“Good. He’ll have family,” Frances answered. She well remembered the fear, heartache, and uncertainty she had felt as an orphan train rider. She had traveled with her brothers and sisters on the orphan trains six years ago, but it almost seemed as though it had happened yesterday. “Now you’ll be going back to New York City with Andrew,” she said to Stefan, “to join your aunt and uncle.”
Stefan beamed. Andrew spoke up. “Not exactly,” he said. “This is the favor I want to ask of you, Frances. I have business dealings that must be taken care of. I have no choice. Would it be possible for you to escort Stefan to New York?”
Flustered, Frances said, “Oh, no. I—I couldn’t.”
“Please, Frances, think about it. School is out. You won’t have children to teach for the next few weeks.” Andrew reached into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out two train tickets.
“But I have duties,” Frances said. “Granted, they’re not urgent, but even so … How long do I have to decide?”
“I need to know today. If you can’t help me out, I’ll have to find someone else.” Andrew held up the tickets and said, “The train leaves tomorrow. Your ticket is round-trip. You’ll spend two nights under the care of Miss Claudine Hunter, who works at the Society’s office, then return to Kansas. And just think, you’ll have enough time to see some of New York City again.”
Frances’s heart gave a thump. New York City! The very name made her feel thirteen years old once more. Suddenly every facet of the city came vividly alive in her memory. She could almost see the bustle of people, hear the shouts of drivers from the crowded cabs and wagons, smell the salt air and the horse droppings and the overperfumed ladies on the avenue. And she could feel the warmth of the one-room home in which the Kellys had lived. Sometimes they’d been a little hungry, sometimes a little cold, but the strength and comfort of their love had overcome most of their troubles.
A deep longing swept through Frances. She ached to see once more the room where she’d happily sewn piecework with Ma, where Da had been a strong, laughing father before he sickened and died, where Mike and Danny had played and wrestled, where Megan—loving Megan—had cared for little Peg and Danny. She could hear Da’s laughter and Mike’s banter. She could see Peg twirling on one foot and demanding, “Dance with me, Frances.” She closed her eyes as memories swirled into her mind, pulling at her, tugging at her, begging her to come.
Frances had never imagined she’d see New York City again, but Andrew was offering her the chance to go. I want to go, she thought. I have to go!
But if she went to New York City and back, she’d be away from Johnny for nearly three weeks! She couldn’t do it.
“Frances, if I could have your answer by—let’s say noon?” Andrew asked.
I’d also be away from the wall of bitterness Johnny is building around himself, Frances thought. I’d have time to think about what I want to do with my own life, if Johnny doesn’t want me. Maybe this was meant to be so that I’ll have the good sense to plan a future without Johnny in it.
Shaken, she raised her eyes to Andrew’s. “I can give you an answer now,” she said. “I’ll take Stefan back to New York.”
3
WITH STEFAN TROTTING at her side, Frances tucked his cardboard box from the Children’s Aid Society into the wagon. She was familiar with the contents of those boxes—a change of clothing and whatever small family keepsakes, trinkets, or toys the child held dear.
“I think I remember my aunt and uncle,” Stefan said. “When I say my uncle’s name to myself I see a big mustache. It’s thick and wide, like a hairbrush.”
Frances chuckled as she led Stefan into the general store. She smiled and nodded at Mrs. Garrett and Mrs. St. John, who stood near the doorway.
Mrs. Garrett’s eyebrows rose and fluttered. “Don’t tell me you’ve taken an orphan train child, Miss Kelly. Isn’t there some rule against single parents? Or perhaps you and Johnny Mueller have finally decided—”
Frances interrupted. “This is Stefan Gromeche. I’ll be taking him back to New York. He has an aunt and uncle waiting for him.”
Mrs. St. John giggled and said to her friend, “You’re speaking out of turn, Mrs. Garrett, about Frances and Johnny. We haven’t been hearing the sound of wedding bells, have we?”
“Please excuse me,” Frances said calmly, although she knew her face was burning. Taking Stefan’s hand, she pushed past the women and strode into the cool dimness of the store.