CHAPTER TWO
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Belle Brinkman hurried down the sidewalk toward her older sister’s apartment holding the folds of her black mourning dress, lest she catch her toe and fall. The blustery wind pulled persistently at the ribbons that kept her headpiece from tumbling into the rain-soaked street. Lesley had surprised her with the gift last week, and she’d not let it spill into the mud.
She wrinkled her nose at the puddles, horse manure, and garbage that lined the road. Passing the slaughterhouse, she pinched her nose closed. How I despise this part of town. She’d begged Mavis not to move there when she and Darvid wed, one year ago last month. Unfortunately, both Mavis and her sister’s late husband earned little at the department store, where they worked in accounting. Compassion stirred in Belle’s chest for her sister’s plight. A month ago, Darvid had taken ill with pneumonia and died—but only after racking up a bill with the doctor to add to their other debts. Where will Mavis find the money to pay? As far as Belle knew, she had little put away for emergencies. The pittance Belle had wouldn’t go far to help.
Belle sighed, ashamed at how coldhearted she’d become. Instead of thinking of her brother-in-law, who was now gone to his just rewards, she was worried about money. The lack of money is the root of all evil.
Appalled at herself, she thought of her mother, dead for fifteen years. “I know, Mother, it’s the love of money that’s the root of all evil, but sometimes it doesn’t feel that way at all. Scrimping by gets old.” Belle’s mother had been the kindest, most loving woman—at least that was what her six-year-old self remembered. Left orphans for all intents and purposes after her death, Belle and her sisters owed everything to Vernon and Velma Crowdaire, friends who took their mother in after she fled their unstable father and the untamed wilderness called Eden. Her mother’s death, three years after arriving at the Crowdaires’, had been a shock. The couple the girls now called “Aunt and Uncle” took them in permanently, providing room, board, and even the clothes on their backs.
Still, Vernon Crowdaire has no right to make us feel so indebted every second, Belle thought as her disgust for him surfaced. The way he flaunted his generosity like a badge of honor made them all feel like beggars. It’s not right.
Gathering her skirt again, Belle stepped over a wide puddle and then sidestepped a lump of refuse in her path. The bedroom she shared with her three younger sisters in the Crowdaire home was a bit less crowded since Mavis had married. And two years before that, their guardians had moved to a more upscale area of town as well, giving them a larger bedroom—but still just one. That was something. I should work on my charity. Not harbor such dislike for Vernon. Try to be more grateful. She knew she should, but she hadn’t after all these years.
As often as the Crowdaires expounded on what good catches she and her sisters were, only Mavis, the eldest, had received an official offer of marriage, and that from a man who had little more than two nickels to rub together. Even though Belle had liked Darvid, she’d been against the marriage from the first, feeling Mavis was settling because of Velma’s constant harping to accept the proposal. It had almost seemed like the Crowdaires wanted Mavis out in order to relieve the burden of expenses. It was understandable, she supposed. They had done so much over the years.
In reality, what did Belle or any of her sisters have to offer a husband, besides love? Each year the tiny stipend their guardians gave each girl grew by only a few coins. As soon as they were out of school, each of them had found work to help pay their expenses and supplement their wardrobes. They had all long passed the age where only hand-me-downs would do. Katie was the exception. The youngest Brinkman sister had taken a loan from Uncle Vernon to attend a normal school in Massachusetts and train to become a teacher. She’d graduated three months ago and was in the process of looking for a position.
Finally arriving at the tall brownstone, Belle ascended the crumbling brick steps, opened the door, and proceeded to the first apartment at the back of the lobby. She rapped several times.
“Who’s there?”
“It’s me. Belle.”
Mavis opened the door dressed in widow’s attire. Her wavy mahogany hair was swept on top of her head, and she wore the wrist-length gloves she never went without to hide her disfigurement. Her blue, wide-set eyes gave away that she’d been crying, bringing an ache to Belle’s heart.
They embraced.
“How’re you?” Belle asked, stepping back, knowing well her sister was taking Darvid’s death extremely hard.
“Getting by. Everything still seems so surreal.” She glanced around the room. “Everywhere I look, I see Darvid’s face. I don’t know how I’ll get through this.”
Belle looked her up and down. “Mavis Brinkman Applebee, you’re resilient. The strongest woman I know.” She laid a gentle hand on her older sister’s arm. If she could take away her pain, she would, in a heartbeat. Mavis had always been Belle’s best friend. Loyal to a fault.
She glanced at Mavis’s left hand, and the abominable gloves hiding her missing pinkie. Belle’s guilt was ever present. Before they’d moved from the river area to a nicer neighborhood, Mavis had gotten her hand caught in some tangled fishing line. Cleaning up the litter in the alley beside their uncle’s home had been Belle’s chore, but she’d put the distasteful task off that day. Mavis, wanting to spare her sister a tongue-lashing from Aunt Velma, had come out to help. A passing carriage caught the line in its spinning wheels. In an instant, Mavis’s finger popped off at the knuckle as easily as a pea snaps in half.
Belle would never forget the sound.
Or the look on Mavis’s face.
Because of her mutilation, Mavis hid herself away at her accounting job at Thornton House department store. Until Darvid joined. In less than three months, she’d said yes to his proposal—even though she’d confided to Belle that the most she felt for him was a deep, abiding friendship. Darvid was a nice, considerate, mild-mannered man who smiled and laughed at every chance. And indeed, until now, that had seemed enough. Although they’d had little, they’d appeared happy.
“Do you have a moment to talk?” Belle asked.
Mavis closed the door. “All right. My manager has been quite understanding. If we hurry, I won’t be too late.”
She directed them to the secondhand settee in front of the fireplace, resting her hand over a small tear in its arm as she sat down. “What’s on your mind, Belle? I know you don’t enjoy coming to this part of town.”
“You don’t either, if you’re honest.”
Mavis ignored the comment. “Whatever you have to say must be important.”
“Actually, you’re right. It is important. I’ve received a telegram from Eden.”
Mavis’s eyes grew so wide that Belle could almost read her thoughts right through them. Eden. Where Mother and Father met and married. Where all five sisters were conceived and born. A place Belle wondered about all the time. Her memories of their departure when she was almost four were foggy. Her clearest image was of Mother stuffing clothes into a large trunk as a man, who must have been Father, stood back, taller than any tree, watching in disbelief. Belle thought she remembered a need to run to him, lay her small hand upon his cheek, but the tears on Mother’s face had fastened her feet to the floor. Belle convinced herself that must be a dream, something her mind had conjured up, distorting the truth for want of a father’s love. She’d been too young to know the kinds of questions to ask her mother. It was only after Mother died that Uncle Vernon told them—with unseemly glee—that their father had been a violent man, disrespectful and coarse. That their mother fled out of fear of what he might do to her or the children. The story each of the sisters carried inside was that John Brinkman had been a despicable character. And hadn’t he proved as much? He’d never come to see them or sought them out in any way. He’d turned his back on his family, pretending they never existed.
No point tiptoeing around the news. “Father has passed.”
The color drained from Mavis’s face. For a moment, they sat in silence.
“This feels like a pointed arrow through my heart,” Mavis whispered. “Somehow, some way, I always believed we’d get a chance to be reunited.” She looked at the floor. “I was wrong.”
“Oh pooh,” Belle said. Mavis was too much of a romantic for her. “Why would you want to? He didn’t want us. Why should we despair now?”
Mavis’s lips wobbled. “He was our father. Regardless of how he treated Mother or us, we should show a little respect.”
“He never gave this family a moment’s thought. We were nothing to him, Mavis. And actually, saying that aloud does break my heart.” A strange image of a man stirred inside her. His scent, the rumble of his voice—she felt a faint longing for his gentle touch, a kiss good night . . . She blinked and looked away from Mavis’s censorious scrutiny.
“When did you receive word?”
“Last week.”
Mavis’s eyes widened again. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
If Belle didn’t explain quickly, they’d have an argument on their hands. “I know you don’t like being kept in the dark, Mavis, but I was sheltering you. Darvid passed barely a month ago.”
“And the others? Do they know?”
Belle nodded. “You’ve gone through so much. I wanted to spare you for a little while—we wanted to spare you. Emma, Lavinia, and Katie agreed.” Well, sort of. Two out of three. “You’d do exactly the same for one of us. Aren’t you glad you’ve had this week to yourself, without it being more complicated?”
“Father shouldn’t be thought of as a complication.”
Time to change the subject. “Everyone is packed and ready to travel, as am I. Strangely enough, we’ve been summoned for the reading of Father’s will. Mr. Glass, an attorney in Eden, sent enough fare to cover our travel.”
Mavis pushed to her feet, her lips pulled into a frown. Belle knew all too well that her oldest sister didn’t like being left out of the decision making. She considered herself substitute mother and protector of them all. But her irritation lasted only a moment. She walked slowly to a window overlooking the gray day outside.
“What happened? Do you know? How did he die?”
“His horse fell, and he broke his leg. Infection set in.”
“How horrible.”
“I agree. And that’s all I know—except that the will can’t be read unless all five of us are present.”
Mavis turned, a wistful expression on her face. “I remember sitting in tall, green grass with you, Emma, and baby Lavinia. Katie wasn’t yet born. Someone was singing. A man’s voice. Father must have changed greatly.” She slowly shook her head. “I don’t think I have the energy to travel west. From what Uncle Vernon has told us, the little Father had has been lost over the years. A broken-down house on a small patch of land with a handful of cattle.”
“Then I guess we’ll have to go without you.” Belle gazed innocently at her hands, folded in her lap. “Though the telegram did say we all had to be present . . .”
Mavis returned to the sofa. “You can’t go without me.” Alarm tinged her voice. “Who’ll make sure Katie doesn’t become turned around in some station and get left behind? And Emma needs her cup of warm milk before bed. You know she can’t sleep in a strange place without one. Don’t get me started on Lavinia. She’s liable to be run over by a team of horses if a pretty bonnet catches her eye. I swear, I don’t think I want any children of my own after raising the four of you.”
Irritation rippled inside Belle. Mavis doesn’t have to act like she’s the only one with a brain in her head.
“What about me? You’re not the only one capable of looking after Katie and the others.”
A silly smile pulled at Mavis’s lips. “You’re right. I meant no offense. I worry, is all. You know you can be impulsive, Belle. When you get angry, you pay little attention to what’s happening around you. A train ride has dangers. Bad weather, outlaws, Indians. Snakes!”
Belle shuddered. “That’s plenty of peril to worry over.” She hesitated. She’s not going to like this. “The train doesn’t go all the way to Eden. We’ll have to take a stagecoach from Pueblo for the last three hundred miles.”
Mavis’s hand flew to her chest. “What about Katie’s claustrophobia? No, absolutely not. We’ll wire and tell Mr. Glass a trip like this is impossible. He can come to us.”
Belle’s patience vanished. “For heaven’s sake. She can sit by the window or up top with the driver.”
“You’re heartless, Belle.”
“Pack your things. We have tickets for tomorrow and will arrive in Eden in about a week and a half. We’ll stay long enough to hear what the lawyer has to say, pay our respects to Father’s grave, and get back on the train. Think about it, Mavis. Why does the reading have to be so formal?” She lifted a brow and let that thought simmer. “What if Father did have at least a little something set aside to leave to us? Any amount will help with Darvid’s medical bills, and more. We must go.”
Mavis’s mouth was still set in a stubborn line. “I can’t. I’ll lose my job. Being a widow, I depend on that income.”
“Your manager has already offered you time off, which you didn’t take. And he thought very highly of Darvid. He’ll understand, I’m sure. Especially when you tell him why you need the time away.” Belle stood. “Discoveries await.”
“Really, Belle, you sound like a novelist. What about Lesley?” Mavis tipped her head. “I can’t imagine your fine young gentleman is just letting you waltz off to Colorado. Not when the two of you are so close to making your relationship binding.”
Belle smiled at the mention of her sweetheart. “You’re right about that. He’s coming with us. To keep us safe. I thought that exceedingly kind.”
“You’re wiping away my objections like they’re ice in the sun,” Mavis said, her brow still lined with worry. “And Uncle Vernon? What does he think about the whole situation? He never had one nice thing to say about Eden—or our father.”
At the mention of their uncle’s name, Belle cut her gaze to the window, squelching her immature desire to make a face. How she loathed that man. “Actually, he’s been very strange since the telegram arrived. When I told him we’d been called back to Eden, his face turned white as chalk and he said little, which confounded us because we’ve all heard him go on and on about Father. Anyway, the next morning, he announced that Aunt Velma would be accompanying him on a long-planned business trip. They packed that day, wished us well, and departed.”
Mavis cocked her head, confused. Their aunt and uncle had been orchestrating their lives for years and didn’t give power away without a fight. “Not one protest or complaint?”
“No. It was the strangest thing. I’m still trying to figure out why.”
“How curious,” Mavis whispered. “Where’d they go?”
“I have no idea. Uncle Vernon hadn’t mentioned the trip until that moment.”
Tired of trying to figure out their guardians’ motives, Belle turned her attention to the mysteries ahead. “Even more surprising is that, after all these years of speculating about our past, we’ll be on a train to Eden in the morning.” She reached down and squeezed Mavis’s hands. “No matter what we learn about Father and his brutish ways, it’ll be better than always wondering, longing.” Belle warmed with the sense of excitement rolling around inside her.
What the future held was anyone’s guess. But she was anxious to find out.