Echoes of Mercy: A Novel (51 page)

He set aside the ledger and folded his hands on the desk top. “I’m ready for your report. Any concerns to discuss?”

His change in demeanor from teasing to practical put her at ease, and she shared the notes she’d gathered since their last meeting. After discussing the possibility of replacing the current rolling carts with mechanized conveyor belts, Ollie sat back in his chair and rested his linked hands on the taut front of his vest.

“You’ve done well, Carrie. I’m very pleased with the suggestions for improvement.”

Warmed by his praise, she ducked her head. “Thank you.”

“Have you been as successful with Kesia?”

She lifted her face, startled. “Pardon me?”

His lips quirked into a grin. “The cooking lessons.”

“Oh!” A giggle rose in her throat. She’d changed apartments, moving into one equipped with a small kitchen so she could practice in her own home rather than at the café, lest her concoctions frighten away Kesia’s customers. Some of her attempts had proved more successful than others. She admitted, “My biscuits are still as hard as rocks, but she pronounced my dumplings delectable.”

“Are you baking biscuits or making dumplings for your supper tonight?”

Where was this leading? She answered slowly, choosing her words with care. “I intend to purchase a trout on my way home and fry it in cornmeal batter.”

His eyebrows rose. “I’m quite fond of trout.”

“Would you like to join me?” Why had she asked him to dinner? Forward! Foolhardy! And dangerous. She still hadn’t mastered the art of frying. The trout might turn out as dry and stiff as old boot leather.
Please let him decline!

“I would like nothing better.” He rounded the desk, took her elbow, and escorted her to the door. “Six-thirty?”

Something in his gaze stole her ability to form words. Mute, she bobbed her head in agreement.

“Wonderful! I’ll be there. And I’ll bring a bottle of apple cider.” He winked. “Unfermented, of course.”

She scurried off before she embarrassed herself with another uncontrolled giggle.

Just as Caroline removed the frying pan from the stove, a
tap! tap, tap, tap
followed by a softer
tap, tap
came from the door. Nervously wiping her hands on the full apron covering her dress, she scurried around the tiny table filling the center of her kitchen area and twisted the doorknob. Her gaze collided with Ollie’s, who stood in the hallway with a jug in one hand and the most bedraggled-looking cluster of flowers she’d ever seen in the other. She clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

“That’s not very polite,” he said, his brow crunched into a mock scowl. “It’s December. This is the best I could do.”

She took the dried, drooping mess. Two leaves broke loose and fell to the floor. She stifled another giggle. “Thank you. I think.” She tipped her head and examined the brown stems. “Where did you get these things?”

“From a long-forgotten vase in the corner of the lobby downstairs.”

“Hi, Carrie!”

The second voice startled her so badly she squished the dried stems in her hand, severing three of them. A freckle-faced boy wearing Ollie’s old tweed cap and beaming a gap-toothed smile swung the tip of a wooden crutch over the threshold and came in.

Caroline gasped, “Lesley!”

Ollie shrugged sheepishly. “He’s my chaperone. Is it all right?”

“Of course it is!” She leaned down and hugged the little boy. She saw Letta daily at the factory, where she took part in the new half-work, half-school program, but both Lank and Lesley attended the city school during the day, preventing her from having much time with them. Her worries about being alone with Ollie faded in light of Lesley’s cheerful presence. She straightened and gestured to Ollie. “Well, come on in and join Lesley and me.”

He stepped through the doorway, removing his top hat as he came. She gazed at his neatly cropped hair, her fingers itching to smooth a few tousled strands into place. Realizing where her thoughts had drifted, she motioned toward the table. “Dinner’s ready. Have a seat, and I’ll serve the trout.”

She’d set the table for two. Lesley leaned his crutch on the wall and plopped into one chair. Caroline stood for a moment, flustered, but then Ollie went to the corner, pulled out the crate she used to store canned goods, and perched on it. She offered him a grateful smile, then quickly collected another plate and some silverware from her small cupboard and clanked them on the table before bustling over for a platter and wooden spoon to dish up the trout. Her hands shook so uncontrollably she broke the fillet into pieces. A nervous laugh tittered out. “I’ll be just a minute.”

Ollie rose and lifted the jug. “May I pour the cider?” His calm, steady presence juxtaposed with her flightiness made her feel addlepated. Tears threatened. Ollie said, “Carrie?”

She turned slowly. She glanced at Lesley, who gazed up at her in curiosity, then turned to Ollie. “I’m sorry I’m being such a ninny. I haven’t cooked for anyone before. Not ever. And I’m terribly afraid it will taste awful. Or even make you sick.”

Ollie placed the jug on the table. She stood frozen in place as he moved
slowly toward her. He stopped within arm’s reach and smiled—a sweet smile as tender as a caress. “Then maybe I should take your mind off supper for a few minutes. Give you a chance to collect yourself. Hmm?”

“Y-yes. Perhaps.”

“Very well. Let me tell you my purpose in coming here this evening.”

Her mouth felt dry. She wished she could take a sip of the cider.

“I wanted to tell you you’ve done an exemplary job at the factory.”

She forced a weak smile. “Thank you.”

“As difficult as it was for you to leave the bureau, I believe you’ve enjoyed the opportunities your new position has afforded you.”

He was right. She loved seeing the young people blossom as they gained knowledge, and she held no regrets about trading her investigator job for the one at the factory.

“I feel as though we’ve become a team, working together to improve the conditions for the workers.”

She felt the same way. She offered a nod.

“I can’t imagine losing you as a partner.”

She lowered her head, longing sweeping through her. Hadn’t she told God if her purpose in crossing paths with Ollie was to help him establish a relationship with his Father, it was enough? But hadn’t she also admitted a desire for more? That desire now created an ache in the center of her breast. How much longer would she be able to continue working for him, serving as a manager in his factory, when their employee-to-employer relationship wasn’t enough? “Ollie, I—”

“You’re fired.”

She jerked her gaze to meet his. “Wh-what?”

Ollie squared his shoulders. “That’s right. Your job at the factory is finished, so … you’re fired.”

“Ollie!” She stamped her foot. Only Lesley’s presence prevented her from planting her heel on his toes. “You just said you couldn’t imagine losing me as a partner! But now you’re letting me go?”

“As the environmental safety manager, yes. But”—he stepped forward and captured her in his arms—“I have another position I’d like you to fill.”

Stiff within the circle of his arms, she gave a derisive
humph
. “And what is that?”

“My wife.”

Her eyes flew wide open. Her muscles wilted. She eased into his embrace. “Your … your wife?”

“That is, if you’ll have me.” He drew her even closer, the pressure of his strong hands on her spine sending tingles of awareness to her scalp. “I know we don’t always see eye to eye, Carrie, but I love you. My happiest moments have been with you. I want you by my side from now until our final breaths. Will you marry me?”

She drew in a slow breath, savoring the sweet moment of acceptance. He loved her. He wanted her in his life. His proclamations were a gift beyond description. Her hands curved over his shoulders, and her lips parted, eager to accept his proposal.

But he stepped away, lifting one finger. “One moment, please.” Under Caroline’s and Lesley’s puzzled gazes, he stepped to the platter holding the broken chunks of fried trout. Realizing what he was about to do, Caroline held her breath. He pinched a piece and poked it into his mouth, chewed thoughtfully, and swallowed.

He turned to her with a satisfied smile on his face. “Now that I’ve determined I won’t starve, feel free to answer.”

Caroline’s breath released on a note of laughter. Lesley covered his mouth and giggled. Caroline winked at the boy, then moved toward Ollie, shaking her head. He opened his arms, his eyes shining with love and mischief. Life with Ollie would certainly never be dull. “Yes, Ollie. My answer is yes.”

He let out a whoop and scooped her from the floor. She clung to his neck, her laughter spilling as freely as the happy tears coursing down her face.

He lowered her until her soles met the floor. His hands cupped her cheeks and tilted her face to him, and then his lips descended in a kiss salty from the trout. She licked her lips and murmured, “Mm, I am a good cook.”

And Ollie’s laughter filled the room.

Dear Reader,

Thank you for taking this fictitious journey with Carrie, Ollie, and the other residents of Sinclair, Kansas. Although this story is a product of my active imagination, some elements of truth are hidden amid the pages.

During the Industrial Age, many children were sent to work to help support their families. The workday was long, and jobs were often unsafe and unhealthy for young workers. By 1900 more than 10 percent of Kansas children between the ages of ten and fifteen were employed in agriculture, manufacturing, and domestic service. Kansas law required that all children between the ages of eight and fourteen had to go to school for at least twelve weeks a year, but often work prevented children from attending school.

Investigators, sent by the Bureau of Labor, either openly or secretly collected data concerning safety practices within different industries. These investigators were rarely welcomed since employers found it financially beneficial to keep children, who earned lower wages than adults, on their employment rosters.

Thanks to the diligence of some of these investigators as well as other citizens who believed children needed to obtain an education, changes came. In 1905, Kansas passed a law that prohibited children under the age of fourteen from working in factories, meat-packing houses, or mines. This law affected nearly two thousand Kansas children, who were released from employment to attend school. Not until 1917 were national child labor laws passed.

Ollie’s school in Dinsmore’s World-Famous Chocolates Factory wasn’t far from the truth. On-site training for workers was once common. In the early and mid-1900s, factories offered a variety of apprenticeships and training programs targeting students as young as fourteen. In some factories, in addition to learning the skills necessary for specific jobs within the factory, attendees also learned to read, write, and perform basic math skills to help them to be more effective workers. Of course, this learning also benefited the students outside of the factory.

Child labor laws and the types of jobs available to young people have changed, but one very important thing remains the same—each person’s need for fulfillment. Just as Ollie admitted to possessing an empty place in the
center of his soul that nothing of the world seemed to satisfy, we all carry a deep need for a Savior. If you haven’t yet discovered the joy and eternal fulfillment a relationship with God through Jesus Christ can bring, I pray you’ll reach out for the Savior’s hand. He’s already reaching for you. When you take hold, you’ll discover a peace beyond description, and every longing will be filled.

May God bless you muchly as you journey with Him!

In His love,

Kim

Don, Mom and Daddy, my sweet girls, and my quiverful of grandjoys
—Thank you for walking this writing pathway with me! Your support, encouragement, and love keeps me moving forward. I love you all muchly!

My awesome critique group
—Thanks for churning through the chapters with me! You bless me more than you know.

Choir members from FSBC
—How I appreciate your prayers! Thank you for your steadfast support.

Steve Conard
—Thanks for your presentation on Hutchinson history and mentioning the “chocolate factory mystery.” You planted the seed for this story, and I am grateful!

Pat and Joan Conner
—Our “chance” meeting and your willingness to share your Otis elevator with me added such a delightful touch to the Dinsmore factory. Thank you for your kindness to a couple of strangers in town.

Shannon and the team at WaterBrook
—What a joy to work with you in bringing these imaginary friends and cities to life. Thank you for your diligent efforts to make the stories shine.

Finally, and most importantly,
God
—You take our dark times, give them a buff and polish, and make them a part of our brightest accomplishments. Thank You for filling me with Your strength, wisdom, and love. I’m never without hope because of You. May any praise or glory be reflected directly back to You.