Band of Sisters by Cathy Gohlke

demanded.
    Maureen slowly handed him the letter and watched as he unfolded it, her heart pounding. In that moment two junior officials came to her interrogator with a question about another passenger; the man set the letter down and turned away. Maureen quickly stole the letter, licked her thumb, and worried the paper’s edge, half-smudging and half-fraying the date in the upper right-hand corner.
    Which was worse—to be sent back with an old and useless letter or to be sent back for deception? Please, she prayed, blind his eyes to what I’ve done.

    Joshua Keeton stepped from the immigration center into the late-November sunshine. Getting through Ellis Island had been quicker and easier than he’d dared hope. Good health, a strong back, quick answers, and the requisite finances had stood him in good stead.
    He stepped onto the ferry just before it pulled from the dock. He looked about but saw no sign of Maureen or Katie Rose among the passengers. Disappointed and a little unsettled, he found a seat, reminding himself that Maureen had made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him. He pulled from his pocket the rough map a fellow traveler had drawn for him, highlighting places he might find a room for the night. Long after he’d digested its information, he continued to stare at it while he prayed.
    Thank You, Lord, for this new beginning in this new land. Guide my footsteps, keep my path straight, and make me a blessing to those I meet.
    Joshua nodded to the Green Lady as the ferry passed her in the harbor. Give Maureen and her sister the fresh start this good land offers and the liberty they’ve never known. I’d hoped to be of service to her in makin’ that fresh start, thought that was what You had in mind when Mrs. Keithly asked me to watch over them. I’d hoped . . . But he didn’t finish. He looked away, shrugging the disappointment aside. He was used to forging a different path from those around him, both in his thinking and praying and in his doing. Still, he knew some honest confession was in order. She’ll not be needin’ me when she has the Wakefields and all their wealth at her beck and call. And maybe that’s as it should be, but I’m disappointed, Lord; I won’t say I’m not.
    Just before the ferry docked against the pier of New York’s Battery, he squared his shoulders and hefted his bag. I ask that You keep her in Your care, Lord. And if she needs me, let me know.

    When the interrogator returned his attention to Maureen, he took up the letter, squinting as he read. “This letter is written on your behalf?” The official looked skeptical. “It mentions a son.”
    Before Maureen could answer, a short and thickly set middle-aged woman with gold wire-rimmed glasses and slate-gray hair fluffed into a soft bun interrupted. “Excuse me, Mr. Crenshaw. Nurse Harrigan asked me to see to this young lady.”
    “Mrs. Melkford.” The official tipped his hat.
    She smiled. “I see that cold has gone by the way, thanks be to God.”
    “As has your chicken soup. Does the trick every time.”
    “You let me know whenever you feel a sniffle coming on and need another dose of good medicine, and I’ll cook you up another pot.”
    “In that case, I’m thinking I might be sick straight through the winter!” he teased.
    “Then I’ll see you with a crock next trip.” She patted his hand. “Now, about this young woman. The Missionary Aid Society and I will vouch for her. We’ll make sure she reaches her destination or finds a job, whichever we can accomplish first.”
    “That would be fine, but she’s put forth a letter.” He turned aside so Maureen wouldn’t hear him, but she heard just the same. “She may be trying to pull a fast one—pinched some other fellow’s letter.”
    “No, no, Mr. Crenshaw, it’s her letter—a long story, no doubt. It will all work out in the end. You have my word for it—mine and Nurse Harrigan’s.”
    “Well . . .” He hesitated, scratching behind his