A New Beginning

by Amelia C. Adams

  “You’re doing well,” Agatha said, resting her fingers lightly on her daughter’s arm. “Every mother since the dawn of creation has walked the floor with a sick child, and you’ve joined that great sisterhood. I’m proud of you.”

  Elizabeth set down her mug and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. “Oh, Mother, I don’t know how you raised five children.”

  “It was difficult, to be sure, but there were rewards along the way too. And I had your father beside me. Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”

  “Me too.” Elizabeth studied the bit of coffee ground that floated in her cup. It had been three months since her husband died, three months of the curious mixture of relief and sorrow that accompanied his passing. If she had known this would be her outcome two years ago when she first met him, would she still have chosen this path? She had no idea. She couldn’t regret having her daughter—Rose was the reward her mother spoke of—but the rest of it, the anguish and sorrow? She could have done without that.

  “I have a little something for you,” Agatha said. “I thought this might help in your search for a job.” She stood, opened a cupboard, and pulled out a newspaper, which she laid on the table.

  Elizabeth’s eyes flew to hers. “Are you sure we can afford this?”

  Agatha shrugged. “Tools are useful things. You need the right tools to complete your tasks, and right now, you need to find a job. I can think of no easier way to find one, especially when we’re new to town.”

  Elizabeth nodded. She flipped open the pages, turning until she came upon the advertisements.

  “I don’t think I’d be suited to work on the railroad,” she said with a slight chuckle. “And I’m afraid I’d make a terrible logger. Oh, wait.” Her eyes landed on an advertisement in the corner. “A teaching post.” She read further and felt a stab of disappointment. “In a boys’ school. Only men need apply.”

  “Are there any more?” Agatha asked.

  “Thankfully, yes.” Elizabeth traced each column with her finger until she reached one on the far right. “Listen to this. ‘Mr. Adam Brody seeks employees for his new hotel. Six bright, energetic, single young ladies from good families are needed immediately. Also needed: a carpenter. Inquire at the Garrison mansion, Topeka, Kansas.’ That’s just a half mile from here, isn’t it? I believe I heard the porter at the train station say something about the Garrison mansion next door.”

  Agatha nodded. “It sounds perfect. You can leave small Rose here with me while you work, and you’ll be home to enjoy her the rest of the time.”

  “But when would you have time for yourself, Mother? This position may require long hours.”

  Agatha looked down at her hands. “I’m quite content to stay home, actually. I’m tired of society—or perhaps society is tired of me. I never liked the parties your father insisted I throw, and ever since . . . well, ever since his death, I’ve been happy to keep my own company.”

  Elizabeth had noticed her mother withdrawing from her usual circle of friends over the years. “If you’re sure, Mother.”

  “I am.”

  Elizabeth read the advertisement again and tapped the paper with her finger. “But there’s a problem. Mr. Brody is looking for single young ladies.”

  Agatha tilted her head to the side. “You’re not married anymore, Elizabeth.”

  “I know, but surely he’s not looking for someone who has a child to support. He’d need people who can stay late, come early, and don’t have other obligations.” She finished the last few sips of her coffee and then read over the page again, wondering if she’d missed something the first time. The hotel job was the only one suited for a woman—in this whole paper, how could that be?

  “I believe I’ll walk over to the telegraph office and see if I’ve gotten any responses,” she said, standing up and putting the newspaper back in the cupboard. It had been so long since she’d read a paper, it would be a nice treat at the end of the day. “Surely someone back east is in need of a governess and wouldn’t mind if I brought along a child of my own.”

  “Go, go,” Agatha said. “I’ll keep an eye on the baby.”

  Elizabeth put on her hat and tied the wide ribbons under her chin. This hat had been new at one time, but now it looked a bit faded and frayed around the edges, just like her. She had no idea what the current fashions were—she’d been a railroad wife, away from society, away from other ladies for so long that for all she knew, it was now proper to wear a bucket on one’s head. She smoothed down her dress, hoping she looked presentable, and walked out the door, chin high. Her circumstances weren’t ideal. In fact, they were deplorable. But she was going to find a way to raise her daughter on her own, take care of her mother, and create a future for herself. There was simply no other alternative.

  She ignored the looks she got from men as she passed them on the street. The town was full of single men looking for a hardy girl to take with them on their adventures out west, and without succumbing to vanity, she knew she was more comely than many of the women they had seen since their arrival. For one brief moment, she had entertained the idea of marrying one of these men and seeing what adventures she might have, but Rose was her first concern in everything, and that kind of environment just was not suitable for an infant. Elizabeth could tolerate some lighthearted language and an occasional game of poker, but her daughter deserved better, and that was precisely what Elizabeth aimed to give her.

  She was just passing the saloon when a tall man stepped in front of her, his thumbs hooked through his belt. She tried to go around him, but his shorter friend blocked her path.

  “Mornin’,” the first one said. “Haven’t seen you around before.”

  “Please excuse me. I’m expected.” Elizabeth moved farther to the right, but the men moved as well, creating a wall.

  “I was hopin’ you were a new girl at the saloon.” He nodded his head toward the swinging doors. “We could use a few fresh faces in there, and you’ve got one of the freshest faces I’ve seen in a long time.”

  Anger boiled up in Elizabeth’s chest, but she refused to let it show—that would be giving them what they wanted. “I will never work in a saloon, gentlemen. Now, if you will excuse me.” She shoved her way past, her shoulder colliding with the arm of the man on the right. Their laughter followed her as she strode away.

  She entered the telegraph office and took a moment to collect her thoughts. Having lived alongside the railroad, she had encountered plenty of rough men, but her husband had been there to protect her. He hadn’t always treated her kindly, but in this one thing, she’d known she could count on him—no man would ever speak rudely to her without consequences. Now she must learn to handle these situations on her own.

  Taking a deep breath, she smiled and approached the counter. Immediately upon arriving in Topeka two days before, she’d sent three telegrams to acquaintances back in New York, spending money they could hardly spare. She’d been in the west far too long for her tastes and would love to return home. There was one response, and her heart leaped when she saw who it was from. She had known the mother of this family quite well for some years, and was especially fond of the twin girls who brought up the rear in their line of children. But as she read the reply, her chest constricted. The family was not in need of a nanny, and they were sorry to inform her that her circumstances in life would make her an undesirable candidate for any family who desired their children to be raised properly.

  Elizabeth lowered the page and stared out the window of the office, unable to focus on the people who walked back and forth outside. They were all blurs of hats and bonnets with no faces.

  “Are you all right, Miss Caldwell?” the telegraph operator asked, leaning over the counter to get a better look at Elizabeth’s face.

  “I don’t quite know, Mrs. Flannigan.”

  The woman seemed befuddled. “What do you mean? Surely you know whether or not you’re all right.”

  Elizabeth considered for a moment. No one in town knew her stor
y. In fact, as of yet, she and her mother hadn’t even taken Rose out onto the street, and no one knew they’d brought a baby with them. Elizabeth had arranged for their home rental while Agatha stayed in their old wagon with Rose. Of course, Mrs. Flannigan had received the telegraph and knew of its contents, but the wording was vague, perhaps vague enough … “Mrs. Flannigan, if a woman were widowed and left with a child to raise, do you suppose she’d be able to find a position as a governess? I’m told . . . by a friend who is in this situation . . . that it might be considered inappropriate, and I can hardly understand it.”

  Mrs. Flannigan seemed to consider this for a minute. “I do understand it, I’m sorry to say.” She glanced around the office, then leaned forward again to speak confidentially. “One never really knows where that child might have come from, and it’s best not to take her word for it and subject the other children to who-knows-what.”

  Elizabeth blinked rapidly. This assessment was even more painful than the telegram she’d received. “I hadn’t thought of that. Thank you, Mrs. Flannigan.”

  “I do wish your friend all the best, but perhaps she’d be better off as a laundress or a seamstress,” Mrs. Flannigan said. “Terrible business, being a widow.”

  Indeed, it was. Elizabeth said good-bye and left the building, trying to figure out what she was going to do now. They’d spent nearly every penny they had getting this far, and soon they’d be fully destitute. If her mother’s cough were to come back or if Rose were to get sick . . . Elizabeth couldn’t think that way. She had to focus on the possibilities, not her fears.

  It appeared that returning to New York and becoming a governess was not one of those possibilities. She’d seen no “help wanted” signs in any of the windows as she walked to the telegraph office. She’d overheard no one saying they were looking to hire. Mr. Brody’s hotel seemed like her only chance. While she hated lying, she would have to pose as a single young lady. She could think of no other option.

  She quickened her step and soon found herself standing in front of the old Garrison mansion, wondering what on earth she would do if this was also a rejection. There was no money left for train tickets or to secure a position with a wagon train, and she would not ever, ever take a job in a saloon. Mr. Brody would simply have to hire her. Now she hoped he’d see it the same way.

  Chapter Three

  Adam turned sideways to maneuver his armload out through the door. Once in the yard, he threw the old pieces of wood on top of the stack he’d been creating all morning and turned to go back inside, but his attention was arrested by a young lady standing near the gate, staring up at the mansion as though trying to decide if she should stay or go.

  “May I help you?” Adam asked, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his hands as he walked toward her. She turned at the sound of his voice, and he nearly missed a step when he saw her face. Her features were certainly pleasing, and her hair was a pretty shade of brown, but what caught him off guard were her eyes. They were quite possibly the loveliest, most soulful eyes he’d ever seen.

  She opened and closed her mouth a few times, as though hesitant to speak. Then she took a deep breath. “I’m here to see Mr. Adam Brody about the advertisement in the newspaper.”

  “Yes, yes, the advertisement. Tell me a bit about yourself.”

  She blinked. “I’m sorry. Are you Mr. Brody?”

  He wondered at the surprise in her voice until he looked down and noticed how filthy he’d become while working. In his coarse pants and simple shirt, he certainly didn’t look like a businessman, and he didn’t blame her for the misunderstanding. “I am Adam Brody, but today, I’m also the carpenter, the repairman, and at least two of the maids. How may I help you?”

  She gave a merry laugh. “You do have your hands full with this new enterprise, Mr. Brody.”

  “Indeed I do, which is why I’m so glad that you responded to my advertisement. What is your name?”

  “I’m Elizabeth Caldwell. Do you still have positions available, then?”

  Mr. Brody gestured up at the large house. “All the positions are available, except for that of the head housekeeper. My aunt is filling that role quite nicely. What are your skills, Miss Caldwell?”

  “I’m an excellent housekeeper, I worked some as a cook, and I’ve even been known to haul a bit of wood from time to time,” she said, nodding at the growing pile of debris in the yard.

  Adam looked her over again, more objectively this time. He purposely avoided her eyes. If he gazed into them again, he’d never be able to conduct this business properly. She was small, but he detected underlying strength, both in her stamina and her character. “How old are you, Miss Caldwell?”

  “I’ll be twenty this fall, sir.”

  “Would you be available to start work tomorrow morning? The kitchen is in sorry shape, and my aunt will have my head if she’s not able to prepare a decent meal in there by tomorrow night’s supper.” He chuckled. “The food won’t actually be delivered then, but she wants the ability to cook.”

  Miss Caldwell laughed again, and he found himself enjoying the sound even more. “What time would you like me here?” she asked.

  “Eight o’clock sharp.”

  She nodded. “That’s very agreeable to me. Thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Brody.”

  “Thank you for coming to inquire. I was beginning to wonder if anyone ever would.”

  She seemed to be debating whether or not to speak again. “If I might make a suggestion, sir—you could try placing your advertisement in papers farther east as well. I’m from New York, and you can hardly take two steps without hearing some young lady or another speak of leaving the city and striking out on her own. You might have some success that way.”

  Adam thought about that for a moment. He hadn’t even considered that a lady would travel all that way just to work a less-than-elegant job in a very dusty town. “Would they do that for a scant fourteen dollars a month? It hardly seems worth the effort.”

  Miss Caldwell gave a little cough. “I’m sorry. Did you say fourteen dollars a month?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry—I neglected to mention the wage to you before. That, of course, includes room and board.”

  She coughed again, and this time, it seemed that she was having trouble controlling it. Her eyes began to water—those beautiful eyes—and she brought her handkerchief to her lips. Adam felt helpless to do anything for her. He considered pounding her on the back, but he somehow didn’t think he should, and he didn’t have a clean glass to offer her a drink. He’d just been cupping water in his hands from the pump.

  “I apologize, Miss Caldwell. Is the wage unfair? I thought it rather reasonable after I compared it to others being offered in the newspaper.”

  She finally managed to get control of her breath. “No, no, the wage is more than reasonable. I simply swallowed wrong.” She smiled as though to convince him. “I won’t be needing a room, however. I live in a small house not far from here with my mother.”

  “Then I shall make your wage fifteen dollars a month plus board.”

  She gave a slight curtsy. He found that so utterly charming, he almost didn’t hear her when she said, “Thank you, Mr. Brody. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  His eyes lingered on her as she scurried down the street, the skirt of her dark blue dress moving to and fro like a bell with each step. He stood there for perhaps a moment too long and only turned his gaze when Caroline walked up to him.

  “I saw her through the upstairs window. She seems like a nice girl,” his aunt said.

  “I believe she is,” Adam replied. “Her name is Elizabeth Caldwell. She’s well spoken, tidy, and she didn’t indicate being afraid of hard work.” He wouldn’t mention her eyes or her laugh. Caroline probably wouldn’t consider those necessary attributes in a maid.

  “Well, that’s good,” Caroline said. “I’ve been pulling down draperies to be washed in every room of the upper floor, and with the sunlight streaming in, it’s now plain
ly obvious how much work there really is to be done. Are you still set on opening in a month’s time?”

  “If we’re going to start bringing in a solid profit before our year is up, we must get started now,” Adam said. “I’ve asked Miss Caldwell to be here at eight in the morning. I imagine things will speed up with her help. By the way, she says she’s from New York. Do you know of her family?”

  Caroline looked thoughtful. “I do know some Caldwells, but her face didn’t seem familiar. I’m sure we’ve never met.”

  “That will change tomorrow, and hopefully, you’ll be good friends.” Adam followed Caroline back up the steps and into the hotel, pausing for a moment to look back in the direction where Miss Caldwell had gone. Suddenly he looked forward to tomorrow like he hadn’t anticipated anything in a very long time.

  Chapter Four

  It was all Elizabeth could do not to break into a run as she made her way home, but that would hardly be appropriate. The men who were already looking would be certain to think things they shouldn’t. She kept her pace moderate, but her heart pounded as though she’d run the distance anyway.

  She opened the cabin door quietly lest Rose was asleep and found her baby contentedly nestled in Agatha’s arms by the fire.

  “Mother, I got a job,” she said, pulling off her hat and hanging it up. “I went by the hotel listed in the advertisement, and Mr. Brody hired me practically on the spot.”

  “What about your telegrams? Did you get any replies?” Agatha asked.

  Elizabeth reached out and stroked her baby’s cheek while she contemplated her answer. It seemed cruel to tell her mother what all the response contained. Agatha had already endured much because of her daughter’s situation, and Elizabeth saw no need to add to that burden. “It seems the people of New York aren’t hiring governesses this season,” she said lightly. “I considered my options and decided to pay a call on Mr. Brody.”