Where We Belong: An Orphan Train Novel

A sense of foreboding fell over him. He jerked upright. "Miss, where are the children?"

She whirled on her heel and scurried toward the opposite end of the foyer. "Miss Armstrong! Miss Armstrong!" Her shrill voice echoed against the tin ceiling tiles.

Callum charged after the housekeeper. His heart pounded with such force he could hardly draw a breath. The girl disappeared beyond a doorway ahead, still calling for the asylum's matron. If Callum's memory served correctly, she'd gone into the matron's office. A gentleman would stop outside the door and knock before entering, but at that moment, Callum didn't much care about being gentlemanly. He rounded the corner so fast the damp soles of his old boots slid and he bounced his shoulder off the doorframe on his way in.

Wincing, he pointed at the stern-looking tall woman on the opposite side of a massive desk. "Ma'am, I'm here to see Evvie and Winnie Holbrook. Fetch them quick." Imagining how Freida would feel about his forcefulness, he added, "Please."

Miss Armstrong turned to the housekeeper. "Mildred, return to your cleaning." The younger woman scuttled past Callum, clutching the feather duster like a shield in front of her. Her footsteps faded away. The matron gestured to a ladder back chair in front of her desk. "Please have a seat, Mr. Holbrook."

"I don't wanna sit, ma'am. I wanna see my girls." He crushed his cap in his fist. "I have a surprise for 'em. I've got a real good job now at the Remington Metalworks Factory. Been there a full three months. At the end of last month, I signed papers on an apartment with two bedrooms." Evvie was so big already she'd probably rather have her own room. But after sharing a room with a dozen other girls here at the asylum, sharing with only Winnie would still be mighty nice. "I've been rounding up furnishings and such, getting it ready, and now it's all set." None of the things were fancy. None of them were even new. But new and fancy didn't matter. Being together again was all that mattered. "So I'm gonna pull the girls from here today, and they— "

"Mr. Holbrook."

Callum went silent, but his mouth still hung open. He clacked his jaw closed.

The woman settled in her seat and held her hand toward the chair she'd pointed out earlier. "Sit down, please. We need to talk."

He could tell by her sad face this would be bad news. He'd rather take it on his feet. He'd stayed standing when the doctor told him his wife hadn't survived Winnie's birthing. He stood straight when the boss at the docks told him he didn't have a job there anymore. He stood through countless other bosses turning him away. Callum might not be educated or wealthy or powerful, but he was strong. He'd stand, no matter what Miss Armstrong said. He shook his head.

Miss Armstrong huffed out a sigh that let Callum know she wasn't pleased. "Very well, then." She linked her hands and looked directly into his face. "Your girls aren't here. Nor, as you've likely already discerned, are any of the other children. They've all been sent away."

"To another asylum in New York?"

"No, sir. They've been sent west."

His knees wobbled. Maybe he should have sat. He braced himself against the doorjamb. "Ma'am, you aren't making any sense. What does that even mean, 'west'?" Realization struck with as much force as a two- by -four against his skull. He staggered forward a few feet and gaped at her. "You don't mean west, do you?"

She sighed again, this time sounding more regretful than aggravated. "Mr. Holbrook, when you placed Evelyn and Edwina with us, you were informed of our involvement in home finding. Our mission has always been to see our children placed with families rather than forever residing in an institution."

He took another shaky step in her direction. "An' I told you the girls' being here was only for a while. Until Winnie was big enough to go to school." Winnie wasn't quite school-age yet, but Evvie was in her seventh year. That was plenty of book learning for a girl— two years more than either he or Freida got. She could take care of Winnie and the apartment.

Miss Armstrong stood and rested her fingertips on the desktop. "Mr. Holbrook, you must be aware that our country is in a difficult period."

He swallowed a snort. Of course he knew. He's spent nearly two years moving from borough to borough, doing odd jobs for a meal while seeking employment that would let him earn enough to take care of his girls. He gave a brusque nod.