Free Collision of The Heart by Laurie Alice Eakes Page B

women they can make other choices in their lives than being wives and mothers and to consider that before they think marriage is their only option.”
    Genevieve closed the gate behind them with a decisive click. “Being a wife and mother is a noble calling for a lady. Just as noble as being a teacher or a doctor or a telegraph operator.”
    “Well, of course, but some of us . . .” Mia trailed off.
    Her gaze fixed on Genevieve’s house, which had smoke curling from chimneys into the blue-white sky, dispersing the aroma of roasting meat. Yellow gingham curtains hung in ruffles from the kitchen windows. At one side of the door, a trellis promised a bower of fragrant climbing roses in the summer, and lace draperies graced the windows of what was likely a parlor.
    “I know this house.” Her voice emerged as a mere whisper. “It’s across the street from the Blamey house.”
    “It is. Sadly, Professor Blamey retired and moved himself and his wife to Pittsburgh to be closer to their children.” Genevieve started up the steps of the back porch but hesitated before opening the kitchen door. “No one lives there now, but there’s talk Ayden Goswell intends to buy it for when—that is, if—he and Charmaine marry.”
    “That,” Mia said between her teeth, “would be foolish.”
    Ayden had proposed to her in the rear garden of that house during a summer barbecue. They had settled in a gazebo as the sun dipped below the horizon. With all the courtliness of the medieval knights he studied, he had dropped to one knee and pledged his undying love no matter what life tossed their way.
    He had lied.
    Mia feared she whimpered like a wounded puppy.
    Genevieve gave her a one-armed hug. “It’s just talk. You know how this town is about gossip.” She yanked open the back door.
    Warmth greeted them like a mother’s embrace. With the enthusiasm of a flock of birds settling in a tree at dusk, the chatter of female voices rose and fell in rapid-fire conversation. In seconds, Mia was surrounded by former colleagues, new female students, and a handful of women stranded in town by the train wreck. They hugged her. They fussed over her bandaged wrist; they scolded her for leaving them behind without a word of where she’d gone or what she was doing.
    “You could have died in that city, and none of us would have been the wiser,” said a former classmate who now worked at the bank.
    Mia’s legs wobbled. Her eyes blurred. “A few people knew where I was.”
    “Like Ayden Goswell,” someone called from the far side of the large kitchen.
    “Yes, Ayden knew.” Someone in front of her rose and pushed her chair toward Mia. “Sit down. You look like you’re ready to fall down.”
    “You should have stayed in bed.” Genevieve poured a cup of coffee and set it before Mia.
    “I have work to do.” Mia wrapped her hands around the cup to warm them. “There’s a child at the Goswells’ whose mother has gone missing.”
    She explained about the little boy and the woman who disappeared from the train in the chaos. The ladies exclaimed, offering their prayers for the mother to be found. While carrots and potatoes were peeled, onions chopped, and stock stirred, the talk turned to Ayden and his work at the college, then diverted to the wreck. Genevieve, always good at arithmetic, pulled up a slate and chalk and began to ask for suggestions on how to provide people with enough food and shelter.
    “We have finite supplies until the tracks are cleared,” she reminded them all.
    The ladies took turns listing what supplies they had on hand, and Genevieve tallied up pounds of flour, sugar, and root vegetables. Before she finished, someone once again demanded to know why Mia had written to no one.
    Mia gazed at the sea of faces around her—her college classmates, some friends from the years she lived with her now-deceased aunt in Hillsdale, some from her teaching days. She remembered the camaraderie and frustrations of life they’d