Christmas Angels, page 13
"That's easy, Edward. We'll call it the Wanatah Railroad." Edward loved the idea. He had grown up in La Porte but spent a great deal of time with his grandparents, Harry and Laura Mae Beall, in the tiny town of Wanatah. He often described his time with his grandparents as "the best years of my youth."
"What's next?"
"I must formally present our plans to our investors, including Mr. Pullman. If everything goes as planned, we can start leasing tracks early next year."
That's exactly what they did.
***
Laura leaned back in her chair, enjoying the recollection of the Wanatah's beginning. "My parents believed it was possible to create a railroad that would serve the people of Indiana," she continued. "Believing is the first step toward making things happen. My parents believed they could create a new railroad, when no one else thought they could. Who were they?" Miss Beall shrugged at the question. "Just two young people from modest backgrounds who shared a big dream. They knew that believing something with all your heart, mind and soul is how all great and noble ideas take root. Becoming a tiny force standing against the mighty wind of doubt may not seem like it matters, but it does. If you remain standing through the storm, then others will stand with you. When the storm suddenly subsides, you realize your idea isn't an idea anymore… it's a reality."
Laura sipped her tea before continuing. "Plant your feet and stand up for what you want, child. Act, even if you don't know if it's the right action, because you learn from actions, while you learn nothing from standing still. Most importantly, know that everything you want in life lies just beyond your fear."
I sat in silence, trying to take in all Miss Beall was telling me.
"I am not the heiress to the Wanatah Railroad. To my father, the Wanatah wasn't a gift to his daughter. The Wanatah is a legacy he left to the people of Indiana that he entrusted to me because he believed I was best suited to run it. He knew I loved the railroad as much as he and my mother did, and that I knew as much about running it as he did. My father believed in me. When he passed away five years ago, he knew I could keep the Wanatah running, despite my limitations."
"Do you run it alone?"
"Good gracious, no, child. I have many good people in Delphi who help me run the line. And there are many more up and down the line who play crucial roles in our success, especially during this economic depression. But I couldn't do my job without Michael."
"Who's Michael?"
"He's someone I've known most of my life, but that's another story altogether. Maybe we should save it for another day."
"Please, Miss, tell me about Michael."
Chapter 17
When Laura was four years old, Elizabeth decided it was time she began her formal education. Because the family lived just south of Chicago in Englewood, Elizabeth wrote a letter to the Illinois School for the Visually Impaired asking if they knew anyone in the area who would be an appropriate tutor for Laura. The school wrote back, suggesting Mr. Stephen Ellis of Chicago.
Elizabeth wrote him immediately, but Mr. Ellis replied, saying he'd recently lost his wife and wanted to continue teaching in the school his only son attended. Because the boy was struggling with the loss of his beloved mother, Mr. Ellis didn't want to disrupt his son's life any further. Not one to accept no for an answer despite being presented with the logic and grace with which Mr. Ellis declined her generous offer, Elizabeth bided her time.
On a spectacular spring day in mid-May, Elizabeth dressed her daughter in her prettiest dress and took her to the Wanatah Depot for the short ride to downtown Chicago. After the porter gave Elizabeth directions, the mother and daughter walked to the school where Mr. Ellis taught.
"Be on your best behavior, dear girl," Elizabeth urged her daughter. "We must make a good first impression. If we are successful in our mission today, we will celebrate with ice cream before going home. Or maybe there's a bakery nearby. How does that sound?"
Elizabeth inquired at the school office as to the location of Mr. Ellis's classroom. Attracting a great deal of attention, the mother and daughter walked hand-in-hand through the hallway against the rush of children just dismissed from classes for the day. Young Laura remembered the excitement and energy of those children all around her as her mother pulled her through the crowd. "It was exhilarating," she recalled, "and I longed to be like them."
Once Elizabeth found his classroom, she walked in and introduced herself to Mr. Ellis. Before she left, she'd persuaded him to move to Englewood with his son to tutor Laura for the summer. "I'll arrange everything," she promised. "You'll have a lovely apartment near our home and a train pass to anywhere the Wanatah travels for your days off. A change of scenery will do Michael good."
The day Stephen Ellis and his ten-year-old son arrived in Englewood marked the beginning of a glorious summer for the Bealls. Elizabeth sent a driver with a horse and buggy to pick them up from the depot and greeted them when they arrived at their apartment. Sparkling clean with refurbished paint, fresh linens and stocked food cupboards, Elizabeth had seen to the last detail of the small walk-up.
With the Wanatah expanding, Elizabeth suddenly became the most sought-after socialite in the entire Chicago area, and four-year-old Laura had a tutor and a friend. Mr. Ellis was a kindly man who carried the loss of his wife on his shoulders. He spent the first week getting to know the girl, determining the best path forward for her education.
"She certainly knows about railroads," he told Elizabeth over afternoon tea one day.
"Of course she does," stated Elizabeth. "That's the native language of this household."
"She has a firm grasp of numbers, and she can recite the alphabet," he continued. "However, it's time she learned to read and write. I know she's only four, but because of her vision impairment, it is best we begin now."
"You're the expert."
"One more thing. Your daughter needs spectacles."
Elizabeth nodded. "I'll see to it immediately."
Mr. Ellis returned from his first weekend trip home with a stack of books he'd collected during his years at the Illinois School for the Visually Impaired. He read to Laura from the large print books and employed the patience of a saint as she bent over the pages to study the letters up close. It was when he put the fat pencil in the child's hand and asked her to draw the letters that she became frustrated.
One afternoon, when Elizabeth and Mr. Ellis were discussing Laura's progress in the parlor, they heard laughter in the small room off the kitchen that Elizabeth had converted into Laura's classroom.
Laura sat at her desk, pencil in hand, scribbling on a piece of paper Michael had laid out for her. "See there." The boy pointed to the paper. "That looks like an L, and there's a perfect ‘C.' You can do it. I told you so." The child leaned forward and looked closely at the letters Michael picked out in her scribbling, then giggled with delight.
Mr. Ellis asked, "Michael, what's going on in here?"
"Laura just needs to get the feel of the pencil, Papa," Michael replied. The boy adjusted the position of the pencil in the girl's small hand. "Make more letters," he instructed, as she scribbled away. As she gained control of her pencil, she worked to make perfect letters, mostly to please Michael.
About mid-summer, Mr. Ellis returned from his weekend in Chicago with a book of music. Michael sat down at the Beall's old upright piano and played the simple songs in the book.
Laura soon joined him on the piano bench. After he played a song, he'd place the music book in her hands and point to the letters.
"That's a C."
Laura squinted. "It doesn't look like a C."
"Well, it is." Then he took her hand and placed it on the keys. "That's middle C, Laura. Play it with your thumb."
"But I can't see it."
"You don't have to see it. Just feel it."
From then on, when Laura's lessons were over for the day, she pulled the music book from the shelf, climbed on the piano bench next to Michael and insisted he tell her the story of the notes. He told her that music was like the map of the railroad lines her father kept on the table in his study.
"Music tells you where to start, where to go, how to get there, and how long to stay."
One day she asked, "How do you know about music?"
"My mother taught me," Michael replied.
By the end of the summer, Elizabeth had found a music teacher who came to the house two afternoons a week to give Laura piano lessons. At first, Laura resisted her new teacher, but when Elizabeth asked Michael to sit in the room during Laura's lessons, things turned around. As her teacher played simple combinations of notes, Laura quickly learned to mimic them by ear. As time passed, Elizabeth began insisting that Laura learn to read the music of the songs she played.
"But Mama, I can't see the notes on the music stand, even with my spectacles," Laura cried.
"Then memorize them before you sit down to play," Elizabeth urged.
"How do I do that?" Laura asked. Handing Laura her magnifying glass, she had replied. "One note at a time, dear child. One note at a time."
Elizabeth became a second mother to Michael, their voices often heard chatting and laughing together. Some days during that first summer, when Mr. Ellis was teaching Laura, Elizabeth enlisted Michael's help with simple chores such as posting letters, picking up groceries from the corner market, or carrying paperwork to Edward at his new office near the Englewood train depot. Elizabeth soon realized Michael's competence in everything she assigned him.
Stephen Ellis eventually learned to enjoy his newfound status at the Beall's social table. He particularly enjoyed the luncheons Elizabeth organized to introduce him to people around town. He also became particularly infatuated with Laura's new piano teacher. Stephen and Michael accompanied her and Laura to several concerts. Even Stephen became more jovial as time went on.
By the end of summer, Stephen accepted Elizabeth's offer to be Laura's year-round tutor. He sold his house in downtown Chicago and moved with Michael permanently to Englewood.
***
"Of course, it worked out just as Mother had planned. Mr. Ellis served as my tutor for the next six years."
"And Michael?" I prompted.
"Mother recognized Michael's potential early on and insisted Father hire him. He's been with the Wanatah ever since. When my father became ill, Michael stepped up. Anything Michael didn't already know about the railroad business, Father or I taught him. He became Father's point man with the company, bringing us contracts and other paperwork almost daily. For those long months before Father's death, the company ran as usual."
Now Michael serves as Laura's point-man. "He's my eyes and ears inside the Wanatah. He comes by early in the morning, a couple of days a week, to review contracts and other paperwork with me. Then he returns to headquarters in Delphi and carries out my orders. Most importantly, he takes me to meetings in my office in the Pullman Car and accompanies me when I travel the line. Because of him, I can do my job as well as some with all their sight."
Chapter 18
"Are you coming to the library with me? Aunt Lo says the library fills up every day with people who are desperate to get out of the cold. She could use our help."
"Not today, Charlie. Miss Beall asked me to pick up a package for her from Thrasher's."
"Okay, but don't forget Aunt Lo wants us at the church by eight o'clock tomorrow morning to help her pull out the stage sets she painted for the pageant. They're in the church basement."
I groaned. "Can't you and Bernard do that job? That basement gives me the creeps."
"Don't be such a grump," Charlie poked me in the rib. "See you at home later."
I walked to Thrasher's for Miss Beall a couple of days a week. Today, the department store's two front windows held nothing but toys, displayed beautifully around a Christmas tree trimmed with colorful ornaments, sparkling with silver garland, and covered in tinsel. I loved tinsel, but Mother insisted we put it on our tree one strand at a time. It was tedious work, but the result was worth it.
Amidst the vast assortment of the latest toys, I spotted a Kewpie doll like the one I'd seen in the Sears and Roebuck catalog that arrived at our house last week. The doll, wearing the cutest smocked dress, sat at a small table with a tea set. It reminded me of the tea parties I'd enjoyed with Miss Beall over the last few weeks.
After ogling the toys, I went inside to the front counter. "Good afternoon, Miss Ghere" The salesclerk always greeted me with a big smile, but she only ever wore the one dowdy dress which she doused with perfume from the sample bottles on the cosmetic counter. I'd seen her do it a dozen times. "I have Miss Beall's order right here."
She pulled out a thin paper bag from under the counter and handed it to me. "Is this everything?"
"Yes, dear. That's it for today."
"Thank you."
Outside, I opened the bag and peeked inside. As I suspected, it was more sheet music to add to the collection Miss Beall kept in an ornate cabinet in her music room. I slipped the bag under my coat to keep the wind from blowing it out of my hand on my walk back.
As I stepped onto Miss Beall's porch, the oak door swung open.
"Thank you, child." Miss Beall lifting the bag from my hand. "Would you care to come in for a few minutes?"
I nodded.
I followed the woman into the reception hall. "Come into my office, if you don't mind. I'm expecting a telephone call."
I slipped off my coat and settled into the chair across the big desk from her.
"I've been so busy these last few days, we haven't had time to talk. I wanted to tell you that Michael arranged for me to meet Mrs. McPherson in Delphi. Poor dear, she's really struggling with the death of her husband. I'm also hoping to meet with one of my suppliers while I'm there."
I didn't know what a supplier was, but I didn't ask.
"I'm expecting a delivery on Wednesday. Are you familiar with the stationery store?"
"Yes, Miss."
"If you could go pick it up after school, I would appreciate it. I should be back by then, but if I'm not, can you keep the package at your house?"
"I can put it on Mother's desk in the parlor. It will be safe there."
Laura opened her desk drawer, took out a dime, and placed it in front of me.
"You must have a dollar or more saved up by now. Are you saving for something special?" When I didn't answer, she prompted me again. "Child, I asked you a question."
"I was saving to buy new shoes, but I gave my coins to Gus. He used them and most of his own money to buy coal. Mother owes several bills, so Gus is trying to help her. He told me he's looking for a better job. Since Popo left, Gus may have to quit school to work to support the family. Mother will be angry if he quits, but Gus says it may be the only way to keep the family going."
I stopped to take a breath.
"I see."
"Today's my birthday," I muttered. "Mother forgot my birthday."
"How old are you, child?"
"Ten."
"I remember when I was ten. It was a difficult time for me, as well."
I looked up at Laura's colorless face set against the blackness of her dress. As she sat motionless, her hands folded on the top of her desk, I saw a hint of sadness cross her face, the first tiny crack in her otherwise steadfast composure.
"I hope you understand your mother's predicament. She has her hands full, and I'm sure she didn't mean to forget your birthday."
"Mother didn't forget Thea's birthday." I closed my eye, fighting back the tears. "But she… "
"Listen to me, child. Life is too short to be angry with your mother. Times are hard, and your mother is doing the best she can under the circumstances."
"I know."
"I lost my mother when I was your age and have missed her every day since. She left this earth too soon."
We sat in silence for a good long while. Laura seemed at ease with nothing but the ticking of a clock, or the sound of the wind rattling the trees outside the window. Charlie was like that.
I finally broke the silence.
"How did your mother die?" I asked.
Laura Beal took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "She was murdered by a madman."
***
"Let's have a cup of tea and a cookie to celebrate your birthday. I hope you like oatmeal."
Laura rose from her desk and slipped past me. I stood up and closed my eyes, following the sound of the swishing of her long black dress into the kitchen. We chatted as Laura prepared the tea and set the table.
Again, I mimicked her every move as we sipped our tea and nibbled our cookies. I told her that Thea had the croup but was better today. Then we talked about Aunt Lo's plans for the Christmas pageant.
Miss Beall dabbed the corners of her lips with a linen napkin. "Tell me, child, what do you think of the oatmeal cookie? Oatmeal is one of my favorites."
I looked up and saw her eyes dancing behind her thick lenses.
I hesitated a moment. "It's good."
"But?"
"It's not as good as Mother's oatmeal cookies."
She smiled. "You sound certain of yourself?"
"Oh, yes, I'm certain. Mother has a knack for baking cookies."
"You were certainly correct about the sugar cookies you brought me the other day. Delicious, just as you said."
Miss Beall took another sip of her tea, then settled the china cup back into its saucer.
"You haven't told me what happened to your mother."
She gave me a weak smile. "It's not a story I like to tell, so let me show you."
I followed Miss Beall into the music room. There she lifted the heavy cover from the family Bible that lay on a table near her piano. Then she held a delicate newspaper clipping out to me. My hand trembled as I read the Chicago Tribune headline and news item dated March 11, 1907.
***
WOMAN FOUND MURDERED IN HER HOME
