A Shelter of Hope (21 page)

Rachel pulled out her pocket watch. “We should be making our way back. No sense getting sunstroke. I’ve already spent longer away than I should have. Come on. If you need to, you can lean on me.”

Simone shook her head. “I’m not that bad off.” She picked up her brown paper package and smiled. “Thank you for a lovely day and thank you, too, for the lace. I would never have considered spending the money … not that I had it to spend.”

Rachel laughed. “A girl needs to look pretty for special occasions. Hopefully you and Una will be able to whip that dress into shape in time for the celebration. And who knows, Mr. O’Donnell might even stick around to attend the festivities with us.” She grinned knowingly.

Simone nodded and waited until Rachel turned to lead the way back to the Harvey House before letting out her breath. How many more times could she manage to avoid talking about her parents and what had happened? But as she had done since first leaving her cabin, Simone pushed her fears aside and barricaded them away where they couldn’t hurt her. She liked the peace and contentment she experienced here, and she didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize her position with Fred Harvey’s company.

Later that night, Simone lay in bed rethinking the events of the day. She felt a comfort that she could never remember having known before. Was this what it was like to be happy? She thought of her life and of the horrors that had once haunted and confronted her on a daily basis. In the security that surrounded her at the Harvey House, the memories were slowly fading from her mind, and even the ordeal of Garvey Davis didn’t seem quite so intimidating. She felt responsible for what must surely have been his death, but she also knew it was selfdefense. At least, that was how she was choosing to view the deed. Davis would have forced himself upon her, and while her father considered them married, Simone could not accept that this man would take her to be a wife when she neither loved him nor had the benefit of a proper ceremony.

She glanced across the room to where Una sat, faithfully writing to her mother.
What joy it must be to have that kind of love between mother and child
, Simone thought. Her gaze passed to the bedstand and the old Bible that had once belonged to Winifred Dumas. For reasons beyond her understanding she had placed it there upon arriving in Topeka, and there it had sat until this moment.

“I will always love you, Simone,”
she could nearly hear her mother saying.
“I will come back for you. You will see.”
How badly she had wanted to believe that promise.

But her mother hadn’t come back. She would never come back. With a sigh Simone closed her eyes and allowed sleep to drift over her. Life seemed such a contradictory existence. Some people had all the good things—love, family, friendship—while others knew only sorrow and misery. She’d already spent seventeen years in the latter group, and now Simone longed to embrace the other side … the happier group. The group where children were cared for in love and tenderness, where people did not hurt each other and set out to destroy all hope.

SIXTEEN

JULY SECOND DAWNED muggy and warm with the promise of even higher temperatures to come that afternoon. Simone joined her Harvey sisters on the floor of the dining room, serving first one customer and then another. The black uniform was unbearably warm, and the high-necked apron felt as though it were tightening around her neck. Longing for a breeze to offer the slightest bit of ease, Simone lingered for several moments by the open window. But it was to no avail. The air hung heavy and still. She thought of the crisp mountain air and the home she’d grown up in. She’d always taken for granted that everyone lived in a climate such as hers. But even the mountains with their cool, refreshing breezes couldn’t make Simone wish to go back to what had once been.

Moving around her station, Simone tried to forget how warm it was. “Do you need anything else?” she sweetly asked a young mother, burying her thoughts of Wyoming.

The woman shook her head, glancing from the plate of one child and then another. “No, I believe we’re just fine. My husband would probably enjoy more coffee,” she added. “He just stepped outside for a moment.”

Simone nodded. “Of course. I’ll have it right here.” She turned to the four men who sat opposite the woman. “And what about you gentlemen? Will there be anything else?”

“Are you by any chance on the menu?” one scrawny-looking man asked. He reminded Simone of a man she’d known in Uniontown, and the thought made her stiffen.

“I assure you that I’m not,” she stated coolly. She felt uneasiness mingle with the beginnings of a headache.

“I told you that you weren’t her type, Gabe,” another man joined in. “She’s my type.” The men laughed as though sharing a great joke.

When no one suggested needing anything else, Simone left them to continue with their comments and went to retrieve the coffeepot. Her head began to pound in earnest, and she didn’t know if it was the heat or her taut nerves that caused the pain. She loved working at the Harvey House, except when rowdy characters, such as the two customers she’d just dealt with, showed up. Usually the house manager kept those types under control, but by the time Simone reported it, the train would be ready to depart and the unruly men would be on board.

“Are you feeling all right?” Una asked her softly. “You look kind of flushed.”

Simone picked up the pot of coffee. “I’m fine. Just dealt with a couple of lewd characters.”

“Ja, there surely seems to be a lot of them.”

Simone nodded and returned to the table with a fixed purpose. She wouldn’t let the men and their comments destroy her peace of mind. She just couldn’t allow that. Men had been pushing her around and dominating her life for as long as she could remember. Perhaps it was the reason she refused to deal with them, along with God. God had always been spoken of as her heavenly Father. Well, she didn’t think much about the word
father
in either its earthly or heavenly form. Maybe this carried over into her feelings toward men in general. Men were demanding. They always expected something of her, and it was always something directed at bettering their own lives or pleasuring themselves. Only Jeffery seemed to show any signs of being different.

Refilling the coffee cups of those who asked for more, Simone felt extremely relieved when the fifteen-minute warning was issued. And then, before she could focus on any further comments, the room emptied and the train pulled out of the depot, taking her crude customers with it.

After that, some of the townsfolk came for breakfast, as well as a good number of railroad men. Simone cleared her tables quickly and efficiently, replacing dirty linen tablecloths with freshly cleaned and pressed ones. This was the rule for customers in the dining room, whether they were railroad workers or bank presidents like Cyrus K. Holliday, the founding father of the Santa Fe. Simone liked the idea of everyone receiving equal treatment. Even the lowliest person could find themselves respected and honored in Fred Harvey’s eating establishments. The day wore on, and just as it had been foreseen by more than one person, the temperatures rose to an unbearable high. At first, Simone thought she might faint from the heat. She found herself polishing silver by an open window and, finding little relief, thought she might collapse. Then, just when she thought she could stand no more, Henri called for her to come to the kitchen.

If the dining room had been hot, then the kitchen was a veritable inferno. Simone picked up a china plate and actually used it to fan herself. Not that it helped.

“The orders were just brought to me for the luncheon group,” Henri told her. “We are going to need another table set up in the dining room. There are more people than we can fit.”

Simone massaged her aching temples with one hand while fanning herself with the other. “Why so many?”

Henri shrugged. “Ah, who can say? Perhaps your American holiday has them hurrying home to celebrate?”

Simone smiled. “Perhaps just as many will travel by rail on Bastille Day, no?”

Henri laughed and motioned her to the door. “Hurry now. It won’t be long before the whistle will sound.”

Simone nodded and put down the plate to go in search of Rachel.

She found her easily enough, conversing with the head waitress about a mismanaged station.

“Miss Taylor,” Simone began, “Monsieur Flaubert tells me that the telegraph has indicated additional passengers who will be taking their meal in the dining room. He suggests we make room for an extra table or two.”

“That’s just what we need,” Rachel said, clearly irritated. “Grace! Olive! You two go fetch a couple of the boys in the kitchen and have them bring in the sewing room table.” The girls moved quickly to do her bidding. She turned back, nearly running into Simone, who once again stood rubbing her temples. “Well, don’t just lollygag around, Miss Irving. I suggest you get to work!”

Simone’s head snapped up at this. It wasn’t like Rachel to be so cross. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Rachel’s angry expression softened. “No, Simone,” she said, reaching out, “I’m the one who’s sorry.”

Simone dodged her hand and instantly regretted it. She could see by the look on Rachel’s face that her reaction hadn’t been lost on the woman.

Rachel pulled back and smiled. “I guess this heat has made me irritable. I had no call to screech like that. Please forgive me.”

Once again, Simone witnessed how people often grew angry yet managed their differences without resorting to violence. Her father’s treatment had made her believe that all the world resolved their differences with force. She had dodged Rachel’s touch for fear of it being meant for harm, but this woman had shown her nothing but kindness. Nearly everyone had been kind, with the exception of a couple of the other girls whose jealousy over Rachel’s treatment of Simone had caused them to snub her. Simone hardly concerned herself with such snobbery. She certainly hadn’t come to Kansas to make friends.

By this time Olive and Grace had returned and were directing the boys as to where the table should be positioned. Rachel sighed in exasperation and called out, “No, wait. We’ll need to move some of the other tables closer together.”

Simone swayed on her feet and felt panicked for a moment when her vision seemed to blur. It passed quickly, and taking a deep breath, she hurried back to the linen closet to procure additional linens for the new table. A bit of a breeze touched her cheeks, but it didn’t seem to help much. She longed for a cool bath and a chance to lie down, but she knew better than to expect that for a long time to come. Her regular shift would run the course of twelve hours, and then she would still have the finishing touches to put on her new gown of red gingham.

The one-mile whistle sounded and the girls quickly scattered to their stations. Simone thought she felt a bit better. At least she didn’t notice the heat as much. In fact, she was no longer perspiring at all. She hurried to set herself up at her own station. The salads wouldn’t be brought to the table until the customers had arrived. The warmer temperatures would only spoil them or cause them to wilt, and Harvey rules dictated that the food be at a premium both in looks and taste. The salads safely sat on ice in the back room, and Simone thought how wonderful that sounded. She couldn’t help but smile at the idea of joining them.

It wasn’t until the gong sounded, announcing the train’s arrival, that Simone remembered this would be the train on which Jeffery O’Donnell would make his return. She felt a nervous fluttering in her stomach. She faced his return with mixed emotions. Would he come demanding more answers, or would he, as several of the girls had suggested, come seeking Simone’s companionship for other purposes?

The rush of passengers flooded the dining room, and only for a moment did Simone feel disappointment at not seeing Jeffery among them. Without time to give the matter any serious consideration, she quickly set out to learn the menu choices of her guests.

“I’ve changed my mind,” one man told her. “I don’t want any salad, I want soup.”

“I want something cold to drink immediately,” a plump matronly woman demanded.