What Once Was Lost (3 page)

But I got a look at the things Alice brought, and they’re mostly for youngsters. None of us thought to grab shoes, and we don’t have anything at all for the menfolk, I’m afraid.”

Christina nibbled her lip. Wes had pulled on britches and a shirt over his long johns before leaving his room, but his bare toes had a bluish hue. Herman and Harriet huddled together in striped nightshirts, thick stockings covering their feet. The men would need britches and shirts, and everyone needed shoes quickly. They couldn’t enter the house and scavenge for belongings—it wasn’t safe—so the only place to find what she needed was in town.

Although she hated to leave the security of the barn and take the others out into the cold, she had little choice. Needs had to be met, and she couldn’t see to them here on the farm.

Christina touched Louisa’s arm. “As soon as we’ve dressed as warmly as possible, I’ll have Wes hitch the team. We’ll go into town. I’m sure people will offer us refuge until the house can be rebuilt.”

Louisa’s brow pinched. “I’ve heard some of the folks in Brambleville weren’t too pleased about this fine house being made into a home for the destitute. They might turn us away, just as the innkeeper did to Mary and Joseph in Bethlehem.”

Indignation raised Christina’s chin. Let the townspeople try to leave her charges out in the cold! “I assure you, Louisa, we’ll be taken in.” She flung her arm around the older woman’s shoulders and offered an assuring squeeze. “The good Lord provides a nest for the sparrow, and He won’t leave His children in need of shelter.”

Worry tried to eat a hole through Christina’s stomach as she aimed the wagon north out of town. The
clop, clop
of horses’ hoofs on frozen ground echoed across the lonely countryside. Only one poor farm inhabitant huddled in the back in the mound of hay—Tommy. Scarred, blind Tommy. Frustration rolled
through her chest. He was just a little boy in need of care. Why did people find it so easy to turn him away?

She flicked the reins, urging the horses to pick up their pace. Dawn would break soon. Already the sky’s velvety black was changing to a steel gray in the east. She’d promised the boardinghouse owner that she and Cora would prepare meals for her boarders—starting with today’s breakfast—in exchange for a tiny sleeping room. So finding a place for Tommy
soon
was imperative. Lifting her face to the bright moon hovering just above the treetops, she whispered a fervent prayer. “Lord, the mill owner is our last hope. Please soften his heart.”

“Ma’am?” Tommy’s quavering voice carried on the icy wind.

Without turning around, Christina answered. “What do you need, Tommy?”

“I’m scared.”

So was she. But she couldn’t let Tommy know. Clutching the reins with one hand, she reached behind her with the other and found Tommy’s head. She gave his tousled hair a gentle stroke. “It’ll be all right. You wait and see.”
Lord, let me be telling this boy the truth. He’s already suffered so much loss
.

The lane leading to Jonnson Millworks curved to the right, illuminated by the moon shimmering blue on the wisps of remaining snow. With a firm tug on the reins, she guided the horses to take the turn. Minutes later she brought the team to a halt outside a long, nearly flat-pitched house with a railed porch running its full length. Wide, whitewashed boards ran up and down with narrow strips of wood nailed over each seam. Glass windows reflected the muted predawn light. Although far from pretentious, the house looked sturdy and welcoming.

Christina set the brake and held her borrowed skirt above her ankles as she climbed down. She then tapped Tommy’s shoulder. “Come on out.”

The boy cringed. “You sure I oughta? Might be better if they don’t know who’s wantin’ to stay with ’em.”

Pain seared Christina’s heart. She resented the way people recoiled from Tommy. The boy couldn’t see their reaction, but his acute hearing couldn’t
miss the startled gasps or dismissive snorts. If Mr. Jonnson also turned him away, what would she do? Tommy had already suffered the loss of his sight, been cast aside by his own family, and been rejected by half the town. How much must a mere boy be forced to bear? Although Mr. Jonnson might very well refuse to harbor the boy when faced with Tommy’s limitations, she couldn’t try to hide them. It wouldn’t be honest.

Very kindly she said, “Come on now.”

She led Tommy across a pathway formed of flat gray rocks to the porch. “Step up.” The boards, cold and damp from the recent snow, creaked beneath their feet. Even before she raised her fist to knock on the wood door, a voice boomed from inside the house.

“Who’s out there?”

At the deep timbre and stern tone, Tommy shrank against Christina. She coiled an arm around the boy’s shoulders before answering. “Miss Christina Willems from the Brambleville Asylum for the Poor, Mr. Jonnson. Would you please open the door?”

“What for?”

Christina clenched her teeth. She was cold, tired, heartsore, and swiftly running out of patience. Sending up one more silent prayer for strength—at least the fifteenth since Tommy had awakened her a few hours ago—she gathered her remaining shreds of courage and said, “So I might speak to you without the need to holler.”

Silence reigned.

Tommy shivered uncontrollably.

Christina’s patience was whisked away on an icy blast of wind. She gave the door a solid thump with her fist. “Sir, will you kindly open this door and allow us entrance? It is cold out here!”

Chapter 3

Levi Jonnson set the lamp on the table near the door, tugged his suspenders into place, and finally gave the doorknob a twist. The handle of his pistol stuck out of the waistband of his trousers so he could easily grab it should the people on the porch prove untrustworthy. But when he opened the door and squinted against the early morning shadows, all he found was a disheveled-looking woman and a scrawny, barefoot boy dressed in britches and a plaid shirt at least two sizes too small.

Cold wind whisked through the door, making the flame on the kerosene lamp flicker. His fingers twitching on the pistol handle, he tipped sideways and peered beyond the pair. “Are you two alone?”

“Yes.” The woman took hold of the boy’s shoulders and urged him over the threshold, forcing Levi to step back or be run down. She caught the door and clicked it into place behind her. A shudder shook her frame, making the wild strands of hair escaping her shabby braid quiver. She drew in a ragged breath, swallowed, then turned a tired gaze on Levi.

“Thank you for allowing us entrance.”

He’d hardly
allowed
it. She’d taken liberties. Before he could correct her, she went on.

“Mr. Jonnson, earlier this evening the poor farm residence caught fire, displacing thirteen souls. I’ve arranged temporary shelter in town for all but Tommy Kilgore.” She put her arm around the boy’s shoulders. A softness crept across her features as she gazed for a moment at the boy, who stood with his head hanging low. “I would be most appreciative if you could open your home to Tommy until I can make arrangements for our house to be rebuilt.” Her pale blue eyes bored into his as she awaited a response.

He searched her face. Dark smudges marred her cheeks. The scent of smoke clung to both the woman and the boy. Her claim about a fire seemed true, and he didn’t glory in their loss. But keep some strange boy in his house for who knows how long? Levi slipped his fingertips into his trouser pockets. “I can’t house him, ma’am.”

Her gaze narrowed. “Mr. Jonnson, I assure you I wouldn’t be here were it not of grave importance. I was told in town you live alone.” She gestured to his sizable sitting room, one eyebrow rising delicately. “You can’t claim you lack the space to accommodate one small boy.”

The boy in question seemed to shrink into himself as the woman talked. Levi experienced a pang of remorse. He didn’t hold anything against the boy personally, but he lived alone for a reason. He didn’t need the intrusion in his life. The sooner he could get the two of them out of here, the better.

He shifted his weight onto one hip. “Listen, lady—”

“My name is Miss Willems.”

Levi scowled. “Listen, Miss Willems, I’m sorry about the fire. But I can’t take in some boy—”

“His name is Tommy.”

Levi sucked a slow breath and blew it out. Mercy, she was one irritating female. “I can’t take in Tommy.”

Miss Willems fixed him with a penetrating stare. “Are you rejecting him because of his blindness?”

Levi jolted. Blind? He looked at the boy, who slowly raised his chin. The boy’s thick-lashed, deep blue eyes stared ahead, unblinking. Unseeing. Levi’s heart rolled over.

“It would be particularly heartless to cast him aside because of something over which he has no control.”

The woman’s strident tone chased away the remnants of sympathy. “It has nothing to do with him being blind and everything to do with me single-handedly running a business. I don’t have time to look after a boy. And I especially don’t have time to make sure a boy who can’t see doesn’t get hurt out here.”

“Tommy has a very keen sense of hearing. And he’s extremely intelligent.” Miss Willems’s voice lost its sharp edge. Levi detected a hint of pleading in her tone and expression although she held her chin at a proud angle. “If you’ll allow him to stay, he won’t—”

“He can’t stay.” Levi reached for the doorknob, and his arm brushed the boy’s shoulder. With a squawk of alarm, Tommy jerked toward Miss Willems, his hands pawing the air. She caught them and drew them down, murmuring softly to him. Levi stared at a patch of rippled skin on the boy’s jaw. The pink, puckered flesh flowed down his neck and disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt. Levi’s chest went tight. “What happened to this child?”

Sympathy played across her features. “He was injured in a boiler explosion.” Still holding the boy’s hands, Miss Willems peered at Levi over the boy’s head. A steely resolve brightened her eyes. “Mr. Jonnson, I must find a place for Tommy. Every other family in town has turned him away. He’s a boy—only a boy—in need of shelter. Won’t you please offer a small corner of your home to Tommy?”

“Won’t you please find a place here for my husband?”
Ma’s plea from long ago crept out of the recesses of Levi’s mind. He recognized in Miss Willems’s entreaty the same weary defeat wrapped in a thread of hope that had colored Ma’s words. Levi shook his head. He said, “All right.”

The woman’s face lit.

He pointed at her. “But only until you can find someplace else for him to go. I’ve got a business to run, and I can’t play nursemaid.”

“You won’t need to nursemaid Tommy.” Miss Willems took hold of the boy’s shoulders, guided him farther into the room, and eased him onto Levi’s sofa. “Isn’t that right, Tommy?” The boy stared straight ahead, his fingers clutching the edge of the sofa cushion and his mouth set in a sullen line. Miss Willems gave his shoulder a pat, then scurried back to the door. “We escaped with only a handful of clothing, none of which belonged to Tommy. As soon as the shops open this morning, I’ll make purchases and bring out adequate items for him. You needn’t worry about providing anything more than shelter.”

“And food,” Levi said.

She nodded, seemingly unaware of the sarcasm in his tone. “But as I said earlier, only until I can find the means of rebuilding.”

Levi scowled. “Remember, I told you to keep looking for someplace else for him to go. This can’t be a long-term arrangement.”

“Of course not.” Despite the tiredness rimming her eyes, she spoke cheerily. Her skirts swirling, she crossed to the sofa and leaned forward to place a kiss on the scarred side of Tommy’s face. She whispered something Levi couldn’t hear, and the boy hunched into himself. Then she returned to the door. “Thank you again, Mr. Jonnson.” She pulled open the door and hurried out as if she feared Levi might change his mind. Smart lady.

Levi latched the door and then turned to look at the boy. He sat stiff as a statue on the edge of the sofa where Miss Willems had put him. As Levi stared at him, the boy slowly turned his head, his unblinking eyes seeming to search for something.

“Mr. Jonnson?”

“What is it, boy?”

“I’m Tommy.”

Levi ground his teeth. If this boy turned out to be like Miss Willems, they might not get along so well. “What do you need, Tommy?”

“To use the outhouse.”

Levi swallowed a snort. No trouble, huh? He thumped across the floor and took hold of the boy’s skinny arm. “All right then. I’ll take you.”

Tommy twisted his face around, aiming his unseeing gaze in Levi’s direction. “Thank you, sir.”

A lump filled Levi’s throat. “Let’s go, huh, and then you can stretch out on the sofa and get some sleep.”

Chapter 4

Cora stayed next to the dry sink on the other side of the kitchen and listened to Miss Willems gently argue with the boardinghouse owner.

“I know what we agreed to do in exchange for our room, Mrs. Beasley, but I’m asking you to please understand. I have other responsibilities and many other people depending on me.”

Mrs. Beasley’s beady eyes snapped beneath her thick gray brows. “You can be seein’ to your other responsibilities when you’ve finished up here. Them dishes won’t wash themselves. An’ your shoppin’ an’ such won’t pay your keep. So you decide what you oughta do.” She whirled and marched through the hallway leading to the dining room.