Annie's Stories (9 page)

“Well, I just gritted my teeth and endured it. Then I was sent on. Suppose folks don’t talk about it because they are eager to get
admitted, and truly the screening is over quickly.” She didn’t like talking about doctors. There are some things a person doesn’t talk about because bad fortune might follow if you do. Not to mention the erroneous conclusions folks could make. Mrs. Hawkins had been gracious not to tell anyone Annie had been in a Magdalene Laundry. She had to know because her brother had rescued Annie, but they didn’t talk about it, thank the good Lord, or knock on wood, or whatever manner of luck that had been.

Annie tried not to contemplate, even in private, the details of her experience in the laundry. Why give life to the words that would bring it all back fresh in her mind?

When they finished eating and washing the bowls and utensils, they retired to the parlor.

Mrs. Hawkins handed Grace her paper for drawing, a hobby Grace liked to pursue in the evenings. “Tell me, Grace. A man has not been here snooping around, has he?”

“No one has been by. Who do you mean?”

“A Pinkerton. Says he’s on a case, but for some reason he’s chosen our Kirsten to spy on, and he’s even threatened to report us as a disreputable house if I do not allow him to speak to her.”

“What does he want?”

“I have no idea, but perhaps we ought to have Owen stop by.”

“I will ring the station house.” She hurried out to go to Mrs. Jenkins’s house next door, where the closest telephone was located.

Annie’s discomfort must have shown because Mrs. Hawkins tried to distract her. “Why don’t you find something of interest in the
Times
to read aloud, Annie?” Mrs. Hawkins handed her the newspaper.

Distractions were usually helpful. Annie thumbed through the pages, looking for something besides reports on the aftermath of the president’s death. The world was a scary place.
She searched for more local news. Perhaps something from the society pages.

She spotted a headline that looked promising. “Oh, J. Pierpont Morgan has a new collie dog.”

Mrs. Hawkins looked up from her needlepoint. “Dogs are nice. What else does it say, Annie?”

Annie looked over the article a moment. “Oh, I see why ’tis news. He has a whole kennel of Scotch collie dogs valued at over forty thousand dollars.”

Mrs. Hawkins clicked her tongue.

Annie ran a finger over the type. “It says the dog is a blue-ribbon winner imported from London at a cost of eight thousand dollars. He’s going to enter the dog in shows and expects to win prizes. His daughter also has some expensive pets called Chinese spaniels. Hers cost two thousand apiece.”

Mrs. Hawkins threw down her needlepoint. “Think of all the hungry people who could be fed with that money.” She stared at the window. “I am not saying the businessmen should share all they make. They probably earn their money or else it was handed down. I don’t know. Theirs just the same. But those poor children out there on the streets, no more than a few blocks away, begging for a nickel. This is not the time for fancy dog shows. As Shakespeare wrote, ‘That thou mayst shake the superflux to them and show the heavens more just.’”

Annie let the paper fall to her lap. “Shakespeare? I did not know you were fond of him, Mrs. Hawkins. My father used to recite his plays aloud.”

The Hawk smacked her lips. “Some people think Shakespeare is just for the university types, but just because a woman hasn’t been to university doesn’t mean she can’t read, love.” She pointed to the shelves in the breakfront, where books stood as thick as a birch forest.

Ah, books, aye. One had to amass as much knowledge and foresight as one could.

The woman fussed. “My mission here is to help immigrant girls like you and Grace and our newest arrival, Kirsten. I will do so until my dying breath.”

“I’m sorry all this has distracted you from seeing to Kirsten’s situation.”

Aileen’s imminent arrival had preoccupied the Hawk so that she hadn’t yet quizzed Kirsten’s boss about her long hours. Already Aileen was interfering.

Grace entered and handed Mrs. Hawkins something wrapped in a blue cloth napkin. “Mrs. Jenkins sent over some scones for your evening tea.”

“How kind of her.” She set the bundle on the tea tray. “Were you able to speak to Owen?”

“I was not able, but his captain promised to let him know you’d like to speak to him. He will probably come by after his shift, if that’s all right with you.”

“That will be fine, love. I don’t think it’s an urgent matter as yet.”

“His shift ends fairly early.”

“That young man can come by and visit anytime.”

Grace returned to her place on the sofa. “That Mrs. Jenkins, she’s quite . . . Well, how shall I put it? She’s all ears, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, she’s a friendly sort, is all,” Mrs. Hawkins said as she put a morsel of the pastry in her mouth. “She’s an excellent baker. Shall we get some clotted cream and jam to go with this, girls?”

Annie couldn’t eat anything. With the Pinkerton business, and now Aileen being delayed, her stomach twisted in knots. She wasn’t sure she could handle any more surprises.

10

“A
NNIE, COME HERE,
love,” Mrs. Hawkins called to her from the parlor on Monday. It was not the day for dusting or sweeping. With tidying up the boarders’ rooms, cooking, planning the meals, and managing the household accounts, Annie was sufficiently employed. Hopefully the woman was not about to add another chore to the list just because Aileen would be arriving soon.

“Coming, Mrs. Hawkins.”

When Annie got to the room, the woman waved a paper at her. “I dropped my embroidery needle and had to search around for it, and I found this under my chair. You must have dropped it, and with the skirt on this chair, it’s no wonder you didn’t notice it.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Hawkins. I should have been sweeping under the furniture, but with all the preparations and all, I must have neglected that task.”

“Never mind that.” She gave the paper another flip in the air.

“What is it?”

“A story your father wrote. His name is at the top. Marty Gallagher, correct? I hope you don’t mind but I found it delightful. And what an interesting monogram at the end.”

“Monogram?”

“Looks like the letters
L
and
R
. Quite an elaborate decoration
he made underneath them.” She put on her glasses and peered at the paper. “Looks like a cross inside a heart inside a rose enclosed within a circle and a little bishop’s staff on top.”

“Aye. He scribbled bits of pictures quite a lot. Suppose he had to occupy his time while he was ill, as used to traveling about as he had been.” Annie took the paper from the woman’s outstretched hand and carried it to the bookcase like the treasure it was. “My apologies. I must have forgotten to put it away and then it fell to the floor. I have not swept in here for far too long.” She bit her lip. She would never have been that careless if it weren’t for Kirsten coming in so late.

“I am not concerned with the quality of your housekeeping. I tell you, love, those little field mice wearing red knickers and carrying lanterns while they marched in their teeny army, trying to be brave all the while
 
—I found it brilliantly endearing. And me, afraid of mice.”

“Aye, ’tis a sweet story. I cherish these.”

“And well you should. It is more than just a delightful story. It’s superb. I’ve never read anything like it, and I do read quite a lot, you know. Your father’s descriptions took me back to Ireland. He was a master painter of words.”

“You really think so?”

“I do.”

“I suppose I have attached so much emotional value to the story I did not realize it would entertain anyone else.”

“I can tell you I was enchanted.”

Annie’s face grew warm. “Thank you for telling me so, Mrs. Hawkins.”

Annie made sure the papers were snug in her desk. “No word yet about Aileen?”

“Nothing from Ellis Island thus far, love. I last rang over there a few moments ago, and there was no news.”

“Perhaps I will have to go out to Ellis Island myself.” As much as Annie didn’t want to go, she could not abandon wee, naive Aileen, no matter what the girl had done to her.

“Most detainees are released within a week’s time. I expect we will hear soon. You will be happy to know, though, that I’ve been informed she is not in the infirmary. Whatever has detained her, it was not illness.”

Then it was ill behavior, Annie was sure. “I will be patient, although I am sure she is not.”

“Who could blame her?”

“That’s right, so.”

“Annie, when I went over to use the telephone, whom should I meet but Sergeant McNulty. Coming to speak with me but detained by our neighbor.”

“Is that so? Grace may have been right about Mrs. Jenkins.”

“Yes. A busybody, it seems. Do you know I had to rescue him off her porch? I was headed over there to telephone out and inquire about your cousin, and there he was, unable to free himself from all her blabbering.”

“I knew some women like that in Ireland.”

“Well, that aside, I was pleased to learn that Owen promised to look into that Pinkerton’s business and to suggest the man desist from visiting Hawkins House in the future.”

What a relief, especially for Kirsten. Annie turned to leave.

“Love? One moment?”

“Yes?”

“Is anything worrying you, dear?”

Worries were never far away. “What do you mean, Mrs. Hawkins?”

“I try not to be a busybody myself, but you are such a dear. I want you to be happy here.”

“I’m happy.”

“Yes, well, you do seem a bit . . . reflective.”

Annie plopped down on the piano stool. “Oh, Mrs. Hawkins, sometimes I wish I were in Oz.” A place where dreams could actually be pursued.

“Where?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking about that book you gave me. You must think ill of me mithering on so.”

“No indeed. The only reason I mentioned it was just to give you a bit of advice, in case you find it helpful.”

Annie could not tell her that she found very little helpful these days. She just had to plow her way through troubles like the field mice in her father’s stories. She grinned and nodded.

“Be faithful, love. You are God’s child. Do not forget.”

“I try not to.” Still, she questioned why God would take her father away and leave her all alone. Why he allowed her to be in that stockade of a place where that doctor touched her and certainly would have done more given the chance. But most of all, she did not understand why God had ceased to direct her, even after she’d received Father Weldon’s blessing. Not even a holy man had been able to intercede for one as unloved as Annie.

Barrels of unanswered queries made her head spin. More sleep and better attention to the reverend’s teachings might be the only remedy she could hope for.

She returned to the ledger of Hawkins House expenses she had been studying.

Mrs. Hawkins patted her shoulder. “That is all of my motherly advice for today, Annie. I do hope you don’t mind my indulgences.”

“Not at all.” Mrs. Hawkins’s hovering might have been comforting if she had actually been her mother.

The Hawk looked down at what Annie had written. “See
there. You have saved twenty-five cents a month by switching our coal delivery to that other company. And earlier when you uncovered an error in the figures the laundress gave me, you saved us even more. Annie Gallagher, when I hired you on, I got much more than just an excellent housekeeper.”

“You flatter me, Mrs. Hawkins. I am just doing my job.”

“A fine job, that’s what you’re doing, love. I will be in the garden if you need me. I must tend to the waning herbs and harvest enough to dry for the season.” The Hawk kept a corner of the fenced-in area behind the brownstone for a garden, a wee bit of green space. She said it reminded her of home. She toddled off toward the back door.

Annie put her pencil down, thinking she heard the postman. She met his whistling at the door. “Good day, Mr. Adams.” The sun glinted off the metal buttons of his uniform jacket. Thinking he might be overheated since the day was rather humid, she asked him inside for a glass of lemonade.

“Very kind of you, Miss Gallagher.” He rested his mailbag on the floor, placing his hat on top. He drained the glass while standing in the kitchen.

“Another?” She attempted to take the glass from his hand.

He held on to it for just a moment, and her fingers brushed his. A tingle ran through her hand and up her arm.

He let go. “Yes, please. If it’s no trouble.”

She refilled the glass from a sweating tin pitcher and handed it to him. “No trouble at all. Can’t have you collapsing from the heat.”

He drank slower this time. Stephen Adams was certainly a considerate man, and attractive. She admired the gleam of his coal-black hair, his square, strong chin, the firmness of his forearms from carrying that heavy mailbag every day. She had to look away lest he catch her staring. This American man
seemed more like her father and less like some other men she had known and loathed.

He finally gave her the glass. “Miss Gallagher, I was wondering if you’ve gotten a copy of that book we spoke of,
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
?”

“Oh, I have indeed. Mrs. Hawkins gave it to me. I am enjoying it quite a bit. How about you?”

“Uh, no. Not yet. But if I do, perhaps you and I . . . uh . . . we could discuss it.”

“Discuss it?”

“I mean, talk about it
 
—what you like, what you would change if you wrote it, what puzzles you about it, if anything.”

“Oh, I see. Well . . . I would like that, Mr. Adams.”

“That’s fine, then. Uh . . . I better be going.”

She nodded, but he seemed hesitant to go.

“I regret that I was unable to speak to you after church yesterday.”

She shook her head. “We have been so busy we needed to get home straightaway. I hope we were not being rude.”

“No. I understand. Perhaps I’ll see you at the dance this week?” he called over his shoulder as he walked to the door.

Her palms began to perspire. “I’m not sure . . . I . . . I am not sure I’ll be there this time.”

He turned around. The smile dropped from his lips. He bobbed his head and went out the door without the usual whistle.

She was really beginning to like that man. Finally someone who did not present his gender as being superior to hers.

She stood in the open doorway for a moment as the postman departed. The messenger boy Jules came zigzagging down the street.

He waved one arm when he saw her. “Miss Annie, got a message for you from the island.”

So today would be the day. The dreaded day.

He was out of breath when he reached her. He handed her a note, and she ushered him inside. “Just made some lemonade, Jules. Do you have time for a glass?”

“Thank you, Miss Annie.”

He gulped his drink, thanked her for the nickel she’d handed him, and darted out the door.

Not a minute later Mrs. Hawkins came in from the yard with a basket full of herbs. She wiped her brow with the back of her garden glove. “The thyme has nearly taken over the patch. I’ve got enough of it weeded out now, I suppose.” She glanced toward the front door when the lock clicked. “Was that Jules who just ran out? I thought I saw him come around to the front of the house. He must not have seen me in the garden.”

“It was. I gave him some lemonade and a nickel.”

“That’s fine, love. So he brought a message?”

Annie tried to hand the paper to her, but the woman held up her soiled hands. “What does it say? Is it about Aileen?”

Annie unfolded it. “It says Aileen O’Shannon Moran has been released and is ready to be called for.”

The Hawk set her basket down and hurried to the front door. She leaned out and let out a whistle. Annie came up behind her and watched as the wee messenger boy returned to the stoop. “Go get the carriage I hired last Thursday, love.” She waved a hand toward the hall, and Annie knew she meant for her to hurry to the kitchen and get the lad another tip.

Annie collected another coin, and the woman pressed it into the youth’s hand before he rushed off.

When Annie and Mrs. Hawkins reached the pier where the government ferry from Ellis Island docked, a man waved his arm frantically. “We are about to leave. Hurry, ladies.”

They held on to their headpieces as they hustled toward him. “We are late,” Annie breathed out. “Aileen will be furious. And she’ll have no right to be, as generous as you’ve been, but she will be just the same. Just to warn you.”

Mrs. Hawkins accepted the dockman’s hand as she stepped onto the ferry. Annie was next, followed by their carriage driver. “Might as well come and help this time,” he said. “Since I got to wait anyway.” Clearly Mrs. Hawkins had overpaid him.

After taking a seat where they could look out on the water, Annie settled in to savor her last few moments of peace. Oh, how she did not look forward to having Aileen in the house.

After a short ride, the ferry pulled up to the island and the passengers crowded together, preparing to exit. Annie’s stomach clenched with the thought of seeing the lass who had betrayed her. She would have to let bygones lie, but it would be difficult.
Must you send me such torment, God?

No answer.

Mrs. Hawkins was wrong. God had not claimed Annie as his child.

When they got to the reception room, Annie spotted her. Aileen sat on a trunk, hands on her cheeks like a pouting child. When she saw Annie, she popped up and marched toward her. “That was miserable. Horrible. If Da had been here, he would have busted them, that he would.
Amadáin
, they are.” Typical of her cousin to not even say hello before tearing into a tantrum.

Mrs. Hawkins leaned toward Annie. “Your cousin, I presume.”

“I’m afraid so.” Annie made introductions.

“Mrs. Moran is my mother-in-law,” Aileen said. “I’ll just be Miss O’Shannon here in America, if you don’t mind.”

The Hawk’s chin wrinkled as she prepared to speak. “We do
not mind at all if that is what you wish. However, the officials are not idiots, child.”

Annie was surprised Mrs. Hawkins had understood that Irish word.

Aileen balled her fists as though she’d bust someone herself. Even in her heeled shoes, she only reached Annie’s chin. Annie gazed at her. “What did you do, Aileen?”

“I did nothing, Annie. They had no right. A buttonhook! They peeled my eyelids with a buttonhook. I’ve never been so humiliated in all my life. That is . . . until they put me in a cattle pen.”

“A what?” Annie thought she must have gone crazy on the journey.

Mrs. Hawkins took Aileen by the arm. “Come along, love. I’m sure it could not have been as bad as all that.”

Aileen pulled away. “’Twas, I tell you. Those waiting pens were no larger than a cattle stall. Smaller, really. They had no reason to detain me.”

“And?” Annie asked.

“And what?”

“What did you say when they did all that?”

“You bet I said something, but ’twas not what I said, Annie lass. ’Twas what I did.”

Annie massaged her temple as the hired driver hoisted Aileen’s sizable trunk onto his shoulder and they strode back to the ferry. “Did you hit the man, Aileen? The health inspector?”