Annie's Stories (22 page)

“I still don’t understand why you are so generous to me, Mrs. Hawkins, unless it’s because you owed my mother a debt.”

“No, no.”

“If it’s about paying for being in the laundry, that was not your fault. If anyone owes anyone anything, it’s me.”

“You?”

“You saved me from that place. Twice, for heaven’s sake!”

“Oh, Annie, love.” She put a hand to Annie’s cheek. “I do not care for you or do any of my charity work out of a sense that I must wash away my sins. God truly has given me his heart for others, and that brings me joy. And you?” She lowered her hand and blinked back tears. “You are a special girl, Annie Gallagher.”

27

A
NNIE GLANCED
to the hall when she heard laughter.

“Let us talk more later, love. Why don’t you go see what they are up to. I am expecting Mrs. Jenkins to stop by to give me her deviled egg recipe, and as nosy as she is, I would rather not be all red-faced when she gets here. Do you mind terribly much?”

“I do not mind, Mrs. Hawkins. Thank you for speaking to me about this. I know it was painful.”

“No need to thank me, love.” She dabbed at moist eyes and tipped her head to motion Annie on.

Annie sighed, took another glance at the Bible, and moved toward the kitchen.

When she entered, she found Aileen and Jules sitting at the table, her copy of
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
open between them.

“See here, Jules? This is a windstorm lifting a house clear off the ground.”

“I’m glad that storm we had didn’t take our house like that,” he said.

Aileen patted the boy’s shoulder. “I am pretty glad about that too.”

They both leaned in and turned some more pages.

“Look at that dog,” Jules said. “I know a little black-and-brown
dog like that. The girl he belongs to says he sleeps next to her just like this picture.”

They turned a couple more pages. Jules laughed. “Look, he’s sitting up and begging. Don’t you like dogs, Miss Aileen?”

Aileen laughed. “Sure I do.” She looked up. “Oh, Annie. I hope you don’t mind. You left your book on the table and Jules and I were looking at the pictures.”

“Not at all.” Aileen was right. She would have made a wonderful mother.

Annie sat with them. She was about to rise to answer a knock at the front door when she heard Mrs. Hawkins and the neighbor chatting about the proper way to boil eggs. “I’ll make a fresh pot of tea.”

But before the water boiled, she heard Mrs. Jenkins depart. She handed Jules a biscuit before he left, and when Mrs. Hawkins came into the kitchen, she, Aileen, and Annie chatted around the kitchen table like . . . like family.

Stephen wanted to check on things at Hawkins House, and since he had a package to deliver from a printer
 
—probably something for Grace’s wedding
 
—he went there early. Mrs. Hawkins would appreciate having it right away.

When Stephen delivered next door to Hawkins House, Mrs. Jenkins met him. “Such a pity the trouble those women are suffering,” she said.

“Have you seen anyone today? I do hope they are getting things worked out for the best.”

“Not today, no. I did drop by yesterday to give Agnes my deviled eggs recipe, and I can tell you, something upset the dear woman. She didn’t let on, and in fact said everything was very well, but . . . did you know . . . ?” She leaned forward
like the gossiping homemakers Stephen had witnessed in other neighborhoods. “Did you know, Mr. Adams, their newest boarder was taken away in an ambulance?”

“I had heard. I hope she’s getting well.”

“I don’t know if one gets well from that kind of thing.”

“What do you mean?”

She arched her brows and lifted her chin. “I’ll say no more. I am a Christian woman.” She crossed her arms firmly across her middle. “Oh, and then a tall, distinguished gentleman visited yesterday, quite early. Now, why would a man call on them at such a time of day?”

“I . . . I don’t know. Mrs. Jenkins, did you not tell me you would be traveling? I held your mail for three days last week.”

“Quite right. I left the very same day I saw some peculiar visitors next door. I returned last Sunday. Mrs. Blevins across the way told me about the ambulance. And I did happen to notice the man yesterday. I was not looking, you understand, I just happened to be on the stoop sweeping up.”

“I see.” He reached into his bag. “Here is your mail, Mrs. Jenkins.” He spotted Grace walking up to Hawkins House. “Excuse me.” He called to Grace and held up the package. She waited for him.

“Is that for us?”

“It is. I thought it might pertain to your upcoming wedding, so I wanted to deliver it right away.”

She studied the brown ink writing. “Ah, ’tis something I needed indeed. Thank you so much, Mr. Adams.”

“Delivery is my business.” He tipped his hat and began to whistle as he went on his way. He silenced his tune when he realized his encounter with Grace meant he would not see Annie anymore that day since Hawkins House did not normally get enough mail to merit multiple visits in a day.

As he proceeded, he thought about Annie. If he were able to woo her, as Dexter phrased it, and perhaps even marry her one day, he’d be better able to protect her within his own household and see to her needs. But he’d done a poor job of taking care of his own needs. Repentance would be a part of his prayers from now on.

A thought came to him, gentle but firm:
I require obedience, son.

Show me, Lord.

As he moved on toward the docks, the buildings rose over his head like a thundercloud. Numerous clotheslines strung with white undergarments and shirts flapping in the cold wind absorbed what sunlight did manage to penetrate. It seemed to him there was not a breath of fresh air to be had for several blocks.

He took his mittens out of his pocket and handed them to a shivering boy, no older than six, huddled on one of the building’s stone steps. The lad didn’t respond as quickly as boys like Matty did and, in fact, refused.

“Go on. It’s okay, now. I know what it’s like, being out here on the streets.”

The boy turned a sooty face toward him. “How would you know that, mister?”

“I was a newsboy once.”

The kid puffed up his cheeks. “I don’t know what you did, but I do all right, almost a quarter dollar a day and nobody I have to give it to.”

“Fine. You’re a businessman, then. Got a keen sense of a square deal, I imagine.”

The kid grinned. “You bet.”

“Then you’ll know a free gift to keep your hands warm while you hold the papers is a good deal. It’s not too bad out now, but you do know winter’s coming.”

He shrugged and took them from Stephen’s outstretched hands.

When Stephen walked away, he felt the chill against his bare hands but dismissed it. A quote from a book by Jacob Riis came to mind: “It is the tenement that gives up the child to the street in tender years to find there the home it denied him.” He’d remembered it because it had been true for him. In the streets he had danced to “London Bridge Is Falling Down” played on a hand organ. He had moved about freely without enduring the hollowed-out stares and abrupt reprimands from his parents. Life on the streets was not the best, but it wasn’t the worst, either. These kids had to find their own way, like Stephen had. No harm in helping them out when he was able.

“For a man’s life consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth.”

Possessions didn’t define him. Perhaps, he thought, he was finally understanding. So long as he was working to help meet someone else’s needs, his work would have meaning. And Annie needed him right now.

28

W
HEN THE
B
ENEVOLENTS
assembled for Mrs. Hawkins’s hastily called meeting, Annie was surprised to see the committee present consisted only of Mrs. Hawkins, Dr. Thorp, Reverend Clarke, and Mr. George Parker, Grace’s employer. She had imagined Mrs. Hawkins’s financial supporters to be either extremely wealthy folks
 
—which these were not
 
—or many in number.

“How is Kirsten?” Annie whispered to the doctor before he took his seat.

“A bit better. Now don’t worry. She’ll be fine.”

Mrs. Hawkins caught her eye. “Please close the pocket doors, love.”

Annie did as she was told, but she hated being shut out like that. She found Aileen in the kitchen. “Where did Grace get off to?”

“Ah, she’s knackered. Said she had more wedding planning to do at her desk upstairs. I’m taking the laundry out now. Mrs. Hawkins said the laundress will accept it late in the day and do the work in the morn.”

“Jules is gone?” Annie had seen him in the kitchen shortly before the committee meeting began.

“He is. Brought by his mother’s boiled cider pie recipe.”

Annie laughed. “The Hawk is determined that Grace and Owen will have a truly American menu at the party, aye?”

Aileen shook her head. “I suppose so. I will help make it, but that doesn’t mean I’ll eat it.”

Annie shrugged. “Where was Jules off to so quickly?”

“To deliver messages, he said.”

“You were wonderful with him yesterday, Aileen. Sometimes ’tis easy to forget those working boys are still children.”

“He’s a fine lad.”

“Are you sure you’re comfortable going out with the laundry?”

She rolled her eyes. “I am capable, Annie.”

“I know you are.”

Annie gathered what she needed for tea.

When she returned to the parlor, the doctor was speaking. “Sorry Mr. McNulty could not be here, Agnes, but it could not be helped. Owen reports that his father is traveling for his business. Even so, I believe there are enough of us to make a decision.”

The room fell quiet as she served tea. Each one thanked her in turn, and then she left, balancing the tea tray on her hip so she could close the doors again.

“Annie,” Mrs. Hawkins called to her. “Please stay.”

Stunned, she entered and then shut the doors behind her, standing in front of them.

Mrs. Hawkins cleared her throat. “Gentlemen, I want you to know my housekeeper is not merely my servant. She is a wonderful girl, as you know, with a heart for helping those less fortunate, which is something we all have in common.”

“Hear, hear,” someone said.

Annie’s face grew warm.

“She is planning an undertaking I think we could all champion.”

Reverend Clarke raised his arm into the air. “In the interest of time, Agnes, could we discuss this at a later date? We have assembled for an emergency vote.”

“Indeed, Ronald. But just allow me to mention one thing.”

There was a mumbling of agreement. Mrs. Hawkins swiveled in her chair to face Annie. “Annie is going to open a library.”

“Wonderful,” Dr. Thorp said. “There aren’t enough of them. Tell us about it, would you, Annie?”

She licked her lips. “My father was a great storyteller. I’m going to sell some of his stories and make a lot of money. I’ve already signed a contract with
Harper’s
magazine.”

A round of applause rang out.

“I’m going to name the library after him.”

Mrs. Hawkins waved her hand in the air to bring the room to order. “So you see, she will need books. I say we start a drive to collect the dusty, unused titles sitting on the bookshelves of so many of New York’s wealthier families and put them to good use in Annie’s library.”

“An excellent idea,” Mr. Parker said. “I know I have a few.”

Mrs. Hawkins pointed toward her breakfront. “As do I.”

“Thank you. Thank you, all,” Annie said. When she closed the doors behind her, her mood was buoyed with the thought of having others help her with her plans. She had never dreamed that would happen. Annie had wanted to do everything for herself, believing one must grow one’s own dreams. But perhaps a solitary effort was not the proper approach after all. The mice in
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
certainly showed what camaraderie could do. And so did Dorothy’s friends.

After the men left, Mrs. Hawkins called Annie into the parlor. “We have decided the time has come to ask Kirsten for the ledger.”

“The what?”

“The package she received from her brother. Owen has discovered the Pinkerton has been employed by a group of schemers, and the ledger is what these men want him to recover.”

“I don’t understand.”

“All that matters is it’s an illegal operation milking folks out of their savings, pretending to be legitimate brokerage firms. We don’t know how Jonas came to have this ledger. No one
 
—including, we believe, the Pinkerton
 
—thinks these men would have brought a newly arrived immigrant into their inner circle, but somehow he has the accounting of their activities.”

“But why would he send it to Kirsten, here at Hawkins House?”

“The doctor postulated a theory on that, love. He supposes that these men were hot on Mr. Wagner’s trail, and he mailed it in the hopes that he could slip by them and retrieve it when they weren’t looking.”

“But they were looking.”

“Yes, that is the fly in the soup.”

“So will Kirsten surrender it, knowing her brother might get in trouble?”

“That is the dilemma, I’m afraid. He’s likely to be deported.”

“Haven’t the police asked Kirsten for it?”

“Dr. Thorp hasn’t allowed her to be questioned yet. She’s been resting quite well and should be ready to cooperate now. It is best to let the authorities handle this from this point forward.”

“Mrs. Hawkins, if you were going to tell me anyway, why did you ask me to leave the room?”

“It’s the policy of our group, love.”

Annie still didn’t understand. “Well, I do thank you for supporting my library.” She was still reveling in the honor.

“My pleasure. We were interrupted before. Would you like to continue our talk now?”

“Please.” Annie sat on the rocking chair.

“You must be wondering how I came to leave the laundry and Ireland.”

She was most interested in hearing about her mother, but she let the woman continue, hoping the story would lead her there.

“My brother never found me, although he tried. A handsome American solicitor on holiday did. He came to the convent quite innocently, but when he saw what was happening, he was appalled. He used his knowledge of the law to get some of us out. He talked the priest into allowing him to take me back to England. We were married and soon came back to his home in America.”

“Your Harold?”

She smiled, the loose skin on her cheeks growing more taut. “Yes, my Harold. Later I found my brother. Once I learned he was a priest, it wasn’t hard to track him down. We still write to each other after all these years.”

“I am so happy you got away.”

“Yes. Thank the good Lord for the mercy he showed us
 
—me and you. I just wanted you to understand my heart, love. And to trust me in matters with our Kirsten. We will work through this as a unified collaborate.”

“Aye, Mrs. Hawkins. I can’t stop thinking about you knowing my mother.”

“And may I say, you look so much like her.”

Annie’s father had always said so, but it was a delight to hear it from someone else.