Isaac looked as if he might cry. “I’ll be praying for you too.”
He and Isaac strolled off the pier, into a hodgepodge of adobe buildings, wooden warehouses, saloons, and hotels. The hulls of old ships were used as foundations for some of the buildings, and canvas was draped as roofs over others. The streets were crowded with men it seemed from around the world, speaking different languages. He only saw one woman, and she was dressed like a man, with sporting pants and a black frock coat.
Mrs.Dawson would find a husband soon. Perhaps before the day’s end.
“Fresh fish!” a vendor yelled on one side of the street. Another yelled that he was selling candy, oranges, and pears—a tray secured by suspenders over his shoulders displayed his wares. There were chickens in cages at an open market, quarters of animals hanging overhead. The smell of roasting meat clung to the salty sea air.
Isaac glanced up at him.
“We’ll eat soon,” Alden promised him.
They pushed through the crowds of people as they climbed the dirt road up to Judah’s office on Stockton. It was located in a two-story whitewashed building, the sign overhead displaying the names of Garrett and Baer.
Alden checked the address again before he and Isaac stepped into a bank, complete with two teller booths and an office on the side.
He slid the envelope across the counter. “I received a letter from a friend at this address.”
The teller read the address and stepped back, saying he would return.
Isaac’s nose was pressed against the glass window in the lobby. It seemed everyone else in this city was in a rush to their destination, as if they had someplace important to go. But this address was supposed to beterminus ad quem—the journey’s end for Isaac and him.
The teller returned to the counter. “Mr.Fallow used to rent an office upstairs, but he’s no longer here.”
“Do you know where he went?”
The man shook his head, slipping the envelope back to him. “My employer says he left a year ago. Probably went to the goldfields.”
Alden stared down at the letter with dismay, then stuffed it back into his pocket, mumbling a thanks to the clerk before turning toward the door.
Judah had been so resolute with his offer; Alden hadn’t considered that the man would have left San Francisco before he arrived.
Why hadn’t he told Alden where he’d gone?
Despondent, he leaned back against a post. What would he do if he couldn’t find work? Even if he found Isaac a home, there wasn’t enough money left for his return passage to Boston now.
He prayed San Francisco wasn’t an ending for them after all.
Chapter 22
Sacramento City
May 1854
Isabelle knelt on the grass by her aunt’s grave, a bouquet of wild lupine in her arms. She laid the pale yellow and purple flowers beside the dried ones she’d brought here last week. Then she’d kissed her fingers and held them against the cool marble stone.
Aunt Emeline rested beside her husband in City Cemetery, her grave marked with a simple epitaph.
EMELINELABRIE
LOVINGWIFE, FAITHFULSERVANT, DAUGHTEROFGOD
APRIL1797–FEBRUARY1854
The words pierced Isabelle’s heart again. Three months had passed since Aunt Emeline had gone home, but it seemed like years. The anchor in Isabelle’s life had been cut loose, and she felt like a ship lost at sea, drifting through a storm.
When she was younger, she used to watch other families with wonder until God brought a family to love her too. Her aunt and uncle had cared deeply for her well-being and for her dreams. For almost a decade, she had belonged.
The trinket box that Aunt Emeline had given her was hidden in the room under her desk at the hotel, and she wore two keys around her neck now—one for the lockbox with revenue from the hotel and the other for her aunt’s box. That key was a consistent reminder of her aunt, but she still couldn’t bear to open her gift. Nor could she visit the cottage on the knoll above the cemetery, even though Nicolas and Sing Ye had invited her to dine with them.
