beside her porcelain coffee cup. “No, not till almost dinner time. I have an appointment to meet the parent of a possible new student today. Um—what are we having tonight?”
The dark eyes tilted up slightly, the controlled mouth widened into a smile. “Watercress salad and vegetable beef stew.”
“Oh, that’ll make me hurry home. Two of my favorites.”
“Indeed. I do recall your mentioning that fact, when both dishes were served last month.” Another smile, then the housekeeper offered a small satisfied nod before disappearing through the swing door to her own realm.
Cecelia returned to her newspaper. She had skimmed partway down one column when an advertisement for travel tickets caught her attention. Leaning one elbow on the table, she propped her chin into her palm and stared out into space, across the room and through the muslin-draped window, open to morning sunshine and spring air.
Travel tickets. How well she remembered her own, those long months ago, as she readied her person and her belongings to move three thousand miles away, to a place she’d only barely heard about and was unclear what might be expected when she arrived there. Also, the fact that she had just gotten home from a similar exhaustive odyssey was enough to daunt the strongest heart.
For a week, after Gabe had collected information, more details, addresses, and maps, they discussed pros and cons between the two types of travel: overland, partway by train and the rest of the way by wagon and horseback, over appalling terrain; the other route by steamship from New York to Chagres, then via railroad to Panama City, then another steamship to Manzanillo and San Francisco.
Not surprisingly, Cecelia opted for the second choice. “It sounds easier to deal with,” she ventured hopefully, “and a less lengthy journey. Which I would appreciate, being on my own.”
“On your own!” Gabe tut-tutted that notion. “Of course you won’t be on your own. Bridget has already volunteered to keep you company. And I’ll be right along with you, gettin’ in the way and bein’ underfoot and makin’ a general nuisance of myself.”
“You will? Oh, Gabe, that’s wonderful! But what about everything you have here—your law practice, and all your properties, and so on?”
“Well, shoot, honey. I’ve been wrappin’ up business and sellin’ things right and left, even as we speak. D’you think I could let my two girls hie off on their own, again, ’specially to that heathen western land, leavin’ me behind to worry and wonder what’s happenin’?”
Cecelia bent over the map spread across the desktop, her finger tracing a line from state to state. “A fresh start, then,” she murmured. “For all of us.”
“Yessir. Give me a little more time to close out all my affairs here, get some assets sold, set up a power of attorney, and we’re good to go.”
“In that case,” Cecelia, feeling relieved and much reassured, “do you agree that taking a steamship is the better option?”
“I do indeed, Cecie. I like my comforts, y’know. Nothin’ comfortable about jouncin’ along more’n a thousand miles in a damned Conestoga, behind a team of smelly oxen. My backside just ain’t up to that kind of travel.”
And so, to use the Biblical phrase, it came to pass.
Business commitments were resolved, possessions packed or sold or disposed of, personal ties severed, houses and apartments closed up.
On one fine day in early July, Gabriel handed Cecelia Powell and his niece into the private carriage he had hired, and, followed by a dray holding all their worldly effects, they set off for New York Harbor. Both girls felt the excitement of starting a new life in a new part of the country…and yet, not so much. Excitement was mixed with trepidation and mild weariness for the undertaking of yet another pilgrimage.
At the dock, they boarded a newly built steamship, the Liberty Belle, and settled into spacious cabins; a large enough vessel,
The dark eyes tilted up slightly, the controlled mouth widened into a smile. “Watercress salad and vegetable beef stew.”
“Oh, that’ll make me hurry home. Two of my favorites.”
“Indeed. I do recall your mentioning that fact, when both dishes were served last month.” Another smile, then the housekeeper offered a small satisfied nod before disappearing through the swing door to her own realm.
Cecelia returned to her newspaper. She had skimmed partway down one column when an advertisement for travel tickets caught her attention. Leaning one elbow on the table, she propped her chin into her palm and stared out into space, across the room and through the muslin-draped window, open to morning sunshine and spring air.
Travel tickets. How well she remembered her own, those long months ago, as she readied her person and her belongings to move three thousand miles away, to a place she’d only barely heard about and was unclear what might be expected when she arrived there. Also, the fact that she had just gotten home from a similar exhaustive odyssey was enough to daunt the strongest heart.
For a week, after Gabe had collected information, more details, addresses, and maps, they discussed pros and cons between the two types of travel: overland, partway by train and the rest of the way by wagon and horseback, over appalling terrain; the other route by steamship from New York to Chagres, then via railroad to Panama City, then another steamship to Manzanillo and San Francisco.
Not surprisingly, Cecelia opted for the second choice. “It sounds easier to deal with,” she ventured hopefully, “and a less lengthy journey. Which I would appreciate, being on my own.”
“On your own!” Gabe tut-tutted that notion. “Of course you won’t be on your own. Bridget has already volunteered to keep you company. And I’ll be right along with you, gettin’ in the way and bein’ underfoot and makin’ a general nuisance of myself.”
“You will? Oh, Gabe, that’s wonderful! But what about everything you have here—your law practice, and all your properties, and so on?”
“Well, shoot, honey. I’ve been wrappin’ up business and sellin’ things right and left, even as we speak. D’you think I could let my two girls hie off on their own, again, ’specially to that heathen western land, leavin’ me behind to worry and wonder what’s happenin’?”
Cecelia bent over the map spread across the desktop, her finger tracing a line from state to state. “A fresh start, then,” she murmured. “For all of us.”
“Yessir. Give me a little more time to close out all my affairs here, get some assets sold, set up a power of attorney, and we’re good to go.”
“In that case,” Cecelia, feeling relieved and much reassured, “do you agree that taking a steamship is the better option?”
“I do indeed, Cecie. I like my comforts, y’know. Nothin’ comfortable about jouncin’ along more’n a thousand miles in a damned Conestoga, behind a team of smelly oxen. My backside just ain’t up to that kind of travel.”
And so, to use the Biblical phrase, it came to pass.
Business commitments were resolved, possessions packed or sold or disposed of, personal ties severed, houses and apartments closed up.
On one fine day in early July, Gabriel handed Cecelia Powell and his niece into the private carriage he had hired, and, followed by a dray holding all their worldly effects, they set off for New York Harbor. Both girls felt the excitement of starting a new life in a new part of the country…and yet, not so much. Excitement was mixed with trepidation and mild weariness for the undertaking of yet another pilgrimage.
At the dock, they boarded a newly built steamship, the Liberty Belle, and settled into spacious cabins; a large enough vessel,
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