write to Garth and Katie and then make plans to see them. At last she’d find the answers to her questions and know what it felt like to be part of a real family.
St. Albans, England
March 14, 1919
Garth McAlister grabbed his military-issued duffel bag from the overhead rack and adjusted his stance to steady himself while the train rocked and swayed down the tracks. He studied the passing countryside, then turned to his friend Rob Lewis. “We’re getting close.”
Rob grinned and rose to his feet. “I’m glad to hear it.” He slung the strap of his duffel bag over his shoulder and tugged his olive-drab uniform cap down over his dark-blond hair. “Are you sure your family won’t mind my arriving unannounced?”
“Positive. My mum and sisters will be happy to welcome you to Bolton.”
“But what about your brother-in-law? It’s his family’s estate.”
“Andrew Frasier has always been very hospitable.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting your family. I remember Katie from our voyage to Canada and that one time we saw her at church. But that was almost ten years ago.”
The conductor poked his head into their compartment. “St. Albans is next.”
“Thank you, sir. That’s our stop.” Garth placed his uniform cap on his head.
“Welcome home, boys.” The conductor smiled and gave them a jaunty salute. “You’ve won a great victory. We’re all very proud and grateful.”
Garth nodded to the man, but uneasiness tightened his chest. His role, caring for horses used to transport equipment, had kept him out of the trenches, while many of his friends had fought on the front line and sacrificed their lives.
He gave his head a slight shake and pushed away those grim thoughts. The war was over now. It was time to move forward and forge a new life for himself and Emma.
The memory of his sweetheart in Canada sent a pang through his chest. He took her photograph from his shirt pocket and studied her heart-shaped face, soft round cheeks, and gentle brown eyes. Others might not see it, but to him there was no one more beautiful. He swallowed hard and tucked the photo away. It had been more than three months since he’d heard from her. It didn’t make sense. Before that, she’d written to him faithfully and always closed her letters by telling him how much she looked forward to his safe return. He’d thought they had an understanding, but now he wondered if he’d clung to her memory and imagined more than she had intended in order to keep the horror of war at bay.
When her letters had stopped in December, he told himself that they were delayed because his unit had moved and divided after the war ended. But as the weeks passed, his concern had grown.
Had she met someone else? If so, why hadn’t she written and told him? What if she’d taken ill or…He slammed the door on that dreadful thought. She couldn’t have perished at home in Canada while he had survived the gruesome battles in France. That was not possible.
He would visit his family at Bolton for a short time, secure their help, and then go to Canada and find Emma. His heart couldn’t chart any other course.
The train brakes squealed. Rob motioned toward the passageway, where several people already waited. “After you, my friend.”
Garth exited the train and stepped down to the platform. It had been almost a year since he’d come through St. Albans and visited his mum and his sisters Laura and Katie on a short leave. Then he’d returned to France and continued serving with Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry.
The railway station bustled with activity as troops returned home and men, women, and children set off on their travels. Garth pulled in a deep breath and filled his lungs with crisp fresh air. It was good to be back in England, especially in a picturesque city like St. Albans. The branches on the nearby trees were still bare, but a few spring flowers brightened planters on the platform.
Garth and Rob made their way through the crowded station and out to the street. After a few inquiries, they found a farmer with a wagon headed in the direction of Bolton and caught a ride in the back between crates of cheese and baskets of wool.
Twenty minutes later, they hopped down from the wagon, thanked the farmer, and started up the long drive toward the main house at Bolton. Garth nodded to a stone cottage on the left. “My mum and sisters stayed