Just as I Am Read online

  She stifled a yawn as she slid the amount needed for a ticket across the varnished wood counter to the ticket clerk. The walk from the asylum into town in the dark of night, her heart beating in fear the entire way, had worn her out. She looked forward to a nap on the train. “One way to Wichita, please, sir.”

  The clerk pinched up the nickels and dimes one at a time, his lips moving as he counted silently. He gave an approving nod when he lifted the final coin, dropped the coins into a sectioned tin tray behind him, then reached for a stamp pad and stiff square of paper. “You’re up awfully early, young lady. You traveling alone?”

  She answered honestly, using the polite language she’d learned from Ma Jonnson. “Yes, sir, I am.”

  He shot a frown through the steel bars separating him from those purchasing tickets. “Kinda young to be off on your own, aren’t you?”

  She’d donned her best dress—a muslin as dark brown as a walnut husk, lavishly graced with creamy lace at the collar and the wrists of her tight-fitting cuffs. The hem reached all the way to the toes of her button-up boots instead of ending midcalf like a schoolgirl’s dress. With a perky straw bonnet bearing a cluster of yellow silk rosebuds pinned atop her wild hair, she’d felt grown-up. The man’s question hacked at her confidence, but she straightened from her tired slouch and lifted her chin. “I’m old enough.”

  His scowl deepened as he leaned in and peered intently into her face. “I’ve seen you around town. Aren’t you one of the youngsters who lives at the Dunnigan Asylum with the Jonnsons?” He flicked a glance right and left. “Do they know where you are?”

  Despite her irritation Daisy couldn’t bring herself to lie. After listening to nightly Bible readings for the past years, she knew right from wrong. So instead of answering, she asked a question of her own. “May I have my ticket, please? I don’t wish to miss my train.”

  The man stared at her for several more silent seconds before blowing out a huff of breath and shaking his head. “Well, all right. I can’t say your money’s not good. One ticket to Wichita.” He jammed the paper through the little space beneath the bars.

  “Thank you, sir.” With the ticket held tightly in one hand, she lifted her carpetbag with the other and made her way to the pair of long benches tucked beneath a protective canvas covering next to the depot. Although she sat with her back to the ticket window, she sensed the clerk’s eyes boring into her.

  She resisted fidgeting, determined to present an unruffled appearance. If the clerk suspected she’d run off from the asylum, he might summon the sheriff. At least she’d had the sense to buy a ticket to Wichita rather than Sinclair. It cost a bit more, but the train would stop at the Sinclair station before it went on to Wichita, and she would disembark early. If the Jonnsons asked questions, the clerk would say she’d gone to Wichita. She silently congratulated herself on her cleverness.

  Other passengers began to fill the benches. A few offered her a smile of greeting, which she returned with a demure bob of her head, but most seemed too intent on their own business to pay much attention to her. Only one—an older woman traveling with a boy perhaps ten years old—tried to engage her in conversation. But Daisy’s deliberately simple, one-word replies soon discouraged the woman, and she shifted her attention to the boy instead.

  She stared at the round clock fastened to the depot wall and willed the minutes to pass quickly. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn’t brought anything to eat on the journey. Why hadn’t she thought to tuck away some of yesterday’s biscuits and baked ham or an apple or two? Maybe she wasn’t so clever after all. But no, hadn’t she been wise enough to save her money rather than squander it, to choose a destination, to strike out on her own?

  A rumble beneath her feet followed by a shrill, distant whistle signaled the train’s approach. Passengers rose, grabbing cases and bags and the hands of their companions. Daisy fell in with the others, taking care to keep her gaze aimed forward rather than sneaking a look toward the clerk to see if he still watched her. She was clever. And she would be just fine.

  Chapter 3

  Maybe she should have given this plan of hers a little more thought before leaving Brambleville. Still groggy from her jostled sleep on the train and unfamiliar with her surroundings, Daisy stood on the boardwalk outside the bustling Sinclair station and tried to decide what to do next. In her carpetbag she carried the letters Robby had sent over the past months, so she had the address of the boarding hotel where he lived. But where was 710 North Halstead in the city? She gnawed her lower lip until it bled, inwardly berating herself. She should have planned ahead and sent Robby a letter or a telegram, asking for directions from the station. Or better yet, asked him to meet her.

  Someone bumped into her from behind and muttered, “Get out of the way, why don’t you?” in lieu of an apology. Chastened, she scuttled to the edge of the raised wooden platform where she’d be free of the flow of foot traffic.

  Such a big, busy city compared to Brambleville! At two o’clock in the afternoon, the streets teemed with life. Mule-drawn trolleys rattled through the center of the street on silver rails. In the wide roadways on either side of the rails, wagons, carriages, and even a motorized vehicle—the first she’d ever seen—stirred dust into a perpetual cloud. Businesses of all manner, constructed of brick or stone rather than sided in wood, were crunched side by side and towered two, sometimes three, stories tall.

  Holding her carpetbag against her knees, she scanned the names painted on scrolled signs above wide windows, seeking a place to spend the night. Her heart gave a little leap of relief when she found a sign on the opposite side of the street proclaiming “Hollington Hotel—Clean, Friendly, Affordable.” All three descriptions appealed to her.

  She looked right and left, seeking a gap in the constant passage of conveyances, then gathered her courage and broke into a half trot. She had to pause twice to allow wagons to pass, and one of the drivers shook his fist at her, but she made it to the other side unscathed and leaped onto the boardwalk with a sigh of relief. Once she’d secured a room and had a place to leave her bag, she’d ask the hotel clerk for directions to Robby’s boarding hotel. Imagining the surprise on his face, she felt her lips tug into a smile. She hurried toward the hotel’s open doorway.

  As she passed the large plate-glass window, she caught a glimpse of her reflection and came to a startled halt. Although her hat remained pinned in place, the wayward curls escaping beneath its brim squiggled out like worms from a boy’s bait can. Soot blown through the cracked windows of the passenger car had peppered the front of her dress and even left a smudge on her left cheek.

  Leaning closer to the glass for a better look, she tried to rub the mark away with her palm. When she lowered her hand, she realized she’d only managed to spread the smudge all the way to her temple. Growling in frustration, she bit down on her sore lip again. If the hotel was clean, they wouldn’t want her in there! But she couldn’t just wander the city, hoping to stumble upon Halstead Street.

  She continued to gaze at her reflection, considering whether to go in and risk being ejected for her filthy appearance or to ask a friendly-looking passerby—not that she’d seen any who seemed friendly yet—for directions to Robby’s boarding hotel, a delightful aroma reached her nose. Saliva pooled under her tongue as she recognized the sweet scent of chocolate.

  Robby worked in a chocolate factory. Surely even a town the size of Sinclair wouldn’t have two factories producing chocolates. If she followed her nose, would she find the factory … and Robby? As she recalled, he worked the shift from six in the morning until three in the afternoon. She’d left the train station at a little past two, which meant she had less than an hour to find the factory. Worry tried to take hold of her again. Could she find the factory in such a short amount of time, or would she get herself helplessly lost?

  What should she do? If Ma or Pa Jonnson were here, they’d advise her to ask God to help her. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d heard the asy
lum leaders tell the orphans that God’s ears were open to hear their requests and His hands were willing to offer help. They spoke so assuredly of God. But hadn’t she tried praying? Of course she had. She’d begged and begged for a family. But her pa, ma, and Grandma and Grandpop never came back for her, and she’d been overlooked by every prospective family visiting the asylum in search of a child to love. He hadn’t helped her in the past. Why think He’d help her now?

  “You don’t need help. You can do it by yourself.” She whispered the stern words as she turned from the window and stepped directly in the path of a pram being pushed by a young woman. Daisy leaped back, but one of the pram’s iron wheels rolled over her toe, and she couldn’t squelch a sharp yelp of pain.

  The woman stopped, her face reflecting remorse. “Oh, I beg your pardon, miss. This ungainly thing doesn’t turn easily, and I couldn’t avoid you. Is your poor foot all right?”

  Truthfully, Daisy’s big toe throbbed, but she wouldn’t repay a kind apology with a complaint. “I’m fine. No harm done.”

  She flashed a bright smile. “I’m glad.” Although the woman remained in place, she pushed on the pram’s wooden handle to bounce the sleeping baby in the bed. Her gaze whisked from Daisy’s head to her feet to her face again, and Daisy prepared herself for a disparaging comment concerning her appearance. The woman’s smile didn’t dim. “Have you just arrived on the train, miss?”

  Surprised by the young woman’s friendliness, Daisy nodded. “Yes. And I need to locate”—she searched her memory for the name of Robby’s factory—“Dinsmore’s World-Famous Chocolates Factory.”

  “Oh, Dinsmore’s!” Her bouncing of the pram increased in exuberance, causing the infant to rock back and forth. “My brother Bartholomew works there on the night shift. He always says he’ll get me a job there, too, but I like being nanny to little Susannah here even if it doesn’t pay as much. She’s as sweet as chocolate, don’t you think?”

  Daisy gave the expected peek into the pram and nodded her agreement, although Susannah seemed no more special than any of the babies that had spent a few months at the asylum. The babies never stayed long.

  “I’ve been her nanny since she was only two weeks old! She’s five months now, so how could I possibly leave her to work in a factory? Although I’m sure you’ll find the work there satisfactory.”

  Daisy listened politely, but inwardly she wished the woman would stop talking long enough to offer directions. She didn’t have time to spare. Maybe it would be better to seek out Dinsmore’s on her own.

  Apparently the nanny suddenly realized she hadn’t answered Daisy’s question because she slapped her hand to her cheek. “Again, I must apologize, miss. I spend so much time with my darling little Susannah, who doesn’t talk at all except to coo and burble, that when I find someone who is able to talk in return, I tend to ramble on and on.”

  Daisy understood. After Robby left, she hadn’t had anyone near her age at the orphanage. She missed their long talks in the evening after the chores were finished and things were growing quiet. She couldn’t wait to talk to him again. Before the nanny began another long string of words, she prompted, “The factory …”

  “Catch the south-going trolley. It’ll cost you a nickel, but it beats walking. Especially when you’re toting a bag. Ride the trolley four blocks to Anthony Street, then hop off and go two blocks east.” She used one hand to continue to bounce the pram and the other to point first south and then east. “The factory sits on the corner of Anthony and Second. It’s a big reddish-orange brick building. You can’t help but see it, because it fills most of the block, but mostly you’ll know it because of the smell.”

  She drew in a deep breath, closing her eyes as if savoring the air. “What we’re smelling now is nothing compared to what you’ll smell when you get close.” Setting the pram in motion, she shot Daisy another beaming smile and called over her shoulder. “Welcome to Sinclair, miss, and good luck with your new job!”

  Chapter 4

  Thanks to the helpful nanny, Daisy located the chocolate factory and chose a bench near the street to sit and watch for Robby. A sweet aroma escaped the hinged, open windows and hung like a curtain over the entire area, making her stomach quiver in hunger. The cheese sandwich she’d purchased from a vendor when the train stopped at the Newton station hadn’t been enough to fill her. She hoped Robby would be hungry when he emerged so he wouldn’t resist when she suggested finding a diner.

  A large clock anchored on the factory’s brick wall showed the time, allowing her to count the minutes. The closer the hands drew to three o’clock, the more excitement built in her middle. She closed her eyes and imagined Robby as she’d seen him last, dressed in the fine new suit of clothes provided by the Jonnsons for his going-away, a burlap bag of belongings thrown over his shoulder, and a wool cap settled jauntily over his thick waves of wheat-colored hair.

  If she pressed her memory, she could even hear his voice echo through her mind. “You’re a good kid, Daisy, an’ I’m gonna miss you more than Ma Jonnson’s apple butter on fresh-baked biscuits. Once I’m settled, I’ll write to you, an’ you’d better write back, you hear me?” She’d assured him she would, and she’d kept her promise. In every letter he’d continued to proclaim how much he missed her, so she knew he’d be happy to see her. She couldn’t wait to see his face light in pleased surprise.

  She watched people—men, women, youngsters—plod toward the factory and enter a pair of wide-open doors at the front of the building. Some swung pails in their hands, and others held packets in the crook of their arms. The women all wore aprons over their dresses and ruffled mobcaps on their heads, signifying them as workers, but the men’s trousers and shirts reminded Daisy of the farmers back in Brambleville. The arriving workers created an entertaining parade, and the time passed swiftly.

  As the big hand on the clock shifted to point to the twelve, a buzzer blared so loudly Daisy nearly fell off the bench in surprise. At the same time a pair of doors opened, and workers spilled out, a throng of talking, laughing, and jostling men, women, and children. Daisy pushed shakily to her feet and scanned the crowd, searching for Robby’s familiar face. He blended in so well with the other men she wouldn’t have known him if his gaze hadn’t met hers and his jaw dropped in recognition.

  Her heart leaped into her throat as he broke free of the mass and ran toward her. “Daisy! Daisy!” The true delight in his voice brought a rush of rare tears to her eyes. He reached her and swooped her off her feet in an exuberant hug of greeting, laughing boisterously in her ear. He spun her in a circle, sending her hat flying, but she didn’t care. She clung to his shoulders and laughed, too, happier than she’d ever been in her whole life.

  Two other male workers approached, their grins teasing. “Hey, Rob,” the taller of the pair said, “you’re gonna get yourself arrested if you go around grabbing up girls like that.”

  “That’s right,” the second one added, giving Robby a slap on the shoulder. “Better put her down before she calls the cops on you.”

  Robby let Daisy’s feet meet the ground, but he kept his arm around her waist. He’d never held her snug against his hip before, but she liked the secure way it made her feel. He barked out another laugh and shook his head at the pair of workers. “Daisy wouldn’t call the cops on me. She wouldn’t wanna lose her best fella, am I right, Daisy?”

  She gazed into his twinkling blue eyes. He must have grown in the past year because she had to tip her face upward to meet his gaze. Bashful under the perusal of the other men, she only nodded.

  Robby laughed again and gave her a squeeze before releasing her. His coworkers wandered off as he caught both of her hands and swung them gently in, out, in, out. “What’re you doin’ here? Did’ja run away from home?”

  His question was too close to the truth. She ducked her head and formed a careful answer. “I’m almost sixteen. Time for me to take care of myself, don’t you think?”

  “I think I’m happier than a cat wi
th its face in a full bowl of cream, just seeing you again. I’ve missed you somethin’ fierce, Daisy.”

  She lifted her face and smiled at him, more pleased than she could express. How had she managed to go so long without him? She said, “Well, I’m here to stay. I have to find a job and a room, but I plan to live in Sinclair from now on. I want to—” She gulped, gathering her courage. “I want to be with you, Robby.”

  “Aww …” He lifted one of her hands and planted a noisy smack on the middle knuckle. “That’s sweet. You know how to make a fella feel special, that’s for sure.” He took a step back and slipped his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Did’ja just get off the train? Looks like you could use a wash. And I bet you’d like somethin’ to eat, huh? Whatcha want first—to find a room an’ tidy up some, or do you wanna eat?”

  What she wanted most was just to admire him a little longer. She’d always thought Robby handsome with his narrow, expressive face; thick, wavy hair; and sky-blue eyes surrounded by lashes too long and full to belong on a boy. He was even more handsome now. He’d filled out, gone from lanky to muscular, and his face had taken on a chiseled appearance. Whiskers dotted his chin and cheeks—something new. She marveled at how much a year had carved away the boy and brought forth the man. Although she was only a year behind him in age, she suddenly felt decades behind him in maturity. The realization left her tongue-tied.

  “Daisy?”

  She’d kept him waiting for an answer too long. She released a nervous giggle—something she never did—and started to tell him she preferred to eat first. But before she could say a word, another voice intruded.

  “Rob Miller, there you are.”

  Both Robby and Daisy turned, and Daisy had to practice great self-control not to bristle. A girl with raven-black hair swept beneath a ruffled mobcop, a white apron with its strings tied tight to emphasize her curves, and a flirtatious grin on her heart-shaped face sashayed toward them. Her skirts swirled with the deliberate sway of her hips as she moved directly to Robby’s side. She grabbed his arm with both hands, hugging his elbow against her rib cage. Daisy might have been invisible for all the attention she received from the lovely girl.