The Hope of Hattie Phelan: Volume I

2

The Station

The train rumbled to a screeching halt, arousing me from my thoughts. I sat on the edge of my seat, glancing out the window at the small station. A sign just below the roof of the depot stated "Cedar Falls," indicating our last stop before we would drive the rest of the way to Tuckerton. I stood up as Mr. Price handed us our two bags from the top rack, then made a path for us through the densely packed train car.

"It reminds me of the crowded tents in the war," Mrs. Price said with a huff.

I turned to her, unsure of which war she meant. "The Civil War?" I asked, curiosity welling up within me.

"Yes," she replied with a sigh. "I was a Union nurse stationed down in Tennessee."

"That's a long ways off," I stated, as I neared the train door.

"Yes, it was."

As we got off the train, there was a buzz about the station, though I was stunned at how small it was. The station wasn't too crowded, but it gave off a tremor of excitement from the people kindly greeting one another; very unlike the Chicago station. The stark comparison left me hesitant as Mr. Price let us ladies sit down on the open bench. But it wasn't long until Mr. Price spotted their luggage and they bid us adieu. Constance, I could tell, was melancholy at the Price's departure.

"Good Christian couple," Constance said, looking off at the train as the wind bounced the loose dark curls framing her heart-shaped face. "I hope they find Mr. Jenkins."

"Mr. Jenkins?" I furrowed my brows as I pondered the name. Never heard of him.

"The boy they took in as their own." Constance gave me a quizzical glance. "They basically adopted him. He went West to become a doctor."

"Oh, of course," I lied. "How could I forget?"

"They're hopin' to move down here with him." Constance smiled. "Such a lovely couple."

"Yes, they were kind," I admitted, looking down at our bags. "I don't think I've ever seen someone besides Da help me with lifting things."

"Who didn't want to steal it, anyway," jested Constance, regarding an instance in Chicago where a boy offered to help her with groceries only to steal them.

"That's why I don't like accepting help half the time." I laughed. In the past, I would always do things on my own since I worked in the factory.

"'Twas the one time we planned on making somethin' sweet, but the dried figs were snatched from 'neath our noses," Constance said dryly.

"Makes me lose faith in people."

"Makes me lose faith in dried figs."

We shared a final laugh before we were interrupted by her growling stomach. I looked over at her and began laughing harder.

"Better stop thinking about those figs," I said, looking over my shoulder as I spotted a small grocery store down the road. I pulled my satchel onto my lap, digging around for my purse. "Tell you what, Da gave us extra coins for emergencies and we hadn't had any of those yet. Buy you and me an apple or something at that grocer."

"Thanks, Harriet." Constance delicately took my purse as if the whole world were within it.

"One thing, though," I said, placing a hand upon hers before looking intently in her eyes, "no dried figs."

Constance smiled at me, scurrying towards the grocery. That left me waiting for our trunk to be brought out, though I couldn't see very well since the crowd around the luggage car was thick. I should see if they've got ours out, I thought, getting up from the bench to walk over and see if our trunk was there.