“Someday?” Frances asked. “Why not now?”
She raised one hand, reaching out to him, but Johnny’s jaw clenched and the closed, stubborn look came into his eyes again. “Not until I’m able to work my land again without help.”
“We can work together.”
“I will not have my wife add to her chores by having to do my job.”
Frustration turned to anger as Frances blurted out, “Wife? What wife? If you insist on waiting for everything in the whole world to be perfect, you’ll never have a wife!”
Johnny groaned. “Frances, why are you doing this to us?”
“Me? You’re blaming me?”
“Of course I’m blaming you. If you could just try to be patient—”
Furious at Johnny and at the Irish temper that had got the best of her, Frances snapped, “I’m sorry, but I’m fresh out of patience. You either love me as I am, the way I love you, or look elsewhere for a suitable wife.”
“Frances …”
“There’s nothing more to say.” Choking back tears, Frances turned away from him.
As soon as they reached the main street of Maxville and Johnny had pulled the horses up beside the uneven wooden sidewalk, Frances jumped down from the wagon.
“Buy the supplies you need, but leave them with Mr. Nash. When I finish my business at the bank, I’ll come to the general store and load them into the wagon,” Johnny told her.
Frances didn’t answer. Silently fuming, she strode down the sidewalk toward the general store.
Ahead, near the store’s entrance, she saw Mrs. Garrett and Mrs. St. John—two of the liveliest gossips in the area. They had to have noted her arrival in town with Johnny.
Frances realized that her cheeks were flushed and hot and her breathing was rapid. She couldn’t greet the women with angry smoke practically pouring out of her ears. Who knew what wild rumors might start?
Frances stopped outside the meeting hall, trying to calm down while she pretended to be very much interested in the poster outside the open doorway.
As she read the words on the poster, she sucked in her breath.
Come Today.
Meet the Children
From New York City
In Need of Homes.
There was more, but Frances’s eye was immediately caught by the last line on the poster: Andrew MacNair, Agent.
“Andrew!” she whispered. She picked up her skirts and flew up the steps into the nearly empty meeting hall.
“Andrew!” she cried, running into the arms of the tall, muscular man, who grinned at her with delight.
The words tumbled out. “There’s so much to ask,” Frances said. “How is Katherine? I’m so glad I was able to come to your wedding. She was a beautiful bride. And you, Andrew—you’re looking well. Have you seen Ma lately? Since Danny’s death the heart seems to have gone out of her. Her letters—”
She suddenly stopped. “I’m babbling on, aren’t I? But there’s so much to say.”
Placing his hands on Frances’s shoulders, Andrew answered, “Katherine is fine, and so is your mother. Now, tell me. How is Frances Mary Kelly? And Johnny? Did he come to town with you?”
Frances shrugged and tried to smile again. She didn’t want Andrew, or anyone else, to discover how hurt and angry Johnny had made her. “Johnny’s health is improving rapidly,” she said. “As for me, school is out for the next two months, but I’ve been allowed to remain living in the teacher’s house. I plan to study, tutor a few students, and hire out to help some of the farm wives with summer chores.”
Andrew’s smile broadened. “Then you’re not committed to something you can’t leave for a while. It’s just as I had hoped. Would there be any problems if you were out of town for a few weeks?”
“Out of town? Where?”
“I was going to call on you this afternoon,” Andrew said. “I have a favor to ask of you.”
“A favor that would send me away from Maxville?” Frances smiled. “Don’t be so mysterious, Andrew. Tell me what the favor is.”
“It’s a boy. His name is Stefan Gromeche.” Andrew turned and called, “Stefan? Will you come here, please? There is someone I want you to meet.”
From the shadows at one corner of the room stepped a scrawny boy, about ten years old. His cap was pulled low over a ragged haircut, and the suit he’d been given seemed a size too large.
“Hello, Stefan,” Frances said. She held out a hand.
Stefan shook her hand and smiled. “I’m going home,” he said.
“Home?” Frances looked at Andrew for an explanation.
“Stefan’s parents died, and he was brought to the Children’s Aid Society,” Andrew said. “After he left with us on the train, an aunt and uncle came to the Society’s office. They had just arrived in the United States, and they asked us to return Stefan to them.”