Same City, Different Storm

By Donna J. Polski

Same City, Different Storm by Donna J. Polski

__________________________________

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781646709359

Book preview

cover.jpg

Same City, Different Storm

Donna J. Polski

ISBN 978-1-64670-934-2 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64670-935-9 (Digital)

Copyright © 2020 Donna J. Polski

All rights reserved

First Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Covenant Books, Inc.

11661 Hwy 707

Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

www.covenantbooks.com

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

To my parents, who gave me everything they could,

And to God, who gives me everything I need.

Acknowledgments

Writing a book has been a dream of mine ever since my 11 th grade English teacher, Mrs. Rewald, told my class there was one good book inside everyone. I can’t answer for anyone else in the class, but I at least wanted to prove her right in my case. Unfortunately, I found having the dream a lot easier than finding the time to pursue it—until I finally realized there was no such thing as finding the time. Fulfilling your dreams takes work, and if you expect to succeed you simply have to make the time. I’m glad I finally realized what should have been obvious and got busy.

I would like to thank my two brothers, who both inspired me, but in very different ways. First, I’d like to thank my brother Steve for his moral support and belief in my ability to write this book. Second, I would like to thank my brother Scott for his insistence that my English teacher was crazy, and that I would never write a book, much less get one published. His negativity was a great motivator, since I wanted to prove him wrong just as much as I wanted to prove my teacher right.

I would also like to thank Kris Kempinski, my publication assistant, for all of her help and patience with me through the entire process from editing the book to the final product, guiding this first-time author every step of the way.

Finally, for anyone wishing to learn more about life in Washington, DC during the Civil War, I highly recommend Freedom Rising: Washington in the Civil War by Ernest B. Furgurson, which I found to be an excellent resource during the writing of this book.

Chapter 1

January 16, 1861

Waukesha, Wisconsin

Daylight slipped away as the time edged closer to four o’clock. Kelin hated the shorter days of winter. The fireplace was keeping her mother’s room toasty, but the dancing flames were throwing unearthly looking shadows on the wall, adding to the already somber mood. The doctor had said it would be any time now, and that was already two days ago.

Kelin looked down at her mother who, thankfully, was asleep, courtesy of the medication her doctor had provided. It seemed like only yesterday that Kelin had been told the dreadful news. Her mother had something vaguely described as female cancer and there was no hope. Ever since that day the time she had left with her mother had gone by so fast, and now here they were, facing an end she wished would never come.

Kelin studied her mother lying so still on the bed and felt helpless. She would do anything for her mother, if only there was something that could be done. She focused on her mother’s face and wished her mother were awake so she could look into those big, brown, loving eyes one last time. She wanted to tell her once more just how much she loved her, but more than that she wanted to hear her mother’s soft, sweet voice one more time. Her mother hadn’t spoken a word in the past three days, and Kelin was afraid she was already forgetting the sound of her mother’s voice. She sat silently next to her mother, watching her sleep. She thought her mother’s face looked tense, no doubt an outward sign of her body’s inward struggle. Kelin took hold of her mother’s hands and began to massage them gently. Her mind began to wander back to happier times when she suddenly realized her mother’s breathing was becoming more labored. A slight pause began to separate each breath. She glanced quickly at her father, who was standing at the foot of the bed.

I’m scared, she cried out with a tremble in her voice.

He didn’t respond. He was looking at his wife and appeared not to hear.

She turned back to face her mother. She stared at her mother’s hands as she held them softly within her own. Her mother never liked the way her hands looked. She said the veins were too pronounced. But Kelin loved her mother’s hands. The dainty hands with the big veins. The hands of a loving mother who was always there when she needed her. The hands she held right now. The hands she never wanted to let go of.

Kelin knew her mother’s life had been filled with many disappointments. Her mother had always wanted lots of children, having come from a big family herself, but it was a dream left unfulfilled. Kelin was an only child, though not for lack of trying. Her mother had one miscarriage before Kelin was born and three after. Her mother never told her about them until one day, when Kelin was thirteen and in an inquisitive mood, she asked her mother why she never had more children. After that, Kelin often wondered what her lost siblings would have been like and what it might have been like to grow up with them. She imagined all sorts of adventures with any number of siblings, but most often it was a single sister, a best friend and confidant, whom she imagined and wished for. In the end, though, she accepted life the way it was, especially when she realized she already had a best friend. But now, as she sat next to her dying mother and was about to lose that best friend, she wished again for the existence of those lost siblings.

Her mother let out a breath and didn’t take another for a moment that felt like forever. Kelin held her breath, not taking another until her mother did, and then let out a sigh of relief. But then it happened again. And again. Suddenly her mother stopped breathing, and there were no more pauses. There were no more breaths.

Kelin was overwhelmed.

No, Mama, no! she cried out, but it was over. Her mother was gone. Suddenly her mother’s body twitched for an instant, and then it lay still, never to move again. Kelin surmised that in that brief moment her mother’s soul left this earth for its new home in heaven.

She looked over at her father. Her strong and determined father—the man who never let anything stop him—was crying. It was a sight she had never seen before or even imagined. She felt completely lost and broke down into uncontrollable sobbing. She looked at her mother, lying still and unusually peaceful. All the pain she had suffered through was gone and there was no longer any visible sign of it on her face. Kelin knew her mother was in a wonderful place now, and she was crying for herself and not for her mother, but she couldn’t stop.

She sat there holding her mother’s hands, crying until her eyes burned. Suddenly she felt her father’s hand on her shoulder. She turned to look at him.

The doctor needs time with your mother, he said.

She looked at her mother’s face one last time and nodded. Slowly she let go of her mother’s hands, stood up, and quietly left the room. She grabbed her coat and went out into the January night. It was so cold the snow was crunchy beneath her feet. She stared up into the star-filled sky. The night was clear and the full moon was low and extremely bright.

Kelin took a deep breath and the frigid, biting air made her cough. Winter was her mother’s favorite season. Her mother had grown up with five sisters near Hayward, in northern Wisconsin. Her mother always loved the outdoors and enjoyed telling Kelin stories of her childhood, how she would ice skate on frozen-over ponds, go sledding, and have fabulously silly snowball fights with her sisters. When she was older she enjoyed sleigh rides through the snow, the bells on the sleigh jangling away, while she and her companions stayed tucked under thick blankets, their feet surrounded by potatoes baked hot enough to keep their toes nice and warm—at least until the potatoes cooled off.

Kelin’s mother had taught her to skate, make angels in the snow, catch snowflakes on her tongue, and build countless fat and jolly snowmen, but Kelin just couldn’t love winter the way her mother did. Now, Kelin thought it almost poetic that her mother’s journey to heaven would take place during her favorite season. The vision Kelin had of angels escorting her mother as she disappeared into the heavens only underscored the reality that her mother was truly gone.

Oh, Mama, she exclaimed aloud, watching her breath as she exhaled. She shivered as she stood there staring at the moon, transfixed by its prominence in the cloudless night sky. She couldn’t help herself and began to cry again. The tears burned when they hit her cheeks.

Oh, Mama, what am I going to do without you?

Kelin was fourteen years old. Not long ago, when her mother told her it was finally time for her to start dressing like a young lady, she started wearing more fitted dresses with skirts that actually touched the ground. Her mother showed her how to wear her long blonde hair pulled up and away from her face. At first Kelin resisted the transition, feeling strangled by the rules as much as the clothes, but her mother insisted it was a necessary first step in getting young men to notice her. Kelin wasn’t sure if she was ready for that, but she decided to trust her mother and see what might happen. Now, with her mother gone, she felt lost. Who would be there to tell her all the things she’d need to know as she grew into a woman? It was just her and her father now and, as much as she loved him, there would be things she’d want to know that she wouldn’t feel comfortable asking her father about. There would be things she’d want to know that would be better answered by a woman. She had no idea where she was going to find those answers now.

Kelin gradually stopped crying. Her eyes were swollen and she was exhausted. She closed her tired eyes for a moment and let out a heavy sigh. The future was more than she wanted to think about right now. She would worry about those answers another day. She shivered one last time and went back inside.

The days after her mother’s death went by one after another, but to Kelin it felt like time was on pause while she wandered through a fog that wouldn’t lift. One minute she was crying and the next minute she was completely numb. Preparing for the funeral was especially difficult, and when the time came Kelin felt almost detached from the event, as if she was watching it through a window while it was happening to someone else. She was surprised that no one from her mother’s family had come down for the funeral, not even a single sister. She knew they still lived up north, and that it was a long way to travel, but her mother had talked so often about her sisters—especially Monica, only a year older and to whom she had been the closest growing up, and Amelia, her youngest sister, and the one her mother always said Kelin reminded her of the most. She was so sure at least one of them would come to say goodbye.

Kelin had hoped for the opportunity to meet them, to hear them tell stories about her mother when she was growing up, to learn whom her mother was from a completely different perspective, and to have the embrace of family lessen her heartache, if only for a little while. Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be. Kelin didn’t know it, but her father never sent word to her mother’s family that her mother had passed away.

Days passed, and once the funeral was behind her, Kelin found that she cried less and less. She longed to spend time cuddled up next to her father, with his protective arms surrounding her, but he was never around. She had no idea where he was, but she assumed he was off trying to cope in his own way. Kelin spent her time alone, wandering about their silent house, accompanied by memories of her mother that paraded through her thoughts on a loop that wouldn’t stop.

Some of the memories she had were her own, and others were of stories she had been told, like how her parents had first met. Her mother, Elizabeth, was a school teacher, and she met Kelin’s father, Matthew, when he came to fix a broken window at the schoolhouse. Elizabeth didn’t find out until after they were married that Matt actually broke the window himself—and on purpose—to give himself an excuse to be at the school. For Matt it had been love at first sight, and the love he had for his Lizzie never waned. He adored her and wanted to give her everything she needed. He insisted he would do anything for her, absolutely anything. All she had to do was ask. Kelin knew her mother’s love for her father was just as strong. Not only did she give up everything for him, but she never asked him for anything she didn’t absolutely need or knew he couldn’t provide.

Elizabeth quit teaching after they were married. Matt had insisted on that. He didn’t want anyone thinking he couldn’t provide for her. But Matt had always been a restless sort, constantly searching for that one success that would define him, and he thought nothing of changing jobs whenever something new intrigued him. Elizabeth understood the unreachable need that drove her husband and kept him from ever feeling satisfied. Whenever he wanted to move on to the next challenge, she embraced his enthusiasm and supported his decision. When Kelin was older and better able to understand, she realized her mother’s enthusiasm was merely a façade she wore to hide what had to be an inner resignation. Kelin could see her mother loved her father without question, for her mother would never do or say anything to hurt him, no matter how difficult life might become.

Lean times usually followed each career change. The financial ups and downs were confusing for Kelin to understand. Her father never failed at what he was doing. He just lost interest and moved on to something else. Her mother always offered to get a job while her father was trying to settle into his next adventure, just to make the transition easier, but her father would never allow it. He was a proud and determined man. Like Kelin, her father was an only child. His mother, Aurelia, had died when he was thirteen and his father, Samuel, had remarried a mere three months later. Unfortunately, his father’s new wife made it clear she didn’t want Matt around, so he ran away and never looked back. After ten years spent never needing to worry about or answer to anyone he met Kelin’s mother, and though he loved her dearly, the transition to husband and then father had been difficult for him as he tried to adjust to all of his new responsibilities and all of the expectations people had.

The past year had been different though. Her father had taken a job with the local newspaper, the Waukesha Freeman, just over a year ago, and he really seemed to find himself while covering all of the political news related to the upcoming presidential election. Kelin spent countless hours listening to her father talk about the events of the day. She knew she’d already gotten all of the education she was likely to get. Her father didn’t believe in higher education for women. He felt it was a waste of time and money since he believed a woman’s destiny was to get married and have children. As her father put it, it’s not as though they’re going to get a job or do anything important. Still, Kelin loved to read and, as a young woman, was an unlikely fan of politics. Maybe it was because the new Republican Party was formed practically in her backyard. Maybe it was because Abraham Lincoln was from her part of the country. More likely, though, it was because her father talked about it with such enthusiasm that she tingled inside when she listened to him. She could listen for hours to the men gathered in town talking politics and was amazed at how passionate they could become when they would disagree. Then her father was given the choice assignment of covering the Republican convention for the paper, and he was so excited relaying the news to his family Kelin feared he might burst. He was a huge supporter of Abraham Lincoln, having heard him speak several times, and spent hours printing handbills that would later be distributed at the convention. Kelin had never seen her father happier than when Lincoln won the nomination and was later elected president. But almost immediately following the election Kelin’s mother received her diagnosis and all that happiness disappeared overnight.

Kelin noticed the time. She bundled herself up and headed outside for her daily trek to St. Joseph’s Cemetery. It was warmer out than it had been, and the cloudless sky reflected a pale shade of arctic blue. The sunshine made the snow glisten so brightly it was almost blinding. Kelin knew a shortcut to the cemetery, and the path through the snow was easy to follow, made so by her own frequent use. These daily visits to her mother’s grave had become very important to her. They gave her a measure of peace she couldn’t find anywhere else. It was the only place she could go where she felt her mother still existed on this earth, and she needed that, at least for now.

Kelin always tried to bring happy memories with her when she visited her mother. She didn’t want to spend the time crying by dwelling on the obvious. She thought for a moment about all the things her mother had taught her. She flashed back to the first time she tried to make dinner by herself. She did it all under her mother’s watchful eye, though her mother never interfered. Kelin managed to make not only a terrible mess, but a dinner both half undercooked and half overcooked. That didn’t stop her parents from cheerfully filling their plates and raving about the food while they ate. Her mother even insisted on helping her clean up the mess. Kelin would have considered the dinner a success, if they hadn’t all gotten sick during the night. After that episode it was a long time before she wanted to try anything on her own in the kitchen again.

Sorry about that, Mama, she said, smiling as she looked down at her mother’s grave, but at least I learned how to cook eventually.

As usual, Kelin stayed at the cemetery as long as she felt she could and then she headed home. She was met by her father the moment she walked through the door.

Where’ve you been? he asked, a bit irritated.

At the cemetery talking to Mama.

You know you can talk to her anywhere.

I feel closer to her there.

You’ll have to get over that. We’re moving, he declared.

Moving?! she exclaimed in shock. "I thought we were happy here. I thought you were happy here."

Not with your mother gone, he stated firmly. Everything has changed. It’s time for a fresh start.

Where are we moving to?

Washington.

Washington? Why so far away?

With Lincoln’s election there’ll be plenty of new opportunities available. It’s the perfect place and definitely the perfect time.

Kelin’s heart sank. She didn’t want to move. Waukesha was the only home she’d ever known. This was where her mother would remain. Moving would be a final separation, and she just wasn’t ready for that.

Father, she started slowly, I don’t want to move. This is home to me. Can’t you find new opportunities around here like you always have?

I’ve already sold the house. I mentioned at the paper I was looking to sell, and Mr. Brinkhoff knew someone who was interested.

It’s just so fast, she replied sadly.

Listen, Kelin. I know how hard it’s been for you losing your mother. I know it will be hard for you to move. But this is the right thing to do. I know it in my heart. I also know we can’t wait. Each day that goes by could mean losing out on any number of opportunities that I’ll never get another chance at. We need to get to Washington as quickly as possible.

Kelin wasn’t convinced, but her father was in charge and it was his decision to make. She wondered how he could be so positive about a place he had never seen.

I want you to get started packing, he continued. Don’t take anything more than you need to. We’ll be going by train and I want to travel light. I sold the house furnished so we can leave as much behind as we want. You have until the end of the week. I told Brinkhoff we’d be on the Saturday morning train.

Kelin’s eyes widened. Saturday morning! she thought. This was already Wednesday. Everything was coming at her faster than she could process it. She wondered how her life could have fallen apart so completely in such a short amount of time. Slowly she walked to her room and sat down on the bed. She sat there staring into space for a long time. She thought she should be crying but the tears didn’t come. She was too numb. There’d be plenty of tears later. She was sure of that. Right now she needed to figure out what to do. If only she could find a way to stay in Waukesha. But with the house sold she’d have no place to live, and with no job she’d have no way to support herself. No, she wouldn’t be able to fight the inevitable. She was moving to Washington whether she wanted to or not.

She spent the next couple of days going from room to room sorting through their possessions, thinking about all the years they’d lived there and everything that had happened, good and bad, though she primarily focused on the good times. She thought back to her nineth birthday, a day that was warm and sunny and perfect from start to finish. Her father, usually off working on his latest endeavor, had devoted his entire day to her. They had gone on a picnic down by the Fox River. Her mother had made a wonderful lunch of fried chicken, potato salad, corn, fresh bread, and a yellow cake with chocolate frosting, her favorite, with Happy Birthday Kelin written across the top in white icing. She’d spent the day running, swimming, and flying the kite her father had made for her. In the evening her father had pulled out a box of sparklers. The fourth of July was still weeks away so they were a complete surprise, and she’d gladly filled the air around her with circles and squiggles and her name again and again as she burned through every last one of them. It was the best birthday she’d ever had because her parents had made the entire day hers. It was the last time she could recall a birthday that seemed so carefree. Each year after that her birthday always seemed overshadowed by tight times following yet another change in careers by her father.

Kelin had saved the hardest room to go through for last knowing just how difficult it would be to sort through her mother’s things. If it were up to her father, they’d leave everything behind. He had never been the sentimental type. Kelin, on the other hand, would save everything if she could.

Standing quietly in her parents’ room that Friday afternoon, she gathered her strength for the task ahead. She looked around slowly and sighed in resignation. Her mother didn’t like clutter, so the bedroom, like all of the other rooms in the house, had very little sitting out on display. On top of the dresser, however, was a mahogany music box that her mother had received as a gift from her future husband while the two of them were courting. The box was relatively small, only about four inches by six inches, and had a carving of the nativity on the lid. Silent Night would play whenever the box was opened, which was her mother’s favorite piece of Christmas music. Kelin had listened to it again and again after her mother’s funeral, so irritating her father that he finally told her if he heard that damn thing played one more time he’d find a fire to throw it in! After that Kelin had been careful not to open it when her father was home, but there was no way she would leave it behind when they moved.

Next, Kelin opened the wardrobe and ran her fingers slowly along the top of her mother’s dresses. She looked at each one for a moment, remembering the last time she saw her mother wear it. This whole situation was like a bad dream. Her mother shouldn’t be dead. She would admit that her mother was getting old, but thirty-five didn’t seem old enough to actually die. And it shouldn’t mean they had to move either. It was so unfair that her father made such an important decision without even talking to her about it. For a moment she felt defiant. She figured the move had nothing to do with her mother’s death. She had a feeling they’d be moving whether her mother had died or not. Her father simply decided he wanted to move to Washington. She thought about standing her ground and telling her father she refused to move, but she slowly changed her mind. A little voice inside told her she would be wasting her time. Once her father made up his mind about something there was no changing it. She knew that from experience.

Kelin concentrated again on the task at hand, selecting three of her mother’s prettiest dresses and placing them on the bed. She knew she wouldn’t be able to wear them because they wouldn’t fit. Her mother was taller than she was—and more filled out. Still, she couldn’t part with them. She would take them along without telling her father. It wouldn’t be his idea of traveling light. Hopefully she could get them altered so she would be able to wear them one day.

Kelin looked through the dresser and located the few pieces of jewelry her mother owned. She also collected her mirror and brush and a couple of fancy haircombs. There was just one place left to look—her mother’s cedar chest. She opened it carefully and looked inside. Right on top was a porcelain doll. It was a gift her mother had received from her grandparents when she was very young. Kelin stared at it for a very long time. The doll was beautiful, and her mother had kept it in pristine condition. Kelin knew about the doll. It was one of her mother’s most prized possessions. Kelin had been forbidden to even touch it. She suddenly realized the doll now belonged to her.

She wanted to hold it but was afraid to pick it up. She studied the doll’s pale face, with its sapphire blue eyes, pouty lips painted a ruby red, and smattering of tiny freckles. She extended her trembling hand and lightly touched the doll’s face. She felt the lace and ruffles on the doll’s blue satin dress. Kelin herself had never owned a dress so beautiful. Cautiously she lifted the doll up and out of the cedar chest, watching the doll’s shiny blonde curls loosely swinging free, and then pulled the doll close to her body. She hugged it tightly, as though fighting a subconscious fear that someone would take it away. She sat down on the bed, still clutching the doll, and closed her eyes. She imagined her mother as a young girl holding the doll as she did now, loving it as only a child could. Having something her mother cherished so deeply was unexpectedly comforting to Kelin, like the love her mother had given to the doll was somehow transferring to her now. No matter what her father said, she would take this doll with her to Washington. It would be like having a part of her mother with her. And she would do her very best to preserve it in the same condition her mother had. She owed her mother that.

Kelin stood up. She went through the remainder of her mother’s things, after which she gathered together all of the items she planned to keep and carried them to her own room, where she added them to her belongings already sitting on the bed. She folded the clothes as neatly as possible and packed everything in her trunk. Her father didn’t need to know what she was taking, and she was fairly certain he wouldn’t make her open the trunk for inspection. With her packing completed she went about the house straightening everything as much as possible so it would be ready for the new owner. With that finished there would be only one thing left she needed to do before the inevitable ride to the train station.

Early the next morning Kelin stood beside her mother’s grave. Though she hoped she was wrong, she knew in her heart this was the last time she would ever stand here next to her mother. She knelt down and moved her hand across the top of the snow that formed nature’s blanket over the grave. She could picture her mother sleeping there in peace. She could picture her mother’s hands, those beautiful hands she longed to hold, which were now and forever just out of reach.

Hello, Mama, she began, fighting back the tears. I’ve come to say goodbye. I don’t have much time. Father will be waiting for me. We have a train to catch. I didn’t tell him I was coming here, but I know he’ll guess when he doesn’t see me at home. I don’t want to leave you, Mama. You keep me from feeling afraid. Father doesn’t understand. I guess he needs to find a different way to heal.

Kelin looked at her mother’s headstone, which bore the engraved words Beloved Wife and Mother.

I thought I’d be able to come here anytime I wanted, she continued, to tell you about my day, to ask you for advice, to pour out my heart to you—but I was wrong. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you, Mama. There’s no one who can take your place. Father may try, but you know how he is. He doesn’t really listen. He just goes his own way and expects everyone else to follow.

Kelin couldn’t hold the tears back any longer.

Mama, please watch down on me from heaven and help me anyway you can. Please ask Jesus to guide me always as I try to make my way. And, Mama, please ask Jesus to help Father. He’s so excited about moving. His hopes are so very high. I wish I could share his excitement, but it’s just not in me. Not about this. Not about leaving.

Kelin was silent for a moment, trying to hang on to each remaining second she was able to spend near her mother.

Mama, I’m scared. Everything ahead of me is unknown, and I’m not sure I’m strong enough for whatever’s coming next. I wish I were more like you. You were always so strong, never afraid of anything. At least you never seemed afraid. Maybe you were and I just didn’t know it. I guess that’s a type of courage, isn’t it? To swallow your fear and push forward, to not let it stop you from living. That’s what I have to do now—right, Mama? I have to push forward and not let the world know I’m afraid. I have to try and be like you.

Kelin knelt quietly for a moment wiping away her tears.

Mama, I love you more than words can say. I will keep you in my heart forever, and I hope that somehow, someday, I’ll find a way to come back here and be near you again.

Kelin knew she had stayed too long and it was time to go. She stood up and looked back down at her mother’s grave.

I will try to be the best person I can be, Mama. I will try to make you proud of me in everything I do. Most of all, I will never forget you. I will love you always. Bye, Mama.

She turned away quickly and ran all the way home. Her father was waiting for her of course. He gave her a stern look when he saw her, but then his expression softened into a smile. He went to meet her and hugged her tightly.

Let’s go catch that train, he said, trying to reassure her. Our great adventure starts today.

They walked to their already packed wagon and climbed aboard. Kelin took one last look at their modest little house and then shifted her eyes to the shed out back. It was her father’s workspace, crammed with mementos of his past endeavors, including plenty of handbills and posters touting each new product or service that he had been convinced would help the world and bring him happiness at the same time. Kelin wondered if her father had rescued anything from that odd collection of relics, or if locked there in the past was where he wanted all of it to stay.

She looked at her father. He smiled back at her, nodded his head, and flicked the reins to get the team started. The wagon began to move down the road and they were on their way.

Chapter 2

June 23, 1984

Milwaukee, Wisconsin

Shelby reached down and pulled up her leg warmers. One of the many things she liked about dancing was how she dressed for practice. Very few of the other ladies dressed the way she did, but very few of them had her figure. Shelby was thin and curvy. She wasn’t big busted, but she wasn’t flat chested either. She had always been satisfied with the size of her bustline. She was only five feet, four inches tall, but the high heels she always wore made her feel tall enough. If anyone asked her what her favorite feature was she would say it was her dark green eyes because she loved their unique color, but if you asked anyone else they would say it was her legs. Everyone told her she had gorgeous legs. She felt lucky about that since so much of her legs showed when she danced.

Shelby loved showing off her figure, and one way she found to do that was all of the colorful leotards she wore to practice, along with bright matching tights and leg warmers. She had several very short wraparound ballet skirts she would wear over her leotards, and her high-heeled ballroom dance shoes completed the look. Today she had on one of her favorite outfits. The leotard had angled white, purple, and aqua stripes. The tights and skirt were white and the leg warmers were bright aqua.

Shelby ran her hand through her wavy brown hair. She felt awkwardly between styles as she was trying to grow out her hair. She had been wearing it short on the sides and longer and layered in the back, a mullet as it was often called, but she wanted to grow it long so she could pull it up when she danced. There were lots of fancy rhinestone and sequin hair decorations she could wear if she had long hair. Tommy, her teacher and dance partner, wanted her to dye her hair jet black. He said that would really help her get noticed on the dance floor when they competed. Shelby declined. She thought she’d look ridiculous with black hair, especially at work. After all, she was not a professional dancer. Tommy might dance for a living, but ballroom dancing was just a hobby for her—even if she was spending more and more of her time at the dance studio.

Shelby was getting tired of waiting. This was Saturday afternoon, and she was at the dance studio for a final practice before tomorrow’s dance competition. She and Tommy were the only ones there. Normally the dance studio was closed on Saturdays. The two had barely gotten started when the phone rang. Tommy had gone into the office to take the call and had yet to come back.

Shelby paced around the room trying to use up nervous energy, her high heels clacking as she walked across the oft-varnished hardwood floor. She stopped and studied herself in one of the many large mirrors that lined the walls of the studio as she worked on her dance posture and practiced some of her steps. Tomorrow’s competition would be her very first one and she was a bit nervous. She’d gone to two previous competitions as a spectator so she had a pretty good idea how they worked, but as for actually performing, well, that was outside her comfort zone and she was unsure of herself. She was worried her mind would go blank when the music started and she wouldn’t remember a single step of her choreography. That’s why she was at the studio today. She had begged Tommy for one last practice and he had rearranged his schedule to fit her in.

Tommy bounded out of the office full of energy, as usual. Shelby really enjoyed her lessons with Tommy. Not only did their personalities mesh, but he was always so positive and upbeat. Shelby had to admit she didn’t always come to the studio feeling that way, but his attitude usually rubbed off on her once they got started. Tommy managed to keep things light and fun during their lessons and still be productive. Shelby knew she could stay focused and learn faster if she felt comfortable and relaxed. When she first started dancing she was paired with an instructor whose methods were so intense and demanding that she felt completely overwhelmed. He kept telling her how talented she was, and she was serious about learning, but she was so stressed out during her lessons that she struggled to absorb anything he was trying to teach her. She was ready to quit dancing altogether when the suggestion was made that she switch to a different instructor. A brief meeting with Tommy was all she needed to realize what a difference the right instructor could make—and that Tommy would be the perfect instructor for her. The fact that he was pretty easy on the eyes was also a big selling point. He was easily six feet tall, even before he put his dance shoes on, and though slender, he was strong and athletic. Shelby trusted his abilities and instincts and wasn’t afraid to try any dance move he came up with. His blonde hair was short and well-groomed, except for a cowlick in front that he couldn’t control, which gave his face a boyish charm Shelby had trouble saying no to.

Okay, let’s get started again, he said enthusiastically as he walked over to the stereo. I’d like to run through the whole routine first and see how it feels.

He turned on the record and quickly took his starting mark next to Shelby. The song kicked in and they took off to the music. Shelby had picked the song Sea Cruise sung by Glenn Frey. Shelby liked the Eagles, but she liked a solo Glenn Frey more. The song was fast and fun and she was glad Tommy had gone along with her choice, especially since he preferred traditional ballroom music over top 40 hits.

They were doing a swing, which was one of the easiest dances for her. It was a fast dance, and Shelby loved to dance fast—the faster the better. They’d put a few tricks into