The doors loomed closer, and closer still, and no one stopped her. Then she was through, jostled on either side, and she stood outside, breathing the salty sea air once again and blinking in the bright sunlight, weak-kneed with relief. All around her the water shimmered, as brilliant as diamonds.
Someone grabbed her arm, and she nearly screamed.
“It’s me, lass!” Da laughed and hugged her. “I told you it’d be all right, didn’t I?”
Ellen looked at her father’s light, happy face, his smile like a crease in old cloth, and she swallowed her fear. She would never tell her father about the ‘x’.
“You did, Da,” she said with a little smile, and he chuckled.
“That tug there, it’s a transfer boat. It’ll take us to Manhattan. Look at the buildings, from here even! They’re taller than smoke stacks. By this time tomorrow we’ll be in Vermont, Ellen, in the country air, with family again.”
Ellen nodded. Vermont. She repeated it silently to herself, like a promise. Vermont, with her own room in the house they would build. She was going to name the kittens Silk and Satin. She could already see their dear, little velvety faces.
Vermont, where their lives would begin and their dreams would, if not come true, then at least be more real and possible than they ever had before. New York City might not have streets of gold, but as far as Ellen was concerned, Vermont would.
The next few hours passed in a blur, as Ellen and her father moved from tender to dock to streetcar, tramping wearily around this alien city until they were directed to the train station. Ellen was amazed at the noise, louder even than Springburn with all of its rail works. And the buildings were so high! It hurt her neck just to look up for a tiny glimpse of sky between the endless soot-stained brick and stone.
In the train station a newsboy shouted the day’s headlines. “Twenty die in factory fire! Women and children perish in the flames!” He spoke with relish and Ellen turned away with a shudder.
Da put his arm around her shoulders. “Never mind, lass. It’s to Vermont we’re going, not here. It’s different there.”
“It had better be,” Ellen replied smartly, and Da grinned. Ellen knew he was always pleased when she showed some spirit. She grinned back, determined to stay cocky for his sake, as well as her own. She wouldn’t let this strange place scare her.
By the time they’d purchased their tickets to Seaton, boarded the train, and eaten greasy sandwiches Da had purchased from a pushcart, Ellen was exhausted in both body and spirit. Everything felt so new. She leaned her head against her father’s arm, his coat still smelling faintly of tobacco and the engine grease from the rail yards, making her feel strangely homesick. The feeling swept over her, pulling her under, and within minutes, lulled by the rhythmic chugging of the train, she’d fallen asleep.
It was nearly dark when she awoke, stiff and disoriented. For a moment the movement of the train made her think she was on the ship again, lying on her bunk. Then she sat up and looked outside. Dusk was falling softly on open fields, farmhouses and fences speeding by in a green blur.
“We’ve been traveling all afternoon,” her father said with a chuckle. “It’s evening now.”
Ellen blinked the sleep out of her eyes. “How much longer?” she asked.
“We change at Troy. I think we should be there in an hour. We’ll spend the night there, get the first train in the morning. Should be with Hamish and Ruth by dinnertime tomorrow.” He settled back in his seat. “It’s grand, this, isn’t it? Traveling in trains, instead of working under them!”
“Grand,” Ellen repeated. She’d never stayed in a hotel before, but just the word conjured images of chandeliers and velvet seat cushions, fancy meals eaten with silver forks, even though she knew they would never be staying in a place like that.
The reality was far more ordinary, but Ellen was no less pleased with the simple, spare room in a boarding house she shared with her father. She ate her sausages and fried potatoes with relish, and fell deeply asleep in her little bed, too tired even to dream.
It felt only moments before Da was waking her again for the morning train.
It was a hot, sluggish sort of day, and Ellen wished she had a prettier summer dress as they waited on the platform for the train to Seaton. She wanted to give a good impression to her Uncle Hamish and Aunt Ruth. She knew they’d had no children of their own, for Da had said so. Somewhere in her deepest, most private imaginings she saw herself fulfilling some need in them that she couldn’t even name. And perhaps Aunt Ruth would be soft and smiling as her own mam had once been, smelling of rosewater and giving her hugs.
The thought brought her a little twinge of shame. She was far too old for hugs, but she knew she wanted them all the same. But would Aunt Ruth find her pleasing? Ellen looked down at her plain dress of yellow wincey with a troubled frown. It was serviceable, if a little tight across the shoulder
s and a few inches short in the skirt, but it wasn’t pretty. She’d like a dress in sprig cotton, something with flowers. She’d seen a girl her own age in the city with a dress covered in little blue forget-me-nots and a straw boater with a matching ribbon. She’d like something like that. She thought about asking Da, but he’d promise her the moon in the mood he was in, and what did he know about dresses?
Ellen chuckled to herself, and her father raised an eyebrow. “What’s that funny, then?”
“I’m just happy,” she admitted, surprised at herself. It had been a long time since she’d felt anything close to the lightness of hope that buoyed her now. She didn’t care what she was wearing, not really, not when they were finally in the fresh air, about to board the train to Seaton and start their lives.
She leaned into his arm as she had when she’d been small, felt the comforting weight of his shoulder, that easy affection starting to return after so many years. They’d survived the ocean crossing, passed through the Hall of Tears, and surely now only good was ahead. Only happiness.
TWO
The sun was hot as Hamish Copley waited in his buckboard for the noon train from Troy. Sweat gleamed on his balding head and he slapped his hat against his thigh. A few bees buzzed lazily around the wild raspberry bushes that sprang up in a thorny tangle against the station wall.
“Any sign of her yet?” Hamish called to Orvis Fairley, the stationmaster. Orvis looked down at the watch gleaming heavily against his large stomach.
“She’s not due for another eleven minutes. The Central New York Railway always comes on time.” Hamish nodded, and Orvis glanced at him in curiosity. “Who are you waiting for, then? You’re not one to leave the store at midday.”