The House on Malcolm Street (36 page)

Once again, Eliza obeyed Marigold. But to get Josiah? To fetch me to the train?
No!

“Leah,” Marigold spoke into the swirl of panic I was feeling again. “Leah, you may think me an old bear before this morning’s done. But you are not yourself right now. You made a decision of what you knew to be right. You know your father needs you. He may be dying, and it’s your duty to go to him while you still have that opportunity. You’re getting on the train this morning, Leah. Your daughter will see her strong mother going to be a hero again for her grandpa’s sake, and she’ll be proud. You are not going to allow fear to cripple you, child. Because if you do, it will never stop.”

Something in my heart mustered the courage to give her my nod. I knew she was right. I knew it deep inside where it really counts. But the panic tried to grip me still.

Oh, God, please help me!

I’d been trying to pray now. Off and on, because I knew it was right. I really was making an effort. And today, for Eliza especially, I had to cry out, because I had no strength to manage this on my own.

33
Josiah

Saul was almost ready to bring the car around and escort the women to the train station as they’d planned. But I’d not expected a summons myself.

“Marigold wants you to come over, please,” Eliza told me, her bright eyes looking worried.

Puzzled, I grabbed my hat. “Maybe she has a chore for me while you all are gone.”

“I’ll have the car around front when your mother and Marigold are ready,” Saul told Eliza. We all walked out together.

To my surprise, Eliza grabbed my hand to hurry me across the yard to Marigold’s back porch. “Mommy’s crying,” she said. She looked like she could cry herself.

“Missing you already,” I surmised. “But she won’t be gone long. It’ll be fine.”

I couldn’t conceive of anything else that would be the matter, and Leah looked all right when I entered Marigold’s kitchen. A little pale, maybe. A little stiff.

“Where’s your bag, Leah, dear?” Marigold prompted.

“Upstairs. Beside our bedroom door.”

“Do you mind fetching it for me, Josiah?” Marigold asked.

And I didn’t mind obliging. It was a small thing, but it seemed a little silly to ask me over for that. After all, the bag wasn’t too terribly heavy, and I knew for a fact that Leah could handle it when she needed to.

But that wasn’t the real issue that Marigold had wanted me here for. When I got back to the kitchen, Eliza had her arms around her mother, and Marigold drew me quickly to her side.

“I know you weren’t planning on accompanying us to the train station, Josiah. But I need you to come along. Please don’t ask questions. I need you to carry Leah’s bag and to take her arm between here and the car, and again between the car and the train. Can you do that for me?”

At first, a shred of anger rose in me. She was at it again. Insisting on putting me with Leah. Insisting that we be friends. In front of people, this time. Making me take her arm. I almost protested. And she must have seen it in my eyes.

“I will explain later, if need be. But I’m not strong enough for this, Josiah. I don’t walk steadily enough. I need you to help me.”

This could be the most perplexing thing she’d ever asked of me. Why would special strength be required to escort Leah to the train? But Marigold was so in earnest that I didn’t feel right to refuse her. With a deep sigh, I gave her my nod.

Leah looked at me, her face slightly paler than before. Her jaw was set. She grasped her daughter’s hand and pushed herself to her feet. “I think I’m ready to go,” she said in a quiet, even voice. But her eyes did not say the same. To my surprise, they spoke fear. Sheer, unadulterated terror.

She started in the direction of the front door, still holding Eliza’s hand. I thought for a moment that she’d decided she didn’t need my arm, despite Marigold’s request. But then her knees started to buckle, and I hurried to her side and took her arm as I’d been told.

“What’s the matter, Mommy?” Eliza cried. “Are you all right?”

“I think I just tripped,” Leah lied.

I knew it was a lie, but I couldn’t fault her at all. I didn’t understand what the difficulty was, but I could definitely respect her effort not to frighten her daughter any more than she might already be.

“Oh! You didn’t eat very much!” Eliza exclaimed. “Do you want cookies or scones for the train?” She looked at Marigold in expectation.

“Oh, that’s a wonderful idea. Why didn’t I think of it?” Marigold quickly fetched a paper bag and filled it with whatever baked goods were handy, then brought it to Eliza. “Carry it for your mother, dear, if you don’t mind.”

She smiled as though everything was right now that such an important detail had been taken care of.

Leah still held her daughter’s hand and looked down at the girl with a tender smile. But at the same time, her fingers had grown tight on my arm, and when she glanced my way, I could almost imagine her eyes speaking to me.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want it to be this way. But please don’t let go.”

She leaned on me more than I expected as we walked, and I began to think that surely she must be ill. Was she going away to hide that fact from her daughter? And if that were the case, could she be sure of being well enough to return in the time she’d said? I wished I could pry Marigold to explain, but she’d told me to ask no questions. And I figured I owed her that much, just for caring.

Leah’s words were steady, her face was set. She even smiled as she spoke to her daughter and said the sort of things that make perfect sense to put a child at ease when her mother is going away. But Marigold knew as well as I did that something else was afoot. At the train station, she drew me aside again.

“Josiah. I know I ask an awful lot of you. And this time you might think it’s just too much. Upon my honor, it was just a curious accident that you both ended up at the Kurchers’ at the same time. I didn’t try to do that. And I’m not trying to put you together now. But – ”

She glanced over at Leah, standing stiff beside Mr. Abraham, one hand still holding Eliza’s hand, the other white-knuckled around a rail.

“What? What on earth is going on?”

“You don’t have to be anywhere else today, do you?”

“No. You can’t be asking – ”

“Josiah, you’re allowed to ride the train free because of your job. I was hoping she’d be better and that I wouldn’t have to ask any more of you. But couldn’t you go as far as St. Louis? Then take the return and be back tonight. See her that far for me, could you, please? I’m just not sure she’s going to manage very well alone.”

“Why? Is she sick?”

“No. Not really.”

“Then what’s wrong? It’s a straight ride to St. Louis. No changes until then. And she made the trip on the way out here.”

“Thank the good Lord for that miracle of grace.”

I could hear the train in the distance now. Leah seemed to tip for a moment toward the rail, but she steadied herself again.

“There’s something wrong with her, isn’t there?” My heart was heavy with the thought. She was young. Beautiful. With a beautiful fatherless daughter.

“Not in the usual manner,” Marigold admitted. “You’ll see. You’ll understand soon enough. Only please agree for now, Josiah. For that little girl’s sake over there. And hurry up about it. Before the train gets in sight.”

I had no idea what she was talking about. But she persuaded me, like always. Somehow, for some reason, this was very important to her. She’d call it a ministry later. She’d say I was the tool of God again. I didn’t care about any of that. But I did care about little Eliza being afraid. And somehow I knew that it wouldn’t be so bad if I did what Marigold asked.

“I think I need to ride to St. Louis today,” I announced when Marigold and I rejoined the others. “Hope you won’t mind having me along on the same train.”

Leah looked confused for a moment, glancing first at me, and then at Marigold. I thought she might protest. She did not seem pleased. And yet she nodded her head placidly, accepting.

“Are you gonna see my grandpa too?” Eliza asked with wonder.

“No. I’ve got other business. I’ll just be on the same train for part of the trip.”

“That’s good,” Eliza decided. “I don’t think my mommy likes trains. But you know everything about them. So you can help if she needs anything.”

“Oh, it’s not far,” I said glibly. “Can’t imagine what she’d need from me.”

Leah looked long at me this time but didn’t say anything. The knuckles of her one hand were still wrapped white around that railing. Then the train whistle blew shrill and loud, and she closed her eyes. I don’t know why I felt she might pass out. Marigold hadn’t told me what was wrong, but Leah seemed suddenly frail to me, utterly weak and broken. I put my arm behind her just to steady her, hoping she wouldn’t be offended at me. I didn’t want her to fall.

The good-byes were short and sweet because the train never lingered long in Andersonville. Leah smiled and waved for her daughter, at the same time fumbling to put one foot in front of the other on the metal steps. Finally we were onboard and she plopped into the nearest seat.

“What’s wrong?”

She ignored me completely, looking out the window and waving for her daughter, a smile still on her face. Only when we began to move did the façade begin to crumble. I knew the moment when she could no longer see Eliza, because her face fell, her shoulders sagged, and she came apart in a mess of tears.

I had no idea what to do now. Joe Pesh, the weekend porter, was checking for tickets. He didn’t bother looking at my worker’s paper. He just pointed at Leah, surmising that we must be together. But I didn’t know where her ticket was, and she was way beyond us in her sobs, so I asked him to come back in a while if he would. Of course he gave me a strange look.

Marigold had no idea what she’d asked of me. I’d not live this down in a long time. The men I worked with would all soon know that their fire man had hopped a train on Saturday with a hopelessly crying woman.

I sat beside her. “Leah. Don’t mean to bother you, but the porter’ll be back in about two minutes. He’ll want to see your ticket.”

At first I didn’t think she’d heard me. But she fumbled with her bag and couldn’t seem to open it, so I reached to help her. Our hands touched for a moment, and she pulled away. I realized she was shaking.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “S-side p-pocket.”

She seemed barely able to catch her breath. But she’d given me permission after a fashion, so I searched through the bag’s side pocket and found the needed ticket. Then, so the porter wouldn’t have to come back this way and see her like this again, I got up and took it to him.

He checked the ticket and gave me a wry smile. “She seems just thrilled to be traveling with you, champ.”

“Shut up. I’m just doing a favor seeing her as far as St. Louis. She’s ailing.”

I left him and his stupid grin behind me and returned to Leah, not sure if I should sit beside her again or not. She was leaning against the wall looking scared and tiny, her crying stilled a little, though the tears were still wet on her cheeks. I stood in the aisle with my hand on the back of a seat, wondering what to do.

She looked up at me, and I could still see the fear in her eyes.

“Tell me about the train wreck,” she said in a voice so soft I barely heard.

“Are you sure you want to hear that? Right now?”

She nodded, but tears clouded her eyes again.

“Um . . . a car was crossing the tracks, that’s all. They didn’t seem to see us comin’ and just pulled out in front of us. A train can’t stop fast, you know. No way for that. So the car got mangled pretty bad . . .”

I stopped, watching her eyes. “You don’t really need to hear this.”

She sniffed, fumbled with a hanky, and tried to wipe her eyes. “Two – two people died?”

“Yes, ma’am. I guess they were killed instant.”

She took a deep breath, and her shaking hands tried to close together around the twisted hanky. I thought she might say something about John’s death, or about what was making her seem so weak. But she didn’t. She only laid her head against the wall and closed her eyes.

Just then the engineer sounded the whistle, which was nothing to me, but Leah gasped and jumped like a wild beast was threatening. Her arms flew up to cover her face and head.

I sat beside her. “Are you all right?”

She didn’t move. She didn’t answer.
Lord, what in the world is the matter with this woman?

Suddenly it hit me. I’d seen a three-year-old child act like this on the train once, thrown into a panic every time the whistle blew.

“It’s not really so bad.”

She lowered her arms and looked at me.

“I can’t say there’s nothing to be afraid of. Because trains can be scary, sure. I might be scared myself if I wasn’t so used to them, having to work on one and all. But if I’d never seen one, or if I dwelt too much in my head on things like that wreck – ”

She lowered her eyes, but I knew she was still listening.

“I’m just saying they can be scary. Sure. Especially . . .”

I stopped to take a breath. Could I really talk to her like this? What if I was making a huge mistake? “Um . . . especially if you’ve lost somebody you love.”

She closed her eyes.

“But they’re not so bad, really. Nothing but a hunk of metal, if you get down to brass tacks. And there’s accidents with this kind of hunk of metal just like any other.”

She started crying, sobbing like a child, and I couldn’t help myself. I took her in my arms, glad the train wasn’t full and Joe Pesh wasn’t in our car. The fewer eyes to see this, the better.

“It’s all right to cry,” I told her. “Whatever the matter is. Sometimes you just got to, that’s all.”

I’d seen her stuffy and snippy, smudged with garden dirt, buried in apples, and fiery bossy for the sake of the Kurchers’ need. But I’d never expected to see her broken like this. I felt like crying too. I’d imagined her strong inside, healed already and moved on from the raw pain of grief. But here she was, showing me almost more than I could bear. Weak like me. Hurting like me. Right now, somehow, unable to cope with the world.