and the train slowed for a stop, bringing her back to the present. She had actually voiced her concern to Mrs. Korsheski, when sheâd not even admitted it to herself. What was it the nurse had said? Her exact words?
âYou will do well either way. Or both ways. Sometimes we can have our cake and eat it too. And keep in mind that what God plans for you is far better than what you can plan for yourself.â
It was the last part sheâd tried to put aside. Her mother had believed that too, and look what it got her.
An early trip to heaven to be with her beloved? What is so wrong with that?
But she had wanted to stay with her children. Sheâd heard her say so.
Tears flooded her eyes again. What had her mother seen, known, to be able to smile like that? Oh, Mama, I miss you so, and I sure do hope you were right about heaven. After the stop and two passengers had settled into seats, she wrapped her coat around her and, settling her head on the windowsill, fell into a light sleep that broke every time they stopped. She had known there would be many stops, but sheâd never imagined thereâd be this many.
Early Sunday morning she woke to find a little boy standing in front of her, staring. She shook herself awake and sat up.
âBertie, donât bother the lady.â The woman across the aisle smiled apologetically. âIâm sorry, miss.â
âHe startled me is all.â Miriam watched the boy throw himself against his motherâs lap, as if sheâd scolded him, and then peer at her from his safe place. âHow old is he?â
âBertie is three. Show the nice lady how old you are.â The little manâs tongue came out and he stared at his hand, seeming to will his fingers to obey. When he got three up, he grinned at his mother. âVery good.â From the looks of the woman, it wouldnât be terribly long before Bertie had either a new baby brother or sister in his life.
âWhere are you going?â
âTo Blessing, just west of Grand Forks, North Dakota. What about you?â
âWe are going farther, to Bismarck. Have you been there?â
âNo, Blessing is the farthest west Iâve been.â Not that sheâd been east of Chicago either. âWill you be staying there?â
âYes. Bertieâs papa is already there. He says I will love the town and the people. But Iâve never been away from my family before, and this is so far away.â
âFrom where? I mean, where was home?â She smiled at the little boy, which sent him burying his face in his motherâs skirt again.
âWe live in Rochester, south of the Twin Cities. Or rather, we lived there.â She sniffed as if she were about to cry.
âLeaving is hard.â
Just then the whistle blew again, and Bertie covered his ears with both hands.
While his mother comforted him, Miriam looked out the window.
âGrand Forks. Next stop Grand Forks.â The conductor made his way through the car and stopped beside her. âNot too far to Blessing now, miss. You ever eaten at the boardinghouse there?â
âThat is where Iâll be living.â
âFine place, Blessing.â He wagged his head. âThat little town sure is growing.â
Miriam watched him sway on down the aisle. Funny he should mention the boardinghouse. She wondered if the others had moved her things over to the new wing yet. Soon she would be there again. Was she feeling anticipation or dread?
Blessing did indeed come soon, as the conductor had promised. The train jolted and wheezed to a stop.
âThank you for traveling with us, miss,â the conductor said with a smile as he helped her down. âI think there is a young man waiting for you.â He nodded over his shoulder. âI know him. Trygve Knutson. Heâs a good man, a real fine young man.â He tipped his hat to her and reached back for her carpetbag. âYou had a couple of larger boxes