She involuntarily trembled, and her cheek burned where his finger had brushed it.
âAre you cold?â he breathed.
âNo.â It wasnât coldâit was much worse. That horrible hot-and-cold tingling ran through her again, but it couldnât be. She needed to marry Robert. She couldnât be attracted to Gabriel. That would lead nowhere and ruin everything. She stood abruptly. âI need to go.â
âGo?â He didnât try to hold her. He let her back away, but his expression said it all. He liked her. A lot.
His intensity terrified her. She looked around wildly. The picket fence enclosed the yard, trapping her, stifling her. âIâI need to go,â she repeated, even less sure of herself. Stay another moment, and sheâd never leave. âIâm sorry.â
âFelicity.â
She couldnât look at him. The expression on his face would make her stay, and then what? She could have no future with him. She stumbled away, feet as unsure as her heart.
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed Gabriel and Felicityâs journey. Theyâre bound to have a full house in coming years, the perfect way for them to share the love theyâve found in each other.
What we now call orphan trains began in the mid-nineteenth century with the Childrenâs Aid Society train from New York to Dowagiac, Michigan. Other organizations joined the movement, sending children by train from what people believed to be the âsqualorâ of the cities to âhealthyâ small towns. The orphan trains ran into the late 1920s and early 1930s. Several books have been written on the topic, and many articles can be found on the internet. Iâve noted a few on my website.
I dearly love hearing from readers. If Gabriel and Felicityâs story touched your heart, please send me a note in care of Love Inspired Historical or through my website at http://www.christineelizabethjohnson.com.
Thank you for joining me, and may God bless you richly.
Christine Johnson
Pearlman, Michigan June 15, 1920
Today, Felicity Kensington was going to meet her future husband. He didnât know this yet, of course, but he had a full two months to come to that conclusion.
She pinched her cheeks for color and took a deep breath for courage. The vanity mirror revealed every imperfection. Her eyes were an odd hue of green, and she was a bit too tall for most men, but Daddyâs money could overcome those deficiencies. She pinned her chignon and checked that every pleat of her skirt fell in place. Crisp, conservative, and irresistibly efficient. Mr. Robert Blevins, civil engineer, had to fall in love with her.
A hand bell tinkled downstairs. âFelicity, youâre late.â
Mother. She was the only hitch in an otherwise flawless plan. She insisted Felicity attend this afternoonâs Ladiesâ Aid Society meeting to greet the new pastor, but that meant sheâd miss Mr. Blevinsâs train. All the other eligible girls would see him before she did. Felicity had to reach the train first.
Hopefully Mother would accept a mere engineer as a son-in-law. He did hail from New York, and Mother always espoused the social superiority of Easterners. If society mattered to Mother, distance was the key for Felicity. Robert Blevins would take her far from Motherâs manipulations.
âFelicity.â The bell ran with greater urgency. âWeâre waiting.â
Felicity shooed Ms. Priss, the neighborâs sociable cat, out the window with parting advice. âDonât let her see you.â The cat wisely scampered across the porch roof and onto the limb of an overhanging elm.
After brushing the bed free of cat hair, which then necessitated cleaning Grandmamaâs sterling hairbrush, she took a deep breath, cast a quick prayer for courage and descended the sweeping staircase with its polished mahogany rail. Little rainbows danced off the crystals of the hall chandelier and flitted across her arm, but the beauty couldnât calm Felicityâs nerves.
âWhy did you take so long?â Mother primped in front of the mirror, poking her tight dark curls into place. She looked perfect in her fawn-colored suit. She always looked perfect. âYou know we need to leave early so your father can pick up Reverend Meeks.â
Reverend Meeksâ¦what a ghastly name. Heâd surely be thin and pale with pox scars, a hawkish nose and a receding hairline. Heâd never smile or grant the slightest leniency. He would conduct fire and brimstone sermons. Children would cower. Congregants would scurry away, chastened.
Thankfully, sheâd be gone soon, married in the wedding of the centuryâat least for Pearlman. Pearlman, whose cultural center was the drugstore. Pearlman, with its gravel Main Street and single cinema. Pearlman, where everyone knew everything about everyone. She could not wait to arrive in New York City as Mrs. Robert Blevins.
Mother rang the servantâs bell, and Smithson, the butler, glided from the kitchen to the front door and opened it without a word. Now was the time to act, before Mother trapped her in the motorcar.