Page 17 of The Musician (Emerson Pass Historicals 5)

He bobbed his head. “Yes.”

Write to me. I wanted to shout it, demand it. But that would be the last thing he or I needed.

The porter shouted instead, something about last call.

“Shall we?” Papa asked.

I tucked my arm into Mama’s.

“Don’t forget that Jo’s in charge of you two,” Papa said to my youngest sisters.

“We know,” Delphia said, mischief rolling over her face like a brightly colored scarf in the wind.

And then we walked up the steps of the first-class car and took our seats.

“Came in on the third-class car and leaving on the first,” Mama said to Papa. “What a life I’ve had.”

“What a life you’ve given me,” Papa said as his gloved hand covered hers.

The massive engine puffed and chugged as we slowly made our way out of the station, the great love between my parents a balm to my broken heart as I pressed my face against the glass for one last wave to my family.

Li was no longer standing with them. I saw a flash of his black coat headed through the double doors of the station. He didn’t even wait to see my train leave. Well, that was that. Soon, I would no longer care.

Please God, let that be sooner than later, because right now I feel as if I’m dying.