Prologue

Springfield, IL

August 1889

“Nell, please.” Florence Marshall’s weariness pressed new creases into her pale, narrow face as she closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. It was obvious she was losing the will to argue with her nineteen-year-old daughter. Her stance at the bottom of the stairs remained firm, however, as she continued. “I’m not going to ask you again.”

“You’re not asking me,” Nell blurted. “You’re ordering me upstairs like I’m still a child! Mama, I want to be by Joshua’s side just as much as you and Pa do. Why won’t you let me help?” She remained where she was, only two steps up, her hand clutching the railing with anxious intensity.

“Because you can’t.”

The words came out sharply. So sharply that Nell winced as if her mother had slapped her. Florence sighed, opening her eyes once more. Usually the same clear blue-green color as Nell’s, they now appeared as pale as clouds as she gazed up at Nell.

“You can’t, dear one,” she repeated more gently. “And maybe Dr. Burroughs can, but for now, I’m begging you: Go upstairs and wait until your father or I call you. Please.”

This is the most frightening moment of my life, Nell thought suddenly.

It was as if she was mentally marking it down for years to come. She would have said the words aloud, but a strange tightness was closing around her chest, constricting her lungs and robbing her breath.

“Nell,” her mother repeated gently. The softness of her tone was in sharp contrast to the firmness of her arm as she reached out and grabbed the banister, physically blocking Nell from being able to descend and join her. On the stair beside her, Ginger, Nell’s red and white English Setter, whined, lifting her nose to gently touch Nell’s tense fingers.

A feeling like a scream was building within the ever-tightening circle of Nell’s chest. She was two inches taller than her mother and strong in a slender, wiry way. But she found she could not go down, barreling through her mother’s wishes.

“I’m going,” she choked out finally. “Fine. I’m going.”

Hot tears blurred her vision as she whirled around and rushed up the stairs. The soles of her boots were loud on the hollow wooden floor as she ran down the narrow hall to her room. She stopped just long enough for Ginger to rush through the door after her. Then she slammed it shut and turned around, throwing herself down on the bed.

She closed her eyes, fighting to catch her breath against the iron band around her lungs. The tears trickled from under her lids and slid down her cheeks as she panted. Her initial fury at the unfairness of it all was slowly giving way to pure, unadulterated fear.

Her mother had snapped at her. And then pleaded with her. Nell wasn’t sure which was more terrifying because neither one was remotely like Florence Marshall. “My anchor,” Nell’s father called her. “My calm in the storm.” Secretly, Nell had always wished she could be more like her calm, even-tempered mother.

The bed dipped slightly as Ginger jumped up onto it. She plopped down next to Nell; her warm, panting body was comforting as it pressed against Nell’s side. Rolling over, Nell wrapped an arm around her dog and buried her face in the soft, slightly shaggy fur of her shoulder. She didn’t even care in that moment that she probably looked exactly like the young child she had just insisted she wasn’t.

“Joshua must be really sick,” she muttered. Then, she shook her head against the dog’s side, frustration once again mingling with her fear for her younger brother. “I should have been here. I should be with him right now.”

She suddenly flung herself away from the dog, conscious of the stifling heat in her little upstairs room and of the dust and sweat that coated her skin. She turned her face against the quilt, which felt marginally cooler, and tried to catch up with her racing thoughts.

There had been absolutely no reason to believe anything was awry when she’d agreed to stay with the new schoolteacher, Deb Miller, for a few days to help clean the schoolhouse and prepare for the coming term. Her first inkling had been the fact that no one had shown up to drive her back to the farm that morning as planned. After waiting for several hours, she’d grown worried enough that she’d decided to walk—all the way from town. By the time she’d arrived back at the farm thirty minutes before, the bright August morning had long since melted into a blistering afternoon.

And her mother, out drawing water from the pump, had been surprised to see her. Surprised and horrified. As if she’d forgotten she’d even existed.

“Ma, what happened?” she’d demanded, irritation already beginning to mix with her worry. “Pa was supposed to come fetch me this morning. Is he all right?”

“Nell! Oh, dear, he was supposed to stop by and let you know on his way back from fetching the doctor. You were supposed to stay with Deb a few more days.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Nell had stuttered to a stop as the rest of what her mother had said registered in her brain. “What do you mean, fetch the doctor? Who’s hurt? Where’s Joshua?” Already, she was looking around frantically; if someone had managed to get into an accident, fourteen-year-old Joshua was the most likely culprit.

Nell’s mother had hurried to within a yard and stopped, biting her lip and clutching her pail in a way that was already so far from normal that Nell could feel her pulse speeding up in her veins. “He’s in the house,” Florence said. “Not injured. Sick. Came down with it this morning.”

“And you’ve already sent for the doctor? How bad is it?” Nell was already rushing into the house as she spoke, hurrying upstairs, where hers and her brother’s rooms were nestled next to the chimney. Her mother’s voice had stopped her in her tracks.

“He’s not up there. He’s in your father’s and my room. He was…too shaky to go up, and he’s vomiting, so…no.” Her voice had been like a brick wall when Nell spun to hurry back down the stairs to him. “Go on up, Nell. You shouldn’t be near him.”

“What do you mean?” Nell had shot back. “Joshua has always liked for me to take care of him when he’s sick or hurt. He needs me.”

“Not this time.” Florence had been unmovable. “I’ve never seen something this bad that hit this fast,” she’d said. That was when Nell had first started to realize just how pale and shaken her mother looked. That was when the fear had really started to take over. “What if it’s contagious?” her mother demanded. “We can’t have you getting it, too.”

Now, a prisoner in the tiny furnace of her room, Nell sat up. Springing up from the bed, she crossed the room and flung open its one small window. There was no breeze, and the air outside felt just as still and stuffy as what was inside. But at least she was in time to see Dr. Burrough’s carriage, followed closely by Thomas Marshall’s horse, turn in at the drive. Nell watched the two men hitch their mounts and hurry into the house. Then, she went back to her door and put a hand on the knob.

It was foolishness to keep her from Joshua, she thought dazedly. She was his big sister—the one who could always cheer him up when he was sick. She’d loved taking care of him since he was born when she was five years old: a magical, living doll from her perspective. And maybe that didn’t matter so much now that he was fourteen and she was going to be a teacher’s assistant, but still…if he needed her, he should know she was here for him.

She turned the knob. Ginger whined, leaping from the bed to join her. Quietly, Nell opened the door and slipped down the hall. She continued to walk on her toes as she descended the steps. Her mother might stop her again, but if she could get past her, she was sure her father would give in and let her see Joshua.

Halfway down the stairs, she froze as the sound of voices drifted up to her.

“…serious,” she heard Dr. Burroughs say. “The rest of you could have already been exposed.”

“Not Nell,” her mother said. “She’s been at Deb’s the past three days.”

“Until we can figure out where the infection started,” the doctor said soberly, “it would be best if she went back and stayed away.”

“What about Joshua?” Nell had never heard her father’s voice sound quite so broken. It twisted something inside of her. She felt nauseous with the panic that rose in her stomach. “Isn’t there anything else we can do?”

The doctor’s voice when he replied was too low for Nell to hear. Then, the sound of their footsteps approaching sent her scurrying back up the stairs. The front door opened and closed.

Nell ran back down the stairs, Ginger hot on her heels. She skidded in the hallway, heading for her parents’ room in the back, but before she could reach the closed door, her mother stepped out of the kitchen. Nell almost ran right into her, and Florence’s arm flew out to catch her. She grabbed Nell by the arms, turning her toward her.

As Nell’s eyes met her mother’s, tears spilled over once more, tracking down her cheeks in hot rivers. She was unsurprised to see that her mother was also crying.

“I need to see him,” Nell whispered, and Florence shook her head, heartbroken but firm.

“No,” she said. “I can’t lose you, too.”

The words struck through Nell’s heart like a spear of ice, even in that hot August hallway. Her breath caught in a gasping sob, and the words tumbled after, impossible to stop. “Is Joshua going to die?”

“I don’t know,” Florence said. She closed her eyes, the tears trickling through her pale lashes. “I pray not. But either way, it’s too dangerous for you to be here, Nell. You have to go. If it’s truly cholera, we don’t know where it might have originated. We can’t risk you being exposed, too.”

Nell opened her mouth to protest again, but her throat felt numb. She couldn’t get any words to form. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. She saw from her mother’s face that there would be no changing her mind.

“Your father will take you,” Florence said. Then, abruptly, she pulled Nell into a tight hug. It lasted less than a second, but in that second, Nell felt the trembles shaking her mother’s body, and when Florence pulled away, the shaking remained.

Chapter One

Springfield, IL

December 1889

“That’s all, children. Have fun over Christmas!” Deb lifted her voice slightly to be heard over the clamor of the excited children as they rose from their desks and began gathering their things. “I’ll see you next year!”

“See you next year, Miss Miller!” the children chorused. “See you next year, Miss Marshall.”

Nell looked up, jolted from her reverie by the sound of her name. Quickly, she forced a smile onto her face. “Goodbye, everyone,” she replied. “See you next year.” She managed to hold the smile in place until the last of the children had bundled into their wraps and tumbled out the door. After that, it was simply too much trouble.

Standing from her desk at the back of the room, Nell began collecting the papers left on the children’s desks, careful to keep her face turned away from Deb. She didn’t want her friend to see that she was crying again. Even after four months, the tears came regularly and unexpectedly. She couldn’t always say what precipitated them, but as Christmas approached, it didn’t take much.

“Nell?” Deb’s voice was soft, and Nell knew immediately that she hadn’t fooled the other woman. Slowly, she turned around and lifted her face. Deb was already crossing the room from her desk in the front, her arms open. Nell let her friend wrap her in a hug.

“Oh, how I wish I could take some of this pain from you,” Deb murmured against the side of her head.

“I’m all right,” Nell hiccupped unconvincingly. “It’s just…Christmas.”

“I know,” Deb sighed. She pulled back slightly, looking Nell in the eye. “I just didn’t know if you’d want to talk about it or not.”

Nell shrugged. “There’s nothing to talk about.” She sniffed, digging into her skirt pocket for a handkerchief to blow her nose. “It will be my first Christmas alone. My first Christmas…without them. Everyone is feeling so happy this time of year, and I just…can’t.”

Deb was nodding along, her face tragic as she attempted to empathize with Nell’s disclosure. Somehow, it only made things worse.

“I feel like there’s a big, black hole inside of me,” she admitted, “and I worry that it will suck away the joy of the people around me just like it’s sucked all of mine away.” She took a deep breath after blowing her nose and mopped the tears from her cheeks, gradually regaining her composure. She’d had a lot of practice over the past few weeks. “Which is why I don’t want to spend Christmas with your family, Deb. Even though I’m so grateful you invited me.”

“What?” Deb looked genuinely shocked. “No, Nell. You can’t spend it all alone! I promise we want you there. We’re not expecting you to really be able to enjoy it, but….”

Nell shook her head, and Deb paused. From the way her friend looked at her, Nell could only guess that she had inherited her mother’s firm expression after all. It was clear that her mind could not be changed.

“I’ll just stay at the cottage,” she said. “It will be good. I can keep the fire going, and everything will be so nice and cozy when you get back.”

Deb bit her lip, her dark brows twisting with her inner conflict. Her kind brown eyes studied Nell’s face as she searched for something to say. “I don’t like the thought of you being all alone,” she said finally.

“I won’t be alone,” Nell assured her. “I’ll have Ginger with me.” A more genuine smile touched her face as she looked toward the dog’s blanket by the door. Ginger was just settling back in from seeing the children off, but at the sound of her name, she wagged her tail and sauntered across the room to the two young women. Nell dropped to her knees to hug the dog while Deb patted Ginger’s head. “You have to admit,” Nell said, with an attempt at levity, “that Ginger is excellent at what she does.”

“I will say she’s one of the best assistant teachers I’ve ever had—after you,” Deb said, chuckling gently.

“Well, she’ll also take good care of me. I’m sure of it,” Nell said.

She looked up at Deb and attempted another smile.

She wasn’t sure how to explain to her fellow teacher exactly how much she didn’t want to spend Christmas as an outsider to someone else’s family celebration. She was sure that Deb’s family—who lived a two-hour ride from the schoolhouse and teacher residence—would be extremely kind. But it would just be too painful to try to hide her tears for a full week, when the pain of her loss was at its greatest. She dreaded watching Deb interact with her younger siblings when Nell’s only younger sibling was….

She pushed the thought away, too weary to cry anymore today. “Please, Deb,” she said quietly, straightening up to face her friend. “This is what I’d prefer.”

Slowly, Deb nodded, her eyes still full of sorrow and puzzlement. “All right,” she said. “If you’re sure, I’m not going to try and change your mind.”

“I’m sure,” Nell reiterated. “Now, let’s get this classroom cleaned up so you can be on your way.”

As the two women moved about, putting away books, sweeping floors, and stacking papers, Nell was conscious of Deb’s growing anticipation to be on her way home to her family. She swallowed the lump in her throat and moved more quickly, almost as anxious as her friend to see her on her way.

A short while later, she stood outside the front door of the little teacher cottage the two had been sharing for the past months and waved as Deb climbed into the buggy hitched behind her horse, Peggy, and slapped the reins. Nell continued to wave and smile until she was sure Deb would not be able to see her if she looked back. Only then did she finally let her arm fall limply to her side. Her shoulders slumped, and the last remnants of the smile slid from her face.

Ginger whined, pressing her nose against Nell’s hand. Nell shivered, suddenly aware of how cold she was standing out in the snow. “Come on, girl,” she said, looking down at the dog. “Let’s go inside.”

***

Whether it was intentional or not, Nell could not have said, but she lost track of time over the next few days, and she couldn’t have said which one was actually Christmas. She spent her hours bringing in wood from the huge stack the school fathers had supplied in the school shed, cooking simple meals that she could eat in her wingback chair by the fire, and reading straight through the thickest book she had been able to find on Deb’s surprisingly well-stocked shelves: Middlemarch by someone called George Eliot. She wore the same heavy knitted sweater every day and kept her strawberry-blond hair in a simple braid down her back.

Ginger never stirred from her side except to go out and do her business two or three times a day.

At nights, Nell sometimes still cried herself to sleep, but mainly, what she felt over the long, strange week was a sense of numb acceptance. It was as if she was allowing herself to realize, This is what my life is now. That of a lonely, spinster teacher.

It was not exactly what she had once imagined for herself. But it was not that different from what she had imagined for herself either. She had never had much of a desire to marry, and she’d been eager to teach ever since she’d graduated from school herself. But she’d never anticipated that she would embark on that career without her family’s loving support and a warm, beautiful home to go back to on breaks.

As it occurred to her that the week must surely be winding to an end, she finally went on a cold, gray morning to the calendar she and Deb kept on the wall and did some quick mental calculations. Yes, she realized, Deb would be home this very evening.

The thought made Nell blink and wake from the melancholic daze that had enveloped her. She turned to glance around the cottage, noting how sloppy it had become. “I’ve got to clean up,” she told Ginger. “And make something for dinner. And….” She paused. Ginger was watching her with her head cocked to one side, her plumed tail wagging slowly from left to right and back again.

All that week, Nell had been considering walking down to the cemetery. She hadn’t been back since the funeral, but something had been drawing her there for weeks now. She couldn’t quite put a finger on what the feeling was, and she didn’t think she’d be able to until she actually gave in to it. She dreaded seeing the three barren tombstones again, yet at the same time, she longed for some kind of closeness to her family. It was all she had.

“If we’re going to go before Deb gets back,” she whispered, causing Ginger’s head to tilt even more dramatically, “it will have to be today. I just can’t decide….” She trailed off, staring at the calendar as if the answer was scribbled among the various teacherly reminders she and Deb had penciled in over the last weeks.

Finally, she turned away, mechanically beginning to pick up the blankets and clothes scattered about the little house. She washed the dishes and swept the bark and ash from the hearth and chopped vegetables for a soup, which she settled on the back of the cookstove in the little back kitchen. By the time she had finished, she still didn’t know what she wanted to do. But she knew what she was going to do.

Pulling her coat and scarf from the peg by the door, she tugged them on, adding a hat at the last minute. Ginger’s tail wags became more enthusiastic as she realized they were about to go out together. When Nell finally opened the door and stepped out, the dog bounded ahead of her, leaving exuberant hollows in the unshoveled snow. Nell followed with less enthusiasm, her boots squeaking in the cold, white stuff.

She reached the road and turned right. Left would have taken her further into town. Right took her toward its empty outskirts, where the white country church sat, and behind it, the small community burying place. The walk was less than twenty minutes, but by the time Nell reached the snow-mounded fence that surrounded the property, her nose was numb with cold, and her toes were tingling. She scarcely breathed as she pushed open the latch and wrestled the gate through the soft snow that had piled against it.

The cemetery was quiet except for the gentle creak of the bare trees as a frigid wind gusted through their reaching branches. Nell almost tiptoed down the invisible path toward the three headstones under an oak near the center of the plot. Her emotions swelled as her eyes landed on the simple inscriptions carved into the three stones.

Joshua Elam Marshall – Beloved Brother

Florence Margaret Marshall – Beloved Mother

John Henry Marshall – Beloved Father

Under each name and “beloved,” the mason had added the line Safe in the Arms of Jesus.

Tears blurred Nell’s vision as she stopped facing all three stones. A hollow that felt as big as an empty lake yawned within her, aching as it stretched her heart to the breaking point.

“Mama, Pa, Josh…I miss you all so much.” A sob broke through, and she paused, biting her trembling lips until she had regained enough control to continue. “I almost wish I could have gone with you,” she murmured. “That way, I wouldn’t be here all alone. I’d be safe in the arms of Jesus, too.”

This time, she let the sobs come until they had run their course. She dropped her head and buried her fingers in Ginger’s fur as the dog pressed against her legs. To her surprise, they did not last long. Within a moment, she was digging a handkerchief from her pocket and clearing the evidence from her face. The ache in her heart had been eased slightly by the release. As she gazed once again at the stones, Nell realized what had drawn her here—what she had come here to do.

She had come to say goodbye. She had not been ready at the funeral. She had hardly been able to believe it was true that every other member of her family was gone, never to return, as she had stood by their gravesides, listening numbly to the pastor’s reading of some psalm or another. Only now could she feel her grasp on their ghostly fingers loosening.

Slowly, she sank to her knees in the snow. Ginger whined and scrambled across her lap, offering herself to Nell’s arms. Nell took full advantage, wrapping her arms tightly around the dog’s lean body as she whispered once more.

“I love you all. The one thing I’m glad of is that you are safe now. You’ll never have to face any sickness or hardship or injury ever again. I wonder what it’s like up there in heaven,” she added, her eyes clinging to the words “Safe in the Arms of Jesus.” A smile forced its way through her lingering tears. “I wonder if you’re still running around doing crazy, wild stunts,” she muttered, glancing at Joshua’s stone. “Something tells me yes. Well, I suppose Jesus will be able to look after you a lot better than even I could,” she finally finished.

Then, with one last glance at her mother’s and father’s stones, she rose from her knees and turned back toward the gate.

There was a man leaning against it.