Train Station Bride (15 page)

“Thank God you’re not pregnant” Jake had said. And those words were surely the reason Julia had no recollection of that night nor how she found herself at the kitchen table the following morning. Jake had never come to bed. No other night had she needed his arms more, but he had not come. There was no coffee made and his coat was not on the hook by the door. Had he left early that morning? Or last night and never come home? It didn’t really matter. He was as gone from this house as he was from her heart.

A shadow fell over the table and Julia looked up. “Flossie, I didn’t hear you come in.”

Jake’s sister bustled around the kitchen, silently. She made coffee and poured two cups. Flossie sat one in front of Julia and took hers to the sink. “Jake stayed with Harry and me last night.”

Julia held her coffee mug but did not drink or speak.

“He told me everything, Julia. He probably shouldn’t have, but he did.”

Flossie knew. This woman she respected and come to love and admire knew what a useless woman Julia really was. Flossie would have died before allowing anything to happen to Millie or Danny. Julia was not worthy to sit at the table with her let alone call her family. Julia could not look her in the eye.

“I don’t know what to say.”

Flossie pulled out a chair and sat down. “You think your mother will actually tell Jillian this whole story while she’s away at school and you’re here.”

“I’m not sure. But the threat is there for certain.” Tears filled Julia’s eyes. “I wish I could stop her. Do something. But I …”

“What are you going to do?” Flossie asked.

Julia shrugged. “There’s little I can do.”

Flossie grabbed Julia’s hand. “What are you going to do, Julia?”

Julia stared at Flossie through the dim blur of tears. “I can’t. I’m not strong like you. I … I”

“You’ll be every bit as strong as you need to be,” Flossie said.

“I can’t do it,” Julia cried.

“You’ve made this old shack a home, Julia. You’ve harvested corn and delivered my sister’s baby. You’ve driven a wagon and taught my kids French and read them books. You’ve washed clothes and made them.” Flossie stopped to swipe her hand over her eyes. “You’ve shown my brother that happiness was meant for him too, damn it.” Flossie’s voice rose and quivered. “Don’t call yourself a weakling, Julia Shelling. I won’t let you.”

Julia’s lip trembled. “But I can’t make bread. Or butter. I can’t …”

Flossie grabbed Julia’s shoulders and shook. “Do you think Millie or Danny would care if I couldn’t cook? Do you think they’d love Harry any less if he couldn’t build a fence? Children don’t care. They know we’re there for them. That’s what they care about.”

Julia stood and screamed back all the frustration and hurt trapped inside. “Don’t you see? That’s just it. I haven’t been there. Ever. How much would Millie or Danny love you if you left them?”

“And if I had one ounce, one instant of life left in me, I’d do what I could to right a wrong to my children. I’d die trying. I don’t believe you don’t feel the same way about Jillian.”

Long minutes passed before Julia’s stomach settled and she sat down. “My mother would never allow a scandal of this magnitude to touch our family. They’d never let me take her.”

“They adopted her then?”

Julia shook her head. “No. It was never necessary.”

“Where’s the birth certificate?”

“Upstairs in my valise.”

Flossie touched Julia’s face and smiled. “Then there’s little they can do, Julia. Don’t you see? You don’t have to worry anymore what they think of you or what they say to you. She’s your daughter. Claim her.”

Julia’s lip trembled. “What will Jillian think of me? After all these years.”

“The years come and go, Julia. Do you want anymore of them to go by without Jillian knowing who her mother is?”

Julia shook her head. “I don’t want another minute to escape me. I’ve missed so much already.” Julia twisted her hanky in her hand. The thought of the unthinkable was borrowing into her gut. Could she do it? Face her family? Face Jillian?

“Where would I go? Jake won’t want me back.” There it was. Said aloud. Her pitiful accommodations to her family’s reputation had cost her the one thing other than Jillian that she cherished.

“My brother’s stubborn as they come. And your announcement knocked his feet out from under him. I told him it wasn’t fitting for him to judge you. He didn’t know what you went through everyday. He screamed and hollered and sent Harry and the kids scurrying out to see the chickens.” Flossie said. “I’m not afraid of my brother. Never have been. I told him to sit down and shut up.”

“I can’t imagine he took kindly to that reasoning.” Julia said. “He does have the right to judge me. I’m his wife, and I’ve deceived him from the moment I said ‘I do’.”

Flossie arched her brow. “I told him he took a hell of a risk all those years ago. Three kids running a farm. He thought he was doing the right thing, and so did you. You thought Jillian would have a better life as your parents’ daughter than as yours.”

“Oh, Flossie. He still feels guilty about your accident. Don’t make him feel worse.”

“I didn’t try to. But, Julia, things happen. Accidents happen along the way of life. And sometimes the path we take isn’t of our own choosing. We start out in one direction, whether by aim or need, and the trail gets deeper and narrower and more familiar.” Flossie stared at Julia and continued. “And we just stay the course. You did what you thought was best. I think you know better now. This is your chance to change your route.”

“You’re more a sister me than any sister I have, Flossie. I don’t know what I’m going to do yet,” Julia said as she wobbled a smile, “but I’m going to do something.”

Flossie hugged Julia. “I’m a new aunt, and I don’t even know what the child looks like.”

Julia dragged Flossie to the spare bedroom where her unpacked trunk was. She was going to show off her daughter for the first time ever in her life. It was a most miraculous feeling.

“Here she is,” Julia said and wiped her eyes. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

Flossie held the miniature in her hand and touched the face painted there. “She’s the picture of her mother. Very lovely.”

Julia took the small, framed picture in her hand and smiled as she stared. She looked up to Flossie with resolve. “This is my daughter.”

Julia sat on the bed clutching the picture of Jillian long after she heard the door slam as Flossie left. She wavered from over whelming guilt to despair. One glance at Jillian’s face forced conviction from somewhere deep down inside to rise up, shouting to be heard.
I can do this. I will do this. I have to do this.
Julia needed to win this battle, the prize being her own flesh and blood. If she had learned nothing else from Jake, it was this sentiment. Family first. Above all else. And Jillian was her daughter. The nine months Julia carried her gave her the right. Jake and his family had given her the will.

* * *

Julia begged Slim to take her to town that afternoon. She stayed at the hotel till the next morning and boarded the first eastbound train that had come through. Julia may no longer be worthy of her husband and his family, may sicken her husband in fact, but she stubbornly clung to the life time of love she and Jillian shared. Flossie was right. If it took till her dying breath to convince Jillian of her love, then so be it. What it would cost was the love and respect of her husband.

Julia stared out the window of the train as it chugged and churned through the Pennsylvania landscape. She loved Jake. She’d been fortunate indeed to have his love for the brief time that she’d had. No tears came to Julia’s eyes for love lost. Her tears had been shed as she smelled his pillow and hugged it. Julia left their bedroom, refusing to look at the fruit of her work for Jake’s home before climbing into the wagon. This was not the time for childish reactions. She was an adult. Julia knew she needed her wits and sensibilities about her to retrieve her daughter.

Had she stayed with Jake, had she let herself cry or bemoan her vast problems, had she let herself be content with her life’s path, Julia was certain she’d die a bitter and miserable woman. Jake and his family had changed her. She had hope however slim. She had a thread of confidence in herself. And she had an overwhelming urge to hug her daughter. Kiss her hair and tell her that her mother would make things all right.

Jake would think the worst of her that was certain. She’d left no explanation for him. Julia had written a letter to Flossie and given it to Slim to deliver. With little doubt her heart would miss Jake every day of her life. But she also knew he was right and that she had been terribly wrong. He would have never left a child. And worse than the knowledge that Jake could no longer love her was the idea of seeing his face everyday, filled with disappointment and wariness rather than the smile she’d grown to cherish.

* * *

Jake rode his fences and property lines all day. He was still in shock. Julia was a mother. She had left her own child in the clutches of her mother. Jake hadn’t realized the depth of his hatred for the Crawfords till then. They had bullied Julia, threatened her, run off his ranch hands and now had Jillian in their sights. What would a ten-year-old think finding out her mother wasn’t whom she thought all along?

His feelings about his wife were more complicated. There was no clear-cut line. Not all disgust. Not mostly love. A mass mix of empathy and disappointment for Julia. She had been forced to stand at the altar of her sister’s wedding, expecting a child with the groom. But Julia had lived with their manipulations all of her life. How could she in good conscience, knowing what she did, leave her own child mired in that family? He would have still married her, child or not. Jake scowled at himself and pulled his horse to halt. He wouldn’t have married her. If Julia had been standing at the train station with Jillian, Jake would have known she wasn’t Inga.

God had led him on this path, to this woman for a reason. Who was he to deny it? It would take some sorting out, some leeway and time on his part, but he figured he’d might as well accept facts as they were. Who was he to cast stones as Flossie had asked?

He did not understand his wife at all and wasn’t sure he trusted her. Julia had left her own child elsewhere. To marry a shopkeeper. What assurances would he have that Julia wouldn’t leave him and any child they may have? None. Jake reluctantly admitted that might be the crux of the problem. He had fallen desperately in love with his wife. Julia loved her daughter, of that he was certain. It explained her daydreams and tears and joy when Jillian’s name was mentioned. Julia loved the girl and still left. Bringing Jake’s thoughts full circle. Was Julia’s love strong enough to make her stay?

Jake had his answer hours later. He had ridden and thought and worked enough to sort out his feelings. He would try and forget what Julia had done. Try not to judge. It wasn’t going to be easy. Jake knew that. He wondered if there’d ever be a time he’d ride in from the fields not worried whether his wife would be there. Or whether she’d gone. But nothing compared to the sick feeling in his heart as he walked in the darkened kitchen that evening. Nothing in his life prepared him for the dread he felt as he inched up the steps calling Julia’s name. His voice echoed in the stairway. There was no answer. Jake’s deepest fears had been realized.

Chapter Thirteen

Julia needed a plan, and it had formed by the time she pulled into the Boston train station. Her first stop was The National Bank. Julia waited patiently, although travel-weary for Mr. Flemming to emerge from his office.

“Julia, dear, what a pleasant surprise. Your father told me you were on an extended holiday with relatives.”

Julia smiled at the rotund man, a lifelong friend of her father’s and frequent visitor at the Market Street house as she attempted to battle her shaking nerves. “I was away Mr. Flemming. It is good to see you as well.” Julia took a deep breath. “May we speak in your office?”

“Why of course, my dear. Is everything all right? I don’t have a meeting with your father I’ve forgotten, do I?” Harold Flemming took Julia’s elbow and escorted her into his richly-appointed office.

“No, I don’t believe so,” Julia said. She met the man’s eyes to gauge his reaction. “I’ve come on business of my own.” Harold Flemming’s face was a mask of pleasantries but not before Julia caught his surprised look. Julia stared at the brass buttons of the green leather chair as he sank into it.

“What can I help you with today, Julia?”

Julia wound the taupe string of her bag around her finger. “I would like to know the amount of money I have at my disposal.” Julia dropped her head, took a deep breath and stared evenly at Mr. Flemming’s curious eyes. “The amount that I have access to without a signature from my parents.”

Flemming’s bushy white brows shot up. He said nothing.

“I know my grandparents left me a small amount and that my father always deposited what he called our pin money in that account. Can you tell me how much that is?”

Harold Flemming stood and came around the desk, perching his girth near Julia. “If you are in some trouble, my dear, maybe your father should be here.”

These were the moments Julia dreaded all of her life. The subtle control couched in a concern for her best interests. She rubbed the picture of Jillian through her satin bag. This was not a moment for weakness. Jake had not been weak when that dreadful Mr. Smith had threatened. Jake protected and kept what was his.

“I believe,” Julia began and stopped to clear her throat. “I believe that an account with my name only makes me a client of this bank. Is that not correct, Mr. Flemming?” She continued at his nod but before his sputtering could take hold. “As a client of National Bank, I believe, I’m entitled to know the amount in my account. And with the discretion you would afford any client.”

Mr. Flemming’s open mouth closed slowly. He stood and went to the door of his office. Julia heard him confer with his secretary. He returned to his seat behind a massive cherry desk, file in hand.

“You are absolutely right, Julia. As a client, you are entitled to all the things you mentioned.” Flemming tilted his head. “But as a family friend who has watched you grow from a young child, I feel obligated to be sure you are not in some sort of trouble. Something you feel you need to hide from your family.” Julia said nothing. Flemming slowly opened the yellow folder, tilted his glasses and read. “Ten thousand, four hundred and eighty three dollars, including this month’s interest.”