Separate Roads (21 page)

“No, Li, you can have one of the bedrooms in the house. This will strictly be for doing the laundry.”

“I have room in house?” Li’s eyes grew wide with wonder.

“Absolutely. I only brought you here to see what you thought of the building. I wanted to make sure you thought it would work for the laundry business.”

“Oh sure. It work plenty fine. This nice room. I clean up now.” She began to gather up pieces of crates and started to hum as she worked.

Victoria smiled at Li’s confidence. Leaving Li to consider the coop, Victoria wandered back to the main house and eyed it critically. There was a great deal she could do to make this place into a home. Curtains at the windows, maybe a few pictures on the walls. If Kiernan started to feel better, maybe he could even make them some more furniture. The potential was limitless.

The bedrooms sat just off the back of the parlor. The first was the smallest and would make the perfect place to position Kiernan. It had a window that looked out on the furniture store. It would give him a chance to see what was going on there and maybe even encourage his healing. He loved working with his hands, and maybe if he saw other creations, he would be encouraged to get busy with his own.

The second bedroom was larger and would work nicely for Li and Jia. Later, after Li left to join Xiang, it would make a nice guest room or sewing room. Of course, once Kiernan healed, Crocker might well want them to move on. Victoria frowned at the thought. I’d best not get too attached to this place, she thought. There was just no telling how long they would be able to enjoy the well-kept little house. But it was a pleasant gift and a blessing that she credited God with having provided. Temporary or not, she intended to enjoy the place for as long as she could.

After opening all the windows in order to air the place out, Victoria went back into the kitchen and nearly clapped her hands at the idea of having so much space to work. She would be able to have company sitting in the front room while the work of the kitchen went on out of their sight. But there was room for a table and chairs in the kitchen for more informal gatherings.

Shaking her head, she laughed out loud. “And who were you expecting to have as company?” Her father and mother came to mind, and this naturally led her to thoughts of Brenton, Jordana, and Caitlan. Only then did it dawn on her that she’d not even written to Kiernan’s sister in regard to the accident. Caitlan should know what had happened. In fact, it might be the one thing to hasten her to California.

She had often wondered what Kiernan’s sister might be like. Would she look like her brother? Would she be kind and gentle, or rambunctious and wild? The very thought of having Caitlan come to live with them filled her with both apprehension and joy. What if they didn’t get along? What if Caitlan resented Victoria’s relationship with Kiernan? On the other hand, if she cared so much about having a place in her brother’s life, then why was she taking so long to get here?

Regardless of the answer to those questions, there would easily be enough room for Caitlan here. Why, even if Li remained with them for a while, Kiernan would heal, and then Caitlan could take his bedroom downstairs. If Jordana and Brenton came with her, as was the plan, then Victoria could just shuffle everyone around in whatever manner necessary. Jordana and Caitlan could share a room, as she knew they already did in Omaha. Brenton could always sleep in the front room. She smiled, working out all the details in her mind. She could very nearly see them sitting down to a meal together, happy, content, blessed.
Oh, God, let it be so,
she prayed, hugging her arms to her body.
Please let it be so.

18

Kiernan stared out the window of his new bedroom. The rope bed had been donated by one of his friends, and in spite of the feather mattress, he found it impossible to get comfortable. Everything hurt and felt swollen or bruised. How could it be that he should still feel so bad after so much time had passed? He tried not to show his discomfort, hoping to keep Victoria from worrying more than she already was, but it was hard. All he wanted was to be healed and back on his feet, and instead, he was living in a borrowed bed.

Of course, most of the furnishings in the house had been donated. Charlie had put the word out to their mutual friends with the railroad, and the donations had rolled in. In fact, the house itself was Charlie’s donation, given as a means of support by the Central Pacific. Charlie wouldn’t even consider the discussion of rent, and that only made Kiernan feel worse. He had become what he had once feared the most—a charity case.

His wife had to bathe him and help him with meals. She had to work with Li to raise enough money to put food on the table. Charlie and the other Central Pacific board members were doing what they could to see to the other comforts of life.

It would have been better had I simply died, Kiernan lamented, using his good right hand to pound the mattress.

Such thoughts only served to make his head hurt, but in truth, the pain was always with him. Sometimes the pressure was so intense that he worried it would actually rupture something. He didn’t tell Victoria. He couldn’t cause her further worry. Besides, she was happy with the new house, and as mean-spirited and ill-tempered as he’d been, he couldn’t take that away from her.

It was a lovely house, Kiernan had to admit. He would have loved to have furnished Victoria with something this nice all on his own, but that was nothing more than a dream. Scowling, he turned away from the window and reached under the black eye patch to rub his sore eye. It had been nearly a month since the accident, and still his sight had not returned in full. The eye was extremely sensitive to light, and his left arm was still useless. His body hurt, and his mind refused to keep a steady memory of thoughts. He could remember working on the railroad and all the details of his job, but he couldn’t remember the accident. Nor could he always remember the weeks just after the accident. Of course, the first two weeks, he’d barely been conscious at all. The doctor had kept him so sedated that he only knew what others told him. And often he forgot about that.

In the last week or so, he had no such excuse. He had been insufferable to live with, and Victoria had borne it all admirably. She never complained or looked hurt when he made harsh, ugly comments. She never even got mad when he demanded she leave California and go home to her parents. This made his recovery even harder. He longed to get up from the bed, to comfort her and promise that everything would be good for them, but he couldn’t. He’d lost all hope that it could ever be that way. In fact, he’d decided that if he should manage to fully recover, he would resign from the Central Pacific and take her back east himself. Of course, there was a war going on back there, and that might not allow for the pleasant life of comfort she’d known as a girl, but it would have to be better than what she had known here in California.

A light knocking sounded at his door, and before he could answer, Charlie Crocker opened the door and grinned at him. “Say, you’re looking a whole lot better.”

Kiernan sighed. He couldn’t very well growl at the man to get out. After all, he owned the place. “Good day to ya, Charlie.”

Crocker pulled up a chair and tossed his hat to the end of the bed. “So how are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better,” Kiernan replied.

“Oh, that’s to be certain,” Charlie said with a chuckle. “But you’ll recover soon.”

“I wouldn’t be expectin’ so much, Charlie,” Kiernan replied with a heavy sigh. “Me body and mind tend to disagree as to who’s in charge.”

“Well, the doctor seems very positive, and your little wife is quite elated.”

“’Tis the house and not me recovery that has Victoria elated.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Crocker insisted. “She told me just this morning that you were seeing shadows out of your left eye. That has to be good news.”

“Well, I suppose ’tis all how ya look at it. I used to see just fine out of the eye, so shadows now seem bad. Yet a week ago I had no sight whatsoever out of it, so I’m figurin’ that to be progress.”

“I am as well,” Charlie said.

Kiernan frowned. “I’m still not takin’ kindly to charity, Charlie. Ya should at least be lettin’ me pay ya the same amount of rent as on the other place.”

“Nonsense. You’re a valuable asset to the Central Pacific, and I want to make sure you come back to us when you are well,” Charlie said, artfully changing the subject. “I don’t know what we’re going to do without you, Kiernan. There aren’t enough skilled laborers to keep the line going. We manage to scrounge up a few hundred here and there, and by the time the first payday rolls round, they’re gone—back to the hills where their dreams of gold keep calling them. We need to figure out how to keep them on the line.”

“I’m sorry, Charlie. I wish I knew what to tell ya.” Kiernan looked at his friend, focusing his one good eye on Charlie’s intent gaze. “It still doesn’t change the fact that ya’ve placed me on charity.”

“I consider it more an act of Christian generosity. On your part, as much as mine. That little Chinese friend of your wife’s has no husband to take care of her. Her man’s gone off to the railroad camps, and who knows when or if he’ll ever return? Your missus tells me that the baby is soon to have a brother or sister. You can’t very well be turning them out in the streets, now can you?”

Kiernan shook his head. “I wouldn’t suggest that.”

“Good. Then you see why it’s important to live here. The woman and her child are cared for, as well as the fact that she can keep her laundry business going. Why, even your wife seemed quite excited about the possibilities, and I’ve already drummed up quite a bit of business for them once they actually get everything up and running.”

“I don’t like me wife workin’ like that,” Kiernan replied, feeling his anger creep up on him. “It’s me job to be seein’ after her needs. And how can I do that now? I’m tellin’ ya, Charlie, I’m nothin’ but a blind fool.”

“You’re only as blind as you want to be, Kiernan,” Charlie admonished him in a sterner tone than he had yet used. He got to his feet and took up his hat. “But to my way of thinking, sitting around here feeling sorry for yourself is twice as hard on your wife as having to work at washing clothes.”

He didn’t wait for Kiernan’s response, and it was a good thing. Kiernan sat staring at the door for several minutes after Charlie had gone. How could he go saying something like that? It was hardly fair. Kiernan hadn’t asked to be injured.

The afternoon wore on, and with the heat of the day, Kiernan drifted off into a fitful sleep. He found himself back in Baltimore living in the extraordinary opulence he had known after marrying Victoria. They dined every night at seven, and always they wore their very best clothes and entertained other people who wore their very best. James and Carolina Baldwin, Victoria’s parents, were well-known and quite respected in the city. People vied for positions at their table—each outdoing the other in order to be able to sit at the right hand of his father-in-law. Kiernan thought it all rather funny. The only time his people had ever fought over a place at the table was in order to be seated closer to the food.

He awoke from the aroma of succulent roast lamb and mint jelly, to the smells of side pork frying. The dream left him feeling more defeated than he’d felt before. It tortured him to remember Victoria pampered and spoiled in her silks and satins, her skin so soft and cared for, her thick black hair piled high on her head and adorned with ribbons and pearls. How could he have taken her from that life? How could he have given her this world in good conscience?

It wasn’t fair. He’d tried to be a good man. He’d tried to be a good Christian. Why should his world fall apart when other men, men who cared little or nothing for God, thrived in their evil ways? And it wasn’t just small, isolated incidents. He’d seen it over and over again. Con men who swindled and gambled and robbed the innocent of their funds. Despicable characters like Christopher Thorndike who’d tried to entice Victoria to leave her marriage. Word had it that Thorndike made his fortune on the backs of the Chinese. Robbing them blind of their artifacts and possessions, giving them little more than a pittance of their worth. Not to mention that Thorndike’s name was very closely associated with the opium dens and Chinese houses of prostitution—though such a tie was never proven. Yet Thorndike lived in a beautiful mansion and dressed and ate like a king. Where was God’s righteousness in that?