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Chapter One
Sydney Weatherby rode through the quiet city of Beckham on her way to the orphanage where she volunteered three mornings per week. She loved riding when the town was so quiet before most people had woken up and gotten their days started. She enjoyed working with the children, and often, all she did was play with them and keep them busy. Today, though, was a day that would be full of chores. It was spring cleaning time, and the orphans were expected to wash windows, scrub floors, and do all the things their mothers would have been doing had they been alive.
Her long blond hair flowed out behind her as she rode, though she knew it was supposed to be in a knot. At least her mother would say it should be in a knot. When she got to the orphanage, she’d brush it and pin it up, so she could escape her mother’s wrath.
Her mother hated her habit of riding her bike everywhere, though she’d been the one to get Sydney the bike when she was a girl of twelve. Her mother had been convinced that a bicycle was the answer to the small pudge around Sydney’s middle, and her mother had been right! She’d lost all the weight and turned into a beautiful athletic young woman.
But she wouldn’t stop riding the bicycle and challenging boys to ride with her. Her mother wasn’t happy because she wanted her to flirt with the boys, not best them in bike races. Now she was twenty, and still unmarried, spending her time biking and helping at the orphanage, when her parents wanted her to go to balls and have afternoon teas with potential mothers-in-law. None of that was for Sydney.
An only child, Sydney had been given a boy’s name, simply because there wasn’t a girl’s name picked out. They’d wanted more children, but Sydney, the great disappointment she was, was all they had.
She stopped in front of the orphanage and rested her bike up against the side of the house. Someone would scold her for it later, but for now, it was fine where it was. Sometimes she let the orphans take turns on it and used it as a reward for good behavior.
Walking into the house, she immediately helped make breakfast, though her mother would be scandalized if she realized the woman who ran the orphanage had taught her to cook. Sydney wasn’t sure what her mother thought she did with the orphans, but it certainly wasn’t cooking and cleaning. Those things were beneath her daughter as far as she was concerned.
As soon as the table was set and food was on the table, Mrs. Anderson, the sweet matron of the home, nodded at Sydney. “Ring the bell.”
Sydney walked over to the bell that could be heard throughout the entire house, and took a deep breath, before nodding at Mrs. Anderson. She rang the bell loudly, and then the two of them waited for the onslaught.
It came just as quickly as they expected it to. Children who hadn’t eaten in twelve hours came running down the stairs, sliding down the banister, and yelling with excitement.
They all had assigned seats at the table, and each one sat down, obediently bowing their heads for their prayer. “Jimmy, it’s your turn to pray,” Mrs. Anderson said.
Sydney grinned as she bowed her own head giving it a slight shake. Jimmy’s prayers always made her smile.
“Oh, Gracious Heavenly Father, we thank You for this meal You have provided. We also thank You for not allowing Mrs. Anderson to find the puppy Aaron smuggled into the boys’ bedroom last night. For helping us get away with stealing penny candies from the mercantile, and for not making it rain today so we can play baseball all day. You truly are a good God. Please help us find a way to get out of doing spring cleaning today because as You know, we like the house messy. It feels like a home that way. In the name of Your son, Christ Jesus, we pray. Amen. And b-women, but don’t tell Mrs. Anderson I said b-women. She hates that.”
By the time he reached the end, all the orphans were snickering. Sydney turned her back to the table entirely, but she knew the children would see her shoulders shaking. Oh, how she wished her mother would allow her to adopt Jimmy and live in a little house in the country. She’d asked, but her mother said it would be harder to marry her off if she had a child.
When Sydney had pointed out that all the men her mother wanted her to marry were stuffed shirts, her mother had told her she would be marrying, and soon.
Sydney didn’t understand why her mother still had so much control over her though. They were a year away from the turning of the century. The Twentieth Century was certain to change the way women were treated, and it couldn’t happen soon enough.
Sydney turned back to the table, watching as the orphans all fell on their meal as if they were starving, when in truth, they ate very well for orphans.
Mrs. Anderson stood frowning at Jimmy. He sometimes confessed to things they’d never done in prayers to make her look into something that hadn’t happened so they could get away with things that had. And sometimes he told the truth. There was no knowing what he was up to, but he was always up to something.
Mrs. Anderson handed Sydney the children’s assignments for the day, and Sydney obediently read them aloud.
By the time she was done, all the children had sunk low in their seats, and Sydney could tell it was time for her to do something to bolster the spirits. “Jimmy, Aaron, and Howard, we get to wash all the windows outside. That’s going to be fun. Whoever washes the most windows—without leaving any spots or streaks—gets to ride my bike for fifteen minutes!”
The three boys lifted their heads, looking excited. “But what about us girls?” Molly, a relatively new orphan, asked. “We have to wash the inside of all the windows and do lots of other things.”
Sydney thought about it for a moment. “How about this? I’ll have Mrs. Anderson pick the best worker from each of the inside groups, and I’ll bestow some sort of reward on you next time I come. I’ll try to make the reward fit the child.”
Molly looked at Mrs. Anderson, who reluctantly agreed with a nod. “But you must remember that working is done simply to make the house better. Not so you will receive rewards.”
Sydney grinned that her idea had been agreed with. If she’d asked Mrs. Anderson earlier, the woman never would have agreed, but by asking in front of the children, she really had no choice.
“Regular chores are done before spring cleaning?” Sydney asked.
“Yes, of course. Dishes must still be done, and the house must still be swept. Nothing can be done until the daily chores are taken care of.” Mrs. Anderson couldn’t help but smile at the youngest orphan, Agatha, who looked at her with a smile. “Yes, you can help wipe the dishes dry, Agatha.”
The next few hours were an absolute whirlwind for the entire household. It was well past two in the afternoon when Sydney noticed the time. She was supposed to be home and dressed for tea by three. Her mother was not going to be pleased.
She hurried to Mrs. Anderson. “I have to go. I need to be dressed for tea at three.”
Mrs. Anderson’s eyes widened. “There’s no way you can make it that quickly!”
