anthony has read my letter?” she cried.

  “Of course not,” Marietta replied, rolling her eyes for emphasis. “But, he knows what mine says. He was here when it came.”

  Carrie was suddenly aware that annoyance had won over amusement. She had acknowledged her love for Anthony, but she didn’t need, or want, someone else telling her how to live her life. She took a deep breath, hoping her facial expression wouldn’t reveal her feelings, and moved toward the kitchen. “I’m starving,” she announced. “And I want my letter. I’m going in to eat.” She saw the look of concern cross Anthony’s handsome features, but she was too hungry and fatigued to care.

  She breathed in the wonderful aromas in the kitchen as she dished up a big bowl of soup and sliced two thick pieces of warm bread that she slathered with butter. When she turned toward the table, Anthony was standing next to it.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

  Carrie shrugged. “I’m just tired.”

  “No,” Anthony replied. “I’m acting like a husband would act. When I started talking, I thought I was being a good friend, but I realize you don’t want or need anyone telling you how to run your life. So, I’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice remorseful. “I promise not to do that in the future. You are a strong woman who is perfectly capable of making decisions for yourself.”

  Carrie thought about insisting that it didn’t really bother her, but they had agreed to be honest with each other, so she nodded. “Thank you,” she said. Then she pointed toward the stew. “Have you eaten yet?”

  Anthony accepted the peace offering with a smile. “Yes, but just because I’ve had one big bowl doesn’t mean I don’t have room for more. Marietta’s stew is wonderful, and she made enough for an army.”

  Carrie took a bite and closed her eyes, savoring the taste and the warmth flowing through her body. “Oh…” she moaned. “I needed this.” She remained silent as she ate the rest of the soup and polished off the bread. Marietta walked in as she ate the last bite. “I have followed orders. Please produce my letter.”

  Marietta grinned, reached behind the flour canister, and delivered it with a flourish. “My pleasure!”

  Carrie reached for the envelope, recognizing the handwriting immediately. “Rose?”

  Marietta nodded, but remained silent.

  Carrie ripped into it eagerly.

  Dear Carrie,

  You know that we always say life is what happens after we make our plans. Well, there is some life happening here in Ohio that seems to have changed our plans radically. You know how much Moses has missed the plantation. He never said very much, but I was so painfully aware of it. I know you were, too, along with everyone else.

  What came as a surprise is that when we returned to Oberlin after Christmas, I found myself missing it as much as he does. I missed the plantation. I missed family. I missed my school. I missed what I knew was happening there. I was rather surprised with the revelation at first, but I knew I needed to pay attention.

  After a few weeks back in Oberlin, I realized my feelings weren’t changing. They were only growing stronger. When I accepted how I truly felt, I went to the administration. I wanted to go home, but I knew I wouldn’t give up my chance to get my degree. As it turns out, I won’t have to!

  They told me I was qualified to be a teacher at the school, not a student. They informed me there was really nothing more they could teach me, agreed to let me act as a mentor to young teachers who will come to the plantation to study our model, and informed me I will graduate at the end of the term in April.

  We’re coming home in April, Carrie! I know I have talked about wanting to teach at a big city school, but the reality of being away from the plantation taught me that it wasn’t really what I wanted, after all. I don�
�t care about the prestige. I’m coming home to work with Lillian, and to create as fabulous a school as we can out in the country, where we can give opportunity to students who wouldn’t have it otherwise.

  I already know what you’re thinking. Will they be safe? We’ve weighed the costs, and agree we want to come home. No matter the risks.

  Felicia will stay here with one of the faculty members to finish her schooling. Whenever she comes home, she will be accompanied by a teaching student who wants to visit our plantation school.

  I know you have no idea what you will be doing, but at least you can know that when you come home to visit, Moses and I will be there. I can’t tell you how happy that makes me. I don’t need to tell you how Moses feels about it, and John only wants to get home to Patches.

  It’s odd… I’ve worked so hard to get away from the plantation, but now that I’ve accomplished it, all I want is to go home. Life is funny. I know Mama would cock her head, look at me with those wise eyes, and tell me “life done has a way of teachin’ us what be really important!” And, once again, she would be right.

  Please tell me you’ll be coming home at least for a little while in April. I miss you!

  All my love,

  Rose

  Carrie laughed and clapped her hands with delight. “Rose and Moses are coming home!” She clasped the letter to her chest, her heart expanding with joy. She didn’t stop to examine her own decisions about her future—it was enough to know Rose and Moses were following their hearts, and making the decisions that would make them happy.

  Marietta grinned. “I knew you would love the letter!”

  Carrie grinned back at her, and then looked at Marietta more closely, not able to miss the shadow of worry in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  Marietta shook her head to deny anything was disturbing her, but when she opened her mouth to refute her question, nothing came out.

  “Marietta?” Carrie pressed, but she didn’t really need her to say anything. “You’re worried for them,” she said bluntly.

  Marietta met her eyes. “Aren’t you?” She turned to stare out the window into the dark. “Jeremy and I left our home because we want our family to be safe. Nothing has changed, Carrie. Of course I’m worried for them. Aren’t you?” she repeated.