Hank Chandler hefted the two carpetbags he carried as he tried to usher his niece and nephew down the aisle of the train toward the exit. He needed a shave. And a good night’s sleep. And a cup of coffee that didn’t taste like tar.
But most of all he needed for Enid, his sister, not to be dead.
Chloe paused a moment, as if confused. “Alex, keep a tight hold on your sister’s hand, please.” It seemed wrong to put an eight-year-old in charge of his ten-year-old sister, but for now that was how it had to be. His niece didn’t want anything to do with him at the moment.
Here he was, returning home to Turnabout, with two scared orphans. With a cat in tow. Why couldn’t they have a sensible pet, like a dog?
Even with Aunt Rowena’s help, how would he be able to care for all of them?
Especially Chloe.
He glanced down at his niece. With her straight brown hair, slightly pointed chin and expressive green eyes, she looked so much like Enid at that age that it hurt. He knew the girl’s angry, defiant demeanor was just a front she’d put on to deal with all she’d lost. But how was he ever going to get through to her if they couldn’t even communicate properly?
He still had difficulty coming to terms with the fact that his life had changed so drastically in such a short span of time. A month ago—it seemed a lifetime ago now—he’d been a bachelor with a very orderly, uncomplicated life. A life he’d been quite content with. Then he’d received that telegram that had sent him hightailing off to Colorado.
And his life had been irrevocably changed.
But he couldn’t waste time feeling sorry for himself. What had happened was over and done with, and there was nothing to do but move on. Besides, his niece and nephew were facing much bigger, more traumatic changes to their own lives. He had to do what he could to help them feel at home here.
The weight of that responsibility pressed down on him again. The one thing he could do for them in the short term was provide a sense of order and routine to their lives. To make them feel safe again.
They reached the exit and Hank maneuvered around to step out on the platform first. He set down the bags and turned up his collar. Turnabout’s weather had turned blustery and colder than it had been when he left. Of course, that had been late October and it was now late November.
Hank helped Alex down first, swinging his slightly built nephew out of the train and onto the platform easily. Then he turned to Chloe. The girl stared at him defiantly as she hugged her cat tighter, as if daring him to try to swing her down the way he had Alex.
His heart went out to her but he didn’t know how to make things better for her. With a smothered sigh, Hank offered her his hand. She took it and stiffly stepped down. As soon as her feet touched the platform, she released his hand and took Alex’s.
Would Chloe ever learn to accept him? Like it or not, both kids were in his care now. And they were not happy about it. Not that he blamed them. He’d torn them away from everything they found familiar—their town, their home, their friends—to bring them here, to a town they’d never set foot in before, to live among strangers. And at a time when they most needed the comfort of the familiar. But he hadn’t had much choice.
Thank goodness Aunt Rowena had agreed to help him out, at least for the next couple of weeks, until he could make a more permanent arrangement.
He’d think about just what that more permanent arrangement meant later.
Aunt Rowena should already be at his house, getting the rooms ready and preparing a nice hot meal to welcome them home. That ought to make this first day in Turnabout easier for all of them.
Hank raked a hand through his hair as he looked around. He’d asked his aunt to have a wagon waiting for them, but there was no sign of any such vehicle. Normally he’d just walk, regardless of the weather—after all, it was just a little over a mile away. But this homecoming was anything but normal.
He hoped that Aunt Rowena hadn’t encountered problems. Regardless, there was no point in keeping the kids out in this weather while they waited.
Hank touched Chloe’s shoulder. When she looked up, he very slowly and deliberately explained. “Let’s go inside the depot.” He used hand gestures to make his intentions clear.
“Yes, sir,” Alex responded. He gave his sister’s hand a little tug and started moving in that direction. Hank picked up the bags and followed.
With two kids, especially two tired, travel-weary kids, the sooner he got everyone home, the better. He hoped Aunt Rowena had had time to get the children’s rooms ready.
But the lack of waiting transport had him wondering what else might have gone wrong today.
When they reached the door, he stepped forward and pulled it open quickly, ushering the children inside and out of the wind. From the corner of his eye he noticed someone sitting on one of the benches that lined the far wall of the depot. The woman seemed to be reading a book, and a closer look revealed it was Janell Whitman, one of the town’s two schoolteachers.
Her presence reminded him, that was one more thing to add to his list of tasks—getting the kids enrolled in school.
The woman looked up just then and he tipped his hat in greeting. He wondered for a moment if she was going on a trip. Then he turned back to the counter and dismissed her from his thoughts.
The stationmaster gave him a smile of greeting. “Hi, Hank. Welcome back.”
Hank nodded as he ushered the kids up to the counter. “Thanks, Lionel.” He gave the man a mock grimace. “You sure could have ordered up some better weather to welcome us home.”
“This damp chill just rolled in yesterday. It was downright pleasant two days ago for the Thanksgiving festival, though. Too bad you missed it.”
They’d been on the train Thanksgiving Day. Not that he regretted missing the festival. Neither he nor the children had been in the mood for any sort of celebration.
Lionel smiled at the children. “I see you brought some friends back with you.”
“This is my niece and nephew, Chloe and Alex.”
“Welcome to Turnabout.” Then Lionel’s expression sobered. “I’m right sorry about your ma and pa.”
Alex shifted closer to Chloe’s side, but neither kid said anything.
Then Lionel held out a slip of paper. “By the way, a telegram came for you this morning.”
Hank reached for the telegram, unable to repress a sense of dread. The only telegrams he’d ever received had contained bad news. The last one had brought him word of his sister’s and brother-in-law’s deaths.
He slowly unfolded the paper and read the missive.
Tom Parson taken ill. No other driver available to transport me to Turnabout. Will likely be Monday before I arrive.
Rowena Collins
Today was Saturday, so that meant he was on his own for at least two days. And there would be no warm, clean house or hot meal to greet them. This wasn’t the homecoming he’d expected at all.
Hank resisted the urge to crumple the telegram and toss it away. Instead he focused on figuring out how to deal with this new setback.
One thing at a time. The immediate concern was that there was no wagon on its way to transport them.
He glanced back Lionel’s way. “I need to fetch a wagon to get the kids and their belongings back to my place. There are a couple of trunks in the baggage compartment that belong to us. If you could just leave them on the platform when they’re unloaded, I’ll take care of them when I return.” The livery was only two blocks away but hiring a horse and wagon was an expense he could ill afford right now. Could he ask Lionel to keep an eye on the kids while he took care of business at home?
“Excuse