A Touch of Grace (27 page)

That evening when Jonathan drove the wagon in from threshing and stopped by the barn, he saw all the women gathered under the trees. Ellie, Astrid, Grace, Ingeborg, Kaaren, and Ilse.

“Welcome home,” Ingeborg called.

He waved back and stepped down to unharness the team.

Astrid and Grace ran to help him. While Astrid hung up one of the harnesses, Grace asked, “Is the invitation to visit in New York City still open?”

He stared at her. “Are you serious? Of course it is.”

Grace nodded, her jawline set. “Then I would like to go with you.” All of her insides screamed at her to take back her words, but she ignored them.

“Can you be ready in time?”

“Can you wait one more day?” Her heart felt like it was going to jump right out of her chest.

New York City, New York

September 1902

G
RACE SWALLOWED HARD
to keep from throwing up.

Jonathan touched her arm to get her attention, and she turned so she could read his lips.

“Are you all right?”

Her desired nod got stuck on a shake, and she kept her eyes down, certain the fear that was eating her from the inside out would be visible should she look at him. Why had she ever decided to leave the safety of Blessing and come with him on this trip to New York City? Sophie was the one who wanted to travel, not her. She wove her gloved fingers together to keep them from shaking, certain he could sense her trembling anyway. Shivers stormed up and down her rigid spine, in spite of the heat in the train car.

Sophie. This was all her fault. If she’d not been so … so Sophie, perhaps she’d never have blown up at her. And made such a radical decision. She had let her personal grief override common sense. But why hadn’t Mor stopped her from leaving? Instead, she’d seemed almost relieved. Why? She turned from her inner world at the insistent tap on her arm to see Jonathan peering at her, consternation furrowing his brow and tightening his jaw.

“How can I help you?”

She shrugged. He was trying so hard to make this easy for her. They’d practiced his signing for hours these days of swaying train travel. While he could form all the letters and create simple words, they still depended too much on her speaking ability. Another sigh escaped before she could force her lips to smile. “I do not know.”

Four little words that conveyed all her heart’s confusion. She’d always known how to answer, how to do most anything. Especially how to make others around her comfortable. She’d caught the stares from other passengers when she spoke, and while she knew she didn’t speak the same as everyone else, no one in Blessing had paid much attention. Had the stares held pity or repugnance? Not that it much mattered. She didn’t care for either.

“We’ll be going under the river soon and be at Grand Central Station before you know it.” He paused and studied her face. “What didn’t you understand?”

Grace fought to still her trembling again. “Speak slower, please.” She kept herself from responding to the stares she could feel from the two children across the aisle.

When she saw Jonathan whip around and glare at someone, she knew there’d been a comment he didn’t like. She glanced at the small boy talking to his mother, who was shushing him with a finger to her lips and a worried glance at Grace. He’d been the culprit. If only Jonathan could sign better, she would not be subjected to such scrutiny.
Lord, help me, please. I am in over my head, and I’m drowning
. She sucked in a deep breath. No, she wasn’t drowning.
I am swimming in
peace
. The thought washed her in a comfort she’d not felt since leaving her bedroom several mornings ago.
I am swimming in peace, Lord, your
peace. Why did I not ask for help before?
Was that a heavenly chuckle she sensed? Her mother had often said God must chuckle at some of their worries and concerns. After all, He knew what was coming next and what His plans were. She felt her shoulders leave off bumping her ear lobes and settle back where they belonged. The vibration of the train changed and their world went black.

Jonathan had taken her hand in the two of his, and she was grateful he had warned her. Of course, the tunnel. How could men build a tunnel under a river without it leaking? Oh, so much she had to learn. She forced herself to take another calming breath and tried to look straight ahead. Never in her life had she felt such a darkness. Even in the darkest night at home, one could see shapes after the eyes adjusted. Was this what being blind would be like? She sucked in another breath of air overwarm already. Here, she’d sometimes thought being deaf was the worst thing that could happen. At least she could see the myriad colors of green on a spring day and the faces of those she loved.

With a whoosh, light again flooded the car, and she blinked several times, glancing at Jonathan to see him smiling at her. In spite of herself she wanted to reach up and touch his jaw with one tentative finger. What a beautiful smile he had. She smiled back, unable to tear her gaze from the … the what? shining in his eyes. Had she not known better, she might think it love. What a silly thought. They were just friends after all. He was bringing her to New York as a friend of the family who would attend a special school. But what if Astrid had been right and this fine young man was falling in love with her?

Grace Knutson, you have always been in love with Toby Valders—
remember?
The inner voice was changing from admonishing to strident. But Toby said he was in love with someone else. The arguments in her thoughts returned. And look at the trouble they caused last time she did not take them captive like Pastor Solberg preached. No one in her right mind could argue with that. The words had had to sink down in her mind before they could rise to the top at a time when she could think better.

Was that time now?

The train was slowing, and people around them began gathering up their things. Jonathan grinned at her, his happy-go-lucky look back in place, and said, “Welcome to New York City.”

She nodded and turned to look out the window. If this was New York City, it was not a pretty sight. Soot-streaked brick buildings looked close enough to touch as the train chugged between them. Laundry hung from iron stairs that appeared too fragile for people to use. She’d read of fire escapes, and now she was seeing them in reality. A woman sat on one landing, smoking a cigarette, her carrot hair in such a tumble birds could have built nests in it with ease. One strap of her camisole hung over her shoulder.

Grace bit back a gasp. The woman wore only a chemise and knickers. In broad daylight, out in public. And the folks of Blessing, her mother included, had been appalled when she and Astrid sewed their old skirts into pants earlier in the summer. Truth to tell, the pants had made kneeling in the garden far easier.

Grace brought her wandering thoughts back to the moment as the train slowed even more and pulled to a stop between raised platforms that separated the trains already lined up on both sides of them.

Jonathan tapped her arm to get her attention. “We’re here.”

“I know.” Grace reached up to make sure her straw hat was pinned securely.
Do I look all right?
At home she’d not given looks or attire a great deal of thought, since most everyone there wore similar skirts and waists or faded calico dresses in the summer heat. So far, she’d seen many different styles. At least the traveling suit Elizabeth had loaned her, although she’d apologized for it being out of date, looked respectable.

Jonathan removed their parcels from the overhead shelf, and tucking one under his arm, he picked up the valise and motioned for her to go before him.

Shooting him a glance that she hoped appeared confident, she stepped into the aisle, her reticule dangling from one wrist while she clutched a small valise in her other gloved hand. If only she could have washed before—
No
, she commanded herself,
don’t go thinking on
all the if onlys. Mor always says that is a waste of time and effort
.

She paused at the steel steps and smiled at the conductor, who held out a hand to assist her, before clutching the handrail with her free hand. What if she tripped over her skirt and went tumbling right into his arms? Now wouldn’t that be a fine introduction? Grace closed her eyes for the briefest of moments, took in a deep breath, and on a silent exhale smiled again, at least she hoped it was a smile, at the conductor and took her first step down.

“You hand me that satchel and I’ll take your arm, miss.”

His calm direction soothed her trembling like the touch of her mother’s hand. “Thank you, sir.” She had to force herself to speak, conscious now of her oddity. She handed out the satchel, placed her hand in his extended one, and stepped down with ease. Once on the platform, she turned to see Jonathan smile at her. Warmth like a summer sunbeam circled her heart and caused her breathing to settle a notch or two. She saw Jonathan hand the man something that caused his dark face to widen in a smile.

“Thank you, sir.” The man reached back in the train car to retrieve another bag while Jonathan set his on the platform and, taking Grace’s hand, tucked it through his arm.

“Come. McHenry will have the carriage waiting.”

She glanced over her shoulder to see another black man loading their bags onto a cart. Looking up at her escort, she raised an eyebrow in question.

Jonathan patted her hand. “That’s the way we do things in New York.”

Grace half shrugged and let him lead her through the maze of people, following the crowd that moved out of the monstrous cavern and into another, this one with marble floor tiles, marble pillars, and high arched windows around the vaulted ceiling. She stumbled once when watching the splendor above rather than her feet below.

Jonathan led her to a marble pillar of cream streaked with gray and paused to let her catch her breath. “Are you all right?”

“Ja, there is so much to see.” Not only see but also smell. She touched her nose with a rose-scented handkerchief. Soot, unwashed bodies, the pungent eye crinkling smoke from the cigar of the portly man standing off to her left. Her nose wrinkled at what could only be dying garbage, overlaid by the heavy perfume of the woman in black standing next to a gentleman. No farm smell—not even the smells during butchering, which she’d always thought the most offensive— could begin to equal what threatened to overwhelm her here. Although not as terrible as the carcasses burning, her body reacted the same way. She could feel the bile rising again. She held her bit of cambric closer to her nostrils. “Can we go now?”

“Of course.” Jonathan beckoned to the man with the luggage cart and led the way out the main doors to the street.

A uniformed man stood holding a flashy bay team that was hitched to a carriage resplendent in shiny black leather with brilliant brass fittings. He waved to Jonathan and motioned to the man in the box before leaving his post to open the carriage door and fold down a step.

Grace knew Jonathan’s family was wealthy, but the large carriage with two men caught her by surprise. She’d not thought ahead or asked what to expect, but if she weren’t so weary, she’d have tried to turn and head back to the train—a train heading west, all the way to Blessing. Instead, she managed to smile at the man with the twinkling blue eyes, the red hair, and the closely trimmed sandy beard of a freckle-bedecked Irishman.

“Good day, miss.” He touched his narrow-brimmed black hat with one finger and handed her into the carriage.

As she settled into the plush black leather seat, she felt every bit of energy drain right out through the toes of her new laced boots. Tired didn’t begin to describe the boneless weight of her body pressing into the seat. She studied her hand on her thigh. Lifting even her little finger was beyond her, not that lifting her little finger was necessary. Why was it that at home she was strong and could work from dawn to well beyond dusk, but sitting on a train for the last five days had drained her like a turned-over bucket?

The carriage rocked as the men put their trunks aboard, and then Jonathan settled into the seat across from her. The door was closed behind him, and the carriage rocked again as the other man swung up into the carriage box.

“Welcome to New York City.” Jonathan said again and leaned forward and took both of her hands in his, gazing directly into her eyes. “I know this has been terribly hard for you, but we’ll be home soon. I know Mother will have your room ready, and you can rest.”

She watched his lips form the words, but the act of really understanding him took more than she had to give, so she just nodded. The depth of his caring, so visible in all he did, made the backs of her eyes burn.
You will not cry
, she ordered herself.
You will not
. She swallowed once and then again and sniffed.
You will not
.

The carriage jerked as the horses moved forward, and she turned her attention to the crowds waiting or walking on the wide sidewalk that fronted the bank of doors through which more people continued to flow from the station. Grand Central Station, Jonathan had called it. Men in black top hats, derby hats, fedoras, or flat hats, some wearing suits or jackets, others in shirtsleeves. Women wearing wide straw hats with flowers or ribbons, twirling parasols or clutching shawls. People of all nationalities and social strata, all intent on their own business, all looking as if they were going somewhere. Or at least as if they knew where they were going.