As she stepped off the rumbling, roaring train, Georgina Lucille Lowe lifted her heavy head and willed her exhausted eyes to peer at her new surroundings. A bustling platform was in front of the girl filled with shouting workers and the distant sound of trains winding their way on the track, racing to their destination. Behind her, the never-ending machine let out a piercing shriek and nearby people, including Georgina, cringed as the sharp noise blasted in their ears.

            Where is father? Am I at the right station? She hurriedly reached into her navy blue purse in nervousness and rummaged around. She quickly found what she was looking for and snatched it out of the bag. Georgina flipped the ticket around and read the stub. Union Station, she thought to herself. So, I have the right station, but father isn’t here! The young woman started wringing her gloved, delicate but strong hands; constantly glancing at the great iron clock. As the minutes ticked by, her frustration soon grew to anger. (Over the numerous bowler hats and around the black and brown suits she scanned the crowd in the main room.) I am sure he has forgotten me. But how? I am his daughter! In the middle of these thoughts, she dropped her purse. Georgina rolled her eyes, gathered her long skirts, and bent to collect her scattered items: A tube of red lipstick, a fancy, silver hand-mirror, some elegant, jeweled pins, a small book of poems, and a photograph of her deceased mother, Amelia Burnett Lowe.

            “Excuse me, miss. May I ask you about your ride?”

            Startled, Georgina looked up from the floor and saw a heavy attendant with rosy, Santa Claus cheeks and a long black moustache that curled at the ends. “What about him? Did he call?”

            The man turned to the clock hanging on the brick wall. “No. It’s just that you have been standing here for over twenty minutes and no one has called or come for you.”

            “Sir, I am quite sure my father is on his way. He might have just gotten held up on these busy streets.”

            “Please, miss, who is your father?”

            “My father is Mr. William Bruce Lowe.”

            “Mr. William Bruce Lowe? He's owner of this railroad line? You are his daughter?” His eyes opened n wide with amazement as he repeated her father’s name.

            “Yes.”

            “Well, Miss Lowe, I’m very sorry for disturbing you. I just can’t understand how the owner of this railroad line would forget his daughter at his own station!” The friendly man played with his thin moustache. “Would you like to use our telephone and maybe call him to see if he forgot that 10:30 was your arrival time?”

            “May I?”

            “Of course!” He chortled. “Come right this way.”

            What if father really DID forget about me? What will I do? Oh, this is too embarrassing. I can only thank God for acting through this kind man. I cannot believe that a person I do not even know was so kind to offer me the use of his telephone! Georgina thought as they made their way to the Union Station’s office. She was astonished that a stranger would care for her like this.

            All of the sudden, Georgina caught a glimpse of an expensive-looking automobile pulling up to the platform and coming to a halt. “Excuse me, could we wait just a minute?” she said. They stopped their walk to the office and stared. A driver dressed in a black suit with a matching cap on jumped out of the black car and scampered over to the door on the right side of the car. He opened it with a click. The two observers watched as a white-gloved hand, holding a black cane with three gold rings wrapping around it, handed the cane to the driver. The driver opened his mouth and said something. Out stepped a well dressed wealthy-looking man. He was William Bruce Lowe, owner of the Royal Crossings railroad line, father of Georgina. William leaned over to the driver and whispered something in his ear. They both smiled and William nodded his head towards Georgina. He started making his way to his pretty daughter and the cheery attendant.

            “Hello, Georgina. My, you do look beautiful!” He stepped back and took a quick look at his daughter.

            “Good morning, father. It is so wonderful to see you. How have you been?” Georgina asked with an exhausted tone.

            “Well, I have missed you, of course. Business is going well - just the occasional bumps in the road, that’s all.”

            “I am thrilled to hear that.”

            “Besides all of that, what are you doing with…?” William bent to look at the attendant’s silver-plated name tag pinned to his jacket. “Mr. Andus?”

            “He was simply leading me to the Union Station’s office to use the telephone to call you.”

            “Why would you call me, dear?”

            “To ask if you had forgotten that my train had arrived twenty minutes ago!” Georgina angrily exclaims. “I have been waiting here for you, worried I had been forgotten!” After she said that, everyone and everything got quiet between them, and a moment of silence swallowed the ongoing dispute.

            Mr. Andus cleared his throat to break the awkward silence between his employer and the woman. Both father and daughter turned to stare at Mr. Andus for a few seconds before returning to their fight.

            William turned back to Georgina and answered in his deep voice, with a hint of annoyance. “I was held up.”

            “What could have possibly made you forget your own daughter that you have not seen for three years?” I suppose that I am just not as important to you as your business affairs.” She started to walk away.

            William reached over to Georgina’s elbow and yanked her. She whipped her head to face William as her gorgeous red hair flew around to fly across her pale cheek. He bent to her ear and whispered in a sharp tone, “Georgina! Don’t you dare talk to me that way! I was in town with a very important client and good friend of mine. I should not have to answer to you about my professional life!”

            She whispered back: “But father, I was…”

            He cut her off. “I don’t want to hear it! Now say goodbye to this man and let’s get your luggage and leave!”

            “No! Father, I will say what I have to…”

            “Shut up! Do you understand me?!”

            Georgina didn’t answer. Instead, she lowered her head to hide the fast, blurry tears that were filling her eyes.

            William stooped lower to look her in the eyes. “Or, since the train is still here, I could just buy you a ticket and you can make your way back to Aunt Tilde in England! Would you prefer that? Ever since your mother passed away, you have been a selfish young lady.”

            Once again, she didn’t reply. She looked up at this man and realized that money and his wife’s death had infested his soul with acrimony, hatred, and coldness.

            Suddenly, Mr. Andus cleared his throat. They both looked over and realized that he was still there and was watching the whole scene. Mr. Andus began talking. “Well, then. I really should go help out the other lost passengers. It was—er—nice meeting the both of you. Have a splendid day.” He took his black hat off and nodded his balding head at the couple. What was supposed to be a private conversation had turned into an ugly argument – with as stranger as a witness. Such a hateful way to end a day, thought Georgina in fury.

            William watched Mr. Andus waddle away, and then turned back to his daughter. “Now. Suppose we put this behind us. That was no proper way for a lady to act. You should feel ashamed.”

            “Oh, father...” She protested.

            “We put this behind us, do you understand?” He took a long, thoughtful look at Georgina, then took a sharp turn and strode away to a group of young workers. “You there! I need some men to load my daughter’s luggage into my car. Get to it!”

            The gathering of porters all in matching black and red uniforms looked around to locate the shouting man. “Us?” One man asked inquisitively.

            “Yes, you! Her trunks are over there.” William pointed over to his left and the men gave him one last look before scurrying to where he was directing. Her father’s shouting faded as Georgina started looking curiously around at Dayton, Ohio. She strolled over to the main door of the station, attempted to take a breath of fresh air, but only inhaled a crude, polluted stink. The young woman gazed at the sites around her. She saw busy streets, a small number of automobiles, but mostly horse-drawn vehicles. The horses were stomping their powerful hooves down bumpy Wilkinson Street, whinnying in fear of the loud thrumming of cars and their jarring horns. I am like these horses, she thought. I am constantly shaking my shoulders, attempting to brush off these biting flies.  I feel like stomping my feet on this ground, wanting to leave my worries behind. And can anyone sense my desperate whinnies, my cries, at my unfamiliar surroundings? She kept thinking thoughts like these, running through her head like a type-writer’s paper, even seeming to make the small ‘ding’ like when the paper comes to the end of the machine.

            I expect I will need some time to become accustomed to Dayton, Georgina assumed. But part of me thinks it looks a lot like England, she thought while studying two men shake hands and share a hearty laugh in front of an office building with the sign ‘Dayton Daily News,’ overhead. Georgina rose on her tip toes to observe a small circle of little girls, probably about six-years old, playing a hopping game in the street. A small newsboy dressed in rags was standing on the corner on Wilkinson and Fifth Street, hollering at the top of his lungs, “Extra! Extra! Titanic survivor tells his story! Only in the Dayton Daily News!”

            “Georgina!” She was awakened from her thoughts by her father’s muffled voice from inside the station. She twisted around to look at her father. “Come on, dear. I have been calling your name! It is time to leave,” he shouted. She nodded her head, indicating that she was coming. Georgina took one last look of the scenes she was studying from the outside, took a deep, steady breath, and made her way back to her father’s car.

***

            “Here, dear, just hold on to Mr. Burks’ hand and he will guide you in safely! My, you act as if you have never been in a car!”

            “Well, father, in case you haven’t noticed, my dress is very long and full,” Georgina looked down at her flowing, white dress with a large, ocean blue sash ties around the waist, “which makes it a little more challenging for me to hop into the car. Besides, I am confident that I can do it without Mr.…”

            “Burks.”

            “Yes. I can do it just fine without Mr. Burks’ arm. By the way, I am Georgina Lucille Lowe, if father has not told you about me before. It is a pleasure to meet you.” She nodded towards the driver.

            “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Lowe.” He said.

            “Please, call me Georgina.”

            “Yes, Georgina.” Mr. Burks flashed a handsome smile.

When she was finally seated in the car, she smiled back at him. “Thank you, Mr. Burks.”

“Please, call me Daniel.”

Georgina turned her head, and underneath her large blue hat, smiled wider at Daniel. “Yes, of course.”

            The entire ride to Georgina’s house was silent. No one spoke a word. Georgina was too busy gazing out of her window at the sights. Daniel focused on driving. William was in deep concentration reading the morning newspaper. As soon as they pulled up to the house, Georgina carefully stepped out of the car and made her way up the path leading to the oak front door.

            “Father, is anyone home?” she inquired before coming to the door.

            “Yes, the maids are here. Go ahead and open the door.” He replied.

            She followed his instructions and opened the door to a spacious bright room decorated with a collection of railroad and train pictures on every wall. No surprise here…Georgina concluded.

            “Hello? Is anyone here?” She wondered aloud.

            “Just a moment!” an old woman’s voice rang from another room. About half a minute later, a plump woman of sixty, with gray hair, entered the room holding a black feather-duster in her wrinkled hands. Her face lit up when she saw Georgina. “Oh, you must be Miss Lowe! Mr. Lowe mentioned your arrival. You must be the Miss Lowe he was talking about! My name is Dorothy Meades.” She bent her knees so her black and white dress and apron touched the ground.

            “Hello, Dorothy. Yes, I am Miss Lowe, but you may call me Georgina.” She returned Dorothy’s bright smile with one of her own.

            “My, what a pretty name you have!”

            “Thank you.”

            “Well, I have got to get back to my dusting, or Mr. Lowe will not me happy with me.” She curtsied one last time and headed to the room to the left of the foyer, only to return. “And, Miss Lowe? Georgina?”

            “Yes?”
            “Your room is upstairs and the first door to your right.” Dorothy winked and finally left the room.

***

            I would like to go to town, I think, Georgina decided later in the day. She changed clothes. Georgina was wearing a majestic purple dress that had black buttons receding down from her neck to her lower waist. She walked out of her luxurious cream and rose-colored room and walked into the reading room to find her father sitting in a dark-red easy chair, reading a book. “Father?”

            “Hmm?” He didn’t look up from his book.

            “I am going to ask Daniel if he will drive me to town so I might purchase some oranges. Would that be alright?”

            “I don’t think he will be able to drive you there.”

            “Oh? Why not?”

            “The car needs repairing. It keeps making clanking noises.”

            “Well, I suppose I will just have to walk.”

            “Yes, I suppose so.”

            “So, do you know where Daniel is?”

            “Somewhere outside, I assume.”

            “Thank you, father.” Georgina leaned down to give him a kiss on his cheek.

            He turned away and made a face. “Run along, now.”

            Georgina decided to ignore the face and the gesture. She turned and walked out of the room and into the foyer. Leaving the giant, expansive mansion, she closed the door behind her and walked down the cobblestone path to the street. Once she was in the street, Georgina looked over her front yard for Daniel.

            “Mr. Burks?” She called, but received no answer.

            “Daniel? Can you hear me? This is Georgina!” Raising her voice as she called for him, she listened, but still there was no answer returned.

            Hmm…He must be around back. Georgina said to herself. What shall I do? I don’t want to walk in this grass and dirt, only to get my shoes ruined! She looked up one more time in hope that she would see her father’s driver. Well, I will just have to make do without ruining my shoes. It isn’t like I don’t have any others!  She lifted her gloved hands and began tugging at them in an effort to remove them. After removing them, she tucked them under her arm and gathered her layers of skirts. Walking over the grass, she decided it was not so horrible, after all. As she strode around the well-kept lawn, she rounded the corner of her house and saw Daniel streaked with dirt and oil, leaning underneath the hood of the black, shiny automobile.

            “Daniel?” she asked.

            Daniel turned, rubbed his cheek with his forearm, and opened his eyes in surprise. “Miss Lowe? What on earth are you doing back here?”

            “What do you mean, what am I doing back here? I was looking for you!” exclaimed Georgina.

            “Well, I assumed that you were not the type of woman to get all dressed up in her fancy clothes and just saunter around to the back yard.”

            “First of all, I most definitely was not sauntering. I was stomping. Now look.” Georgina pulled her lace skirts even higher to reveal her high heel black shoes, which had clumps of grass and dirt clinging to them. “My shoes are destroyed.”    

            “I wouldn’t say they are ‘destroyed.’ I would just say they need a good cleaning.” He bent down to look at them and picked one small clump of dark mud off of her right toe.

            Noticing that her skirts were above her ankles, she chided, “Now don’t get fresh!”

            Daniel peered up at her face and laughed. “Oh, Miss Lowe, I am not that type of a man. So, do you want me to clean your shoes or leave them as they are?”         

            Her face flushing with a rosy pink color, Georgina sighed. “Oh, all right.”

            The driver reached over to the hood of the car and grasped a gray rag. He took her feet in his hands and wiped the mud and grass off until her shoes looked just as they were before she stepped in the yard, with only a couple of small but unnoticeable stains on the toe.

            “There you go!” He stood back up and threw the rag on the car.

“Thank you, Daniel.” Georgina let go of her skirts and they fell gracefully to the ground.

            “You’re welcome. What did you want to see me for, anyway?”

            “Oh, I wanted to ask if you would give me a ride to the grocery. But I see that the car is not working and you are busy. So I will just walk.”

            “You’re right, the car is not working, but I know what’s wrong with it. And I’m not busy. I can finish this later. I can walk you to town, since you don’t know your way around. Only if you want me to, though.” Daniel offered.

            Georgina thought this over for a few seconds. “Yes, that will be just fine. Shall we leave now?”

            “Well then, let’s go,” Daniel said. He slammed the hood of the car down and tossed a black throw over it to keep it from getting rained on or damaged. They started walking to the side of the house when he stopped. “Wait.”

            “Hmm?” She raised her eyebrows in wonder.

            “I just cleaned your shoes and now you are going to get them all dirty again.”

            “Oh, right. I am not getting my shoes dirty again. What should we do?”

            “I could carry you.”

            “Ha! Daniel…the ideas you come up with.” She laughed.

            “What?” Daniel smiled and shrugged his broad shoulders.

            “I am not going to be carried to the street! Think of what the neighbors would say if they see me being carried by my father’s driver!”

            “Don’t worry about what other people think of you. You are your own person. You can’t live by what strangers think of you.”

            “Daniel…” she resisted.

            “Aw, come on, Georgina.”

            Georgina let out a sigh and giggled a little. “Oh, all right. But only this once, do you understand?”

            Daniel snickered while he rolled his white shirt sleeves up. “You sound like your father!”

            “Oh, ha-ha, I am laughing so hard!” she sarcastically teased.

            “Okay. I am going to hold my arms out, and you can just jump on. Can you do that?” He asked, holding his arms in front of her.

            “Yes, I can do that, but please do NOT drop me!” Georgina closed her beautiful eyes and scrunched her face. “Okay, I am ready.”      

            “Great. One, two, three…JUMP!” She jumped and landed safely in his arms. “See, that wasn’t so bad!” He tried to hold back the laughter about to burst from his mouth. He started walking and stomped his feet hard on the ground on purpose to make her scream with delight.

            “Daniel!” shrieked Georgina.  He carried her all the way to the street and set her down.

            “Well, that was a…um…delightful experience!” Georgina said while smoothing her dress. Giving her head a small shake, she ran her fingers through her fiery red, long hair. “So, let’s get to town!” They began to stroll the streets of Dayton together.

***

            “Okay. So I need 2 oranges, and not the bad, green ones. I want the most “orangey” two oranges you can find. I also need some cinnamon. I’ll find the cinnamon if you will pick the oranges.”

            “Will do…” said Daniel

            “Thank you. I will meet you at the register in five minutes. Deal?”

            “Deal.”

            The two split up, each going different directions to search for their supplies. Georgina headed to her left for the cinnamon in the spices section.

            “Oh, this place is so different from England.” Georgina said to herself, assuming that no one could hear her. “I wish I were back in England; Dayton being such a wretched city with its polluted air and filthy streets.” 

***

She picked through the shelf in front of her, searching for the cinnamon. All of a sudden, though, she saw a pale hand grab a small container titled ‘Ground Cinnamon.’ “Are you looking for this?” A young woman’s voice asked.

            Georgina said in relief, “Yes! I have been searching all over for that! Thank you, so much.”

            “Oh, you’re welcome.” The woman handed her the jar.

            “Now I must be off to find my friend Daniel. But before I go, I must say you have the most gorgeous hair I have ever seen.” Georgina was in awe as she stared at the stranger’s curly, deep black hair.           

            “Why, thank you! Yours is very beautiful, too. How long is it when you let it down?”

            “I think it is about three or four inches past my shoulder blade.” Georgina estimated while unpinning her wavy hair from its neat bun. When she took the last pin down, her hair seemed to splash down her back. “I really should be on my way. It was nice meeting you…Oh…you never told me your name.”

            “Marguerite Willows.”

            “Well, Marguerite, it was a pleasure meeting you. I am Georgina Lowe.”

            “It was delightful meeting you, too, Georgina.”

A young man, possibly in his twenties then showed up by Marguerite’s side. “Marguerite, are we going to go yet?” He whined.

Marguerite laughed. “You just cannot stand going grocery shopping, can you? Georgina, this is Zachariah, my best friend. Zachariah, this is Georgina, my new friend.”

Zachariah reached his hand out towards Georgina’s. “Hello, Georgina.”

“Good evening, Zachariah. My friend Daniel is in the store; I think you might like to meet him.”

“Oh, really?” He questioned with a spark of curiosity in his eyes.

As if on cue, Daniel appeared behind Marguerite. “Georgina, these are the best oranges I could find.” He held up two bright oranges in his hands.

“Thank you, Daniel. Well, Marguerite, Zachariah, this is Daniel Burks.”

Daniel and Zachariah shook hands and started talking. “Now, if you will excuse us, Marguerite and I have some chatting to do.” Georgina and Marguerite smiled at each other and raised their eyebrows.

As they walked off, the men stared at the two appealing women until they were out of sight.

***

“Oh, Marguerite, I know I have just met you, but I have to confess something to you.” Georgina sighed.

“Yes, Georgina?”

“I think I am falling in love with Daniel, my father’s driver for his car!” She exclaimed.

            “He is very handsome.”

            “He’s also attractive, funny, charming, and smart. He is nothing like his employer, my father!”

            “What is your father like?”

            “To shorten it up: Rude, thoughtless, and selfish!”

            “You really think your father is like that? I mean, he is your family, you know.”

            “I realize that, but ever since my dear mother died of typhoid, he hasn’t been the same man that he used to be. I used to adore him.”

            “I see.”

            “Anyway, about Daniel, I just do not know if he likes me back! It has only been one day since I met him, but I feel like we would be so right for each other.”

            “Well, I don’t know. I would wait for another day or so. But I am absolutely head-over-heels about Zachariah, and he is my best friend.”

            “Oh. That must be hard.”

            “It is. I am just too afraid to tell him.”

            “I will tell you what. We will get through these hardships together!”

            “Yes! We will.” The girls shared a giggle and shook hands as if making a pact with each other.

            “Shall we head back to our men?”

            “We shall.” Georgina and Marguerite locked elbows and strolled towards Zachariah and Daniel, not aware that those two men were just as in love with Marguerite and Georgina as much as they were for them.

***

            Zachariah couldn't control his affection for Marguerite.  He was constantly thinking about her.  His grades were suffering in school and he finally decided to confess his feelings to her. 

            Anxiously, Zachariah raced down the hall and dashed up the stairs of Stivers High School searching for her.  He peered down the hall, but she was nowhere to be found.  Finally, he saw her at her locker and stood back for a few seconds, stricken by her beauty.  Then he casually walked over to Marguerite.

            "Hey Marguerite. Listen, I have something to tell you," stuttered Zachariah.

            "What is it Zachariah?" she answered.

            "I...I..."

            "Zachariah Andrew Riles!  What on earth are you doing talking to her?" Marie interrupted.  "I thought you didn't associate with those kinds of people.  Haven't we talked about this before?"

Marguerite was shocked.  "Zachariah, is this true?"

            "Marguerite, I can explain.  You see, I did not want to lose Marie as a friend or you as my best friend.  So, I agreed with whatever Marie said, but I didn't really mean it," confessed Zachariah.   

            Marie, amazed that her friend would ever lie to her, shouted, “Zachariah, I thought we were friends.  How could you do this to me?"

            "Marie, I'm sorry, but Marguerite means a lot more to me than just a popularity contest.  She is my best friend.  We have been through everything together.  You can't just expect me not talk to people, especially her, just because she’s not as 'popular' to you.  I am afraid that I am going to have to choose friendship over popularity.  I'm really sorry Marie," Zachariah replied.

            ”Zachariah, I can't even explain how much that hurts me," Marie said plainly.  Tears were trickling down her face.  She was so angry; she could hardly think.  Knowing she was currently losing Zachariah as her friend, especially for Marguerite, hurt her more than ever.  Marie's secret truth was that she liked Zachariah more than a friend.  Now nothing would happen between them.

            As Marie walked away, she heard Marguerite tell Zachariah to meet at her house that evening.     

            "Hmm... what a perfect chance to ruin their little 'party'," she whispered, snickering to herself.

            Later that night, Marie told her parents that she was going to visit friends and study with them for a big test coming up.  She was taught never, ever to tell a lie, but this was really just ‘twisting the truth’, she decided.  She headed out the door and walked across the street to Marguerite’s house.  Marie, though, wasn’t quite sure how this would work out though. 

            Shivering from the frigid weather, she knocked on the front door.

            As Marguerite answered the door, there was a disgusted look on her face.  “Why are you here?” she asked. 

            “To, um, apologize for the way I acted today?” She hated this whole lying business. 

            Marguerite said nothing, but slammed the door in Marie’s face.  Marie just walked away slowly, feeling awkward about the whole thing.  Was she really going to spy on them, or did she really want to apologize? Since it was just too chilly outside for her to think now, she’d have to ponder it later.

            Friday came about fast and Marie still hadn’t made up her mind.  Her choices were to apologize, get back at Zachariah, or to just forget about the whole thing.  She couldn’t focus on her schoolwork, and was conceiving an idea to get back at Zachariah.  ‘Will Miss Applebaum ever ring the bell to signal that class is over?’ she wondered. 

            Marie finally decided that she was going to get back at Zachariah.  As soon as class was over, she saw Zachariah and Marguerite standing at Marguerite’s locker.  Taking tiny, slow steps, she crept past the locker.

            “So...my house at 8:30 Monday evening?” Marguerite asked Zachariah.

            “Sounds like a plan.  We can celebrate Easter then too, since you’ll be away,” Zachariah replied. 

            That was all Marie needed to hear, for she too would be there on Monday night.  But first, though, she needed to make sure she could still be “friends” with Marguerite somehow.  However, it would be a huge challenge since Marguerite was so shy.

***

            Ring-a-ling! Ring-a-ling! Marguerite’s telephone was ringing.

            “Hello?” Marguerite answered.

            “Marguerite? It’s Marie. I am calling to apologize for the whole incident on Wednesday.”

            “Really?” Marguerite asked, not truly believing the whole thing.

            “Yes, really.  I don’t really think you’re too ‘unpopular’.  I just didn’t want Zachariah to be talking with other girls.  I didn’t care who it was,” Marie “apologized” convincingly.

            “Wow, Marie, I didn’t think you could, or even would, apologize to me. But why don’t you want him to talk with other girls?”

            “I, well... I like Zachariah.  I like him as more than a friend.  I am really sorry Marguerite.  Would you like to meet at my house for some tea on Monday evening at 8:30 p.m. so we can chat about this whole thing?’”

            “Uh...I would love to, except I’m meeting Zachariah at that exact time at my house.  Say, would you like to stay the night that night? You can bring your things for school for Wednesday, too.  I’m sure that Zachariah won’t mind.”

            “I’d be delighted Marguerite,” replied Marie.

            “Okay then, my house at eight-thirty.  See you there.”

            The girls both hung up the phone.  Marie couldn’t believe Marguerite actually believed her.  Her plan worked!  She couldn’t wait until Monday night. 

***

            It was Monday night, and a quarter past eight o’clock when Marguerite heard a knock on her front door.  She opened it quickly, because it was raining hard.  It was Marie. 

            “Hello, sorry I am a bit early.  I figured that if I didn’t get here a little early, it would be pouring even harder outside,” said a shivering Marie.

            “Oh, don’t worry about it.  Come on in, you’re soaking wet!” Marguerite answered.

            “What are you doing here?” said a stern voice from the back of the kitchen.  It was Zachariah. 

            “Marguerite invited me.  We’re friends now.”

            “That is quite interesting.  I never thought I’d speak to you again.”

            “Oh, thank you for the warm welcome,” Marie sniped back sarcastically.

            “It’s OK; I’d rather have you sitting in a corner while Marguerite and I are catching up on some things.  But if you insist on being here, then I guess I can put up with you.”

            “Wow, look at that strong downpour!  I’m obviously not leaving anytime soon.”

            Marguerite interrupted, “No, no, no! Please, you two will not be quarreling this evening. I am trying to let my two friends and I make up, but you’re both obviously not cooperating,”

            “Fine… We shall get along then,” Marie said in an aggravated voice.

            The three went upstairs into the study.  

***

            Marguerite stood up as the telephone rang and ran downstairs to answer it.

            “Hello?” she said into the receiver.

            “Hello. This is Georgina. We met at the grocery store.”

            “Oh, yes, I remember. The morning the boy knocked over the oranges,” Marguerite said.

            “Yes, and that clerk did seem depressed. I wonder what was bothering him,” Georgina said.

            “This rain is depressing. It seems as if it will never end,” Marguerite declared.

            “Yes, I know. I cannot believe it has been raining since Easter Sunday. But surely it will end eventually,” Georgina added.

            “I hope it doesn't flood,” Marguerite replied.

            “If it does, it won't be that bad,” Georgina said.

            “Your house is right by the river,” Marguerite gasped.

            “Dayton has had many floods in the past, has it not?” Georgina queried.

            “Yes, but you should move up to the top floor of your house, or to higher ground, even. From what I have heard, if it floods, it could be worse than any we have ever endured,” Marguerite warned.

            “How bad could it be?” Georgina said.

            “I wouldn't take any chances,” Marguerite said.

            “I'll just stay upstairs in my bedroom,” Georgina replied.

            “You should be okay there,” Marguerite said.

            “Everything is going to be fine,” Georgina comforted.

            “Yes, we should be okay,” Marguerite said.

            “If only William were here,” Georgina said.

            “William?” Marguerite asked.

            “He was the man I loved, before he died on the Titanic,” Georgina wept.

            “I'm so sorry,” Marguerite sympathized.

            “I miss him so much,” Georgina said.

            “What was he like?” Marguerite asked.

            “Perfect. Everything you could ever want from a man, he had it,” Georgina said.

            “Zachariah is my best friend, but he's more than just a friend,” Marguerite said. “Oh, I've got to go. It looks like he's coming in right now.”

            “Goodbye,” Georgina said.

            “Goodbye.”

            “How have you been doing?” Zachariah asked.

            “This rain is stressful, but other than that, just fine,” Marguerite replied.

            “Who was that on the phone?”

            “It was Georgina. Why?” Marguerite said.

            “Just curious,” Zachariah replied.

            “Oh. Well, it's nice to see a familiar face,” Marguerite said.

            “I thought you might like to have a friend to talk to,” Zachariah said.

            “Yes. I always seem more comforted when you are around,” Marguerite said.

            “Can I stay here with you?” Zachariah asked.

            “Yes, please do,” Marguerite replied.

***

            At 11:00 P.M., someone knocked upon the door. The Lowe’s maid, Anne, answered the door and it was awhile before she closed it.

            “Who was that?” asked Georgina, wondering who could be bothering her at this hour.

            “It was a young man from the Dayton Police Department,” called Anne. “He said there would be a high probability of high water and that we should consider evacuating soon.”

            “Oh, I’ve heard that Dayton has had many floods in the past,” said Georgina. “I do not think this will be a very serious flood. There might not even be water in this house. I’m going back to bed.”

            Even though Georgina did not think there would be serious flooding, she had a slight sense of unease as she slowly fell asleep.

***

            It had been a rough night for Frank Johnson. He had been called in for police duty at 10:00 P.M., and he was supposed to warn people about the possibility of high water. He didn’t want to be warning people in the middle of the night, but he had orders and he had to follow them.

             He had recently stopped at a large mansion and warned a maid about the high water. He was sure that she would probably ignore him. That was the tenth house he had been at and no one seemed to believe him. It was difficult to convince people to evacuate from the danger they might face. Frank yawned as he walked to the next house on Monument Avenue.

            “The Miami is getting fiercer by the hour,” thought Frank. “The water sounds like a churning monster that is about to swallow something.”

            Frank had reason to be scared of the Miami River. As a child, he had a terrifying ordeal on the Miami. His parents and he would always go skating on the Miami in the winter, when the water froze. It was a very enjoyable experience that Frank looked forward to all the time, until came the fatal day. Frank’s family was skating on the Miami one day and his father was demonstrating how talented he was at skating. Frank’s father helped his wife join in, when they hit a patch of thin ice. The couple fell through the ice into the freezing water instantly. There was a scream from a woman nearby while Frank slowly crawled to the edge of the ice. The water was splashing and bubbling as if nothing happened and it was so black. Before the ice could break under Frank, a man grabbed him and carried him off. Ever since that day, Frank had been an orphan who got an education that was funded by a mysterious figure. Frank also became hydrophobic after the event.

            Frank shuddered at the sound of the water and walked up to the next door. He knocked and began, “Sir, I’m from the Dayton Police Department and I’m here to warn you about the large possibility of high water….”

***

            It had taken nine and a half hours, but Frank had made his way all the way over to McDonough and Mainbridge Street. He had begun to have a little bit of luck convincing people to evacuate once N.C.R. started to blow its whistles at 5:00 A.M. As he warned more people, he began to hear more and more rumors about a levee that broke near Monument Ave. Frank began to think about the maid in the mansion on Monument, and he began to worry. Before scenes of dread and terror could form in his mind, he shook himself back to the present situation.

            “I need to think less and work harder,” thought Frank as he trudged his way through water that started to seep onto the street.

             He made his way over to the next house and knocked. It was about four minutes before the door was answered by a teenage boy.

            “Can I help you?” asked the young teenager.

            “Hello, my name is Frank and I’m with the Dayton Police. I have been ordered to warn you of the possibility of high water and I advise you to evacuate immediately.”

            “I’m sorry, but I think that we’ll take our chances here.”

             “It is your decision, although I heard that a levee near Monument broke.”

            “I’ll start moving the valuables upstairs.”

            Just as Frank started to walk away, he heard a large roaring noise. He turned northwards and saw a horrifying sight. A very large wave of water was coming down the street! He turned and began running towards the house.

            “Run upstairs quickly!” yelled Frank.

            The teenager looked outside, saw the wave, and began running up the stairs. Just as he reached the top, the wave hit the house and knocked Frank into the stairs. The teenager went and grabbed Frank and pulled him up.

            “Thank you,” gasped Frank as he fell on the floor panting.

            “You’re welcome,” said the teenager. “My name is Zachariah, and they are Marguerite and Marie.” He was pointing at two teenage girls. “Welcome to our little island in this newly created ocean.”

            “Do you have any provisions?” asked Frank.

            “What?” asked the confused Zachariah.

            “Do you have any food, water, or dry clothes?”

            “We have three loaves of bread, no water, and no dry men’s clothes.”

            “We aren’t as bad off as I thought,” announced Frank, trying to cheer up the frightened group. “We have food, we can use that bucket from the corner to catch rainwater, and we can warm up our clothes and bodies using a fire that I can make.”

            Frank ripped off a piece of wood and tied it to a bucket he found with some cloth from Marguerite’s drawers. He then put the bucket outside and tied down the wooden pole.

            “Now, for the fire…” he began after he had piled some more wood into a pile. He reached into a pocket. “Oh no, my matches got wet from the water,” he whispered. “There will be no fire, sorry.”

            “We could use some blankets for warmth,” spoke up Marguerite for the first time as she pulled out some blankets from her parent’s room.

            “Good thinking, but we still need to ration our food because I have no idea when the water will recede,” said Frank.

            Frank cut the three loaves of bread into thin, neat slices. He split the slices into four piles.

            “Now, that the food is divided, each pile is for one day. If the water starts to recede faster, we can eat a little more,” explained Frank.

            “This is unacceptable!” exclaimed Marie. “I demand that I am allowed to eat more than that measly amount. My father is rich and you’ll be sorry if you don’t listen to me!”

            “I wouldn’t care if your dad was the King of England!” yelled Frank. “I have been trained to keep you and me alive, so you will listen to me! Do you understand?!”

            Marie cowered under Frank’s tall, muscular body and barely whispered,” Yes, sir.”

            “Good. Now, does anyone have an idea on how to pass the time?”

            “We could sing some hymns I learned from church?” wondered Zachariah.

            Then Zachariah began to teach the group some hymns with the help of Frank. Frank had learned many of the hymns from the weekends he had spent at his church. Outside, the rain pounded down and the sound of the current washing by could almost be heard over the groups’ voice.

***

            The water began to flow at a quickening pace. Anne, Mary, and Dorothy, the maids at the Lowe household had been living on the first floor until that day. As the water rose, their chances of survival worsened. The water tossed the expensive antique furniture and the piano around like a fury of swirling memories.  Dorothy is crushed in an instant, as the instrument that once made beautiful music crushed the screams of the helpless woman.

            Following instinct, the other two women felt destined to survive and accompany Miss Lowe to survival. They were drowned within fifteen minutes after the death of Dorothy, their friend, and within seconds of each other.

                                                            *****

            At the home of Marguerite Willows, family, friends, and neighbors joined together to help each other through the stresses and pains of the flood. Zachariah escaped the deluge in the house’s study on the second floor, and wandered into Marguerite’s bedroom to sleep, but when he laid his head down on the pillow, he felt a strange lump just beneath the cotton pillowcase.

            He reached for the lump. It was Marguerite’s journal. As he opened it, it read:

Zachariah,

            I have had something to tell you for weeks, but I have not been able to express how I truly feel about…

            It was an unfinished confession of her feelings toward him. Eager to read more, he turned the page.

My Dearest Zachariah,

            I don’t know how you feel, but I Love You I have grown close to you. You enlighten my soul, and lift my spirit.

            He turned the page one last time to find a completed confession:

My Zachariah,

            This letter is something I have struggled with writing for weeks. As a matter of fact I am still choking on the words to say. I don’t know exactly how to state this. I not only feel complete when I’m around you, but also strong and courageous. I know this may feel strange to read, but it is how I feel about you. You give me strength and meaning whenever I think of you. Although you may not feel the same, I still think you deserve to know that this is how I feel.  I Love You Zachariah, plain as that. I want to be with you every second, of every hour, of every day. I need to feel complete, and you know how incomplete and empty I am inside and at home. You are my haven, my angel, and my everything. I love you, and would like for you to love me too.

            This letter sounds so much more poetic in my head, but I suppose I should leave these words and phrases as they are now, and allow you to interpret them as you please.

            Signed with sincere love,

            Marguerite Elizabeth Willows

***

            When he looked up from the love letter, Zachariah had tears silently flowing down his cheeks. He tried to hide them when he saw Marie standing in the doorway.

            “What’s wrong?” inquired Marie.

            “What do you mean?”

            “Zachariah, are you aware of how rumpled you look?”

            “Of course... Now if you’ll leave me be, I have some thinking to do.”

            Marie left the room, leaving Zachariah to his thoughts. As she leaves, she looks back over her shoulder to see what Zachariah had been reading, so she could come back and read it later. Zachariah was so confused. How could he and Marguerite feel the same for each other, yet neither of them knew it?

            A half hour passes. The floodwaters rose as Zachariah rejoined the group in the study. He went scarcely noticed due to the cries and screams of Celia, Marguerite’s niece and goddaughter. Everyone crowded around the baby’s cradle as they were trying to hush the child. None of them allowed even the slightest flicker of fear to show on their faces - none of them, except Marguerite. She was huddled in a corner; her tears were streaming in waves down her cheeks. Zachariah walked right past the crowd of people, and sat on the floor next to Marguerite.

            “Why are you crying?” asked Zachariah.

            “I’m fine. I promise.”

            “I know you’re not fine.”

            “I’m fi—”

            “If you are as fine, why are you crying so hard?” Zachariah whispered as he wiped a single salty tear from Marguerite’s blushing right cheek. “Please tell me what is making you so upset.”

            “If you insist, I’ll tell you.” choked Marguerite. “I just don’t understand why Celia is so important. Helen and I used to spend Saturdays and Sundays in Cooper Park or the Public Library while mama and papa went to church. When she met John nothing really changed. We only spent Sundays together, but those were still days that I cherished. Then we all got along when they got married. But when Celia was born it seemed as if no one cared about me. I have repeatedly asked Helen if I could take care of Celia on Saturday nights, and she has refused my offers every time.”

            “I’m sure Helen misses those days too, but if you think about it, she has a family to take care of now.  I don’t mean you, or your mama and papa. She has John and Celia.”

            This sent Marguerite into another crying fit. “I know, but I wish she would let me help her with house cleaning and let me watch Celia for a day. It makes me feel like she doesn’t want to be related to me - like she doesn’t even care about me.”

            “Things will change. I promise. My grandmother once told me about feeling the same way toward her older sister. She figured that the ones who love us the most will sometimes hurt us the most, and not even recognize they’re doing it.”

            “Thank you, Zachariah.” Marguerite had managed to choke out the syllables as she wrapped her arms around Zachariah’s neck.

            “The water is rising!!!” screeched Marie as she returned to the group.

The screams from the child seemed to echo louder off the walls of the study. All the people there had fixed expressions on their faces.

            “How high is it dear?” asked John in the calmest tone he could muster, but he still had a slight quiver in his voice.

            “It’s over the third to last step to the second floor!” replied Marie tensely.

            “Where should we go?” asked John.

            “The attic! We should go to the attic.” Zachariah replied quickly.

            “Yes, the attic.” agreed Mr. Willows.

            “Someone help me with Celia… Marguerite! Come here. Take her while John and I carry the cradle,” cried Helen.

            That was it. Zachariah was right, Helen did care. She wanted and needed Marguerite’s help. Marguerite would confront her sister later, but now, she was ready to take action. 

            “Up to the attic – everyone! Zachariah, that means you too!” bellowed Mrs. Willows.

            The children went up first, except for Marguerite, who was holding Celia. Mr. and Mrs. Willows, John and Helen, went up. Lastly, Marguerite took Celia. Marguerite comforted the child on the way up. The child responded with calm, if only for a few moments.

            Up in the attic, the panic had settled and everyone was amazed at the silence of the child.

            “Marguerite…how did you…?”

            “What do you mean Helen? Do you mean putting her to sleep?”

            “That seems impossible, the only time she has ever slept a whole night was when she was sick,” explained John.

            “Where’s her cradle? She should lie down and rest. And you too Helen, you look exhausted. I will take care of her if she wakes up.” 

            They laid the young bundle in the wooden cradle and set it on its slow, swaying motion. Helen found some old rags and an old afghan and slept next to her child.

            “I told you everything would be fine,” remarked Zachariah.

            “Maybe you were right, but I showed Helen how much I care about my niece.”

***

A day and night had passed. By the next morning the refugees in the Willows’ attic were terribly hungry and scared. Several boats had come to rescue families from their attics and from the tops of their roofs. Finally by that Wednesday at noon, a boat had found them, the stowaways in the attic. John got in before his wife and took the child into the boat with him. Celia squirmed in her father’s arms. Somehow, Celia wriggled out of her father’s grasp and fell into the swirling water.

            “Oh dear God! Save her John!” Helen screamed.

            “I can’t! The current is too strong.” cried John.

            “I’ll get her!” said Marguerite.

            “No! Don’t…” everyone seemed to yell in unison.

            “I have to!”

            “No Marguerite. Don’t!” as Zachariah reached out to grab her.

            “I’m saving my niece!” blurted Marguerite, as she plunged into the powerful, swirling current.

            Frank jumped in after her. Frank is swept away in the opposite direction of Marguerite. He managed to grab hold of a tree a few hundred feet from the house.

            Marguerite reached several times for Celia. Every time bobbed under the water and returned to the surface, she lost sight of the baby. Before she is submerged again, she hears Zachariah scream out, “Marguerite I love you too! I always have.” Marguerite started to cry, but her tears were undetectable against the muddy, putrid water drenching her face.

Another attempt to grab the infant failed. Marguerite was swept under the current, and this time taken deeper down than ever. Forces stronger than her own survival instinct hold her down. She can’t hold her breath any longer. She takes a long intake of breath, which was nothing but water. That’s it. Ten minutes later, the group, while leaning out of the attic, saw her body resurface. Face down.

            Zachariah let out a hysterical scream, as he threw himself to the floor.

            “Why? Why did she have to die like that?”

***

            Farther down Wayne Avenue, Frank had been stuck in a tree for nearly five hours. Frank manages to get the attention of one of the NCR rescue boats. As the brave men rescued Frank, he related his story of his attempted heroism, and the story of Marguerite, a young heroine, who lost her battle with the currents.

***

On the third morning of the disaster, Georgina was feeling utterly exhausted. She couldn’t move her head without it feeling like an Indian drummer was banging on her temples with his drumsticks. Her breathing was short and sharp; she coughed after every few weary breaths.

Pound, pound, pound. Her head was screaming with pain as she scanned her room for a paper and a writing utensil. She leaned as low as she could go and reached until her weak fingers touched them when she spotted them. Then she found her hand mirror on the floor and picked it up to write on. When the weak girl gathered all of these items, she settled down and composed a letter. The last few days had been a living nightmare for her, and she is determined to end the nightmare this morning once and for all. She wrote for thirty minutes; taking breaks in between sentences to save her last bit of strength. When she was finished, she read her letter to herself.

            “Daddy…I always loved you, even though we never got along after mother’s death, I have always had a space in my heart open to you; reserved for you. You never understood me, but I still gave you a chance. How I wish you were here now. I missed you in England and I missed who you once were all the time.

            “Daniel, you rescued me from my hopeless world. I was lost when I first came here; no one understood me or cared; and yet you of all people, my father’s driver, tried. You tried to reach deep inside my heart and fix what was wrong. You tried to help me, and you did. Daniel, you were always there by my side in the bad and in the good. You were more than a best friend to me; Daniel; I hope you hear me now. I love you and always will.

            “Marguerite. You are truly a great friend. I could always count on you for anything; anything at all. When I was angry at the world, you showed up at the right time to talk me through everything; to help me cope. I don’t think you ever said anything wrong when I was troubled; for you understood me. I wish you and Zachariah the best of the best; if you are still alive.

With Love,

Georgina Lucille Lowe

By the time she had gotten to the end of her letter, hot, salty tears were streaking down her face. She knew that any one of these people, or possibly all of them, could have been dead. Georgina laid her letter on her stomach. She realized that this was the end for her. There were no questions about it, and she was not going to get her hopes up by denying it. Georgina understood she had no chance against God’s Will. Death was coming for her, ready to take her up in his grip. All of a sudden, she lifted her eyes towards her door; she heard voices and people trying to get in her door. “Georgina! Can you hear me?!” A frantic, desperate male voice shouted.

            She looked in the mirror opposite where she was laying. She saw a beautiful girl, sick, malnourished, and dying on the daybed she had spent so many hours on before any of this happened. She saw Georgina, all dressed up in her finest clothes; clothes she had bought in France. Her dress was a creamy color with gold lace and beads sewn onto it. Her petticoats were white and gold lace. Her hair; strewn on the bed, and even though she was dying, Georgina was looking the most elegant she had ever looked in all of her nineteen years on this earth.

The racket and voices were still there; but she was too delirious to know that the voices were her rescuers. She turned her head and winced from the throbbing pain that was rushing from her temples to her neck, so bad it gave her prickly goose bumps down her arms. Georgina lifted her head as far as she would let herself lift it and, while holding her head, squinted her eyes and glanced out of her snowy, foggy window. What she saw was far worse than Hell; she thought it was the end of the world. As she whimpered from fear, she thumped her head back on her white pillow. “Georgina! Oh, are you alive?!” The voice rang in pain from outside her door blocked by ruined, upside-down furniture.

At eleven thirty she spoke her last words: “Don’t forget me.” Her left hand then fell to her side, barely touching the floor. One by one her expensive, gorgeous rings fell off with a clatter on her wood floor; her fingers were too thin to hold them on from the lack of nutrients and food. And slowly, ever so slowly, she closed her eyes; just as Daniel pried open her door.