Orphan Brides Go West: The Complete Series Read online

  “Fine, thank you.”

  “Shall I make some coffee?”

  “Yes please.”

  Elsie Pearson, Katie’s mother-in-law, was a seamstress. She lived across town on her own in a small boarding room in a working class area of Boston. She had insisted on staying with Katie for the funeral, and Katie was glad of the company. The two women had talked and cried together the previous evening before bed. Katie’s eyes felt sore and puffy - she wiped them dry with a handkerchief she’d hidden beneath her pillow. She didn’t want Elsie to see her crying. Elsie had enough grief of her own to cope with, she didn’t need to shoulder the burden of Katie’s grief as well. Katie took a deep breath and rolled out of bed. It was time to face the day.

  “We are gathered here to celebrate the life, and to mourn the loss, of one Nicholas Pearson. A beloved son, devoted husband and faithful Christian, he was taken from us all too soon.” The minister wore a black suit. His hair was parted in the middle and slicked down against the sides of head. His face was somber as he spoke.

  Nicholas’s funeral was a small affair. Nick’s mother was the only family he had. Some of their friends had taken the day off work to attend the service. A few men from the construction company were there, along with several members of their church. Katie scanned the sanctuary, attempting to take in the rows of faces since she would be expected to thank them later.

  The church building was narrow, with a pointed bell tower above the chapel and a rectangular hall standing beside it. Katie sat in the front pew beside a sobbing Elsie, and stared at the floor as the minister delivered a blessing over Nick’s red cedar casket.

  “Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil . . .”

  As his voiced droned on through the ceremony, his long face regarding the congregation with sympathy, Katie couldn’t shake the feeling that Nick was seated beside her. They always sat together here, every Sunday morning. Not in this same pew, but in one further back. They shared a Bible, and stood side-by-side to sing their favorite hymns in loud voices. They listened to the sermon with interest, remembering the best parts to discuss with each other after lunch. And when Nick’s hand grazed hers, she would be transported back to their evenings, alone, in their apartment, where they could express their love for each other without holding back.

  A tear skidded unimpeded down Katie’s cheek, and she dabbed at her eyes with a blue tartan handkerchief. Nick’s favorite handkerchief. She stashed it back in the inside pocket of her coat, next to her heart, and patted it gently before returning her hands to her lap, where she held them demurely.

  The church was decorated only with a few simple flowers taken from the gardens of those in attendance, along with long piece of black chiffon draped around the bottom edges of the casket. Katie couldn’t afford much for the funeral, but thankfully Nick’s mother was helping to cover the costs.

  When it was finally over, Katie drew in a deep breath. She had to brace herself for what was coming. She made her way to the front door of the church and stood resolute and strong, as each person paid her their respects. It was a well-intentioned tradition, but she felt as though a thousand knives were digging at her heart. Their sorrow-filled features, their polite remarks, their pity, and their intrusion into her personal grief – it was all too much. She didn’t want to share this moment with anyone. It was hers, and she held it close to her chest, burrowing herself deep down into the darkness of it, while smiling dimly at each mourner as they shook her hand and shared with her their words of encouragement.

  The burial service afterwards at the graveside was brief, and Katie linked her arm through Elsie’s as they walked back to the apartment, their grief echoed in the black of their thick dresses and the lace veils covering their faces. Elsie cried loudly, her arm shaking in Katie’s. Katie patted her hand, and thought about the future.

  What would she do when the baby came? How would she support this new life? She couldn’t keep working with a baby to care for, could she? Would the Sommers family allow her to bring the baby to work with her? Katie worked as a maid for the Sommers, and they’d always treated her fairly. Maybe they would allow it, and Katie could work and care for the young one. She had to believe that there was a way for her to survive this.

  “It’s going to be all right,” said Elsie, sobbing loudly as she turned her forlorn face toward Katie. She wiped her tears, and clasped Katie’s hand in her own.

  “Is it?” asked Katie.

  “It doesn’t seem that way now, but the pain will fade. Not for me – a mother should never have to bury her child. But a wife can move on. I know, I did it. I’ve lost two husbands in my life, and the pain feels as though it will kill you – but it doesn’t. You will endure, my darling, and one day you’ll remarry.”

  “No, don’t say that Elsie.”

  “It’s all right, Katie dear. I don’t mind. I know that you’ll never be able to replace my Nicholas, but he loved you and would want you to be happy. I do so hope you will be again, one day.”

  Katie considered Elsie’s words. In her anguish she had forgotten that Elsie had lost two husbands. She had persisted and had made her own way in the world as a seamstress. It was a hard life, but she had managed to live these past years on her own. Katie couldn’t even imagine getting remarried someday. It seemed like a betrayal to Nick for her even to consider the thought. But even as she pushed it out of her mind, another disturbing thought sprang into its place.

  The baby.

  If she didn’t remarry, how would she support and raise her baby? She would speak to her employers tomorrow. If they would let her bring the baby to work with her, perhaps she would be able to manage it all somehow. She patted Elsie’s hand again. She had to be strong now, for the baby’s sake. She couldn’t fall apart, that wouldn’t help anyone. She had to focus on finding a way to ensure that she could provide a good life for her baby. That’s all that mattered now. That’s what Nicholas would want. It’s what he would have done.

  When they walked into the apartment, Katie noticed Nick’s boots sitting against the wall. They still had mud on the toes from when he’d tramped through the park after the last heavy rainfall. Above the boots, his hat sat on the top of the coat rack, and his Sunday coat hung beneath it. The room was cold and empty. Never again would Katie walk through that door to the sound of Nick humming as he polished his shoes. Never again would she be surprised by Nick giving her a hug from behind and a kiss on the cheek as she stirred their supper on the stove top.

  Oh God, please let everything be all right. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this. Please help me.

  4

  It had been four weeks since the funeral, and Katie’s morning sickness had only gotten worse. Only it wasn’t just in the mornings, it was all day long. The smell of food, the sight of it, the feel of it on her tongue – everything sent her running to find a container into which she could throw up. And yet she remained voraciously hungry all of the time. The only thing that made her feel any better was to eat, and so the cycle continued. Her face had become pale and gaunt, and her skin was sallow. She stumbled through each day, wishing she could rest, or at least get a break from the constant nausea.

  Elsie had returned home the day after the funeral, waiting while Katie dressed for work. They walked to the coach station together, and it was there that they parted ways. Katie hadn’t told Elsie about her pregnancy. She had meant to, but there never seemed to be the right moment for it. She didn’t know how to bring joy into the ever-present grief which consumed them both. The only person who knew about the baby was Hannah, and only then because she had found out before the accident. Katie had told no one since, not even the Sommers. She had finally worked up the courage to tell them today, and was on her way to work now, her stride steady with resolve.

  “I thought pregnant women were supposed to glow,” she hissed at Hannah as she passed her in the hall.

  “But you are glowing, my dear,” replied Hannah
, one eyebrow cocked in amusement.

  Katie pulled a face at her and opened the foyer doors to step outside into the biting wind. Winter had fallen upon Boston with force now, and a thin layer of frozen snow coated everything about her. The street was white, the bowing branches of black-limbed trees held a deposit of the icy whiteness from the trunk to the tip of each reaching branch. Carriages that had not yet moved in the morning light were blanketed with it, and Katie’s feet trudged through it, leaving a trail of dainty dark footprints in her wake.

  She shivered and pulled her woolen shawl closer about her thin body. She’d never liked Boston winters. The cold was so biting she could get no comfort. It permeated to her very bones, leaving her in a constant state of unease. The pot-bellied stove in their apartment warmed the small rooms well each evening, but by morning it was frigid again, and Katie couldn’t afford to light the fire before work. So, breakfast was a cold piece of bread with a glass of freezing water, and she dressed quickly while her body shivered in the intense cold, her breath leaving small puffs of steam hanging in the air before her.

  The Sommers family owned a large house in an upmarket part of town. It was a long walk for Katie, but she didn’t mind. It gave her time to think and the exercise warmed her. She carried an extra piece of bread in her pocket to munch on as she walked, which kept the nausea at bay. She climbed the stairs at the back of the house to the service entrance, and rapped quietly on the door. It was opened shortly by a portly, older woman, Mrs. Pierce. As the housekeeper, Mrs. Pierce lived with the family and managed the household staff. She was a brusque but kindly woman. She walked with a slight limp after a childhood accident left one leg shorter than the other.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Pierce,” said Katie, reaching for a peg by the door where her apron was hung.

  “Good morning to you, Katie dear. And how are you today? It’s a cold one, isn’t it?”

  “Yes Ma’am. I’m well thank you.”

  “You best get started with the breakfast tray. Mrs. Sommers is expecting hers early today, since she has the meeting of the Booster Club over at the church this morning.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Pierce.” Katie hurried to the kitchen counter where a tray filled with coffee, milk, croissants, jam, and a thick slice of yellow butter stood waiting. She picked it up, and pushed her way backwards through the swinging doors and out into the main house. Walking smartly to the stairs, she paused at the bottom, fighting back a wave of sickness. The scent of the croissants wafted around her, and her stomach growled in complaint. She breathed slowly, then climbed the stairs, her black heels clacking on the marble.

  Even though Katie had worked for the Sommers for three years, she never tired of marveling at the beauty of their home. Above the marble staircase hung a set of three matching canvases. Each one was painted in dark colors, with a likeness of the three most recent generations of Sommers’ men. Every corner of each room in the house was decorated with a vase, a table or a statue of some kind. Luxurious rugs, imported from exotic places like Turkey and Italy, graced the floors, and fresh hothouse flowers filled the house with an enticing fragrance. Katie smiled as she summited the staircase, and turned down the hall toward Mrs. Sommers’ room. She rapped gently on the door.

  “Enter,” came a high voice from within.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Sommers,” said Katie, walking into the bedroom, and placing the tray down on a sumptuous cedar dresser.

  Mrs. Sommers was standing in front of a full-length mirror, holding an emerald dress in front of her silk nightgown.

  “Katie dear, what do you think of this gown?” she asked, spinning right and left as she studied herself.

  “It’s beautiful,” said Katie, pouring coffee into a china cup that squatted upon a matching saucer on the breakfast tray.

  “Do you think it would suit New York society though? Oh, of course you wouldn’t know, would you? You’ve never been there?”

  “No, Ma’am. I never have, but I’m sure it would do well there just the same.”

  Katie sliced open a croissant and buttered it thickly, then dabbed the fruity jam across the butter. “Are you going to New York, Ma’am?” she asked.

  “Yes, we’re moving there next week. Didn’t Mrs. Pierce tell you yet? Oh dear, I thought she would have mentioned it by now. The whole family is moving. We’re selling this house, you see. Mr. Sommers has been transferred to the New York office, and we’ve taken a house just outside the city. I declare, I have so much work to do I don’t know where to start. Men don’t think about these things, you see. They say, ‘I’ll take this job, and I’ll take that house’, never stopping for a moment to consider how much work it will cause their poor wives.”

  Katie stood still, her mouth open, and she gasped. “Do you mean – will you be selling this house? Will you still be needing me?”

  “I’m afraid we have to sell. I’m sure you’ll find something else to suit you in no time though. I wouldn’t fret. A pretty young girl like you. . . you’ll be snatched up as quick as a wink.”

  “Oh,” was all Katie could think to say. Her face felt flushed, and nausea swept over her again. She rushed from the room and down to the kitchen, before throwing up in a clean bowl sitting on the bench awaiting the ingredients for the day’s baking.

  “What’s wrong with you?” asked Mrs. Pierce suspiciously.

  Katie wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, tears pricking her blue eyes.

  “Mrs. Sommers says they’re moving to New York.”

  Mrs. Pierce walked to her, and lay one hand on Katie’s arm. “I’m sorry Katie. I was going to tell you this morning.”

  “I need this job, Mrs. Pierce.”

  “You’ll find another, my dear.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I’m sure you will. I wish I could have given you more notice, but the whole thing has been rather last minute. I’m the only member of staff to keep their job since I’ll be moving with the family. Other than me, they’re hiring an entirely new staff when we get to New York. I’m sorry. I will give you a reference, my dear.”

  Mrs. Pierce left the room, and Katie stood in the quiet, her thoughts jumbling together as panic gripped her. What would she do now? She had been counting on this job to support her and the baby. Now, in a moment, that hope was gone. If she didn’t find another job before her pregnancy started to show, she’d never find one. Even if she did find one, they’d be unlikely to keep her on after the baby came. Katie lay one hand protectively across her stomach. It wouldn’t be long before she would be unable to hide the swell of her growing abdomen. She considered the young life budding inside her. What kind of life would this baby have? What would it be like? How could she give this child everything she wanted to? She was an unemployed widow. All her life she’d seen women begging on street corners, their children starving, unwashed and even abandoned, and she’d wondered what had happened in their lives to bring such destitution. Now she knew. Katie gripped the edge of the counter, and leaned on it, loud, heaving sobs wracked her thin body and as she let them out they echoed in the empty kitchen.

  5

  Trudging up the front steps to the stoop of the apartment building, Katie paused to knock the snow from her shoes. The landlord was there, sweeping out the foyer again. He tipped back his bowler hat, and stared at her through beady, dark eyes.

  “Evening Mrs. Pearson,” he said.

  “Good evening Mr. Hungerford.”

  “Everything all right?” he asked, no doubt sensing her fear and frustration.

  “Yes, everything’s fine, thank you. I might be a bit late with rent next month, though.”

  “You know, I’ve got a job for you, if you need it.” He watched her closely, leaning on the end of the broom.

  “A job? What kind of job?”

  “All ya have to do is keep some nice gentlemen company – that pretty face of yours, it’ll be a piece of cake.”

  “Keep gentlemen company?” Katie’s eyes clouded over, and she sighed before head
ing for the staircase to her apartment. “No, thank you Mr. Hungerford. I’m not interested in a job of that kind.”

  “Well, never mind. I’m sure you’ll come around sometime. You just let me know when you’re ready to take that step. There’ll be no extensions on the rent ‘round here Missy. And there ain’t many jobs about these parts for a young girl on her own neither. You’ll get hungry one day, you just remember me when you do.”

  Katie shot a look of disgust over her shoulder, and continued toward her apartment.

  “Don’t forget rent is due Monday, not a day later,” he called up to her, before returning to his sweeping, his loud chortle echoing about the cold foyer.

  When Katie reached her front door, she found Hannah bent down on one knee, sliding something beneath the frame. Hannah’s soft brown locks were caught up in a ponytail and curled into thick ringlets. She wore a short brown cloak around her shoulders over a fashionable green velveteen dress. Katie’s heart warmed to see her there.

  “Hannah,” cried Katie, her face breaking into the first smile of the day.

  Hannah stood to her feet and the two women embraced.

  “I was just leaving you a note asking you to come for dinner this evening, but since you’re here I can ask you in person.”

  “I’d love to,” said Katie, relaxing her shoulders and reaching for one of Hannah’s hands to squeeze it. “I’ve had a horrible day, and dinner with you is just what I need to make it better.”

  “Well then, get washed up and come right over. I’ve made a fresh jug of iced tea, and I even bought a lemon to squeeze into it, so you’re in for a treat.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.” Katie took her apartment key out of her purse and opened the door as Hannah disappeared down the hall. She pushed the door open, and, walked inside. She dropped her purse on the foyer table, and the sound of it echoed hollowly about the room. The cold emptiness of the apartment hit her like a slap across the face, and she slumped into a wicker rocking chair. Smoothing fly-away strands of hair back into the bun that was curled tightly at the nape of her neck, she sat still for a few moments and sighed into the stillness. Then, she reached for the nearby washstand. The washbasin contained cold water from that morning, and she used it to wipe down her face and wash her hands and arms. Patting herself dry with a towel that hung from a thin wire on the washstand, she stood to her feet and took a deep breath.