Where We Belong

  He reached the bedroom without spilling anything and set the tray on a small table. “Thank you, Petersen,” Mr. Edmund said. “Will you help me sit up?” Soren gently gripped him beneath his arms, propping pillows behind him to make him comfortable. He felt so much thinner than before he got sick.

  “Cook sent up a cup of tea and some toast for you, too, Miss Flora,” Soren told her. “Would you like them there by your chair?”

  “Yes, please. That would be wonderful.” Miss Flora was still in her dressing gown, her golden hair in a long braid. She had spent the past few nights sleeping in a chair near her husband while Soren slept on a cot in Mr. Edmund’s dressing room so he would be nearby if they needed him. He brought Miss Flora the tea and toast, then set the breakfast tray on Mr. Edmund’s lap. His hands were so shaky, Soren had to help him eat.

  Miss Flora read books aloud to her husband when he was awake, which meant Soren also got to hear them—tales of danger and exploits in faraway places like Troy and Greece. The stories made Soren wonder what the world was like beyond Chicago, and what it would be like to travel there. Miss Flora spent the long hours when Mr. Edmund was asleep teaching Soren to read and write. “You’re doing so well,” she’d told him last week. “Soon you’ll be able to read books to Mr. Edmund yourself.” They were also learning numbers and how to add, subtract, multiply, and divide them.

  Soren lifted the cup of tea to Mr. Edmund’s lips so he could take a swallow. “I hate it that my illness is spoiling everyone’s plans.” Edmund spoke in a near-whisper to avoid starting a coughing fit.

  “I don’t have any plans, Edmund, dear, except to help you get well.”

  “But summer is nearly here, and I won’t be able to travel to the Sinai as we’d planned. You and Rebecca must go without me.”

  “Nonsense. We can forego a summer of traveling while you recover.”

  “But Rebecca has been working so hard to learn photography for our trip, and I know how eager she is to find more manuscripts so she can convince Timothy—” He began to cough and couldn’t finish. Miss Flora set down her cup and went to sit beside him on the bed.

  “Don’t fuss about it, Edmund. There’s always next year. The monastery and its manuscripts aren’t going anywhere.”

  “What about your Sunday schools?” he asked after Soren helped him swallow some water. “You haven’t gone to work there since I became ill.”

  “I’m certain they’re surviving without me.”

  “But I don’t want you to stop doing your charity work. Please, hire a nurse to stay with me so you and Rebecca can go next Sunday.” Miss Flora started to protest, but he put his pale fingers over her lips. “Petersen will go with you, won’t you?” he asked, turning to him. “The church is in a rather rough part of town. Andrew will be driving, but I would feel better if you were there as well.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll be glad to go.”

  “Then it’s settled. Don’t argue with me, Flora, or I may start coughing again.” He smiled at her, then lifted a piece of toast in his shaky hand and took a tiny bite.

  Soren rode with Miss Flora and Miss Rebecca to one of their Sunday schools the following week. Memories of his childhood and of his mama and papa came flooding back to him when he saw the crowds of raggedy children streaming into the church. He had grown up with children like these, scavenged for coal with them along the railroad tracks, fought over the same garbage cans for something to eat. Back then, Soren never could have imagined living in a mansion. He listened to the sisters teaching the Bible lesson and thought about how much they had done for him. And he thought of Gunnar. His brother wouldn’t grow up in a tenement or play on a dirty street like these children. He wouldn’t die from drinking bad water like Hilde and Greta had. Soren knew he should be happy for Gunnar, but the ache in his chest whenever he thought of him refused to go away.

  Nearly an hour had passed when Soren saw a girl slip in through the back door, then halt to look around. Miss Rebecca had finished the Bible story and the children had divided up into groups to study reading and writing. The girl looked nervous, as if ready to run if she didn’t like what she saw. Bright red hair peeked out from beneath her bowler hat, and she was dressed funny, wearing what looked like a man’s shirt and nothing more over her petticoat and bloomers. Soren guessed her to be in her late teens—older than most of the other children. Miss Flora saw her, too, and hurried over to greet her.

  “Hello, are you new here? I’m Miss Flora. What’s your name?”

  “Kate.” She continued looking around, as if searching for all the exits. Soren had acted the same way when he’d lived on the streets with Ronald and Dan.

  “I’m afraid you’re too late for the Bible story,” Miss Flora said, “but would you like to learn to read or to write your name?” She reached out to touch Kate’s arm, but the girl flinched and backed away.

  “I’ll just watch.”

  “That’s fine. But if you change your mind, please join us.” Miss Flora returned to her students. Soren watched the girl for a while as she inched further into the room as if she might join in after all, but he eventually lost interest in her and began to daydream. He was worried about Mr. Edmund and his worsening cough. The doctors continued to come and go, and Miss Flora and Miss Rebecca continued to pray, but neither the prayers nor the medicines seemed to do any good.

  Suddenly an abrupt movement caught Soren’s attention. The red-haired girl sprinted past him in a flash, racing toward the door with Miss Flora’s purse in her hand! Soren chased after her, but Kate was far enough ahead to slam the heavy door in his face. By the time he jerked it open to follow her outside, she had disappeared. He spent the next twenty minutes searching behind garbage cans and down narrow alleyways, but she had vanished. Soren kicked an empty bin in frustration, furious with the girl and with himself. Mr. Edmund had asked him to look after Miss Flora, and he had failed. Her purse was gone.

  “Never mind,” Miss Flora said when Soren returned inside in defeat. “The Lord must know that poor child needs the money more than I do.”

  How could Miss Flora feel pity for her? She was nothing but a dirty thief—just like him. Soren couldn’t meet Miss Flora’s gaze as he remembered all the people he’d robbed, the street vendors he’d stolen from. He and his friends had once robbed a drunken man, then beaten him and left him lying in the street. Soren felt deep remorse for what he’d done in the past, and worse still for not staying alert today. Kate deserved to go to jail for robbing the sisters. They did so much to help the poor—and him.

  Soren stood guard the following Sunday, watching to see if the red-haired thief would be bold enough to return and steal from them again. He scanned the streets all the way there and back, searching for the girl in the bowler hat, but there was no sign of her.

  The following Saturday morning, Professor Dyk arrived at the sisters’ home for a visit. He’d become a regular guest, and he greeted Soren with a huge grin and a clap on the back when he answered the front door. “How are you today, Petersen?”

  “Fine, sir. Thank you.”

  “Good. Glad to hear it.” He chatted with Petersen, telling him about the streetcars he’d taken to get there and how busy the traffic had been. Soren liked Professor Dyk almost as much as he liked Mr. Edmund. He had a funny, bumbling way about him and always took time to talk with Soren and the other servants. Soren was waiting for a chance to ask if he could take the professor’s hat when Miss Rebecca came out of her study and beckoned to them.

  “Stop talking that poor boy’s ear off, Timothy, and come inside. . . . You, too, Petersen, there’s something we want to tell you.” He followed her and the professor inside, surprised to see Miss Rebecca’s camera equipment packed in carrying cases near the door.

  Miss Rebecca smiled as she turned to Soren. “We didn’t want to mention it until we were certain, Petersen, but we’ve made arrangements for you to visit with Gunnar. There will be no sneaking around this time, either. His new parents were very upset to lea
rn that you and he had been separated, and—”

  “When?” he interrupted.

  “Today.”

  Soren opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His heart raced so fast he feared it would burst.

  “Flora and I went back to speak with them, and although they were sympathetic, they expressed concern that seeing you again would disrupt Gunnar’s new life. He’s still a very sensitive child. So they asked if we could start with a short trial meeting today, to see how Gunnar reacts. And since they didn’t wish us to come to their home, we’ve arranged to meet beside the bear cage at the Lincoln Park Zoological Garden.”

  “I—I don’t know what to say. . . .”

  “You don’t need to say anything, Petersen. Now, if you wouldn’t mind helping me with my camera things, we can be on our way. I’m going to ask Gunnar’s parents if I can take a photograph of you and him together, so you’ll each have a picture to look at while you’re apart.”

  Soren quickly bent to gather up the cases and tripod, hoping Miss Rebecca wouldn’t see his tears. Andrew had the carriage waiting outside. Within minutes they’d loaded the camera equipment and were on their way. Miss Rebecca had been learning to take photographs for several months now, and copies of her work were in frames all over the house. She’d had carpenters build a darkroom in the basement, and she’d invited Soren to come downstairs and help her develop the pictures. He loved watching the faded images emerge from the pan of pungent liquid and hanging them up on the little line to dry.

  Soren’s stomach churned with excitement as he sat on the seat beside Andrew. He was glad they hadn’t told him about this visit sooner, or he would have been too distracted to do anything else. Even now, everything was happening so fast he wasn’t entirely sure that he was awake and not dreaming. It was a beautiful fall day and Professor Dyk and Miss Rebecca rode with the carriage top open on the way to the park. He could hear them talking and laughing as they headed toward the city.

  “Isn’t this a gorgeous day?” Miss Rebecca asked.

  “Spectacular! If you would just give in and marry me, every day would be as beautiful as this one.”

  “You know I’d marry you this afternoon if you were a believer. What will it take, Timothy? Why can’t you just let go and make that leap of faith?”

  “I can’t answer that. . . . I honestly don’t know.”

  “What obstacle is your too-logical mind stumbling over today?”

  “Rebecca, my love, I did as you asked and read the Gospel of Matthew, and I don’t understand how a brilliant woman like you can honestly believe that Jesus performed all those miracles. Walking on water? How can a rational person be expected to believe anything that contradicts science? This is the problem I have with all religions. From the very beginning of history, primitive people have invented gods to explain things in nature. As science continues to progress, no one will believe in supernatural miracles anymore.”

  “Miracles are absurd only if you don’t believe in an all-powerful God. You shouldn’t look at just that isolated story in Scripture but at the totality of the Bible. It provides a picture of who God is and what He’s like. Once you know Him, Timothy, once you’ve felt the enormity of His love, you’ll know He’s capable of miracles. Isn’t life itself a miracle? The love of a man and a woman? A child growing in its mother’s womb? A caterpillar becoming a butterfly? The only reason we don’t recognize them as miracles is because we’re used to them. As for walking on water, the New Testament was written when eyewitnesses to these events still lived.”

  “How do you know the stories weren’t changed and embellished by later copyists?”

  “Here we go again,” Miss Rebecca said. “We’ve had this argument before, and I don’t care to rehash it. Besides, there’s Lincoln Park up ahead. Let’s not spoil this lovely day. We’ll finish this discussion later.”

  Soren had been to Lincoln Park before. During the year that he’d lived on the street, it was one of the places he visited to search for Gunnar. Today he would really see him. He lifted Miss Rebecca’s camera equipment out of the carriage and carried it down the walkway toward the bear cage. He hoped he wouldn’t have to wait long. He’d never endure the suspense. What if Gunnar’s family changed their minds and decided not come after all . . .

  Then Soren saw him! Gunnar stood beside the cage, looking at the crowd, not the bear. When he saw Soren, he let go of the well-dressed man’s hand and raced toward him. Soren set down the camera cases and pulled his brother into his arms, holding him tightly. He was determined not to cry or do anything else to upset Gunnar. This must go well so they could see each other more often.

  While Miss Rebecca and the professor talked with Gunnar’s parents, Soren sat down on the grass and pulled Gunnar onto his lap. “You’re so big now, Gunnar. Tell me how you’ve been. Do you go to school now?”

  Gunnar told him all about his life, and Soren had never seen his brother so happy and talkative. He was most excited about the new puppy his parents had bought for him. “I wanted to bring him to meet you,” Gunnar said, “but Papa said maybe next time. You’re going to come and see me again, aren’t you?”

  “I would love to. But it’s going to depend on you, Gunnar. You have to be a big boy and not cry when our time is up today because your mama and papa don’t want you to be upset. If you fuss, they won’t let us see each other. Can you be brave and trust me when I say that I’ll come back again?”

  “Why can’t you live with us?”

  “Because I have a job now. And you have to go to school.”

  “Then why can’t I live with you?”

  Soren longed to bring his brother home so they could be together every day. The pain of their unjust separation welled within him. But he knew that he needed to control himself or he would lose Gunnar forever. “Your new mama and papa would miss you very much if you lived with me. And wouldn’t you miss them, too? And your new puppy? This is what’s best for all of us. I’m still your brother, and I still love you very, very much. And from now on, we’ll see each other as often as we can.”

  They talked for nearly an hour, until Soren noticed Gunnar’s parents moving closer. His mother looked anxious. “Miss Hawes would like to take your picture now, Gunnar,” she said. “And then it will be time for us to go.” Miss Rebecca had the camera and tripod all set up by a park bench and was waiting for them to sit for their photograph.

  “Remember . . . no crying,” Soren whispered as they looked up at the camera. They shared one last hug, and their time together was over.

  Soren felt a mixture of joy and pain on the ride home. He wanted to ask Miss Rebecca if they could go down to the basement and develop the pictures right away. But before Soren could swivel around on the seat to ask her, she and the professor started debating again.

  “The world is so complex, Timothy. You saw those zoo animals today—how can you possibly believe that a bison or a bear evolved from a simpler species?”

  “How can you believe that they all fit into a giant boat?”

  Miss Rebecca huffed in irritation. “Even if I were willing to accept that they did evolve, where did that first specie of animal come from? Where did the minerals and other components of life come from?”

  “I trust science will discover the answers to your questions in the future.”

  “Just for once, Timothy, use your heart instead of your mind. You’ve made reason and logic your god—which is exactly why ancient cultures made idols of wood and stone. They only believed in gods they could see and touch. You’re doing the same thing!”

  She had raised her voice, and the professor gently shushed her. “Let’s not argue, my dear. Petersen has just had a wonderful visit with his brother. Let’s enjoy the afternoon.”

  Much to Soren’s disappointment, Miss Rebecca didn’t have a chance to develop her photographs that day. He would have to wait. He was taking care of Mr. Edmund a few days later when the professor came upstairs to visit him. Mr. Edmund was so weak after a nigh
t of terrible coughing that he couldn’t sit up or even feed himself without help. Soren feared he was dying, and he didn’t want to lose him, too.

  “Should I come back at a better time?” Professor Dyk asked.

  “No, come in and keep me company,” Mr. Edmund said, opening his eyes. Soren was sitting at a little table, doing the page of arithmetic problems Miss Flora had given him. He rose to leave, but Mr. Edmund said, “You may stay and finish your work, son. You won’t bother us.”

  Soren concentrated on his work, not really listening to the men until the professor’s voice grew louder. “Believe me, Edmund. I’ve thought about how easy it would be to say that I believe what you and Rebecca and Flora do. I would be able to spend the rest of my life with her. But it would be a lie, and I can’t bring myself to lie to the woman I love.”

  Mr. Edmund managed a weak smile. “But if there’s no God, no standard of right and wrong, then what makes you believe that telling a lie is morally wrong?”

  The professor laughed. “I suppose you have a point. But Rebecca believes that it’s wrong to misrepresent one’s faith, and I don’t want to debase myself in her eyes. It’s bad enough that she thinks less of me for not being a Christian. The least I can do is adopt her standards of right and wrong.”

  “She loves you very much.”

  “I know she does . . . I know. And I love her.”

  “You’re not drawn just to Rebecca’s mind, you know, but to her soul—and that’s the Holy Spirit living in her. Let me ask you something, Timothy. Where do you suppose love originates? Is it purely biological? Something that has evolved in our hearts and minds as we’ve evolved from the lower species as Mr. Darwin believes?”