| |
ALICE AND LIZZIE STOOD as close to the edge of the train’s platform as the ticket master would allow, while Betty waited by the station house with Fin’s parents. A party atmosphere surrounded them. It felt like the whole town was there to celebrate Harry and Fin’s return. Betty’s mother stayed at the hotel supervising the welcome home reception.
Mrs. Finley fidgeted on the bench where they sat. “Girls, perhaps you should step away from the tracks.”
Betty shook her head and sighed. “If you don’t wait back here with us, you’re going to get your skirts dirty, and your lungs will choke on the smoke. Standing so close won’t make the train arrive any faster.”
Lizzie twisted her handkerchief. “I don’t want to waste even a single second when Fin steps off the train.” She bounced up and down on her toes, unable to stay still.
Alice put an arm around Lizzie’s waist and pulled her close. “And I need to make certain you don’t trip and fall onto the tracks with all your dancing about.”
“Aren’t you excited? How can you stay so calm? Our men are coming home.”
“Of course, but if we both hop around like that, who will save us from the train when we fall? Betty would be too afraid of getting her skirts dirty.”
Betty waved a dismissive hand. “Alice is right. I would leave you down there. It would be your own fault, after such a silly and embarrassing display.”
Lizzie giggled. “You would not.”
“Try me.” Betty turned away, chin in the air, like she didn’t care one way or another what happened to them. The corners of her mouth twitched as she tried, but failed, to keep a straight face. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Perhaps it would be a good idea.” Alice guided Lizzie back a couple steps.
Lizzie nodded. “All right. But I want to be where Fin can see me.”
“How could anyone miss your little jig?”
“What time is it?” Lizzie looked at Mr. Finley.
“Not five minutes later than the last time you asked.” Betty sighed. “Which was five minutes from the time before that, and the time before that.”
Alice checked the big clock hanging over the train station ticket counter. “Ten more minutes.”
Lizzie squealed. “Ten minutes and my Fin will be home, and we can start planning our wedding.”
Mrs. Finley took her husband’s arm. “Oh, Frank, I wish the girls were here to greet their brother’s return. They live so far away.”
“Rose, I sent them each a telegram. They send Fred their love and welcome home,” Mr. Finley assured her. “And they said they wouldn’t miss the wedding for the world.”
“Ten minutes, if the train’s on time,” Alice reminded Lizzie. “You might have to wait fifteen minutes to start planning your wedding.”
“Or twenty, even,” Betty teased.
A commotion at the end of the platform drew everyone’s attention. Harold Barnes, Sr., along with his wife Margaret and her little dog Sweetie, arrived with all the fanfare Mrs. Barnes believed their family deserved. Jack wasn’t far behind.
“Jack.” Mrs. Barnes turned to her son. “Are you certain you’ll be able to help Harry, what with your leg?”
“He’s returning from the war, Mother, not the Grand Tour. All he’s going to have is his pack.”
“Yes, but he’s injured. He might need help,” she insisted.
Her husband lit a cigar. “For Pete’s sake, dear, keep your voice down.” He took a long draw and exhaled. “It’s his eye, not his leg. Harry’s not a cripple.”
Jack winced at his father’s cutting remark. Alice sent him a sympathetic smile.
Mrs. Barnes scanned the growing crowd. She stopped when she saw Alice, smiled stiffly, and nodded. Alice returned the icy acknowledgment. Sweetie growled and raised a sharp little bark in warning. Even though the dog was small, she could no doubt do some harm if Mrs. Barnes ever set her down for long enough. Alice made a point of knowing where Sweetie was at all times.
“Don’t you think you should go over and say hello?” Betty nodded her chin toward Harry’s parents.
Mrs. Finley agreed. “After all, they’re soon going to be your in-laws.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Barnes seem to prefer me at a distance, whenever possible, and I think it might be easier for all concerned.” Alice glanced at Harry’s mother. Her chin was tilted just high enough to allow her to look down her nose at the rest of them. And her tight smile left Alice with little doubt she heard every word they were saying about her. If not, she could certainly guess.
“You’re probably right.” Mrs. Finley shifted her position on the bench so her back was turned to Mrs. Barnes. “I’ll never understand that woman and her ways. She’s always walking about town looking like she’s gotten a strong whiff of bad meat.”
Mr. Finley patted her arm. “Well, if she has, it’s not coming from our shop. We sell only the freshest cuts.”
“They’re horrible people,” Lizzie whispered. “Not like the Finleys. They already treat me like a daughter.” She squeezed Mrs. Finley’s hand.
“And remember,” Betty added. “They didn’t even bother to tell you Harry was coming home today. If it wasn’t for Jack showing you Harry’s letter, you wouldn’t have known at all.”
“They probably thought Harry wrote me a separate letter.” Why was she defending them? They would never defend her.
Mrs. Finley laid a hand on Alice’s arm. “I don’t understand why he didn’t write you himself.”
“Maybe he couldn’t with his injuries,” Lizzie suggested.
Mr. Finley lowered his voice. “We heard he lost an eye. Terrible shame. But a man can get along in this world with only one eye.”
“Yes.” His wife nodded. “Harry will do just fine. He always does.”
“Or maybe he did write you and the letter got lost in the mail.” Lizzie chimed in. “Happens sometimes.”
Alice hugged her friend. “So, I’ve heard.” Leave it to Lizzie to always have a ray of sunshine to toss into an otherwise gloomy conversation.
“You two try my patience sometimes.” And leave it to Betty to rain on Lizzie’s sunshine.
The shrill call of the whistle, and puffing of the steam engine, heralded the train’s approach. The ticket master hurried out of his little office, allowing the station house screen door to slam behind him. He stood at the edge of the platform and motioned wildly to the engineer.
Betty craned her neck for a better view. “What on earth is he doing?”
Alice watched him, shaking her head. “It almost like he wants the train to keep going.”
“But why wouldn’t he want it to stop?” Lizzie’s voice caught.
A cry went up from all those waiting on the platform when the train continued on through town and out of sight without slowing down.
Mr. Barnes stormed after the retreating ticket master. “What is the meaning of this, sir?” Mrs. Barnes, Sweetie, and Jack weren’t far behind.
“By order of the mayor and town council, there will be no more trains stopping in Pine Lake until after the epidemic.”
Mr. Barnes’ face turned red. “I am a member of the town council, and I have heard nothing about such an order.”
Mr. Finley stood. “What epidemic?”
A voice rose above the commotion. “The influenza.” It was Peder Lindstrom, editor and sole reporter for the Pine Lake Gazette. He was short, thin as a rail, and had to push his way to the front of the crowd to be heard. “They’re calling it the Spanish Flu. It’s been in all the papers. Killing lots of people back east. They say Europe’s worse.”
“But there’s no influenza here or certainly we would have heard about it,” Mrs. Finley’s voice shook.
“And we want to keep it that way.” The ticket master shouted above the buzz of the frightened crowd.
Mrs. Finley started to cry. “But our son was on that train. Young Harry Barnes, too.” Her husband put a bracing arm around her shoulder.
“Take it up with the mayor if you don’t like it. All I know is there will be no more trains in or out of Pine Lake until after the epidemic is over.” The ticket master returned to the station house, locked the door, and closed the window shutters.
The crowd on the platform fell silent as his words sunk in. Alice remembered reading about the deadly sickness, but never believed for a moment it had anything to do with them and their small town so far from any large city.
As if a starting pistol had been discharged for a Fourth of July sack race, everyone rushed to their waiting wagons. Betty caught Lizzie when her head dropped back and her knees buckled. Mr. Finley carried her to the nearest bench where his wife used her hat to fan her until Lizzie’s eyes fluttered.
“Wait here.” Alice forced her way through the crowd to talk to Jack. She hung back until his parents were out of earshot.
“Take your mother home,” his father was saying. “I’m going to talk to the mayor.”
“Yes, sir.” Jack took his mother’s arm.
“I’m going with you, Harold.” Mrs. Barnes pulled away from her son’s grip. Her spine stiffened in the way Alice recognized from the few run-ins they’d had in the past. Disagreements Alice knew she could never win. Sweetie barked twice. She, also, always needed her say.
Jack stood tall. “Then, so am I.”
“Fine, but don’t dawdle.” Mr. Barnes was already halfway down the platform.
Alice stopped Jack. “I’m going home to tell my parents. Let us know what’s happening.”
Jack nodded and hurried to catch-up as fast as his brace and cane would allow.
Alice found Betty and the Finleys helping Lizzie into Betty’s buggy. She leaned on Mr. Finley for support, her legs still wobbly from the shock.
“Alice and I will take Lizzie home,” Betty said. “The two of you go talk to the mayor.”
* * *
THEY LEFT LIZZIE IN her mother’s arms. Her sobs having given way to an occasional quiet sniffle and hiccup. Mrs. Hudson stroked her hair and cooed, “There, there. All will be well.”
“What happens now?” Betty asked Alice once they were outside and Lizzie couldn’t hear them and start crying again.
Alice retrieved her bicycle from where she’d left it leaning against the Young’s front porch. “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “But I’m certain Fin and Harry will find their way home from the next stop.”
Betty unpinned her hat and ran her hand over her hair, smoothing any strays. “It’s outrageous. No more trains until after the epidemic is over? No one here’s even sick. We’re going to be trapped in this little town indefinitely.”
Alice laughed “I wouldn’t get so dramatic about it.” Down the street a roar rose from Town Hall. Startled, they glanced back.
How much else will they ban?
Alice walked her bike out to the road. “I’m going home. I have to tell my parents what’s happened. Maybe Dad’s heard something more. Remember, we have a telephone now, so ring us if you hear something.” She adjusted her skirts, and pedaled away, tempted to join the crowd but deciding against it. As promised, Jack would fill them in later.