Hannah's Journey. Anna SchmidtЧитать онлайн книгу.
such a thing and yet there had been something about the way she had looked at him as he dismissed her and returned to his office that made him uncertain.
The boy had run away and perhaps had inherited his wanderlust from his mother. It was intriguing to think that she was the parent with the adventurous streak. Over the years he had spent living the circus life, never once could he recall a female running away to join the troupe. Of course, Mrs. Goodloe was not exactly planning to join the traveling show. She simply wanted to find her son. But would she defy the counsel of her community’s elders to accomplish that? He doubted it.
And he had no more time to give to the woman’s problem. No doubt the boy had stowed away on the train. No doubt he would be discovered. No doubt that by week’s end he would be back in his own bed. Levi knew that his managers would see to that. Besides, he had other far more serious matters to consider. How was it that when his circus had just completed its most successful season yet in terms of sold-out performances, the numbers did not reflect that? Expenses had risen to be sure but it seemed impossible that the cost of feeding and housing a menagerie of exotic animals and a hundred-plus performers and crew could explain such a disparity in revenue.
“Your car is waiting, sir,” Hans announced with a meaningful glance at the nineteenth-century, gilded French clock that dominated the narrow marble mantel of the fireplace. The manservant was dressed in traveling clothes and holding Levi’s hat as well as his own.
Levi gathered the papers he would need and stuffed them into the valise that Hans had brought to him earlier. “I should change,” he muttered irritably and then wondered why. It was unlikely that there would be anyone at the station to see him off. Levi was a generous supporter of many charitable groups throughout this part of Florida, but he was known to be a reclusive man and most people had learned to respect that—even though they openly commented on the paradox that a man known for his extravagant entertainments and lavish lifestyle should be so protective of his personal privacy.
“Let’s go,” he told Hans as he headed for the door.
The weather had deteriorated. The air was steamy with humidity and the sky had gone from blue to a steel gray that held the promise of rain. He thought of Hannah Goodloe, imagining her walking back to the small Amish community east and north of the train station. For reasons he could not fathom, he felt the desire to make certain she arrived home before the rain began. He should have insisted on having his driver take her back. Surely she was there by now. Surely she had taken precautions for the weather.
At the station his private railway car was attached to the train that regularly made the run from Sarasota to Tampa and then from there to points north. Once the train reached Jonesville on the Florida/Georgia border, his car would be disconnected from the regular train and attached to his circus train. By the time they reached Baraboo, they would have performed in a dozen towns across half a dozen states and it would be June in Wisconsin.
“All aboard!” the conductor bellowed as Levi strode the length of the hissing and belching train to where his car waited. He passed clusters of passengers that had gathered on the platform to say their goodbyes and board the public cars. Not one of them paid the slightest attention to him but he could not help scanning their faces to see if she had come after all.
“Ridiculous,” he muttered, but while Hans handed the rail attendant Levi’s valise, Levi looked back, down the length of the now almost deserted platform.
“Board!” The conductor’s call seemed to echo and exaggerate the fact that she was nowhere in sight.
“Sir?” Hans stood at his elbow waiting for him to mount the filigreed metal steps to enter his car.
Levi nodded and climbed aboard but took one last look back. And there, out of the steam and fog, he saw three figures—two women and a bearded man—consulting with the conductor who pointed them in Levi’s direction.
He felt a strange sense of relief that bordered on victory. She had come after all and apparently with her family’s blessing, assuming her two companions had accompanied her to see her off. “Make sure the guest stateroom is prepared,” he said to Hans as he stepped back onto the platform and walked toward the trio. “Mrs. Goodloe,” he said, removing his hat and smiling broadly.
“Mr. Harmon, may I introduce my father-in-law, Gunther Goodloe, and my late husband’s sister, Pleasant.”
It was only when the older man shifted a worn cardboard suitcase from one hand to the other in order to accept his handshake that Levi realized they were all three carrying luggage. “I see you came prepared to stay for some time, Mrs. Goodloe. However, if your son is…”
“My father and sister-in-law will be accompanying me on the journey, Mr. Harmon. The conductor tells us that the regular seating is filled and I apologize for not notifying you sooner of the extra passengers, but…”
Levi turned his attention to the man. “I assure you, sir, your daughter-in-law will travel in comfort and there is no reason at all for you to…”
“Our bishop has given his permission for this unusual trip,” Gunther Goodloe said in a gentle but firm tone, “and he has done so only on the understanding that our Hannah will not make this journey alone.” He smiled and shrugged as if he’d just made some observation about the inclement weather.
“I see.” He could feel Hans watching him nervously, waiting for instruction. He could see the conductor checking his pocket watch and casting impatient looks in his direction. “Well, come aboard then and let’s get you all settled in.” He waited while the three-some climbed the stairs and then turned to Hans. “Prepare my quarters for the gentleman. The two women can stay in the larger guestroom.”
“Very good, sir.” Hans knew better than to question his boss, although the question of where Levi would sleep was implicit in the look he gave his employer. He walked to the far end of the car and boarded from there. Levi was well aware that while he was giving his guests the grand tour of the viewing room, the dining room and the parlor, Hans would be organizing the staff to prepare the rooms.
Once Levi had left the ladies and Gunther Goodloe to rest before dinner in their staterooms, he let out a long sigh of relief. The older man made him nervous. Not intentionally, of course. Gunther was the epitome of polite reserve, but it was that very reserve that brought back memories Levi had thought he’d long ago laid to rest. Memories of his late father—a man who, like Gunther, said little in words but spoke volumes with his half smile and expressive pale blue eyes. And his grandfather, whose strict household where Levi had lived after his parents died had been the deciding factor in his decision to run away.
“Mr. Harmon?”
Levi had been so lost in the past that he had not heard the young widow come in. Of course, even within the quiet of his luxurious car, there was always the steady rumble of the train moving over the tracks. He fixed a smile on his face and turned to greet her. “I trust everything is to your liking, Mrs. Goodloe?”
“It’s very…” She hesitated, studying the pattern of the Oriental rug that carpeted the combination dining and sitting room. She drew in a deep breath, closed her eyes for an instant, then met his gaze directly. “I’m afraid that the accommodations simply won’t do,” she said. “Not at all. My family and I simply cannot stay here.”
Chapter Three
“We are on a moving train, Mrs. Goodloe.” His head was throbbing. Would these people never be satisfied?
“I appreciate that,” she replied without a hint of the sarcasm he’d infused into his comment. “I only thought that my father-in-law could perhaps share whatever accommodations Mr. Winters uses.”
“Mr. Winters? Hans?”
“Yes. I am thinking that his accommodations are… plainer and would be more comfortable for my father-in-law.”
“And where would you and Miss Goodloe stay?”
Her brow furrowed slightly. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” she admitted.