My Heart Belongs in San Francisco, California

  “We did, indeed. Some things never change, honey.”

  “And some things change so much you don’t know if your heart can take it.”

  “Meaning?”

  Sam shook his head and didn’t respond until the right words came to him. “I don’t know, Cookie. I’ve been battling a serious longing for home, if you want the truth of it. Don’t know how much longer I can take it here.”

  “Really? Ready to pack your bag and head back to Independence?” Cookie looked surprised by this notion.

  “That’s just it …” He stared at the sun as his truest thoughts ushered forth. “I never sought to be free of that place. I know Father did, but not me. I would have been content to stay put all of my days.”

  “And yet, here you are, a world away, feeling discontent. Seems there’s a lot of that going around.”

  “Yes, here I am.” Sam did his best not to groan aloud. “In a town filled with men who’ve been given all the independence they could ever want, and they’ve run too far with it. God brought me here, for some reason unbeknownst to me.”

  “He will show you, in time.”

  “For now, I feel …”

  “Trapped?”

  “That’s one way to put it.”

  She rested her palms on the table and looked at him with such intensity that he started to sweat a bit. “So, why not leave and go back home? You don’t have to stay. Your father could manage, and you could have your life back.”

  “I would spend every day worrying about him, wondering how he’s doing. Suffice it to say, prying him away from San Francisco will be next to impossible, so I’m here for good. Or at least until the Lord speaks in an audible voice.”

  “He’s done that before, you know. Spoke through a donkey.”

  “Humph.”

  Cookie gestured for him to sit at a nearby table. “If I say what’s really on my mind, you might misunderstand.”

  “Try me.” He took a seat, curious to hear her thoughts.

  For a moment, she said nothing. When she did speak, she caught him off guard. “Sammy, you were the perfect little boy.”

  “Hardly.” He laughed. “Far from it, in fact.”

  “You know what I mean.” Concern flooded Cookie’s eyes. “While other little boys were splashing in mud puddles and pulling classmates’ pigtails, you were seated with a book or puzzle. Content to stay put in quiet fashion.”

  “I see your point. But that hardly makes me perfect.”

  “You were always so … good.” Her eyebrow arched a bit. “Do you get my point?”

  “Not really. Are you advocating a more sinful lifestyle? Should I have climbed out of my bedroom window and pranced around town in my skivvies?”

  “Yes, exactly!”

  “Cookie, I was joking.”

  “Oh.” Her smile faded. “Sam, I’m not saying you should’ve been particularly naughty, but you always seemed to live well within the boundaries of society, safe inside the tidy framework your mother created for you. She kept a perfect home in a perfect town and had a perfect child. It was all so … perfect. And safe.”

  “Nothing wrong with safe. Boundaries are a good thing.”

  “Mostly. But sometimes they squelch our courage. They convince us we’re not strong enough to do what our heart tells us in secret that it wants to do. And now, here you are, in San Francisco, startled by the fact that other little boys grew up to be rowdy, whiskey-drinking fools.”

  “Surely you’re not suggesting I join them.”

  “Not at all. You’re missing my point. I’m just saying that your mother’s quiet restrictions on your life have made you less than courageous when it comes to standing up to your father, that’s all.” She released a slow breath, as if speaking those words had taken a lot out of her. “If you really want to strike out on your own, don’t let your worries and fears keep you bound. Your father will survive without you. And it’s time you learned that you can survive without him as well.”

  Sam paused, her words striking a heavy chord. “Oh.” It was the only word he could manage. So, Cookie thought he was a coward?

  The look of concern that followed on her end made him nervous. “Think about what I’ve said here, Sam.” She patted his hand. “That’s all I ask. Your father might’ve yanked you by the arm and pulled you to California, but that doesn’t mean his grip on you has to remain tight. Courage says this is one boundary worth crossing.”

  She marched out of the room, shoulders squared. Sam released a sigh. If only he had as much courage as Cookie, he’d be halfway back to Independence already.

  Over the next few days, Abby couldn’t stop thinking about Cookie’s insistence that she come to work at the inn. It might be fun to have a job, and the idea of sleeping in her own room at no cost held great appeal, especially with finances dwindling.

  Neville didn’t seem convinced, but then again, Neville had been a hard sell on San Francisco as a whole. The more Abby thought about it, the more convinced she became. She would take on the job and would do so with excitement in her heart. The thought of spending more time with Cookie felt comfortable, and it didn’t bother her one bit that she would see more of Sam too.

  On Monday morning, after a hearty breakfast at the Gold Rush Inn, she gave the news to Cookie, who seemed delighted.

  “Marvelous!” The older woman’s eyes sparkled. “Let me show you to your room. Neville can bring your things over from the Ivory Tower any time you like.”

  Though he grumbled a bit about this decision, Neville headed off to the hotel to fetch their bags. Cookie led the way up the stairs to the rooms above, chattering all the way. Abby ran her hand along the wooden railing, and when they reached the landing at the top, turned to look down on the dining room. Funny, seeing it from this perspective. It seemed larger, somehow.

  She followed Cookie down the narrow hallway, past several doors leading to guests’ rooms, to a door at the end of the hall.

  When Cookie opened the door, Abby tried not to gasp aloud. The room was small in size and in need of cleaning. Immediate cleaning.

  “Now, I know what you’re thinking.” Cookie pulled back the curtains and a rush of dust filled the small area. “This room has been used for storage, but never you mind all of that. We’ll get ’er cleaned up before nightfall, I promise.”

  “This isn’t really much of a bed, is it?” Abby stared down at the dirty cot and tried to imagine what it would be like, to rest there.

  “Afraid not.” Cookie looked concerned for a moment. Just as quickly, her lips curled up in a playful smile. “I know you’re terribly impressed. We’ve given you the best room in the place. But you’re worth it, Miss Abby.”

  “Funny.” Abby glanced around, noticing the cobwebs in the corner, the sticky glass of something-or-other on the rickety table next to the bed, and the filthy quilt tossed on the floor nearby.

  “I … well, I hardly know where to begin.”

  Cookie patted her on the back. “All jokes aside, this is the only space we have left. I could move you into my room with me, but we’d have to share a bed, and mine isn’t much larger than this. And I know how young women are—they need their own space. Privacy.”

  “Right.”

  “Not to worry. I’ll send Jin to tidy up the room. He can take care of it after breakfast. Would you like to leave your bag?”

  “Is it safe?”

  Cookie dangled a key in her hand. “We’ll lock ’er up nice and tight. No one will bother your stuff. Trust me when I say that most of the folks who venture through this place don’t lack for funds. If they want to steal something, it’s usually another fellow’s panning dish or something along those lines. I doubt seriously anyone will rummage through your things. But just in case, you can keep the room locked up.”

  “I appreciate that.” Abby gave another look around and tried to envision what the room would look like after being cleaned up. “Maybe I can stop by the mercantile and pick up a fresh quilt or some new sheets.”
br />   “Good luck finding those. They’re in short supply around here, what with all the folks coming through town. But don’t you fret, Miss Abigail. Jin will turn this place over in a hurry. He’s a miracle worker, that one.”

  “All right.” Abby walked to the tiny wardrobe. When she opened it, something flew out. She let out a scream and jolted backward.

  This seemed to get Cookie tickled. She doubled over in laughter. “Just a little bat, honey. You disturbed his nest.”

  “His nest?” Abby’s heart thumped a mile a minute. “Are you saying there are more bats in there?”

  “Well, sure, but don’t fret. You’ll get used to them after a while.”

  “Get used to them?” She watched as the little bat flew out the door into the hallway. “I don’t think so.”

  “Trust me, there are a great many things you will have to choose to ignore. But you will adapt, I assure you. Haven’t you already grown used to the men?”

  “I suppose.” Abby took her bag and set it on the cot. She placed her reticule inside the bag and then shoved it under the bed.

  “Not going to put it in the wardrobe?”

  “To be used as a nest for who-knows-what?” Abby shook her head, the idea making her stomach churn. “I think not.”

  “As you like. But don’t be surprised if you come back to discover the mice have eaten a hole in your bag.”

  “M–mice?”

  “Well sure. Don’t they have mice in England?”

  “Outdoors, of course. And occasionally in the cellar. But not inside our bedrooms, as a rule.” She pulled the bag out from under the bed and walked over to the musty wardrobe. After shoving the bag inside she closed the door. Well, she tried to close it at any rate. One of the hinges came loose and it swung wildly, nearly clipping her in the arm.

  “For pity’s sake. Is everything around here falling apart?” She didn’t mean for the words to come out as an accusation, but couldn’t take them back.

  Cookie laughed and rubbed her hips. “Yep, including the help. These old joints ain’t what they used to be, that’s sure and certain.”

  Abby followed her new friend out into the hallway. The boisterous sound of men’s voices greeted her as they made their way to the open stairway leading down to the dining hall. Then came the whistles and jeers from the fellows as she and Cookie walked down the steps.

  “Woo-hoo!” a fellow with a thick gray mustache called out. “Look what’s on the dessert menu, fellas.”

  Abby felt her cheeks grow hot. She wanted to bolt back up to her room and slam the door, but images of mice running under the bed changed her mind.

  Just when she was hoping she could rest her thoughts, the tiny bat flew by her and made its way into the dining hall. She swatted at it and let out a scream, then lost her grip on the stair railing. Just as she felt herself starting to tumble downward, a strong hand gripped her arm.

  “Careful, there.”

  She turned to discover Sam was standing behind her. Had he been there all along?

  “I’ll quiet the fellas down,” he said, his voice low. “But I can’t promise to get rid of the bats. They come and go as they please.”

  “I … I see.”

  “Though, to be fair, they tend to be more active at night, so this morning display is probably just for your benefit, to get you stirred up.”

  “It’s working.” She tried to act brave.

  “You two gonna gab all morning?” Cookie turned back to face her. “I’ve got work to do and could use a hand. There’s a pot of stew simmering for lunch and dough rising for bread, but I need to get it in the oven. There’s not much the fellas like better than hot bread with fresh, creamy butter.”

  “Unless it’s your cherry pie,” Abby observed.

  “You’ve a fascination with that, haven’t you?” Cookie slipped an arm over Abby’s shoulder.

  “That, and your coffee.” Abby suddenly felt quite content. “Cookie, you make the best cup of coffee in the world.”

  “Really? You think so?”

  “Oh, I know so. I’ve had coffees of every kind, and from so many places around the world. But I can truly say that yours is the finest. What’s your secret?”

  “Just the beans, I suppose. We use Pioneer Steam coffee. Ever heard of it?”

  Abby shook her head. “No, but it’s delicious.”

  “Made its way out west with the gold prospectors. What did you drink in England?”

  “Trust me, people are more of a mind to drink tea in Nottingham. I’m a rare bird, in that I always preferred a cup of coffee. Brings a particular kind of happiness, I guess you’d say.”

  “And perks a body up too. I couldn’t get half the work done around here without my morning cup. Now, let’s get to the kitchen, shall we?”

  “Yes, but as I said, I’m at a loss to know what to do.”

  “Don’t fret. Before long you’ll be making the cherry pies. And the bread. I might even let you cream the butter. And if you’re really coming along, I’ll show you how to make a good cup of coffee.”

  Abby swallowed hard and worked up the courage to speak her thoughts aloud. “Cookie, I didn’t want to say anything earlier, but I have very little—if any—experience in the kitchen. Are you sure you want to take me on?”

  “Watch and learn, honey. I dare say you’ll be at home in no time. And until then, I will do my best to be patient.”

  Abby followed her into the kitchen, which was filled top to bottom, side to side, with food products in various stages of production. Jin worked diligently to peel potatoes, which he dropped into the big pot of stew on the wood stove. Abby looked on in fascination, enjoying the sights and the smells.

  In all her days, she’d never given thought to what went on in a kitchen. The family’s cook simply brought delicious food to the table and then removed the dirty dishes afterward, to a kitchen Abby rarely wandered through.

  “Put on an apron, Abby, and be quick about it. One of the white ones will do.” Cookie pointed to the pegs on the wall and Abby grabbed an apron, then tied it on. Her hands trembled with such anxiety that she could barely accomplish the task. Why, oh why, had she agreed to this?

  “Don’t fret, honey.” Cookie rested a hand on her shoulder, perhaps in response to the look of panic on Abby’s face. “You’ll be a quick learner. I’ll have you popping out pies in no time.”

  “I hope so.”

  “‘Study to shew thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth.’ Second Timothy, chapter two. Can’t seem to remember the verse.”

  “Right. I will pay close attention and be a ready student.”

  “And as far as Neville goes …”

  “Don’t fret over Neville.” Abby dismissed any concerns with the wave of a hand. “He’s spent his life caring for others, and I know he’ll do a fine job waiting tables. I doubt he will do so with a willing heart, is all. I feel I’ve dragged him into a situation he’s not happy about.”

  “He has just as much opportunity to find joy in the situation as bitterness.” A thoughtful look came over Cookie. “Give him time. I think he’ll come around.”

  “I hope so.” Abby paused to think about the woman’s words before responding. “It’s going to take time, I think, for him to forgive me for all of this.”

  “Forgive you? For bringing him to California, you mean?” Cookie looked stunned by this news.

  “For all of it—racing off here and there, looking for Mama. It was never his battle to fight, but he has done so admirably.”

  Cookie clucked her tongue before responding: “‘The Lord shall fight for you, and ye shall hold your peace.’ Exodus 14:14.”

  “My goodness, you do that so well.”

  “Do what?” Cookie asked.

  “Say those verses. You must have many of them set to memory.”

  “Best way to get through the day,” Cookie said with a smile. “And a tremendous source of encouragement when I need it. No
thing like a good Bible verse to soothe troubled waters.” She turned back to her work, now humming a familiar hymn.

  Abby observed the woman in silence for a few moments, and did her best to figure her out. Cookie stood in stark contrast to the other women in town. While most wore flamboyant dresses and showed off their curves, this sweet gal wore a modest uniform, suitable to her work in the kitchen. She paid no mind to her salt-and-pepper hair, which she’d pulled into a bun. And Cookie certainly wouldn’t win any awards for polish and shine. Her shoes were chipped and her apron stained. Still, there was something about the woman that struck Abby as beautiful. The words that came out of her mouth were different too. Kinder. More thoughtful.

  Cookie continued to hum as she worked, then glanced Abby’s way. “Need any help over there, kid?”

  “I, um, no.” Abby stirred the pot of stew, nearly burning herself in the process.

  “I’m guessing you didn’t spend many hours over the stove at home.”

  A loud snort from across the room caught Abby off guard. Neville had entered the room. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, as if to say, “I won’t be working anytime soon.”

  “While I was afforded many opportunities to learn, cooking was not on the list.” Abby offered what she hoped would look like a brave smile. “Though I’m always open to trying.”

  “You might want to try pulling that pot off the heat, then.” Cookie bolted toward her and yanked the pot away from the fire. “I can smell the beef burning from here. And if there’s one thing we can’t afford around here, it’s wasted food.”

  “Because it’s so hard to come by?” Neville asked, though he never shifted his position from the wall.

  “Because good food is so hard to come by.” Cookie turned to face Neville, then swiped the back of her hand across her perspiring forehead. She rested her balled fists against her hips and gave him a pensive look. “Though I can see why someone as thin as you are would require a good meal. Didn’t they feed you, back where you came from?”

  Abby stifled a laugh. For as long as she’d known Neville, he’d been as thin as a rail. No amount of good cooking seemed to fatten him up.