Emmy's Equal by Marcia Gruver

reward, washed from Bertha’s arms by a raging Texas river, Bertha found herself back where she started ... in a world filled with out-of-reach places.
    In other words, all of her dresses came six inches too long. She should be used to it by now.
    Stringy strands had escaped Bertha’s hairpins as usual, and the hem of her new frock was crooked.
    Magda prayed she’d remembered her shoes. “I see you’ve been doing your own needlework again.”
    Bertha glanced down at her dress. “Had to.”
    Magda took her by the shoulders and turned her in a circle, tracking the erratic path of the fat stitches. “You’ve made a right mess of it, you know.”
    Bertha bristled and pointed at the rig. “You try sewing a straight line while riding in that contraption.”
    Arching her brows at Emmy and Willem to be certain she’d heard right—by the stunned looks on their faces, she had—Magda turned to gape at Bertha. “You hemmed your dress without taking it off?”
    Bertha blinked up at her. “Couldn’t sit there next to Nash in my corset and knickers, could I?”
    Emmy hurriedly covered her smile with one hand, and Willem shook his head.
    Magda pinched the fabric of Bertha’s dress and raised it slightly to see her feet. Bertha slapped away her hand. “Stop that. I’m wearing them.”
    “Just checking.”
    The train pulled up beside them in a rush of blustery wind, smoke, and the loud squeal of brakes, ending the conversation. Magda shouted last-minute instructions to Nash then lifted two of the bulging bags, handing one off to her husband. “Come along, Emily. It’s time to go.”
    With a last hurried kiss for Nash’s cheek, Emmy gathered her things and swept onto the train, followed by Bertha, who tripped on the bottom step before righting herself and disappearing inside the car, her luggage thumping up the steps behind her.
    Taking Willem’s arm, Magda recoiled at the bright red circles staining his fleshy face. She groped for his hand and found his fists clenched. His stormy gaze still locked on Nash, Willem helped Magda on board, handing their bags to the white-coated porter who had appeared behind her.
    Watching her husband struggle with his anger, the finger of guilt concerning the rift between Emmy and Willem shifted, lifting the load of blame from Magda’s shoulders and replacing it with sudden clarity and a fresh new crop of trouble.
    ***
    The porter stopped next to a pair of empty seats, motioning with a smile and a nod for Emmy to sit. She groaned. The two wide benches faced each other across a narrow space that barely provided legroom, which meant that for looming endless miles there’d be no escaping Papa’s stern glances and constant reprimands. However would she bear it? No doubt she’d arrive at their destination bunched tighter inside than her fists, which were clenched so tightly the tips of her nails stung her palms through the soft leather gloves.
    She stole a peek over her shoulder and swallowed hard. Her parents, their mouths drawn like they’d shared a lemon, lumbered through the passenger car behind Aunt Bertha, who chattered wildly to no one in particular.
    Wondering what had happened to put the sour looks on their faces, hoping it had nothing whatever to do with her, Emmy settled into a tense wad by the window, leaving plenty of room for Aunt Bertha to spread out beside her.
    Mama plodded up and took her place opposite Aunt Bert, storing her parasol and an oversized basket of food beneath the seat.
    Unreasonable panic crowded Emmy’s throat as Papa settled across from her, a nameless storm brewing on his face. With no forethought, she sprang to her feet and pushed past them into the aisle, her head spinning.
    Mama gaped up at her. “What are you doing, Emily? Sit yourself down.”
    She gripped the back of Aunt Bert’s seat for balance. “I won’t be a moment. I forgot something.” Whirling, she traversed the narrow car, ignoring Papa’s bellow—a reckless act of rebellion for which