by Kate Hewitt
“I’m moving on, Ellen,” he said quietly, after a moment. Both of their gazes were fixed on the water. “There’s need for men out in New Mexico, building a rail line right down to the border.”
“But you’re an engine repairman,” Ellen said faintly. She felt as if the safe, little world they’d just begun to construct for themselves was cracking apart. She’d been uneasy, yes, but she hadn’t expected this. “You don’t lay tracks.”
“No, but I could see the way of it pretty quick, I reckon. And the country, Ellen—take a look for yourself!” He took a crumpled leaflet out of his pocket, worn and grubby from being thumbed many times, and Ellen stared blankly at the desert vista emblazoned on it.
She pushed it away with her hand. “You said you didn’t want to learn new things. It seems to me that’s a lie.”
“Don’t be calling me a liar, Ellen,” Da said, his voice taking on a warning note.
“No? What should I call you, then?” Her hands bunched into fists and she heard her voice, a screech in the stillness. “How can I call you Da when you’re leaving me as surely as Mam did? Except she didn’t have a choice! You do!”
“I couldn’t be happy here, Ellen. I thought I could.” Da turned to her, his face full of sudden desperation. “I thought I’d help in the store, or perhaps even get our own bit of land. I thought there’d be a way.”
“There is—”
“No, Ellen, not for me. Don’t you see? I didn’t sweat my soul in Springburn to live the same stifled life in a town with a different name.”
“But it’s so different here!” Ellen cried. “There’s fresh air, and trees, and school—”
“For you...”
“You breathe the same air as me!”
Da chuckled, but it was a sad sound. “It doesn’t feel the same.”
Ellen was silent for a moment. She felt the sting of tears and forced herself to blink them away. She could hardly believe Da was telling her this, that he was planning to leave her with two strangers. For in a moment of stark honesty, she knew that’s just what Hamish and Ruth were. Two strangers she barely knew, wasn’t even sure she liked. And she didn’t think they liked her, not even Hamish. He looked like he didn’t know how to act around her, even though he seemed at ease with every other child in Seaton. “Why can’t I go with you?” she finally asked, her throat aching.
Douglas shook his head. “A rail line is no place for a child.”
“I’m not a child!”
“Nor a woman.”
“Then...” Ellen swallowed past the aching tightness of her throat. “Will you come back?”
“Sure I will,” Da said, but he sounded too hearty and his gaze slid away from hers just as it had when Hamish had asked him to come to America, when Ellen asked about the money in the tin. “Soon as I can.”
“And then what?” she asked, her mind already racing painfully ahead. “Where will we live then?”
He lifted one shoulder in something like a shrug. “Who knows what opportunities might come our way?”
He might as well as told her he was never coming back, that he intended to leave her forever. She felt a terrible tightness in her chest, as if a hand were clutching her heart. He still wasn’t looking at her. “When do you go?” she finally asked dully.
Da didn’t meet her eyes. “There’s a train pulling out tomorrow, heading west.”
“Tomorrow?” Ellen felt another lightning bolt of shock streak through her. “Were you ever going to tell me?” The tears were close again, blurring her vision, and the tightness in her chest made it hurt to breathe. “Or were you just going to sneak off?”
“I planned to tell you!” Da looked both angry and abashed. “I was just thinking about how to go about it. I’m sorry it came out like this, Ellen, truly I am. I’m not a man of words, you know that.”
But he was, Ellen knew. He had been once, a man of charming, easy words. Shallow, false words. She took a deep breath. The sun was rising in the sky, causing Ellen’s dress to stick to her shoulder blades. She didn’t dare speak; her throat ached too much.
“You’ll wish me off?” Da asked. “I’ll write. I’ll come back. I promise.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she managed, her voice no more than a scratchy whisper. Da put a hand on her shoulder, and she shook it off.
“Ellen—”
She shook her head, backing away, tears spilling from her eyes that she swiped at angrily. “You lied to me,” she choked. “Everything you said, everything you promised, was a lie.” At her words her father only looked more grimly resolute, and with an anguished cry Ellen turned and ran.
FOUR
“You want some paper?” Hamish looked at Ellen’s small, determined face and gave her an encouraging smile. He was glad the girl was showing interest in something at last. She’d found out about Douglas leaving this morning, and even Ruth had possessed enough heart not to rail at her for her sodden dress.
“She’ll make herself sick, crying like that,” she said with pursed lips as they both listened to Ellen’s stormy tears coming from behind her closed door.
“Let her be,” said Hamish. “It’s hard for her, poor mite, coming all this way only for Douglas to hare off again.” Although in truth Hamish felt relieved that his brother was going. Douglas didn’t fit here, it was plain for anyone to see. Ellen might be a strange child, but she could learn their ways. Hamish didn’t think Douglas wanted to.
When Ellen finally emerged from her room her face was pale but composed. She found Hamish behind the counter in the store, devoid of customers in the late afternoon heat, and asked for paper and some pencils.
“Pencils, eh?” he said as he put a pad of crisp white paper on the marble-topped counter. “What are you planning to do with those?”
“I want to draw,” Ellen said simply, and Hamish leaned forward, impressed.
“Are you an artist, then?” He meant to tease, but Ellen gave him such a grown-up look of polite disdain that he felt quite uneasy.
“I like to draw,” she said, and took the paper and pencils. “Thank you very much for these, Uncle Hamish.”
Later Hamish confessed to Ruth, “she seemed quite set on it, poor thing. I wonder what she’ll draw?”
“Girlish nonsense, I shouldn’t wonder,” Ruth replied shortly. She sat in front of their bedroom mirror, plaiting her long silvery blonde hair. Even at almost fifty she looked beautiful to Hamish, far too elegant and even regal to be his wife. He sometimes wondered how he’d ever managed to catch her. She pursed her lips. “I’ve never been impressed with Douglas, but I didn’t think him such a ne’er-do-well as to abandon his own daughter.”
“Ruth!” Hamish shifted uncomfortably. Douglas slept in the room next to theirs, and might be able to hear Ruth’s strident voice. “He’s all right. He just needs to find his place.”
“Which isn’t here, apparently,” Ruth returned. “I thought he was going to help at the store! Make a life for himself and the girl, rather than go haring off on his own foolish dreams and leave us with the consequences.”
Hamish could not think of an adequate reply. He was barely able to admit to himself that he actually felt relieved Douglas was going. His brother made him feel guilty, as if he had to apologize for his own success.
Douglas had even mentioned it once, when he’d told Ruth and Hamish he was leaving. “We had dreams once, didn’t we, Ham? It’s strange the way things turned out, after all.”
Hamish had nodded, flustered. “Yes... I suppose it is a bit odd,” he said.
“Ellen will be a help to us,” he said now to Ruth.
Ruth finished her plait and tossed it over one shoulder. “That remains to be seen.” She glanced out the window, the sky inky black, the town shrouded in darkness. “She might be of some use,” she relented after a moment. “It will be good for her, at any rate, to be kept busy.” She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “But I do pity the child. To lose her father so soon after her mot
her.”
“Douglas will come back,” Hamish said, although he knew he didn’t sound very convincing. Apparently Ruth didn’t think so either, for she gave him a rather scornful glance.
“And why should he?”
“For Ellen—”
“If he can leave her this easily, he won’t come back for her,” Ruth said flatly. “Absence doesn’t always make the heart grow fonder. He’ll forget, mark my words. He’ll forget her completely.”
“Ruth.” Hamish nodded towards the wall they shared with Douglas’ bedroom. “What if he heard you?”
“And what if he did? He needs to hear some sense. Perhaps then he’ll do his God-given duty by his daughter.”
Hamish climbed into bed. Sometimes Ruth seemed a hard woman, he knew, but he’d seen a moment of softness here and there with Ellen, and he hoped that might continue and grow yet. Perhaps without Douglas here, Ellen would look on them more kindly. Ruth might even become more of a mother to her.
“Ruth,” he asked hesitantly, “do you ever wish we’d been blessed with children?”
Ruth stiffened, her back still to Hamish. Hamish had always felt a bit sad that the babies he’d hoped for had never come along, but he and Ruth hadn’t spoken of it. They’d never had that kind of relationship; in truth, Hamish was still in awe that Ruth had decided to marry him at all. He’d been a mere stock boy at Hoey’s Department Store and she’d been a tall, elegant figure behind the gloves counter. He couldn’t quite remember how it had all come about, really. He’d suggested they go for a walk on Balgrayhill and Ruth had accepted with surprising alacrity. As for the marriage proposal... he’d bumbled his way through something and she’d briskly asked him if he was proposing. Hamish had turned beet red and nodded, and Ruth had accepted. Three years later they landed at Ellis Island.
Now she carefully laid down her silver-backed brush, her back still to him. “That, Hamish Copley,” she told him, a slight tremor in her usually strident voice, “is a foolish question.”
She blew out the lamp and got into bed, and Hamish could not see her face in the darkness. Yet something in him—or perhaps her voice when she’d spoken—compelled him to reach over and clasp her hand. And to his surprise Ruth threaded her fingers through his own and did not let go.
*****
Ellen woke up early again, this time to work on her drawing. She’d finished with tears, the hours on her bed clutching a newly washed Celia having spent her, and now she felt as empty and hollow as a shell. She knelt on the floor, the paper spread out before her.
She was drawing from memory, a sketch of her and Da on the deck of the ship. They were both laughing, looking out to sea, their elbows leaning on the rail.
Since she hadn’t seen it from the outside, she could only imagine what it looked like, remember how it had felt. The waves, the sparkling sun, the hope.
It would be her parting present to Da.
Ellen had decided earlier not to accompany him to the train. She wouldn’t pretend she approved of his plan, wouldn’t act as if he was going on a grand adventure with everyone’s blessing. He was abandoning her, plain and simple, just like Mam had done except this was worse since Da had a choice.
Ellen forced the bitter thoughts away. Her relationship to Da was too precious to ruin it with anger and regret. He knew how she felt about his going. The least she could do was put a brave face on it, and maybe then he’d come back for her one day.
Ellen concentrated on her drawing, the world around her seeming to dissolve as she focused on line and shape. It had always been like this, so when she was nearly finished and looked up from her drawing, she had to blink to bring the world back into focus.
It had felt strange and yet right to hold a charcoal pencil in her hand once more, after over a year of drawing nothing at all. The crisp white paper was far nicer than the old newspaper or sacking she’d used back in Springburn. This paper felt almost too good to use, too precious to waste, and yet Uncle Hamish had given her nearly a hundred sheets.
Finally she finished the sketch. Ellen was still in her nightgown, and the morning light showed it couldn’t yet be seven o’clock. Still, she didn’t know exactly when Da was leaving, so she hurried to wash and dress, and then rolled her drawing up carefully.
Downstairs it was surprisingly quiet. She heard low, murmuring voices from the kitchen. Ruth was counting eggs and Hamish was still in just his shirt and trousers, drinking coffee. They both looked grim.
“It’s shameful,” Hamish said. “What was he thinking?”
“About himself, no doubt,” Ruth replied. “As he has been since he arrived in this country.”
Ellen’s heart lurched at the sharp words and she stepped into the kitchen. Sunlight fell in a dappled pattern on the wooden floor.
“Why are you talking about Da that way?” she demanded.
Hamish looked up, surprised and abashed, but Aunt Ruth simply pursed her lips, her eyes narrowed.
“You won’t talk that way to your elders, miss,” she said shortly, and Hamish muttered,
“Ah, give her a rest, Ruth. This once.”
Ellen ignored them both. Something awful was building inside her, worse even then when Da had told her he was going, a tidal rush of emotion that threatened to crash right over and sweep her away. “Where’s Da?”
There was a silence, tense and terrible, and then Ruth gave a slight shake of her head. “I’m sorry, Ellen. He took the morning train to Chicago without telling anyone. He’s gone.”
Ellen felt a rushing in her ears, as if a river were flowing right through her. She reached out to grab the back of one of the kitchen chairs, the smooth, solid wood comforting under her hands. It steadied her.
“What do you mean he’s gone?” she asked in a voice that she couldn’t quite keep from shaking. She knew what Ruth had meant; it was plain enough. Da had taken the morning train. He’d sneaked out of the house like a naughty child or a boy playing truant. He’d not bothered to tell Ellen. He’d not bothered to say goodbye at all. Still, she needed to hear it again.
Ruth just shook her head. “I’m sorry, child.” The harsh lines of her face had softened into pity. Ellen’s grip tightened on the chair.
“No.”
“Ellen...” It came out as half-warning, half-plea, but Ellen wasn’t even listening.
“He left a note. A letter.” She turned to Uncle Hamish who was starting to look uncomfortable. “Didn’t he?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” he said quietly. “That’s the truth. Maybe he slipped something under your bedroom door.”
Ellen’s face lit up at this possibility, and she clung to it with all she had. “He must have done that! I was so busy, I wouldn’t have even noticed—”
“Busy?” Ruth’s eyebrows rose in surprise and perhaps even suspicion. “I thought you were sleeping.”
Ellen did not reply for she’d already scurried from the room on bare feet, catching her dress around her knees as she took the stairs two at a time.
“Ellen Copley!” Ruth cried in exasperation. “Walk like a lady!”
Ellen pushed open her bedroom door and dropped to her knees. There was nothing. The floor was bare.
She looked under the bureau, the bed, the washstand, even her pillow just in case he’d come in while she was still sleeping, or even last night.
Nothing.
She sat back on her heels and blinked back tears. She would not cry. Not now. She’d cried too much already, and a new hardness in her heart made her think her father was not worth so much sorrow.
But why, oh why, had Da left without saying goodbye?
Gazing out the window at a slice of blue sky, the sunshine dappling the floor, Ellen wondered if he was planning on ever coming back.
Slowly Ellen rose from the floor and walked downstairs. Uncle Hamish and Aunt Ruth were still in the kitchen. Aunt Ruth busied herself with the breakfast dishes, and Uncle Hamish put down the coffee cup halfway raised to his lips, regarding Ellen uneasily.
<
br /> “Did he leave anything?” Hamish asked. “A note for you?”
“Hamish...” Ruth hissed under her breath. “Can’t you see her face? Of course he didn’t.” She put two eggs, a rasher of bacon and a thick slice of bread fried in dripping on Ellen’s plate. “There. Sit down and get that inside you.”
“Thank you,” Ellen mumbled, because she knew Aunt Ruth always expected an answer. She sat at the table and gazed down at her unwanted breakfast. Under Ruth’s beady eye, she forced down a few mouthfuls.
“How about helping me in the store this morning, Ellen?” Uncle Hamish asked brightly after a long, tense moment had passed. He winked. “I’m sure we could find something to cheer you up.”
Ellen smiled wanly. Sweets and hair ribbons from the store seemed to be her uncle’s way of making things better. If only sorrow could be so easily appeased. Still, it would take her mind off things and the only other option was staying home with Ruth and being put to work in the kitchen or garden.
“All right. Thank you, Uncle Hamish.”
They walked over after breakfast, when Seaton’s main street was just stirring to life. The Vermont State Bank, an impressive brick building on the corner, was getting ready for business and one of the clerks was polishing the marble steps.
Across the street, Mr. Edwards smiled and winked at Ellen. She watched his barber’s pole spin around in a blur of red and white, and two men went inside for their morning shave.
Hamish unlocked the door and led Ellen inside, flicking on the electric lights that had been installed last year.
Ellen had been in the store many times by now, but she still loved the hugeness of it, barrels and boxes and bins stretching to the ceiling.
She stood by the counter while Hamish dusted off his ledger book and scales, two of the most important tools of his trade.
“We’ve quite a morning,” he told her cheerfully. “Elmer Pyles is coming in with three chickens and a passel of green beans. Then sometime before noon I’m expecting a shipment of hammers and things from The Kilby Tool Company in Rutland. You can help me unload the boxes.”
