Instinctively, Annie sensed when her stop was close, opened her eyes to confirm it, and got out. But as she walked toward Edna’s flat, she felt uneasy. The familiar sound of people walking behind her intensified and became significant.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw others making their way home after work, everyone intent on their own thoughts and their own destinations.
But then she saw him. A face intent on her. Staring after her.
Grasston.
She quickened her pace, needing to get to the safety of Edna’s. She still had two blocks to go and the crowd behind her was thinning out. They were her buffer against him. Surely, he wouldn’t do anything surrounded by witnesses.
But then she felt a swell of anger rise up. Unlike Mildred, she was not going to be a victim. She knew the truth about him, and with truth came power.
And so she stopped walking and turned to face him.
A few other walkers looked surprised at her action but handily sidestepped around her. But other than the lifting of his right eyebrow, Grasston wasn’t fazed. He stopped in front of her and smirked as if nothing she did would rile him, and even worse, as if everything she did stirred him in a way Annie didn’t want to think about.
“Mr. Grasston,” she said. “Two times in one day? Really? Don’t you have anything better to do with your time than—”
He grabbed her upper arm with a shocking strength and pulled her close to his side. Then he led her into an alley. She could feel his warm breath in her ear. With each step away from the community of the street, her fear intensified. He’s going to hurt me! Lord, please don’t let him hurt me!
She frantically looked around for an escape, but the alley was closed at the end and only grew darker at its terminus. She looked upward but only saw clothes hanging like flags on lines strung over the alleyway. The few windows were closed against the evening chill.
The possibilities of what could happen threatened to crush her. But then she thought of Iris and Danny and all they’d been through losing their family, and their courage combined with her own that had thrust them out of servanthood and into lives full of hope and opportunity. The thought of them gave her the power to shove aside her fear and ignited her choice to fight. She would not let this bully have his way.
With a surge of energy, she twisted her arm out of his grip and ran toward the street.
But he ran faster.
He caught the hem of her jacket and yanked, making her fall. He fell on top of her, turning her over, securing her flailing arms.
“Come on, Annie. Gimme what I want.”
Please, God, help!
The weight of him … she found it hard to breathe. She knew his brute strength was no match for her own. And so she used all her energy and what oxygen was left in her lungs to do one thing. She screamed. “Help! He’s attacking me!”
He released an arm to cover her mouth, but she bit him and continued calling for help.
She heard a commotion at the entrance to the alley; then two men pulled Grasston off her. He ran toward the street and one man went after him. “Police! Police! Stop him!”
The other man, and then a woman, knelt beside her. “Are you all right?”
They helped her sit then stand. “I’m fine. Thank you, thank you so much.”
No one asked what Grasston was doing to her. There was no need. His aberrant intention had been clear.
And she had been saved from it. God had heard her cries and saved her.
The couple helped her to the street, where a police officer rushed toward them. The man who’d run after Grasston returned and said he’d lost him. Annie thanked the couple and the man profusely, and they stepped away as the officer asked her for details of the assault. She did not hesitate to give him Grasston’s name, though she hated that she didn’t know where he’d been living since being sacked. “He’s been harassing me at work and following me home. He blames me for losing his job.”
“Where is your home?” the officer asked.
“Far from here, but I was going to my friend’s flat a block away. Take me there, please.”
She gave him the name of the Tuttles’ bakery and her department at Macy’s should he want to ask further questions. He accompanied her to Edna’s, chaperoning her all the way to the door.
Edna opened the door saying, “I was wondering when you would get—” She looked taken aback by the officer’s presence. “Sir? Annie? What happened?”
Annie turned to the bobby. “Thank you, Officer. I’ll be all right now.”
He tipped his cap and said, “The name is Officer Brady, miss. I suggest you stay here the night if you could. At least until we catch him.”
Annie looked to Edna, whose eyes were wide with questions. “I can stay, can’t I?”
“Of course, of course. Come in.”
As soon as the door was closed behind her, Annie’s legs faltered. She fell into the arms of her friend.
Dinner was eaten, the story was told, and the sewing lesson set aside. The horrors of what could have been consumed Annie and sapped her remaining energy, leaving her barely enough to button the nightgown Edna lent her. The palms of her hands stung from the scraping they’d taken when she fell, and her muscles ached from the impact and the fight against Grasston. Even her face was sore from his hand trying to cover her mouth.
Edna finished smoothing the bedding in a small bedroom that used to belong to her son. “There now. Your bed is ready, and the Tuttles have been called and assured of your safety. There is nothing left for you to do but rest. Tomorrow is another day.”
If only it were so easy. Annie lay down and let her friend tuck a sheet and blanket around her. “You’ve been so kind.”
Edna ran a comforting hand over Annie’s forehead. “Everything will be all right. They’ll catch him.”
“How? They don’t know where he lives. He’s but one man in an enormous city.”
Edna nodded then gathered Annie’s hands into her own. She bowed her head. “Father, thank You for saving Annie from that evil man. Help the police find Grasston and arrest him so he no longer causes harm to my dear friend, to Mildred, or to any other person. Give Annie the rejuvenating gift of sleep, and the courage and strength to deal with tomorrow, tomorrow. Amen.”
“He did save me,” Annie said. “God.”
“Yes, He did. Now sleep.”
She would try, but when she closed her eyes, Grasston’s face loomed large and fierce.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Are you sure you want to go to work today?” Edna asked Annie. “You have good reason not to.”
She let Edna board the streetcar first and waited to answer until they were seated. “I have good reason to go in. I will not let Grasston stop me from earning a living.”
“What if he comes back to Macy’s? What if he follows you home tonight?”
She had no answer.
“Perhaps you should come and stay with me again,” Edna said. “He doesn’t know where I live.”
“Can we be sure of that?” Annie asked. “I wouldn’t put it past him to run away last night but circle back to see where I was heading. You may be in as much danger as I.”
Suddenly Edna turned her head and looked at everyone in the streetcar. “I’m not sure I know what he looks like.”
“He looks like evil,” Annie said. She was tired of talking about him, thinking about him, dreaming about him.
“As soon as we get to work, you must inform Mr. Horace. He’s seen him and talked to him. Have him be on the lookout.”
It was a wise idea. As the streetcar jostled her to the left and right, forward and back, Annie closed her eyes and let the movement take her where it wished. Why fight it? She was clearly not in control.
Should I tell her?
Annie considered telling Mildred about how she’d been attacked. But every time she thought of it, Mildred would glare at her or blatantly turn her back.
“So be it,” Annie finally said aloud. Luckily a cus
tomer came by and she was distracted. The busier the better.
She spotted Mr. Horace strolling by. He’d been true to his word that morning and made diligent rounds through Annie’s department hourly. Every time he passed, he gave her a nod. His presence gave Annie a tentative peace.
A peace that could be shattered in a blink.
“Excuse me, miss,” a customer said. “I asked for the blue ribbon, not green.”
“Oh. Yes. I’m sorry.” It was not her first error.
“What happened to your hands?” the woman asked, pointing to Annie’s scraped palms.
“I fell.” I was tackled to the ground by a man who meant to force himself on me.
“Put a potato poultice on them.”
Annie had never heard of such a thing but thanked the woman and sent her on her way.
Mrs. MacDonald approached. “Go home, Annie. You’ve been through a very traumatic experience. No one expects you to act as though nothing happened.”
Suddenly the stress of keeping a stiff upper lip combined with the stress of her attack, and she began to cry.
Mrs. MacDonald led her behind a pattern display and handed her a handkerchief. “That’s it, then. You’re going home right now.” She looked around the store then called to Robbie, the package boy. “Robbie, I want you to accompany Miss Wood home. She’s not feeling well. Can you do that for me?”
“Sure, Mrs. MacDonald.” He looked at Annie. “You sick or somethun?”
Mrs. MacDonald reached into her pocket and gave him a few coins. “Here’s money for the streetcar to her house and back. Now go up to the lockers and get her jacket, hat, and purse. Number …?” She glanced at Annie.
“Number 387.”
“Go on now. I’ll make sure you stay on the clock.”
He nodded and ran toward the stairs.
Annie dried her eyes. “I’m sorry to be such a bother, but I do think home is exactly where I need to be.”
“My ma will love getting some fresh bread,” Robbie said as he walked Annie from the streetcar to the Tuttles’ bakery. “That’s mighty nice of you to offer.”
“It’s nice of you to interrupt your day to bring me home,” Annie said.
“Interrupting is good.” Robbie walked with one foot in the street and one on the curb. “I likes getting out. Whenever they needs anyone to go on an errand, I’m their boy.”
He was delightful. Actually, she thought of introducing him to Danny. Both boys had the same charming manner.
They approached the bakery, and Annie got her wish, as Danny was outside, painting the trim around the window.
“Annie! What are you doing home so early? Are you all right? We got the call last night from Mrs. Holmquist and were worried.”
The thought of rehashing all that had happened made her stomach turn.
“She’s not feeling good,” Robbie said. “I brought her home. Got paid for it, too.”
Annie hurried past his comments. “Danny, I’d like you to meet Robbie. He works at Macy’s with me. Robbie, this is Danny, a very good friend who makes deliveries for the bakery.”
Robbie’s eyes grew wide. “You get to drive a wagon?”
“I do. And I get to paint, too, until the next delivery is ready.”
She’d been right about their affinity for each other. She left them to talk and had her hand on the doorknob when she looked inside. Grasston was buying some bread from Mr. Tuttle.
She pulled her hand away and stepped back.
At that moment, he spotted her. He looked right at her and grinned. Then he tipped his hat as if nothing had happened.
Danny moved to her side. “What’s wrong?”
Everything. She pointed at Grasston. It took Danny a moment to recognize him. “How did he get in there? I didn’t see him go by me.”
It didn’t matter how, it just mattered why. “He’s the one who attacked me last night.” She held up her palms as evidence. “I called the police on him, but he ran away.”
Robbie took a step toward the window to see him better. “Is he the man Mr. Horace told us about?”
She needed to make Robbie leave. She took him by the shoulders and turned him toward the streetcar stop in the next block. “Go on now. Get back to work before you get in trouble.”
“But—”
“Go!”
Robbie reluctantly ran down the street.
Grasston chatted with Mr. Tuttle. Was there no end to his nerve?
Danny pulled the door open and, before Annie could stop him, stepped inside. “You!” he shouted, pointing a finger at Grasston. Annie followed him inside.
Grasston looked surprised—for a brief moment—then his smirk returned. “If it isn’t Danny the hall boy. What’d you do? Run off with Annie? Isn’t she a little old for you?”
Danny shoved him into the counter, making him drop his bread.
“Danny!” Mr. Tuttle said.
Thomas moved close, his hands covered with flour, his eyes alert.
Danny talked to the Tuttle men. “His name is Grasston and he used to work at the Friesens’ with me and Iris, and—”
Grasston smoothed his coat and looked toward the back of the shop. “Is Iris here with you? I’d really like to see her. Really like to see her.”
Although he was a good six inches shorter than Grasston, Danny swung to hit him in the jaw.
Grasston grabbed his wrist. “What do you think you’re doing, you dumb kid?”
Danny yanked his hand away. “You attacked Annie last night. You hurt her.”
Thomas moved closer, and Mr. Tuttle asked, “Is this true, Annie? This is the man?”
“Show ’em your hands,” Danny said.
She did just that.
Mr. Tuttle called Jane from the back of the bakery. “Run down the street and get the police, Jane. Tell them to hurry.”
She rushed past, giving Grasston a wide arc. Upon her exit Danny stood in front of the door, barring Grasston’s escape. Thomas stepped around to Grasston’s side of the counter.
He was cornered. The police would get him, lock him up, and Annie would be safe again.
But then Grasston whipped out a knife, pointing it at each man. “Back away!”
Thomas raised his hands. “Annie, come here.”
Gladly. She took cover behind him.
With a surge of motion, Grasston grabbed Danny’s arm and yanked him away from the door so violently that he bounded off the wall and tumbled to the floor. He rushed outside and turned right, while Jane had turned left.
Annie ran to Danny’s side. “Are you all right?”
Danny moaned as he got to his feet but immediately made for the door. Annie caught his arm, holding him back.
“Let me go! I’m not going to let him get away with this.”
Annie held firm. “He has a weapon and he’ll use it. Let the police handle it.” Hopefully they’ll catch him this time.
A customer came in, studied their faces a moment, and then asked, “You open?”
Mr. Tuttle ran a hand through his hair then said, “What can I get for you?”
Life goes on.
It was an odd fact to realize that Annie’s crises did not change the world.
Or stop it.
After Grasston ran from the bakery, there was still bread to get out of the oven, pans to wash, deliveries to make, and customers to serve.
After speaking with a constable, who assured Annie that Grasston would be caught, Mr. Tuttle suggested Annie go upstairs with the family. She could rest up there.
It was a nice thought, but impossible. With five children under the age of nine, there was seldom a quiet moment. They weren’t naughty; they were just children.
Mrs. Tuttle was down in the bakery most of the time, leaving Annie alone with Iris and the brood. Iris got the older two girls interested in drawing pictures and the younger three boys playing with blocks: Nick and Newt built a tower, and two-year-old Joe knocked it down.
Iris brought Annie a cup of tea as the
y sat in the only two chairs that had cushions. “I’m sorry to hear Grasston is back.”
Annie held the cup beneath her chin, enjoying the warmth and fragrance of its rising vapor. “He’s not just back, he’s vowed revenge. He’s evil, Iris. Fully and completely evil.” She noticed Iris wasn’t drinking. “Aren’t you having some?”
She shook her head. “Actually … can we move to the other room? I have laundry to take in.”
They entered one of four small bedrooms and sat upon an oak chair in the corner. Iris opened the window and pulled in the laundry that had been drying on a line.
“I can help,” Annie said, setting her tea aside.
“No, you sit. Relax. Talk to me while I fold it.”
Annie felt guilty for sitting yet didn’t feel up to doing much more.
“Do you really think he would have … forced you?” Iris asked.
“I do. He wants to hurt me. Shame me.”
“As you shamed him?”
Annie was taken aback and was going to protest but realized Iris was right. “I did shame him, didn’t I?”
“You took his gloves on a lark, but if it made him lose his job …”
She felt her defenses rise. “But he hurt you, too. He pushed himself on you, too.”
“After you told on him about Miss Henrietta and he was scolded.”
After I told. After I took his gloves. The wave of regret fell upon Annie’s shoulders. “I never thought I’d say this, but he has a right to be angry with me.”
“Angry is one thing, violent is another.”
It was a relief to have it confirmed that despite his reasons, Grasston had gone too far.
Iris spread a shirt on top of the dresser and turned to Annie. “Sprinkle these shirts and aprons for me. Then roll them up to keep until I can iron them.”
Annie took up the Coca-Cola bottle with a sprinkle attachment corked in the top and did as she was asked. Suddenly she remembered that she still hadn’t heard Iris’s news. “Tell me your news. I’ve been so consumed with my own troubles that I—”
“Yes, you have.”
The Pattern Artist Page 12
