The Way of Beauty

by Camille Di Maio

  Vera tried hard to control a growing tremble. She grasped at the last hope she had. “Isn’t he a Bower? Like his father, Owen?”

  Her question was met with a fiery glare.

  “He is a Pilkington. Nothing but a Pilkington.” The old woman clasped her hands together. “I have someone who will be picking him up when school is out. That gives you one hour to leave. I do not want to ever see you or your father here again. You’re dismissed.”

  Vera felt the heat of anger and terror rise to her skin. But she knew no more words that might convince Lady Pilkington to allow her to keep the precious boy she loved.

  Lady Pilkington opened the top drawer of the desk and pulled out a small envelope.

  “Out of charity and what might be your initial innocence in the matter, I will send you off with a modest sum so that you may find immediate lodgings. I will not have anyone say that Abigail Pilkington did not give when it was needed.”

  Vera felt like she’d been slapped.

  Lady Pilkington slid the envelope across the desk. Vera so badly wanted to walk out of the room without it. To make the point that she didn’t need the charity of such a woman. But without a stipend, how would she find a place for her father?

  How would she take care of Will? Because despite Lady Pilkington’s declaration, Vera had no intention of leaving without the boy. She would throw herself into the fireplace before letting that happen.

  She snatched the envelope and hurried out of the room without looking back.

  Where could they go? What could she do with a mentally unfit man and a spirited little boy? Could she get into some kind of trouble with the law if she took Will against the proclamation of his great-grandmother? Or would it be on her side because of the wishes of his mother?

  But Pearl had demonstrated a hundred times over the importance of principle over everything else. What happened tomorrow didn’t matter if today Vera did the right thing.

  First she slipped into Will’s room. She riffled through his clothes and found enough for four days. She spread the remaining ones out so that it wouldn’t look as if she’d taken anything.

  A magnificent stuffed bear sat on his bed, sent to him by Lady Pilkington while she was in California. A birthday present that likely cost more than Vera could expect to earn in a year. But Vera knew that Will tossed the bear to the floor every night in favor of a small stitched horse that she had made for him. He was fascinated by the few remaining horses and buggies that sometimes trotted along the streets of New York, weaving in and out of the automobiles that were rapidly replacing them.

  The horse went into the satchel that she packed. She put her own clothes on top of that and would follow them with the few that Vater owned.

  Vater. Getting him out of here was going to be a feat.

  Vera ignored the gnawing sense of fear that wanted to rise up in her chest like bile. There were things to do. She had to be brave like Pearl and Angelo.

  She stood in Vater’s doorway, watching him sleep. This time on Madison Square Park had been so healing for him. There were no screeching neighbors to startle him. No landlord pounding at the door for rent. No need to find Vera at the sink when he had one of his sudden bouts of illness. He didn’t really understand where they were or why, but something inside him knew that it was safe.

  Until now.

  “Do you want some help with him?”

  Vera jumped. She hadn’t heard Victor walk up behind her.

  “No, I can do it.” But she regretted the words as soon as she’d said them. Being a strong woman didn’t mean she couldn’t accept assistance. Especially when she really did need it.

  Thankfully, Victor disregarded it. He walked past her. “It’s one o’clock and you need to pick up Will in an hour.”

  Vera didn’t let her face betray the fact that she planned to leave early and make an excuse for getting him out of school ahead of time.

  But Victor must have already thought the same thing. “Miss Vera, I have had the pleasure to get to know you all these months. You are like a mother to that little boy. Perhaps even more than Mrs. Bellavia, if I may say so. It’s not right that he be separated from you.”

  How did he know that this was happening?

  He answered her unspoken question. “I overheard Lady Pilkington instructing her lawyer to pick the boy up at two o’clock. I think it’s best if you get there earlier.”

  “Oh, Victor!”

  “Miss Keller, you’re running out of time. You go get Will. I’ll get your father ready.”

  “But where should we go? I can’t come back here.”

  Victor was prepared. He handed a slip of paper to Vera. Four twenty-five Delancey.

  “This is my sister’s address. She is prepared to take all three of you in for a few nights until you can figure out what to do next. No one will find you there.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything. Sometimes we working people need to stick together. And here—” He handed her four dollars.

  “Such a sum! Victor, I can’t take this!”

  “Miss Keller, you will take it. Consider it my small contribution to Votes for Women. This way I know it’s going directly to someone who is helping.”

  “But—”

  “Then consider it a gift in honor of Mrs. Bellavia. I’ve known her for many years, and whatever helps you helps her. Now, you really must be going.”

  Vera took the money and the address and nodded, nearly dazed by Victor’s generosity. But he was right. Time was running out. She blew a kiss to her sleeping father and gave a quick hug to Victor.

  “I don’t know how I can ever repay you, but just know that I will do everything I can to help Pearl and to raise her son.”

  “That’s all I need to hear. Now go.”

  Before another word could be said, she threw her satchel across her shoulder and raced out of the palace that had begun to feel like a prison.

  Vera had never so much as taken an apple from an untended cart. And now she was going to abduct the descendant of one of the wealthiest and most powerful families in New York.

  She felt emboldened for the first time in her entire life.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Vera’s second-ever train ride began uneventfully. Will was far past the age of wearing diapers and was merely as curious as any boy his age would be as they settled into their seats. He positioned himself on his knees so as to see outside the window. For the moment there was nothing to look at except the darkness of the platform.

  Her father was showing the first signs of agitation. He flexed his fingers back and forth, and his fidgeting grew stronger with each minute they waited. Vera had bought three of the four seats that faced one another, and she hoped that the train would not be full. She needed to seat each of them by a window, the best distraction she could think of. But if she sat by Will, her father might fall into a fit. If she sat by her father, Will might try to get up and roam around.

  She could leave neither alone. She hadn’t drunk any water today in order to avoid having to use the train facilities. It was not as if she could take Will and her father with her. But it left her feeling parched, as if she were wilting.

  Just three hours. She had to make it three hours with them.

  Otherwise it had the potential to devolve into a small circus. But women all over the country were learning to manage children and households on their own as their husbands left for war.

  She had a bigger worry, though, than the seating arrangements. Vera fidgeted just like Vater but for a different reason. In taking Will, she was running from the law.

  And although she’d put down false names in the train register, a simple description and inspection by authorities would make it easy to find them.

  They’d spent the night at Victor’s sister’s apartment, but hours of bewildered wailing by her father was clearly not what their hostess had expected. Plus, Vera needed to get them all out of the city as fast as possible.

/>   Her father began to sway back and forth, and a groan rose from the depths of his throat. “Where am I? Who are you?” And louder, “Where are you taking me?”

  The poor man was shaking. Vera gently wrapped her arms around him and rocked him as well as she could, given the awkward angle of sitting next to him in a train seat. Certainly she wanted to soothe him, but she also dreaded any attention that they might draw.

  What was the sentence for kidnapping?

  “All aboard!”

  Vera’s eyes darted to each of the passengers. Who among them might be looking for a young woman, an old man, a small boy? She clutched her purse, but it nearly slid free of her hands. Her palms were sweaty with apprehension, as if each passing face posed a threat.

  The conductor shouted from the door, and porters ran up and down the sides making last-minute luggage runs. The little trio had nothing on those carts, though. Vera hadn’t known that stowed luggage was something you could bring on a train. She’d only ever been on that short trip to Washington and had brought just a small knapsack.

  She chided herself for being ignorant. Of course you could bring larger parcels on the train. How did you expect to travel the farther distances—Chicago, Denver, San Francisco—with only what you could carry? But in the hurry, such details had not been important.

  Besides, she didn’t own any luggage. Why would a factory girl living in an apartment that was only a bit better than a tenement need something large enough to go away for a long time?

  So all the belongings she could carry—some clothes, Will’s horse, Vater’s photograph of Mutter, her solitary rock from her youth with Angelo—were packed tightly into the satchel. In her small purse, she carried the remainder of the money from Lady Pilkington and Victor. And all her letters from Angelo.

  If he didn’t return from the war, they would be all she had of him.

  The possibility made her sick, and she begged God every night to spare him.

  “Your tickets, madam,” said the conductor. His voice from behind her made her jump. She pulled them from her pocket and avoided his eyes. Maybe he’d been told to look out for them.

  For Vater she’d used the name Arthur Smith. She avoided anything German. The war climate had made people suspicious of such names, especially since the sinking of the Lusitania took the lives of so many Americans.

  For Will, Daniel Smith. There must be a thousand of those in New York.

  For her, Dorothy Smith. Plain enough.

  “Your father?” he said, pointing to an ever restless Vater.

  “My husband’s uncle,” she lied. “I’m taking him home to his wife. He was here for a funeral.”

  Please keep quiet, she willed her father, as if her thoughts could make it so. A wrong word from him could crumble their story. Her heart raced at the very notion.

  “And your son? He’s about my boy’s age. An energetic age, eh? My Fred wants to take apart everything he finds and figure out how it’s built.”

  “My nephew,” she corrected. She needed to disguise any truth of the relationship between them in case their description had been reported. But she also needed to remain in the conductor’s good graces. So she smiled, clenching her teeth into a set position to settle the nerves that had her pulse racing. Was he just being nice, or was he on the alert for a group like theirs? “But, yes, he likes to take things apart and build them back up again. Especially Tinkertoys.”

  The conductor laughed, and his belly shook. “I bought Fred a set of those for Christmas. He’s crazy about them. He’s convinced that New York will someday have the tallest building in the world, and he wants to design it.”

  “Smart boy. Surely there are good schools for architecture in the city.”

  “Not on a conductor’s salary.”

  She nodded. She knew well enough that low wages didn’t go far.

  “Well, you let me know if you need anything. It’s about three hours to Albany.”

  “Thank you.”

  He punched their tickets and placed them on the railing overhead. He walked on, and she breathed a bit easier. Safe for now. She hoped.

  The train began to roll away. As they traveled through the tunnels under the river, Vera explained to Vater that he was the reason this was possible. She spoke softly, gently, not knowing whether he even understood her words. Since their stay at Madison Park, his condition had improved greatly, but every day could be different. As soon as she could secure custody of Will and settle into an apartment in New York, she would save up to send for her father and bring him home to be in her care once again.

  Because she was not only going to Albany to see Pearl but also to bring Vater to the state hospital.

  She knew that when Angelo came home, they could look after the old man and the young boy together.

  If he came home. The if that always echoed the when, reminding her that nothing was certain. She wondered if all waiting wives, fiancées, mothers thought this way. There was perhaps no scarier word than the unassuming if.

  To pass through these deep tunnels with Vater at her side was as hallowed to her as any cathedral she might imagine entering. When they emerged back into the light, she was delighted to see a look of wonder on his face as the scenes raced by, a welcome change from the agitation he’d expressed earlier. He often did well when he was kept busy, just as she remembered that diversion was the best tool when Will had been a toddler.

  Old men and little boys were really not so different from one another.

  Before long, the faintest bit of light began to brighten the car until they were awash with the sunlight of a gorgeous spring day. Vera hoped they would be able to return to New York soon. If all went well in Albany, this day might signify the beginning of a new life.

  She would take her father to the state hospital. There were some in New York City, of course, on the Upper East Side and in the Bronx. But with her hurried need to escape, she had no opportunity to bring him to either facility.

  Also, in Albany, she would see if paperwork could be drafted and signed by Pearl giving Vera custody of Will. With that in hand, permission she was sure her friend would give, Vera might be able to come back to the city she and Angelo loved—without fear of arrest—and bring Vater and Will back with her.

  Although people continued to board the train when it stopped at Croton-on-Hudson, Poughkeepsie, Rhinecliff, the fourth seat in their corner remained empty. Perhaps it was the fact that Will had stretched out and fallen asleep. But as passengers departed in nearly equal numbers, the seat was not needed, and Vera was able to concentrate on writing a letter to Angelo to tell him what had happened.

  When he would receive it and where she would be when he did was completely unknown.

  Vera squeezed Will’s hand and took a deep breath. She realized the irony in spending the last two days hiding from any authorities that might be looking for her, and yet she stood here at the police station. Two twenty-two North Pearl, Albany.

  Her Pearl was somewhere inside these redbrick walls. Somewhere on this street that bore her name.

  The coincidence of it unsettled her. It felt like the name of the street was a prescient tribute to the woman waiting inside.

  Vera couldn’t wait to see her friend. To see if there was some way she could help. She’d bundled some bread and sausage in her knapsack but didn’t know if she’d be allowed to bring them in.

  A once-white stone eagle stood atop the otherwise unimaginative two-story building, peering down at her. It was different from the ones that adorned her beloved Penn Station. Those had a benevolence that emanated from their granite shoulders. This one glared as if it were a sentry positioned there to read the hearts of those who entered. An oracle of sorts. Or so it felt.

  She tucked her head down and went to open the door.

  “Stop,” said Will.

  He stepped ahead of her and opened the door, sweeping his small arm across his chest as if he were a doorman.

  Vera smiled. “What a gentleman! Where did you
learn that?”

  His grin showed the hole where he’d lost a tooth two weeks ago. Lady Pilkington didn’t know that it was a tradition to leave a small gift under the pillow of a child after they’d lost their first tooth. Vera had left a palm-size metal train for Will. He still kept it in his pocket, awed by the magic by which it had appeared while he slept.

  “My daddy taught me!” he said proudly.

  That was so like Angelo. Traditional enough to believe in every chivalrous notion since the beginning of time. Progressive enough to support Pearl in her political endeavors. He was, indeed, an excellent father to Will, and the fact that the boy saw him as such confirmed the errand that Vera was here to do.

  William didn’t belong in a cold, gilded mansion where he wouldn’t be allowed to be a child.

  “Thank you. You’re going to be a lady-killer someday.”

  His innocent little face wrinkled in confusion. “Why would I kill ladies, Zia Vera?”

  “It’s an expression, dearest. It means that some girl will be lucky to marry you.”

  “C-can I marry you, Zia Vera?” His stutter had all but vanished under Vera’s care, making an appearance only when he was tired or agitated. After their long ride today, she wasn’t surprised to hear it slip in.

  She forced a laugh so as not to worry Will about their surroundings. “No, Will. But you’ll meet a wonderful girl. I’m certain of it.”

  Vera walked through the glass door, hoping that Lady Pilkington had not contacted this particular station yet. But there was no choice. Vera had to see Pearl.

  It fortified her for the rest of the conversations she’d have to have today. She’d just come from the state hospital and filled out the copious paperwork that declared her father unfit to live alone or be cared for without professional assistance. It was agonizing to say goodbye, but she could not think of it now. She had to be strong for Pearl and Will. She hid her tears until they sat inside her like a rock. She could barely breathe.

  Her next discussion would be with the police officer who manned the desk and looked as if he were cousin to a cactus. He had untamed whiskers that sprouted in patches and a prickly demeanor that might have scared her off if this mission were not so important.