Licking dry lips, he finished his talk before the waves of feelings got the best of him. “I know you’ll make me proud today. Let’s go.”
He nodded to Ada, who spun on her heel and led the line of orphans down the street, chin still pointed in the air. Simon and Cecilia followed at the rear, behind Charles, one of the oldest boys. As they got closer to the school, Charles’s steps slowed, almost imperceptibly, until Simon was walking next to him.
The boy looked nervous, fidgeting with the bottom button on his slightly too large donated jacket. “Mr. McKay, sir, what if they don’t want one of us? You said this is the last stop. What if someone isn’t picked?”
Charles’s dark head hung low, nearly breaking Simon’s heart. He rested a hand on the child’s shoulder as they walked. “I assure you, Charles, no one will be overlooked today. There are more than enough families in Spring Hill who are excited to have a child join their home. Each of you is sure to find a good match today.”
The boy nodded and sped up to keep pace with the others.
Feeling Cecilia’s eyes on him, Simon turned to see the look of pity on her face. “The poor dear. I can’t imagine the fear the children must feel. I do hope the day goes as well as we expect. For their sakes.”
Simon couldn’t bring himself to respond beyond a noncommittal nod. No, she couldn’t imagine what the children were feeling at that moment. His own life experience had taught him how pivotal this day would be for the orphans. It could mean the difference between life and death.
He tried to brush aside the memories of childhood horror that started to rise but the surge of heartache must have showed on his face, anyway.
Pausing, Cecilia stopped him with one hand on his arm. “It looks like there’s more on your mind than the children. I know we’ve only just met, but if you need to talk, I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”
He couldn’t help the pang of longing that hit him with her earnest words. As much as he would need help in this town for the weeks ahead, there was no way he was going to divulge his past or his feelings to her. No matter how pretty she looked, with that encouraging smile lifting her pink lips. Simon couldn’t imagine that such a lovely young woman would commit to traveling the country with the orphan train rather than having a family of her own. And there was no way he was walking away from the one thing God had called him to do for a selfish reason like his own emotions.
“I’m anxious to get all the children placed out to good homes and return to New York. Nothing more.” He winced at his gruff tone. So much for his determination to be nicer to her.
Drawing herself up straight, she trained her eyes on the children as they entered the school. “You aren’t fond of the frontier?”
Trying to sound more pleasant, he shook his head. “It’s not that. There are always more children on the streets in New York. These trips take so long, it feels like I’m missing the chance to help someone. And I can’t stand that.”
* * *
Cecilia turned to see Simon’s eyes scan the prairie behind the school. Her heart beat a little faster at the view of his strong profile and she chided herself. This was about the children, not about spending time with the handsome placing agent. He had just stated that he would return to New York as soon as he could. Was she going to be so silly as to put her heart in a position that would only lead to being hurt again? No, she couldn’t let that happen.
Squaring her shoulders, she followed Simon up the stairs as he held the door to the school open. Entering the familiar room, she was pleased to see that all the children were standing in one very straight line in front of the large blackboard. The only sounds were the ticking of the clock on the wall and a slight shuffling of feet now and then. It appeared the children knew what was expected of them for the event. If they continued to behave this well, they would make an excellent impression on the potential parents.
Running her eyes down the line, Cecilia looked closer at the children, wishing she had time to get to know each one. She hoped their new families would send them to school for the fall term so she could continue to keep up with how they were doing. Grabbing paper and a pencil, she went to the end of the line, starting with the boys, who were lined up youngest to oldest.
The first boy was darling, with round cheeks and blond hair combed back. He looked up at her with wide blue eyes.
“What’s your name, dear?”
“Edwin.”
“And your last name?”
“Matthews.”
Cecilia wrote his name at the top of her paper. “Edwin Matthews. Very good.”
From behind her, a throat cleared and Simon corrected the child. “That’s ‘Edwin Matthews, ma’am.’”
The boy’s face turned crimson. “Sorry, Mr. McKay. Edwin Matthews, ma’am.”
Glancing behind her, it was all Cecilia could do to keep from rolling her eyes. But that was the kind of thing Cat would do and Cecilia had never been as forward and blunt as her younger sister. Still, she wished she could point out that Simon’s gruff commands weren’t necessary. These children behaved much better than the ones who attended classes with her.
Turning back to Edwin, she gave him her most encouraging smile. “And how old are you, Edwin?”
Thin shoulders shrugged. “The people at the home thought I might be around five. Ma’am.”
Writing the number next to his name, Cecilia rested one hand on Edwin’s head for a moment. How could he not even know how old he was? The things he must have experienced in his life on the streets were unimaginable to her. With effort, she resisted wrapping the child in a hug and moved on to the next boy. He was James Watson, age eight. As she went down the line, Cecilia also met Charles Wilkinson and Patrick Dalton, both age nine.
As she moved on to the girls, a heavy weight settled on Cecilia’s heart. These children were so strong and brave. Each must have a story of such pain and loss. She had lost her father several years ago, as an adult, and that had been terribly painful. She couldn’t imagine these little ones bearing such tragedy at their young ages.
She set her focus on filling out the paperwork as she met Helen Watson, age four and sister to James and Gertie, a lovely ten-year-old down the line. Then there was Sophia Butler, seven, and Jane Dalton, eight. Jane was very clearly Patrick’s sister. They looked almost like twins, with matching dark hair and stormy gray eyes.
Finally she stood in front of the oldest girl, fifteen-year-old Ada Baker, who held six-month-old Clara Brown. Ada was a beautiful young woman, with a slim figure and wavy blond hair. Watching her bounce the baby with practiced ease, Cecilia fervently hoped the girl would find a wonderful home where she could experience a few years of childhood before marrying and having children of her own.
Standing back with the list still in her hand, Cecilia addressed the children, who stood at full attention thanks to Simon’s prodding. “Thank you all for answering my questions so well. The people of Spring Hill are so pleased to welcome each of you. I know you’ll all find parents who will love and care for you. And I hope each of you will attend school when the fall term begins since I’m the teacher and I would love to see you again.”
She tried to meet as many of their eyes as possible with a broad smile as Simon
