Free Finding Grace: A Novel by Sarah Pawley Page B

surprise. It came to her that they
had gone into a tunnel. The dimness was so eerie that a shiver ran
up her spine. Moments later, there came a strange, almost ethereal
light. The train began to slow, and then with a crying of the
brakes, it came to a stop…and the porter called out.
    "Chicago, Union Station!"
    Her heart did a summersault as she realized
that this was the end of the line. She had arrived. Suddenly, she
was afraid to get out. The car had become almost
comfortable…secure, in its way. It had kept the unfamiliar world
out, for a time. But now she had to go and face it. Even the
porter, who had been so good to her, could be of no help now. So
she took a deep breath, picked up her bag, and rose to her feet.
She made her way to the door, following the other passengers out.
And as she stood in the doorway of the car, the shock of reality
hit her full force.
    Good heavens, what have I gotten myself
into?
    She stepped down to a long and wide cement
walkway. Looking up, she saw the source of the soft white light. It
came from a frosted glass ceiling, and she stood staring at it for
several moments, captured by its beauty. Turning her eyes from it,
she watched the movement of passengers all around her…and there
were so many people to see. Everywhere there were moving bodies,
more people in one place than she'd ever seen in her life, all
moving to and fro. And what strange, fascinating people they were
to watch.
    The gentlemen were dashing, some wearing
banded straw hats…others with handsome fedoras. Their clothing
looked like the kind she’d only seen on Sunday mornings. There were
no overalls or tattered shirts here. The men wore neat looking
slacks and fine button up shirts, some covered with thin vests and
others with suspenders. How tidy the gentlemen were…most of them
clean shaven, though some wore a small mustache. But not one of
them had a scraggly face.
    Even their shoes…not mud-encrusted boots,
but fine leather loafers…were perfect, and she could see why.
Nearby, there was a boy kneeling down with a rag in his hand,
buffing the extended foot of a man reading a newspaper…and she
smiled.
    No wonder their shoes shine
so brightly , she thought. She’d never seen
anything like it.
    If the men were incredible to her amazed
eyes, the ladies were even more so. From head to toe, the women
were like a flock of brightly feathered birds…so elegant, so
colorful. They seemed to preen for all who might be watching. Some
had cute little rounded hats that came down low over their
foreheads. Other hats were wide-brimmed and decorated with ribbons
or feathers. The dresses were of the brightest colors and loveliest
fabrics, many of the collars trimmed with fur or beads. Nearly
every female neck was festooned with a long strand of pearls, most
of which hung down to the waist. The ladies clomped by in
thick-heeled, buckled shoes of various colors, but it was their
bare knees that stunned her the most. In all of her life she’d
never seen such high hemlines, falling just above the knee itself
and exposing a scandalous amount of stocking clad leg.
    She thought to
herself, If Mama and those old biddies at
church could see this, they’d fall plum on their faces with shock
and shame. And on that thought, she smiled
again, thinking how very funny it would be to see such a
thing.
    Someone bumped into her, bringing her back
from her musing. The man apologized and went on his way, but the
incident suddenly made her remember where she was. There was a loud
humming from the many voices, the rattling of baggage carts rolling
by, the hissing of the train…a hundred other sounds she couldn't
distinguish. Another person pushed past her, and she realized that
by standing in one place, she was only causing trouble. Following
the flow of the crowd, though rather more slowly than they, she
looked around for she knew not what. She saw a man in uniform…one
who looked like another porter or maybe a conductor. Quietly she
went to