Journey's End (Gilded Promises)
Read Journey's End (Gilded Promises) Online
Authors: Renee Ryan
Praise for Renee Ryan
“RT Top Pick . . . Fanny cares for Jonathon deeply, but she won’t marry him without his love. At a crossroads, Jonathon will have to choose whether to walk away or be the man that Fanny believes him to be. The elements of Christian faith are superbly woven into the story [
The Marriage Agreement
], and fans of this delightful series will surely enjoy this sweet tale of forgiveness, hope, and redeeming love.”
—Susannah Balch,
RT Book Reviews
“With book two in her Charity House series [
Hannah’s Beau
], Ryan writes with passion and love, as always. She knows what readers expect and never disappoints.”
—Patsy Glans,
RT Book Reviews
“Don’t miss this wonderful story [
The Marshal Takes a Bride
] about redemption and forgiveness. The characters are lovable, and likable, even at times when they’re not nice, and the faith message is interwoven without being overbearing and preachy.”
—Patsy Glans,
RT Book Reviews
“RT Top Pick . . . This sixth in the Charity House series [
The Outlaw’s Redemption
] is filled with complex characters and many endearing, familiar faces. It’s a fascinating addition to this delightful series.”
—Susan Mobley,
RT Book Reviews
“Ryan outdoes herself with this latest offering [
Dangerous Allies
]—a mix
of romance, intrigue, and spies. She writes her characters with strong feelings and heart.”
—Patsy Glans,
RT Book Reviews
“5 stars . . . Perfect for . . . everywhere. Whether you’re looking for a book to curl up with for a long evening, during a carpool line, or to take on vacation, you’ll want to include
His Most Suitable Bride
!”
—Dora Hiers,
Fiction Faith & Foodies
ALSO BY RENEE RYAN
Charity House historical series
The Marshal Takes a Bride
Hannah’s Beau
Loving Bella
The Lawman Claims His Bride
Charity House Courtship
The Outlaw’s Redemption
Finally a Bride
His Most Suitable Bride
The Marriage Agreement
World War II historical series
Dangerous Allies
Courting the Enemy
Village Green contemporary series
Claiming the Doctor’s Heart
The Doctor’s Christmas Wish
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2016 Renee Ryan
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Waterfall Press, Grand Haven, MI
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Waterfall Press are trademarks of
Amazon.com
, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781503950528
ISBN-10: 1503950522
Cover design by Kirk DouPonce, DogEared Design
I dedicate this book to my favorite real-life couples: Hillary and Bradley Nolan, Kelsey and Dan Halverson. Your love for one another reminds me that true love exists in every generation. I love you with all my heart.
Contents
Journeys end in lovers meeting,
Every wise man’s son doth know.
—William Shakespeare,
Twelfth Night
Chapter One
Ellis Island, 1901
“Oh, Caro, look. We’re almost there. We’re almost in America.”
Caroline St. James made a noncommittal sound deep in her throat. Unlike the frail Irish girl leaning heavily on her arm, she knew that arriving at Ellis Island was only the first step in the rigorous registration process.
Frowning at Mary’s sickly pallor, Caroline carefully guided her friend into the queue of fellow immigrants disembarking the ferryboat. Cautious by nature, and with a suspicion honed by necessity, she watched for trouble, assessing potential threats in the mass of anxious humanity pressing in from every possible angle.
It would be too easy to lose her friend in this crowd. Where would Mary be then? The girl was already showing signs of exhaustion, and they hadn’t even made it off the ferryboat yet.
Lifting up onto her toes, Caroline caught her first glimpse of the imposing stone building up ahead with the endless lines of immigrants stretching from door to dock.
“Almost there,”
she whispered to herself, and yet still so far to go.
She’d paid close attention to the hushed whispers of other immigrants whose relatives had already passed through Ellis Island. Several tough challenges lay head, starting with the “long staircase.” From what she’d gathered, reaching the top did not mean the journey had come to an end.
Each immigrant also had to pass a medical exam and an extensive interview. Caroline’s pulse picked up speed. The American authorities could send her back to London for something as minor as a recurring cough or as major as a criminal record.
While she may have stolen food to survive and fleeced an unsuspecting gambler or two, she’d never been caught. And she’d never,
never
harmed anyone worse off than herself.
Given the abject poverty of her fellow passengers, she doubted she was alone in having done whatever was necessary to survive.
Still, in contrast to the other immigrants now moving into the vast hall with her and Mary, Caroline hadn’t come to America seeking the promise of a better life. For her, this journey was a means to an end. The first step in a meticulous plan to right a terrible wrong.
The crowd condensed, moving as one solid pack at a pace more suitable for a funeral procession. The foul-smelling web of bodies shoved, pushed, and jockeyed for position, as if their minuscule efforts could hurry along this unending process.
A hard jostle from behind sent Caroline’s tattered skirts tangling around her legs. For a half second, she lost her balance, and her grip slipped from Mary’s arm. The girl stumbled forward dangerously.
With a small gasp, Caroline reached for her friend, catching her just before she dropped to the ground.
“Thank you, Caro.” The words shuddered past dry, cracked lips, a sure sign of Mary’s discomfort. Yet her pale, terror-stricken face told the real story. The illness she’d contracted aboard ship last week had grown worse, alarmingly so.
Pressing her lips into a determined line, Caroline put a hand under her friend’s arm and hauled her upright.
For a fleeting moment, Caroline allowed herself to close her eyes. Not to pray—she’d given up on that futile pursuit years ago—but to gather her inner fortitude. She would not fail her friend.
Resolve firmly in place, Caroline opened her eyes, swallowed, and forced confidence in her tone. “Don’t worry, Mary. We’ll get through this together.”
Together.
How odd it felt to say the word, to have someone to care about and want to protect, when she’d vowed never to do so again.
Half dragging, half pulling, Caroline maneuvered her friend in the direction of the stairwell. Would anyone notice she supported most of the girl’s weight?
Casting a quick glance at a uniformed man standing on a small pedestal, Caroline stifled a gasp of dismay. The official’s dark, narrowed gaze swept across the slow-moving crowd. Relentless, unyielding, he looked like a hungry predator searching for the weakest in the herd.
Thankfully, he hadn’t spotted Mary. Yet.
Caroline released a hissing rush of air. The frantic percussion of her heartbeat sounded loud and insistent in her ears.
Must. Press. Onward.
Taking note of the labored breathing beside her, Caroline looked down at her friend. A burst of affection filled her bitter heart. This sweet young Irish girl, with the pretty auburn hair and delicate features, had become Caroline’s first real friend in years. Perhaps ever.
Mary’s devotion to God, who had long since abandoned Caroline, should have sent her running in the opposite direction weeks ago. Instead, every time Mary closed her eyes and prayed, Caroline felt an unfamiliar yearning, as if there were a gaping hole in her soul that needed filling.
She brushed the disturbing thought aside and then eased Mary another step forward. At this rate, they would be in these cramped conditions for hours.
The sea of bobbing heads parted, just a bit, revealing a perfect view of the stairwell up ahead.
“Oh. Oh, no.” Mary curled her fingers into Caroline’s sleeve. “I don’t think I can make it.”
Caroline craned her neck. The stairwell went up, and up, and up farther still, the incline so steep she couldn’t see the top.
How would Mary ever make the climb? How utterly tragic if she didn’t. The girl had family awaiting her arrival. People who loved her, as Caroline had grown to over the endless hours trapped together in the hull of the SS
Princess Helena
.
“Listen to me, Mary. You can do this. Just lean on me if you grow tired.”
Mary shook her head in defeat. “It’s too steep.”
Caroline refused to give in to the dread prowling at the edges of her calm. “All you have to do is remember what I taught you. Keep your head high, chin up, eyes forward. Perception is the key.”
“Caro.” Mary cut a glance to her left, then dropped her gaze to her feet. “If we get separated—”
“Don’t say that.” Caroline faced her friend and gave her a little shake. “Don’t even think it.”
“But if we do,” Mary persisted, a sheen of tears filling her eyes, “you
must
continue on without me. Go to the address I told you. If Aunt Jane is away, ask for my cousin Bridget. Either one will know what to do. They’ll help you with—”
“That’s enough, Mary. It’s really quite enough.” Caroline tried to sound stern, but her voice tripped over every word. “Eyes forward. Yes, that’s right. Now. Chin up.”
Mary did as ordered. But then her lips trembled, and one fat tear rolled down her cheek. Followed by several more.
Caroline stole a discreet glance in the official’s direction. As if sensing something amiss, the man leaned forward, teeth exposed, shoulders bunched.
He caught sight of Caroline. And then . . .
Mary.
No.
No.
Panic closed Caroline’s throat—the sensation felt as though a noose had been cinched and pulled too tight.
She shifted in front of Mary, shielding her from the official’s direct line of vision.
But she’d acted too late.
The man jumped off his perch and, for a blinding second, disappeared in the crowd. Just as quickly, he reappeared. Closer. Too close. Less than thirty feet away.
Eyebrows huddled together, he shoved through the knot of immigrants, not caring if he stepped on toes or knocked over children. His eyes were locked on Mary, his purpose clear in his hard gaze.
“Listen to me.” Caroline turned to Mary, urgency in her voice. “You can make it. Don’t shake your head at me. Yes, you can. Just climb with confidence.”
“I . . . I’ll try.”
“We’ll do this together.”
Mary gave her a tremulous smile. “All right.”
Side by side, they began their ascent and conquered the first five stairs without incident. But then a hole opened in the crowd. A hand reached out, closed over Mary’s shoulder, and yanked hard. Caroline lost her grip on her friend’s arm.
No.
Helplessness washed over her. She reached out frantically, shouting Mary’s name, running her gaze around the surrounding area. To no avail. Her friend was gone. Seized in the amount of time it took to take a single breath.
As far as abductions went, Mary’s had been skillfully executed.
Caroline twisted around on the stairs. Wobbling only slightly, she searched for the familiar cloud of red-gold hair.
There she was. Several rows back. Arm clasped in the official’s ruthless grip as he hustled her along in the opposite direction.
Where was he taking her?
Caroline started back down the stairs, desperate to catch up with them. But with each forward step she was shoved back two. People shouted at her in a cacophony of different languages. She knew she was heading in the wrong direction. Yet she persevered, careening upstream against the tide of determined immigrants.
She pushed and pushed, until she could go no farther.
The crowd had grown too thick at the bottom of the stairs and was as immovable as a brick wall. And just as unyielding. Caroline had no other choice than to turn around and follow along in the proper direction or risk being trampled to death.
Her heart constricted painfully in her chest.
She’d failed Mary. And now she was on her own again with no one to look after but herself.
Familiar territory, to be sure; the tragic continuation of a tale nobody cared to hear.
Wasn’t that the saddest part of all?
Losing her friend was just one more defeat to add to the countless others. A choked sob tripped past her lips.
The sound was so foreign in her ears she staggered slightly to her right and instinctively gripped the railing for support.
Cursing her momentary loss of control, Caroline threw back her shoulders, lifted her chin, and proceeded to the top of the staircase. She made eye contact with no one, resolved to get through the rest of this excruciating process as she had all the other challenges in her life. Alone.
Despite her outer bravado, Caroline entered the designated women’s area with a stab of dread. Not because she was worried about passing the medical exam. Years of surviving on the streets of the East End of London had made her fitter and stronger than most. But what if they instructed her to disrobe completely?
Would they search her clothing and find the money she’d sewn into the lining of her skirt? Would they insist she explain where she’d come upon such an outrageous sum?
Caroline breathed a sigh of relief when a nurse in the entryway instructed her to remove only her coat and blouse. She could keep on her chemise and everything below her waist.
Once she removed the required items, a stern-faced woman in a starched white blouse checked her posture, ran her fingers down her spine, then spun her around and examined her eyes, ears, nose, and throat.
A few more pokes and the woman deemed Caroline healthy. According to the big round clock on the wall, the entire process had taken precisely six seconds.
After several more hours of waiting—this time in a large room called the Great Hall—Caroline was directed to a sizable wooden desk, behind which a man wearing wire-rimmed spectacles sat perched on a tall stool. A variety of official-looking papers lay in neat, perfectly aligned piles in front of him.
Like many of the uniformed men she’d encountered today, he had average features, ordinary brown hair, and very small eyes. He’d also planted the requisite bored expression on his face.
Was he truly disinterested, or would that change as soon as the questioning began?
Caroline held her breath as a shiver of trepidation navigated along her spine. If she failed this interview, she could be sent back to London. But if she passed, she would be free to enter America legally.
Wasting no time with pleasantries, the man said in a flat American accent, “State your name, please.”
“Caroline St. James.”
“St. James.” He shuffled through the stack of papers, plucked one free from the middle, then set it directly in front of him. “Age?”
“Twenty-two.”
“Tell me, Miss”—he dragged his finger down the page—“St. James. Why have you come to America?”
“To make a better life for myself.” The trite answer flew past her lips before she could edit herself. A mistake. She shouldn’t have been so vague. Would he think she was trying to hide something?
Thankfully, the official approved of her answer. “That’s certainly a noble pursuit.” He gave her a surprisingly patient smile. “But how do you plan to actually achieve such a lofty goal?”
“I’ll find a job, of course.”
“And do you possess any particular skills that will assist you in this endeavor?”
Of course she had skills. Unfortunately, none that would be considered suitable in a respectable young woman of limited means. Thus, she proceeded to do what came naturally to her when caught in a dangerous situation.
She embellished the truth.
“I’m a seamstress.” Not a complete lie; she’d sewn on a button once or twice.
“A seamstress,” he repeated. “Why, that’s excellent. Simply excellent.” He made a mark on the document. “And do you have any relatives in this country?”
Her mind rifled through possible answers. Skirting the truth once more, she presented the names Mary had mentioned earlier. “Aunt Jane and Cousin Bridget.”
The man’s head snapped up. His gaze thinned with suspicion. Had someone else given those names already?
For a long, tense moment, he said nothing. Refusing to buckle, Caroline returned his scrutiny with a confident, unflinching stare.
A beat passed and then another. At last the official nodded. “Very good. How much money do you have with you?”
Even though she’d prepared for this question, her skin turned to ice.
Breathe, Caroline.
In. Out. In. Out.
You must remain calm.
A nearly impossible feat. If this man discovered how much money she had sewn in her skirt, he could start asking all the wrong questions, the ones not on the document in front of him.
The ones that would get her deported as quickly as any contagious disease.
Breathe.