Circle of Love (2 page)

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? Tm so glad 1 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 1? 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 Fve 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 comer 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."

"Good. Hell 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 youTl 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 oflBce, 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 thimip. 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 firom 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 twiiiing 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. / want to go, she thought / 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—diet's say noon?" Andrew asked.

Fd also be away from the wall of bitterness Johnny is building around himself Frances thought Fd 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 Fll have the good sense to plan a future vrithout Johnny in it.

Shaken, she raised her eyes to Andrew's. "I can give you an answer now," she said. *T11 take Stefan back to New York."

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."

FVances 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 Johimy Mueller have finally decided—"

Frances interrupted. "This is Stefan Gromeche. Til 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.

Stefan gasped, jerking Frances to a stop. She glanced down at him in surprise. He was staring fixedly at the mounds of fresh carrots, golden onions, and white turnips tinged with purple.

"What are those?" Stefan asked.

Mr. Nash picked up a carrot, rubbed some specks of dirt fit)m it onto his already soiled apron, and handed it to Stefan. "Have you ever eaten a carrot?" he asked.

Stefan shook his head. "At home we mostly had potatoes and cabbage. Then at the orphanage we had bread and butter and sometimes a thick, brown soup." He studied the carrot, then took a bite, jumping as it cracked under his teeth.

"Like it?" Frances asked.

Stefan munched happily. "It's good!"

"So are peppermint sticks," Mr. Nash said. From a jar on the counter he produced a small sugary stick covered with red and white stripes and handed it to Stefan.

"Now, let's fill your order. Miss Kelly," Mr. Nash said. "What's first on the list?"

Frances blinked. "I had a list," she said, "but my plans have changed. I've agreed to escort Stefan to

New York City to meet his aunt and uncle, so I won't need to stock up on supplies." She thought a moment, "m just get something to cook for supper tonight and breakfast tomorrow. Carrots, of course, and a fryer. ... We can take the leftovers on our trip. . . . Oh, and a small jar of molasses. I think Stefan wiU like flapjacks.'' She came up with half a dozen items and Mr. Nash fit all her purchases into a string bag.

"Ill put it on your account," he said. "Have a good trip, Miss Kelly, and a safe return."

*Thank you, Mr. Nash." The parcel wasn't heavy, so Frances picked it up and led Stefan out of the store and down the sidewalk to where Johnny's wagon was hitched.

As she pulled two carrots from her bag and handed them to Stefan, showing him how to offer them to the horses, she heard Johnny's voice behind her. "Well, well, who's this fine young man who's giving a treat to my horses?"

Frances turned to face Johnny, but he didn't look at her. He kept his eyes on Stefan.

"Johnny Mueller, this is Stefan Gromeche," she said. "Stefan came to Maxville with the orphan train riders."

This time Johnny did look at Frances, with surprise. "He's an orphan train rider? Then where is . . ." He straightened and glanced around.

"Stefan's aunt and uncle recently arrived in the United States. When they foimd he'd been sent west on one of the orphan trains, they asked that he be returned."

"My uncle has a huge mustache," Stefan said. He spread his hands two feet apart. "It's this big."

"My, my, that's very impressive. I'm glad you have

a fine uncle like that to claim you," Johnny said. He smiled at Stefan. "Would you like to pet my horses? Here . . . Fll hold you up."

This was the Johnny Frances had known, the Johnny with whom she'd fallen in love. Smiling, she watched him reach out to Stefan. Johnny was kind, gentle, and playful, and Frances loved him all the more.

But in a few minutes Johnny said, "It*s getting late, Frances. Find the people who are to take care of Stefan, and Fll get your boxes of supplies fix^m the store."

*The only supplies I bought are already in the wagon," Frances said.

He looked surprised. "But you told me you needed to buy a great many things."

Frances pointed to the string sack. *This is all Til need. I don't want bugs to get into my flour or ants into the syrup while Fm away." She looked at Johnny without smiling and said, "I agreed to escort Stefan back to New York City. If you'll please lift him into the wagon, we can be on our way."

Johnny, unable to move, stared at her. "You're going to New York?"

"Yes. Fll be gone close to three weeks." She added, not knowing why, "Longer, if I decide to stay awhile."

Stefan, too impatient to wait for Johnny to help him, clambered up the spokes of the nearest wagon wheel and into the bed of the wagon. He squirmed like a puppy among some empty feed sacks, finding a comfortable place in which to settle down.

"Frances," Johnny asked, "where will you stay while you're in the city? Who will look out for you?"

She could hear the shock and hurt in his voice.

She wanted to hold him and cling to him, but anger kept her backbone as stiff as the whalebones in her corset. "A Miss Claudine Hunter, from the Children's Aid Society, will meet us at the station and reunite Stefan with his aunt and uncle. And, in case you haven't noticed, Fm perfectly well able to take care of myself!"

"But the church social . . . It's Sunday. . . . We've always gone together. . . ."

"I'm sorry," Frances said. "I promised Andrew that I would take Stefan to his family." As she climbed up on the seat of the wagon she added, "Besides, you didn't ask me to go with you to the church social."

"But . . . but we've always gone together. I didn't think . . ."

Frances held her tongue, although she wished she could say. You took it for granted that Fd go with you. You take me for granted. You think that FU tag around after you forever, without a commitment, without a promise, without even wanting to discuss the possibility of marriage. Well, I won't!

Johnny frowned. "You made the decision to go to New York without talking it over with me."

"There was no need to talk to you," she said. "What I decide to do with my life is up to me and, apparently, no concern of yours."

Fumbling with the reins as he climbed into the wagon, Johnny looked at Frances with stricken eyes. "It is my concern. You're a part of my life, Frances," he said.

"But not as much a part of it as the bitterness and anger inside you," she said. "It's like a mean, vicious animal that bites and hurts. But you hug it to yourself and won't give it up. You can't have it and me, too."

"Nonsense! You're talking rabbish," Johnny grumbled.

"Am I?" Frances asked. *Then let's not talk at alL"

Silently, they rode a mile out of Maxville to tlie cleared acre on which the local school and teacher's house had been'built

As they pulled into the yard Johnny said, "I'll take you and Stefan to the train. When do—"

Frances interrupted. ^There's no need to. Andrew has arranged to pick us up tomorrow."

'Tomorrow? So soon? And you have no idea when you will be back?"

Frances paused, so sick at heart it was difficult to climb down from the wagon. Softly she answered, "At this moment I just don't know."

She woke Stefan and led him into her house. She settled him into an armchair with an illustrated fourth-grade reader. Then she closed the curtain over the door of her tiny bedroom, which was scarcely large enough for a narrow bed and dresser, and changed clothes. She began a fire in the stove, adding chunks of wood until it was blazing.' Next she put floured pieces of chicken into a pan to brown and simmer.

When she saw that Stefan was engrossed in the reader, Frances slipped from the house and ran to the far side of the school. There she dropped onto a bench, rested her head in her hands, and sobbed.

The next morning, on the buggy drive to Maxville's railway station, Frances found it hard to chat with Andrew. She let Stefan babble on about the train, the upcoming trip, and his uncle's gigantic mustache.