Yesterday she'd been so enthralled with Lake Michigan's beauty that she hadn't noticed the toll the drought had taken. The water level was so low that the natural water line could be seen on the dried and fractured bank. Dead bushes clung to parched earth high on the embankment. No place has been spared, Laurel thought sadly.
Joe led the way to the railway station. Laurel had rarely visited any city, and the bray of horns, grinding gears of buses, and exhaust fumes were enough to send her straight back to the farm.
Laurel looked through the back window at the boys and smiled. Brian and Justin gazed eagerly at towering buildings crowding the streets, colorful marquees shading doorways, and people hurrying along the sidewalks.
Most of the people were nicely dressed and seemed in a hurry.
Maybe she could make it in the city on her own. “Do you think folks here have jobs?”
“It's like anywhere else. Some do and some don't,” Will said. “Unemployment is high everywhere. I'd say a good share of these folks are out looking for work.” Joe slowed, and so did Will.
“Do you think they have enough to eat?” Laurel pressed.
“With government soup lines I don't suppose anyone has to go hungry, but I expect some are.”
Laurel's eyes fell upon a young woman sitting in a doorway. She looked weary and wretched. Two blond-headed children sat on her lap. Their oversized clothing was threadbare and dirty.
Joe turned into the railway station, and Will followed. “This is it.” He drove through a parking area where other pickups loaded with furniture and farm equipment were already parked. “Seems a lot of folks are moving,” he said, parking in an empty space.
People waited. Some stood alone; others visited. Confusion painted some of the faces, worry etched others, and some were alight with anticipation. A group of older boys played Kick the Can while other youngsters hung close to parents.
“Where do we go?” Jean asked.
“Well, I s'pose we should check in at the ticket office.” Will stepped out of the truck, stopped to speak to Joe a moment, then taking long, unhurried steps, walked to the terminal and disappeared inside.
Laurel fought to relax tight muscles. “I think I'll take a look around,” she told her mother, opening the door and stepping out. “Do you mind?”
“No, but don't wander too far.”
“I won't.”
Brian and Justin jumped out of the back. “Where you goin'?” Justin asked.
“For a walk.”
“Can we go?”
Laurel wanted to be alone, but when she looked at Justin's expectant eyes and Brian's playful smile, she couldn't resist. “Mama, is it all right if the boys come with me?”
Jean smiled and nodded.
“OK, hold my hand,” Laurel said. “I'm not taking a chance of losing either of you.” Each boy clasped one of his sister's hands and nearly dragged her toward the terminal. Luke jumped out of the truck and walked in the opposite direction.
“Do you think that's our train?” Brian asked, pointing at one waiting alongside the depot. A line of parked trucks was being unloaded, their possessions disappearing into boxcars.
“Probably.”
Justin studied the passenger cars. “I don't think so,” he said. “There aren't any people on it.”
“That's just cause it's not time yet,” Brian argued.
“Maybe,” Justin shrugged.
Without warning, the train's whistle shrieked. Laurel jumped. The boys tightened their hold on her hands. “Maybe we should go back to the truck,” Laurel said.
Justin nodded, his eyes wide and a little frightened.
“I want to see the rest of the train,” Brian said.
Laurel glanced at the parking lot. The truck was still parked. “All right, but just a little while longer.”
They walked the length of the train. Doors on some of the boxcars were open. Brian broke free of Laurel's grasp and ran to one car. He jumped and jumped, trying to see inside. “Lift me up.” When Laurel didn't respond immediately, he said, “Please.”
Curious herself, Laurel hefted Brian and peeked inside. Assorted furniture, boxes, and household items were stacked against the walls. “There sure is a lot of stuff,” the little boy said. “Where are they going to put ours?”
“There are other boxcars. I'm sure there's plenty of room.” Laurel set the boy on the ground.
She looked back at their pickup. Her father was backing it out of its place. “We better get back.”
Laurel started walking but stopped short when she looked into a camera pointed directly at her. For a moment she didn't know what to do. She'd never liked having her picture taken. She smiled briefly and continued on. The man behind the camera stepped in front of her, walking backward while continuing to snap photographs. At first Laurel tried to ignore him, but finally, too disconcerted, she stopped. Arms folded over her chest, she frowned at the stranger. Lowering his camera, he flashed a charming smile. Laurel ignored his friendly overtures but couldn't help noticing deep blue eyes set in a likable, handsome face. Looking almost boyish, he brushed a brown curl off his forehead. “Are you always so rude?” she asked.
“Always,” he said.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking your picture.”
