“Isn’t that your niece?”
Clara and I were in my new kitchen, unpacking my cookware from crates on the floor. None us were young anymore, and Clara had become almost as slow as I was, but we managed well enough, lifting out pots and pans and dusting them off before putting them away. We both wore old dresses, frayed at the hem, and grimy aprons. There was no use wearing anything else, as all the pots were stained with soot and the crates they were moved in were covered in dust. A little bit of black was smeared on Clara’s cheekbone.
I looked up and out the window, following Clara’s gaze through my new front yard with its flowering bushes, and onto the street, where a slender girl with a long blond braid stood by the wooden gate and looked up at the house with a pensive expression.
“Sure.” I was surprised by the power of the surge of love that suddenly erupted in my chest. I had not known that I missed her so much. “That’s Jennie.” I rose to my feet and rushed to the front door.
“Jennie!” I called when I had it open. I waved though she was just a few steps away.
“Aunt Nellie!” The girl was all sunshine when she unlatched the gate. “I did not know if it was the right house—they all look so similar, and I only knew that it was white.” She chattered merrily as she came up the flagstone path. At fifteen, she was a young woman, and her face had shed much of its former roundness, taking on the sharper angles of an adult. Her dress was white and blue and reached her midcalf; a little straw hat sat perched upon her head. Her socks were very white and her black shoes neatly polished, though a little dust from the street had lodged onto the leather.
“Jennie.” I opened the door wide in welcome. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, I’m staying with my papa for a while,” she said as she entered my new hall. “This is a very pretty house, Aunt Nellie.” She looked around as in awe, though the hall was cramped and housed little but the stairs to the second floor. I knew very well what she was used to. “I am so happy that you could move here.” She gave me a hug; her skin was smooth and chilled from the outside.
“Thank you so much, Jennie. It is not so very big, but more than enough for us, with only Nora living here.” I swallowed hard as I said that last part, remembering how I had been wondering if I was about to take on all the girls from La Porte.
“I only came to see if Nora was home, and to see the new house, of course,” Jennie said as she stepped into the kitchen. Her eyes were still wide, taking it all in. “Oh, hello, Clara,” I heard her say in front of me. “How are you on this fine day?”
Another round of greeting ensued before Jennie finally settled on the bench, and I went to bring her a cup of milk.
“Nora isn’t home, I’m afraid. She is working with Olga now, selling hosiery,” I said as I served her. I noted how her face fell when she heard that her cousin was not there, and was charmed by how much she cherished my unruly daughter. “She will not be home before late this afternoon, but you’re most welcome to stay for dinner if you like,” I offered, to cheer her up.
Her lower lip came out in the tiniest of pouts. “I wish I could, Aunt Nellie, but Margret, my stepmother, would not approve of me being late.”
“So your father has remarried?” I sat down in a chair opposite the girl.
Jennie nodded and clutched the enamel cup of milk between her hands. “They think I should come and live with them now, since Papa Mads died, and Peter.”
“Oh, I’m sure that’s not the reason why.” Clara rose and went to the stove, for coffee, no doubt. “He probably thinks he can provide a better home for you now that there’s a woman in the household.”
“Maybe,” Jennie answered politely, “but my sister said otherwise when she met me at the station. She said they had all been so worried, because of the writing in the newspapers and all.”
“You should not listen to what people say,” I huffed, while a surge of dread took root in my belly. It was one thing that I thought what I did, and quite another to hear that others might be thinking the same thing. People who did not know us. “Your mama cannot be very happy about this.”
“No.” Her gaze seemed to glaze over and she looked down into her milk. “She told Papa she would get a lawyer.”
“Of course she did.” I could not help but smile a little. My sister could never resist a fight.
“Will you be going to school here in Chicago, then, Jennie?” Clara carried cups of warm coffee to the table.
“Oh, I already am, only not today.” Red spots bloomed on her cheeks—she was clearly supposed to be there and not with us, but I did not chastise her. I was much too happy to see her.
“It sounds like you are settling in nicely, then.” Clara joined us at the table. She was as happy as I was, I reckoned, to have some respite from the crates.
“Sure.” But the girl looked pained as she said it.
“Perhaps it’s for the best,” I suggested, finding that I did not much mind that Jennie was away from the farm. Likely, my own poor memories of it colored my view a little. “With the new baby,” I added. “Mama must have her hands full.”
“Yes, but he’s such a handsome little boy.” Her face lit up in a smile that made her blue eyes sparkle. “He is the sweetest thing you could ever imagine and he makes very little fuss.”
It hurt my heart to see her longing. “Do you miss him very much?”
She nodded again. “And Myrtle and Lucy, too.” Her expression suddenly darkened. “Papa says that he will not force me to stay, but I’m afraid he will be upset if I leave . . . but then Mama is already upset, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Where would you rather stay, then, Jennie?” Clara’s voice was soft.
The girl on the bench shrugged. “Both places are nice.”
“Perhaps you should try to stay in Chicago for a while.” I offered my advice—which admittedly was different from what I would have said just a few years before. “You have to try out new places for a while before you know if you like them.”
“You must too, then, with this new house.” She looked around again.
“Just that.” I laughed. “Though it would take at least ten wild horses and a leaky roof to drive me out of this place now that I have settled. We have saved up for years to buy it.”
“Mama says the same thing about Brookside.” Jennie chewed her lip. “She says it’s where we all belong.”
“And you always will too,” I offered as comfort, “even if you stay here in Chicago.”
* * *