Anywhere with You

by Gina Welborn

  A door squeaked. Colette jumped the moment Mr. Jacobs stepped out onto the balcony. Granted, her modest cotton nightgown was designed for sleep and what skin it exposed was covered by her velvet robe, but still she plastered her body against the wall so quickly that he couldn’t have seen her.

  The girls rolled over onto their stomachs and looked at her. The fear in their eyes crushed her heart.

  “It’s only Mr. Jacobs,” Colette blurted out. To prove she was speaking the truth, she tapped on the raised windowpane. “Mr. Jacobs?”

  “Yes?”

  She heard him step closer to the open window. After glancing to see that he wasn’t looking inside, she said, “You unintentionally startled me, which frightened the girls.”

  “Sorry about that.” Pause. “Would you and the girls mind if I sit out here for a bit?”

  She looked to the girls. Their heads were on their pillows. Hazel had curled up against Ada. After what they’d endured in the brothels, she would think they would be wary of Mr. Jacobs, yet at the sound of his voice, they’d relaxed enough to go to sleep. Somehow they must have realized they could trust him. They could tell he was a good man. Colette sensed he was, too. He could prove them wrong, but she didn’t think he would.

  “We don’t mind,” she answered. “It’s been a long day, and they’re ready for sleep.”

  After a few scuffs of boot against the planked balcony, Colette peeked through the window to see Mr. Jacobs leaning against the building, his long legs outstretched, his ankles crossed. The moonlight cast a soft glow on his handsome face. He had nice hair. A bit shaggy, but it suited him. It suited her family, too. Her mother and siblings all had hair that shade of blond, although Mother’s had more gray. The two oddities were Father and Colette with their ginger coloring.

  She and Robert would likely have all brown-haired babies. And then she would be the only oddity in their family. Brown was such a dull color.

  Mr. Jacobs rapped his knuckles against the planked floor. “You should come out here and look at the stars.”

  “I’m not dressed appropriately.”

  “When did you have time to purchase an inappropriate dress?”

  Colette chuckled. “You know what I mean.”

  “I’d have to look to be sure, and I don’t think you’d want that.” His voice softened. “How about you sit right where you are? I’ll keep my eyes on the sky.”

  She looked to the bed, then settled down on the floor, curling her legs under her. She looked up at the sparkling stars. “The world is so much bigger when one’s view isn’t limited,” she said quietly so as to not disturb the girls.

  “Have they told you anything about…their experiences?” he whispered.

  “No. If they want to talk about it, I’ll listen, but”—she fingered the velvet trim on her robe—“I care about them. I just don’t care about asking them to rehash their past. Looking backward won’t help them move forward.”

  “Letty, have you ever experienced anything as life shattering as what Hazel, Victoria, and Ada have endured?”

  Colette thought about the stories her parents had shared of the girls they’d rescued over the years. Of the abuse. Of the wounds the girls would forever wear. “No. I’ve been sheltered and protected. Fortunate, really,” she added because that was what it truly came down to. She was privileged because of the family she was born into. “Most people are less fortunate than I.”

  He didn’t answer, which led her to regret being candid. He couldn’t understand her life or her woes. He probably viewed her as uppity as John Phillips did. If Mr. Jacobs took the time to get to know her, he’d see she was genuine and caring.

  She looked out at the stars, finding her favorite constellations.

  Time passed.

  She closed her eyes and…smiled at the contented sounds. One girl breathed heavy. Another snored. She should go to bed, too.

  His boots scraped against wood.

  Colette peeked through the open window to see he had drawn his legs up to his chest and rested his arms on his knees. He looked like a little boy sitting like that. An adorable little boy in a giant’s body.

  He held silent for a few moments, then said, “I’ve been fortunate, too. My parents and godparents—well, they’re some of the finest people you’d ever meet. I’ve never lacked for love or acceptance. When the benefactor invited me to join her cause, how could I refuse? I can’t honor God with my life if I don’t help those in need.”

  Colette rested her head against the window frame. “Does your family know you’re doing this?”

  “No.” He paused. “What about yours?”

  “My parents know.”

  “And they still allowed you to take the job?”

  “Why wouldn’t they?”

  “It’s dangerous.”

  Colette sighed. “My dear Mr. Jacobs, the only danger is what you imagine is there. People who look at us see a young couple and three girls, possibly our wards, or students, or even relatives.”

  “Maybe,” he said in a voice of someone refusing to believe he was wrong.

  Colette shifted onto her knees and rested her arms on the windowsill. “If you would’ve questioned your employer about the details of the mission, you would know how simple this job is.”

  “I couldn’t question her,” he snapped. “The benefactor only gave me a note.”

  Colette felt her mouth gape, as much at what he said as at the pain in his tone. “Only a note?”

  “Yes. With seven precise instructions. Billings depot, Tuesday, September 4. Wear Sunday suit. Watch for one or more impoverished-looking girls to board the private Pullman at the tail end of eastward-bound train. Wait until the final call to board. The girls’ chaperone will provide specifics of the mission. Your performance thus far and the unique situation make you the best man for this. Don’t forget to buy the horse.”

  “Oh,” she breathed, unable to speak the ache in her heart over his hurt and loneliness. Since the night Father offered her the task of chaperoning the girls, she’d discussed the rules of the trip and questioned her parents about past trips. She had pages and pages of notes and advice. That they’d made her a confidante made her feel even more loved and valued. To not have someone to confide one’s greatest secret…

  He released a wry chuckle. “Clearly, Letty, you are more fortunate than I.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “For what?”

  “For not having someone to talk with about the work you do for the benefactor. I didn’t know she was a woman. This isn’t your first job for her, is it?”

  He shook his head. “I started working for her four months ago. Since then I’ve twice rescued girls out of brothels, delivered them to an older couple in a covered wagon, and wondered ever since what happened to them.”

  “I believe that couple is who the girls call the caretakers,” Colette explained. “Once rescued, a girl stays with them until the caretakers feel she is emotionally and physically ready to attend an all girls’ school. The minimum time is a year. Each September the caretakers bring however many girls are ready to the Billings depot where they board the executive charter. The escort and chaperone then ensure the girls safely arrive at the academy.”

  “The benefactor pays for all of this?”

  “The financier does.”

  His silence spoke volumes.

  “You didn’t know about the financier, did you?” she asked.

  “No. I suppose you know who the financier is.”

  “Yes.”

  “Of course, you would. I’m just a hired hand to them. A pawn.”

  “Mr. Jacobs.” She spoke softly in response to his frustration. “That you know the name of the benefactor and that I know the name of the financier makes us equal in this joint venture. They’ve consigned to us their lives, which speaks much of
the honorable people they view us to be. Not hired hands. Not pawns. We are their knights. Their heroes. Now say it.”

  “Say what?”

  “You are not a pawn. You are a knight.”

  “I am a knight.” Spoken with little enthusiasm, but it was a beginning.

  Before the end of the journey, she would ensure he saw himself as she did. “Indeed, Mr. Jacobs, we are knights, and we will prove ourselves worthy of their faith in us. We will protect their good work—their masterpieces.”

  “Masterpieces?”

  “Ada, Victoria, and Hazel.”

  “You really believe that?”

  “Of course. And if you don’t believe that, then I will believe for you…and for them.” Colette stretched her hand out to him. “Matthew Jacobs, I would be honored if, during this journey, you will allow me to be your partner, friend, and confidante.”

  His head tilted a fraction, his gaze surely on her outstretched hand. Without looking her way, he shifted enough to grip her right hand with his. “I, too, would be honored to be your partner, friend, and confidant.”

  She released his hand. “I meant to thank you earlier for keeping a watchful eye from the moment we stepped off the executive charter. You’re a considerate man. I also appreciate that you were thoughtful enough to book every balcony room so the girls won’t worry about someone sneaking in while we sleep.”

  “I promised to keep them safe. And I will,” he said firmly. Confidently. Handsomely.

  Handsomely?

  Good heavens, now was not the time to start focusing on his attractiveness. She ought to leave. She needed sleep. He did, too. And yet she looked up at the sky. She’d never sat outside and studied the stars with Robert. Being outside always made him sneeze. But he was her fiancé, and a girl with a fiancé shouldn’t be enjoying the night sky and a private conversation with another man. Especially not one as relatable as Mr. Jacobs was.

  Colette wisely stood. “Thank you for inviting me to look at the stars with you. Good night.” She waited for him to respond.

  Several seconds passed before he whispered, “Good night, Letty.”

  She made her way over to the bed, circled to the other side. Ada was curled in the fetal position toward the headboard. Hazel lay on her stomach right up against Ada. Victoria rested on her stomach as well. Colette lifted the quilt she was to share with Victoria. The bed squeaked as Colette eased into the spot left for her by the footboard. The bed was warm, likely because of the number of bodies in a space meant for two people at most. Uncomfortable on her stomach, she rolled onto her left side, closed her eyes, and used the footboard as back support. She fingered the edge of her pillowcase, the material rough.

  Matthew Jacobs needed a friend. A real friend. Someone to strengthen, encourage, and listen to him. Just like Ada needed a friend. And Hazel. And Victoria.

  The bed squeaked.

  Colette opened her eyes to see Victoria lying on her side, her blue eyes bright with tears.

  “I’m a prostitute,” Victoria whispered.

  “Were.” Colette slid her hand under Victoria’s and held tight. “And if you don’t believe it, then I will believe for you…until you do.”

  Chapter Seven

  It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy;—it is disposition alone. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others.

  —JANE AUSTEN, Sense and Sensibility

  Minnesota

  Thursday, September 6, early evening

  Colette counted the beats to the song that Mr. Gaines played on his violin as Ada waltzed with Mr. Jacobs, who took care to avoid hitting the chandelier with his head as they danced around the observation room. After an hour of lessons on the two-step and on the waltz, she finally learned to follow his lead. Colette had never appreciated her mother’s dedication to lists, schedules, and details until this moment. If Mother hadn’t insisted on writing down her instructions, Colette would have forgotten a good portion of everything her parents said they’d taught the other girls they’d escorted over the years.

  First came the tug on Colette’s sleeve, then: “Letty, what do you do?”

  Colette looked at Hazel, standing next to her instead of learning the etiquette of tea serving and drinking with Victoria and Mrs. Gaines. “What do you mean?”

  “What do you do when you’re at home? Do you have a job?”

  “I help with charities.” Colette returned her attention to the dancing couple. She clapped repeatedly. “Oh, excellently done, Ada. That was wonderful! Now as the song draws to a close, you bob a curtsy and your dance partner will bend his body into an elegant bow.”

  “No, no, child, like this.” Still holding his bow and violin, Mr. Gaines demonstrated the perfect curtsy.

  Mr. Jacobs did, too. When Ada didn’t move, the men repeated the action, this time bobbing one right after the other in a continuous pattern. Ada giggled, then mimicked them both.

  Mr. Jacobs’s gaze settled on Colette. “Where’s my ‘That was wonderful!’? And don’t forget to clap.”

  “Show me your best curtsy,” she ordered.

  He pinched the sides of his trousers, pulled them outward, and curtsied.

  “Perfection.” Colette gave a round of applause. “Utter perfection.”

  Mr. Jacobs smiled, and Colette smiled in return. How was it possible for a man to become more attractive every day? He’d done a wonderful job keeping her and the girls entertained during the extra day and night they’d had to stay in Fargo because of a mechanical issue that Mr. Gaines had discovered while he and his wife were cleaning the executive charter. With nothing more than a smile, Mr. Jacobs caused a strange, breathless euphoria inside her. This must be what true happiness felt like.

  Hazel tugged Colette’s sleeve again. “How?”

  Colette blinked as she sought to remember what she had last said to Hazel. “I take clothes, toiletries, and books to the orphanages where I live, and I solicit donations to provide for their expenses. Are you ready to practice the waltz or the two-step?”

  “I don’t have my boots on.”

  Colette tucked Hazel’s frizzy hair back into her braid. “Why don’t you have your boots on?”

  “They hurt my feet,” Hazel said matter-of-factly. “Why do you help orphans?”

  “I’ll take Hazel’s turn,” Ada blurted out.

  Hazel glared at Ada. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to dance. I just said my shoes hurt.”

  “Letty said we can’t dance unless we’re wearing proper shoes.” Ada gave Hazel a smug look. “No shoes, no dance, no turn. Off you go to the parlor. Enjoy learning which fork to use.”

  “You’re the worst sister ever!”

  “I’m not your sister!”

  “Whoa now.” Mr. Jacobs stepped between the pair. “Ada, why don’t you loan Hazel your shoes?”

  Ada crossed her arms. “My shoes won’t fit her mouse feet.”

  “I don’t have mouse feet!”

  “Yes, you do. And they match your mouse voice.” Ada’s smirk dared Hazel to argue.

  “Meanie.” Hazel stuck her tongue out at Ada.

  Mr. Jacob looked at Colette with a silent, help-I’m-all-out-of-ideas plea.

  She shouldn’t have been pleased by his abdication of problem solving to her. But she was. He trusted her to come up with a good solution. He treated her like a partner, not a flibbertigibbet. What concerned Colette, though, was the growing tension between Hazel and Ada. Three days from now, barring any additional delays, the girls would begin their new lives at the academy where they knew no one except each other. That Hazel feared being alone was obvious. Why did Ada keep pushing her away? Their pasts should give them empathy for the other.

  Colette shifted her gaze from Hazel to Ada to Mr. Jacobs. Over the year
s, Colette had built many a friendship while working together on a project. Her treasured relationship with Beatrix grew when their first grade teacher made them clean slates. Instead of punishing Ada and Hazel for fighting, there had to be a way to help them bond while being Good Samaritans…

  Idea brewing, Colette turned to Mr. Gaines. “How far are we from St. Paul?”

  He glanced at his timepiece. He released a soft humph, then turned around to look out the window to the dusk sky. “We’ll reach Union Depot in a few minutes. Is there something you need?”

  “Would you mind playing another tune for Hazel and Ada to practice the two-step?”

  “Don’t mind at all.”

  The train’s horn whistled, signaling they’d reached St. Paul.

  Colette turned to Hazel. “You can practice with Ada without your shoes on. Ada, please take lead so Hazel can learn her steps. If you step on her toes, you will no longer be allowed to practice dancing.”

  Ada groaned.

  “Mr. Jacobs,” was all Colette said before she strolled out of the observation room and through the parlor where Victoria and Mrs. Gaines were putting away the dishes she’d used to teach Victoria to set the table for tea. Colette stepped into the luggage room. The train’s horn blew again, and she could feel the train decreasing speed even more for the crawl to Union Depot.

  Mr. Jacobs rested his backside on the lone piece of luggage in the room—Colette’s flat-topped steamer trunk. “Is there a problem?”

  She met his gaze with utter seriousness…and a bit of a smile because something about him made it natural to smile. She couldn’t look away. As much as she wanted to, his gaze held hers. Strange how her heartbeat increased. Pounded. Raced, actually.

  As the train whistled, Colette shifted her gaze to the open door to break the connection she felt with Mr. Jacobs. She breathed in deeply and exhaled before she looked at him again. “What would you think about extending the trip an extra day or two?”

  “It’s not a wise decision,” he said without pause.