Circle of Love (8 page)

"rd like you to call me Seth, instead of Reverend Diller," he said.

"Why, that may not seem a proper way to engage in conversation, but on this journey I expect it is acceptable. I've always felt there are, indeed, times to make exceptions, so TU agree," said Frances. "But didn't you tell me your given name was Oscar?"

He cleared his throat and examined the tops of his shoes. Finally he said, "Seth is my middle name, but it's the name I've always gone by."

Frances smiled. "I'm sorry. I seem to keep embarrassing you. I shall call you Seth. My name is Frances Mary Kelly. You may call me Frances. How long have you been a preacher?"

"Not long," he said.

"Where did you study?"

"Study?"

"Yes. What school of divinity?"

He paused and smiled, as if in reflection. "Yale."

"It must have taken years of study, yet you seem so young."

Even in the dim moonlight she could see him blush. "I'm older than I look," he replied.

Before Frances could say another word, he asked, "How about you? Are you eighteen? Nineteen?"

*Tm nineteen,** Frances answered.

"Most girls pretty as you would be married by nineteen," Seth said softly.

A rush of lonely feelings jBlled her heart, and Johnny*s face came to her mind.

She didn't answer.

"I didn't mean to speak out of turn. I guess bein' a preacher and all makes me seem nosy," he said, and his smile was broad and friendly. Frances smiled back.

*Tell me about yourself," he said. "Where do you live? What do you do?"

At first Frances spoke haltingly, "rm a teacher. I teach school in Kansas," she said, but as she saw the interest in Seth's eyes, she went on to tell him about her little house and the town of Maxville, built after the railroad came through.

Seth asked about her family, and when she spoke of traveling with her brothers and sisters on an orphan train, he reached over and squeezed her hand in sympathy.

Looking deeply into her eyes, he said, "I'm sorry you had such a hard childhood."

His dark, curly hair, his handsome face were so close to hers . . . Frances gulped and puDed her hand away. "It wasn't a bad childhood. There were many happy times, many good memories to think about"

"Are you tellin' me there weren't any bad times?" Seth asked.

"Of course there were," Frances answered, "but I try to keep those out of my mind. I'd rather think about all the good things that happened."

'That means you're hidin' from the bad memo-nes.

"No, I'm not," Frances insisted. "I just believe that there's no reason to keep bringing up unhappy thoughts."

"There is for^sdme people," he said. "Some of them need the anger and the hurt to help them remember."

Boldly Frances asked, "Are you talking about others you know, or are you talking about yourself?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, it matters."

Seth was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "I fought in the war. You couldn't understand what it was like."

"Then help me understand. Tell me what's making you unhappy." Maybe Seth could help her understand Johnny's bitterness.

"Have you ever seen a Union Army prison camp?" Seth asked. "No. Of course you haven't"

Frances gasped, but Seth didn't seem to notice. He continued: "Lice and rats and moldy food—what little there was to eat. Not enough blankets to go around in the winter months, not enough clean water to drink during the hot summer. And the hospitals . . . Prisoners who're brought there are in such bad shape they're expected to die." There was a long pause before he whispered, "I wouldn't die. I showed them all. 1 refused to give up."

"I'm sorry you had to go through such misery," Frances said, now understanding why he had awakened in such a frightened state, what horrible nightmares he must have. Did Johnny have nightmares like that? Seth had been in a Union prison and Johrmy in a Confederate prison, but their complaints

were the same. And their hatred of their captors was equally strong.

Frances sucked in her breath. What had she said to Johnny? The same held true for Seth. "Wouldn't you rather forget the unhappiness and get rid of the anger and the hurt?" she asked. "Can't you put the past aside and think about the future instead?"

"No matter. It's over now," Seth said. "I'm goin' home to Missouri."

"To your parents?" Frances asked.

"No. My parents died while I was away. Tve made plans to join my older brothers."

A strange look came into his eyes, and he turned his head.

"Do they farm?"

Startled, Seth looked back at Frances. "Farm?"

"Your brothers. Are you going to be a visiting preacher, riding from town to town on Sundays and farming during the week? Is that what you plan to do after you join your brothers?"

He sat back. "Have you seen some of the Missouri farms that were burned out? Crops and livestock stolen? Everything gone?"

"The land can be reclaimed," Frances said. "Houses can be rebuilt."

Suddenly shedding his dark mood, Seth seemed to relax. "Let's talk about you. Are you goin' to be a teacher all your life? Or could it be you've got your heart set on bein' a farm wife, risin' before dawn to feed the chickens and hogs?"

Frances felt her face grow warm. "I—I haven't given my future much thought."

"Maybe you should," he said. "Maybe there's a far different future out there for you—a much more ex-citin' one."

"Seth," Frances said, "it's getting late. We both need our sleep."

Seth smiled. *Then sleep well. Ill see you in the momin\" He rose and silently strode down the aisle.

Seth and Johnny, Frances thought The same bitterness, the same hatred of those who hurt them, the same inability to let go of the past and move forward. If there had been no war, what wovJd Seth have been like? Would he have laicghed easily? Planned for a joyful future? Hoped to be a good husband and father? Like Johnny? Like the Johnny I once knew?

Frances tucked her journal away under the seat, then folded her jacket to use as a pillow. She rested her head against the jacket and closed her eyes. There was so much to think about ... so much to do. . . .

A ciy brought her to her feet, and she struggled down the aisle to where Lizzie and Mary Beth sat The younger girl was upright, fists against her eyes, tears running down her cheeks.

"Mama!" Lizzie sobbed.

Frances scooped her up, murmured against the softness of her baby-fine curls, and carried her back to her seat. With her arms wrapped around the baby, who snuggled contentedly against her, Frances fell asleep.

She dreamed of Johnny. In her dream, he was on a train, traveling farther and farther away from her. She held out her arms and cried out to him to come back, but Seth stepped between them and Johnny didn't return.

A SMEAR OF PALE GRAY predawn light seeped into the car, waking Frances. She tucked Lizzie crosswise on the seat to finish her slumbers. Then she slipped into the small necessity at the end of the car to wash her face and brush her hair. As soon as it was coiled and anchored with combs on top of her head, Frances prepared to care for the children, some of whom were beginning to awaken.

Seth stepped to her side and smiled at her. "What can I do to help you?" he asked.

Pleased by his offer, Frances smiled in return. "According to the schedule I was given, we'll have a depot stop soon," she said. "There'll be a great deal to accomplish in a very short time."

He glanced at the hairbrush in her hand, and his

77

smile stretched into a grin. "Don't ask me to help with the hair bows and such. I'd be lost"

Frances laughed. *Then we'll find you another job."

He raised a finger to tuck a stray wisp of her hair into place, but Ftahces stepped away, her face growing warm. "You surprise me, Reverend Diller," she said. "You are being much too familiar with me."

"I geologize, Miss Kelly," he answered. "I don't mean any harm."

Aggie, her hair a tousled mop, sleepily staggered up the aisle, coming to a stop in front of Frances. She stared at Seth suspiciously. "Fm ready to help," Aggie said.

"You've just been given the day off," Seth told her. "I'U help Miss Kelly with the boys."

Aggie's chin stubbornly jutted out, and she stood as tall as she could. *The boys mind what I tell them," she said. "You're not one of us. They won't listen to you."

Seth stood his ground. "I offered my help, and Miss Kelly accepted," he told Aggie.

Quickly Frances stepped forward and began to brush Aggie's hair gently. "Goodness knows, there's a great deal to do, and I'm glad to get as much help as I can. I'd like Aggie to continue with her job of waking the boys and taking them to the privy when the train stops. She handles the younger children well. Reverend Diller, I'd appreciate it if you'd help me carry fresh milk from the depot to the train."

Tossing a smug look back at Seth, Aggie began waking the boys.

Frances quietly told Seth, "Being my assistant means a great deal to Aggie."

"I didn*t think she'd care so much. She's a young girl."

"She's leaving an unhappy childhood in an orphan asylum and is traveling into a future that frightens her. She knows she may find someone to love her, or she may not. Anything that helps Aggie to feel a little bit special is important to her . . . and to me."

"Sorry," Seth said. "I only wanted to help you. I didn't think these things mattered to a child."

"You were once a child, Seth," Frances said as she started up the aisle. "Think about your own childhood and how you felt about what was happening to you. Try to remember."

The stop for wood and water was a short one. Frances, thankful that Seth had taken care of buying fresh milk, helped the last child aboard just as the engineer pulled two long blasts on the whistle.

All the children were wide awake now and hungry, so Frances lost no time in dividing the milk and thick slices of bread among them.

As soon as their stomachs were full, the car became a noisier, livelier place. Some of the children tried to lean from the windows for a better look at the countryside. Questions flew through the air along with the small flecks of soot that dotted clothes and faces.

"Look at that white house with two chimneys! It's so big. How many families do you think live in that house?" Lucy Griggs asked.

David Howard leaned forward and squinted. "Will we live in houses like that?"

"Naw. They're for swells," Eddie said. "But I don't see tenements. Where are the tenements?"

"Look!" Jack Greer shouted 'There's cows. Where do the cows sleep at night? Do they have a house?"

"Horses have names," Elmily AveriU said. "Do chickens have names?"

"When are We going to get to the people whoTl choose us? How long will it take?" Aggie asked.

"We'll arrive at the first stop in eastern Missouri tomorrow. It's a town called Harwood," Frances said.

Suddenly, it seemed, the children remembered why they were on the train. The car fell quiet as everyone became absorbed in his or her own thoughts.

Lucy reached into the aisle and tugged at Frances's skirt. "Will you help me find a family?" she asked.

"Of course," Frances said. She slid into the seat beside Lucy and held her hand.

"I want a special family," Lucy said, "with a mother and a father and a little sister for me to love. I've always wanted to have a little sister."

"Lucy, dear," Frances began hesitantly, "if people already have a child, they may not come to find another."

Lucy's eyes shone. "Oh, yes, they will! You see, their little girl will want a big sister. She'll be looking for me.'' She held out Baby and said, "I'm going to share my doll with my little sister."

Frances hugged Lucy to her, unable to answer.

Ten-year-old Harry Stowe suddenly popped into the aisle next to her. Throwing quick glances back to where he'd been sitting with his brother, he lowered his voice and asked, "Can I talk to

you?"

*Of course," Frances said. "I'm listening." 80

"Adam hangs on to me all the time. He's been doing that ever since Mama and Papa died."

Frances nodded as Harry went on. "If somebody takes Adam and somebody else takes me, I don't know what will happen to him." Tears flooded Hany's eyes as he added, "I don't know what will h^pen to me.''

Frances put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, I'll do my best to keep the two of you together, but I can't make any promises."

Hany's shoulders sagged. "I'm scared, Miss Kelly. You don't know how scared."

"Yes, I do," Frances said. "I was scared, too, when I thought my brothers and sisters and I would be separated."

"I can't let anything bad happen to Adam," Harry insisted.

"We won't let anything bad happen to him," Frances said. "A few months after the placing-out, Andrew MacNair comes to each of the homes to make sure the children and the adults are happy."

Harry wiped a hand across his eyes. "But how can Adam be happy without me?" he asked.

Adam suddenly shouted, "Harry! Where are you?"

"Right here," Harry caUed. "Please, Miss Kelly. Please try to keep us together."

"ni try," Frances promised, and fought to hold back her own tears.

She rose to continue down the aisle, but a sob stopped her. She looked down at David Howard, who was rubbing his eyes with his fists.

"Want to tell me about it, David?" Frances asked as she knelt next to his seat.

"I miss my chum, Mickey," David answered.

Frances patted David's shoulder. *Tell me about Mickey," she said.

David gave a long sniffle, squinted at Frances, and said, "Mickey's the best chum anybody could ever have. He's older than me, so he looked out for me. He's a street arab, and smart as—"

Frances interrupted. "What did you call him?"

David looked surprised. "A street arab," he said. "Mickey sold newspapers and shined shoes, and he took care of me. He said I'd never be anything more than a guttersnipe, and not a very good guttersnipe at that"

"Oh, David, I'm sure that Mickey didn't mean it," Frances told him.

David looked back at Frances with big eyes. "Yes, miss, he meant it," David said. "Guttersnipes aren't smart enough to be street arabs. I tried, but I couldn't take care of myself. So Mickey decided I should go west on an orphan train and find a family to take care of me."