Collision of The Heart Read Online Free PDF Page A

passengers accepted blankets and dry clothes and cups of hot coffee and tea from townsfolk. The pastor of First Church offered the building for anyone who had no place to stay.
    “Though we’re getting crowded.”
    “So’s the hotel,” someone called. “Try the boardinghouse.”
    “I only have one room left, and it’s reserved.” Mrs. Greene, who had owned the boardinghouse practically from the founding of the town two decades earlier, stood in the doorway to the sanctuary. “If she don’t show up in another ten minutes, I’m giving the room to someone else.”
    “I’m here.” Euphemia wound her way around knots of people gathered in the entryway and reached out her right hand to the boardinghouse keeper. “I’m here, Mrs. Greene. Please don’t give my room away.”
    “You can stay with us, Mia,” Mr. Goswell said from behind her.
    Euphemia smiled at him over her shoulder. “Thank you, but I’d rather you gave the space to people who truly need it.”
    “We already have,” Mr. Goswell said. “That woman and her children will be staying in Frank’s room.”
    He referred to their elder son, who now lived in Chicago.
    “But we could put you up with Rosalie,” he continued. “I wouldn’t be able to put a stranger there.”
    “Of course you can’t. But—” Euphemia cradled her injured wrist and writing case with her right arm. If Ayden weren’t there, she would go in an instant. She always got along well with Rosalie. She adored Mrs. Goswell. Losing Ayden’s family had been nearly as difficult as losing him—precisely why she could not stay in their house, accept their kindness and generosity of spirit. The hope she read in Mr. Goswell’s face reminded her she must not give them the impression she would renew any sort of relationship with their son. She couldn’t hurt them again any more than she wanted to be hurt again.
    “I think we’re all better off if I stay at the boardinghouse.” She turned away and skirted a knot of people to reach the boardinghouse proprietress. “I’m here.”
    Mrs. Greene’s eyes gleamed in her moon face. “I saw you. Gonna put you up in your old attic room. I know it’s tiny, but I had to put families in the bigger rooms.”
    “That’s quite all right.” Euphemia tightened the corners of her mouth. “I’ll pay the full rate.” Before the woman could argue with her, Euphemia spun toward the door.
    Mr. Goswell remained near the opening, and Ayden had joined him. So had a man and woman, each carrying a piece of luggage in one hand and holding the hand of a child with the other. The older Goswell male carried a piece of luggage. The younger one held a boy of perhaps five or six whose head lolled against Ayden’s shoulder. His eyes met Euphemia’s across the room, and at the sight of him holding a child so protectively in his arms, Euphemia felt as though the weight of one of those railroad cars were crushing her chest. If only things had gone differently, if only he had taken the teaching position in Boston instead of remaining in Hillsdale when the opportunity arose there, he could be holding their little boy like that in another few years. But he’d broken his promise and made a choice that took them in different directions, and her hope of having everything she wanted died in one spectacular razor-tongued dispute.
    The scene blurred before Euphemia’s eyes, and she turned away. She would exit the church through the back door.
    She entered the sanctuary. People huddled together on the pews, many slumped or stretched out in repose, if not sleep. Volunteers from the town moved around, distributing blankets and cups of steaming liquids. Euphemia passed the little girl with the injured foot and the pallid governess. The former lay on the pew wrapped in a crocheted blanket, her bandaged toes sticking out. The latter sat beside her charge, her hands in darned black gloves and folded in her lap, her pale eyes fixed on the altar.
    Euphemia nodded to