“That’s just what we need,” Rachel said, clearly irritated. “Grace! Olive! You two go fetch a couple of the boys in the kitchen and have them bring in the sewing room table.” The girls moved quickly to do her bidding. She turned back, nearly running into Simone, who once again stood rubbing her temples. “Well, don’t just lollygag around, Miss Irving. I suggest you get to work!”
Simone’s head snapped up at this. It wasn’t like Rachel to be so cross. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Rachel’s angry expression softened. “No, Simone,” she said, reaching out, “I’m the one who’s sorry.”
Simone dodged her hand and instantly regretted it. She could see by the look on Rachel’s face that her reaction hadn’t been lost on the woman.
Rachel pulled back and smiled. “I guess this heat has made me irritable. I had no call to screech like that. Please forgive me.”
Once again, Simone witnessed how people often grew angry yet managed their differences without resorting to violence. Her father’s treatment had made her believe that all the world resolved their differences with force. She had dodged Rachel’s touch for fear of it being meant for harm, but this woman had shown her nothing but kindness. Nearly everyone had been kind, with the exception of a couple of the other girls whose jealousy over Rachel’s treatment of Simone had caused them to snub her. Simone hardly concerned herself with such snobbery. She certainly hadn’t come to Kansas to make friends.
By this time Olive and Grace had returned and were directing the boys as to where the table should be positioned. Rachel sighed in exasperation and called out, “No, wait. We’ll need to move some of the other tables closer together.”
Simone swayed on her feet and felt panicked for a moment when her vision seemed to blur. It passed quickly, and taking a deep breath, she hurried back to the linen closet to procure additional linens for the new table. A bit of a breeze touched her cheeks, but it didn’t seem to help much. She longed for a cool bath and a chance to lie down, but she knew better than to expect that for a long time to come. Her regular shift would run the course of twelve hours, and then she would still have the finishing touches to put on her new gown of red gingham.
The one-mile whistle sounded and the girls quickly scattered to their stations. Simone thought she felt a bit better. At least she didn’t notice the heat as much. In fact, she was no longer perspiring at all. She hurried to set herself up at her own station. The salads wouldn’t be brought to the table until the customers had arrived. The warmer temperatures would only spoil them or cause them to wilt, and Harvey rules dictated that the food be at a premium both in looks and taste. The salads safely sat on ice in the back room, and Simone thought how wonderful that sounded. She couldn’t help but smile at the idea of joining them.
It wasn’t until the gong sounded, announcing the train’s arrival, that Simone remembered this would be the train on which Jeffery O’Donnell would make his return. She felt a nervous fluttering in her stomach. She faced his return with mixed emotions. Would he come demanding more answers, or would he, as several of the girls had suggested, come seeking Simone’s companionship for other purposes?
The rush of passengers flooded the dining room, and only for a moment did Simone feel disappointment at not seeing Jeffery among them. Without time to give the matter any serious consideration, she quickly set out to learn the menu choices of her guests.
“I’ve changed my mind,” one man told her. “I don’t want any salad, I want soup.”
“I want something cold to drink immediately,” a plump matronly woman demanded.
Simone smiled and nodded, positioning their cups in order for the beverage girls to meet their desires. She went in search of the salads and soup, all the while feeling herself grow weaker and weaker. Her heart pounded a throbbing cadence in her head, yet there was nothing she could do to ease her misery. Perhaps when this group of customers had gone she would beg Rachel for a short time to bathe and nap. She could always offer to work extra time later.
She stumbled twice in the kitchen and both times managed to catch herself before dropping her tray. Simone knew something wasn’t right. It was more than just being a little overheated. But for the life of her, Simone had no idea what was wrong. Serving the salads as best she could, Simone still saw no sign of Jeffery in the dining room. Perhaps he’s been further delayed, she reasoned, then put the thought from her mind. Concentrating on her duties required every bit of strength she could muster.
“What’s the matter, Simone?” Carrie asked sarcastically. “Working too hard?”
Carrie never said anything to Simone unless it was to criticize or condemn. The girl had worked here longer than anyone else and had taken it as a personal assault when someone else had been appointed head waitress. Then when Simone began to receive more than her fair share of attention, Carrie and her constant companion, Betsy, formed an alliance against the newcomer. Una had warned Simone of their whispered rumors of Simone being more than what she seemed. It worried Simone to think they might actually stumble upon the truth.
Struggling to regain a bit of strength, Simone threw Carrie a look of indifference and refused to take the bait. Rachel had severely reprimanded other girls for arguing, and Simone knew Carrie would love nothing more than to draw her into a fight. And now, feeling as she did, Simone knew she had to conserve every ounce of strength for her duties.
She approached Henri and relayed the dictates of the man at her table. The temperamental chef was livid that the man should change his order, but Simone calmly reminded him that Fred Harvey’s first rule of business was to please the customers. Henri was unimpressed and continued to mutter about the change, even while he dipped up his famous cold, creamed vichyssoise.
He handed Simone the bowl, and for a moment she stood blinking at it in confusion. What was she supposed to do now? Her thoughts seemed all jumbled and fuzzy. She had just told Henri something about customers and now she couldn’t think of what she was supposed to do. Fearful that someone should question her, Simone turned away from Henri and headed back to the door of the dining room.
Soup. I have a bowl of soup in my hands, she reminded herself. Someone wants soup. Oh yes. The man at the rear table. He didn’t want salad. He wanted soup. She breathed a sigh of relief and headed toward the back of the dining room. The room tilted a bit to the right and Simone tilted with it, sloshing the soup on her hand. She steadied herself against the back of one customer’s chair and tried to appear as if nothing were amiss.
Placing the soup in front of her customer, Simone again found it difficult to remember what she was supposed to do next. She glanced at one table and then another, hoping that something would trigger her memory. The images of the people swam before her eyes, and Simone knew she was fighting a futile attempt to stay on her feet.
“Where’s the rest of our food?” the demanding matron questioned. Food. “Yes, I need to bring their food,” Simone muttered to herself.
She turned back toward the kitchen and again the room shifted first one way and then another. I have to get back to the kitchen. I have to go lie down. Forcing herself to cross the distance, she had no sooner made it to the kitchen door when Carrie came through with a tray of steaming food.
“Watch out!” Carrie snapped, and Simone quickly backed away.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
“Are you all right?” Una asked, pausing to glance back over her shoulder from several feet away.
“No, but I will be,” Simone assured her, hoping that somehow the words would convince herself, as well.
Her legs felt like rubber, and Simone knew that if only she could make it to the kitchen, Henri or one of the cooks would be able to help her. She pushed open the door and, biting her lip to keep conscious, stepped through the portal and into the arms of Jeffery O’Donnell.
“I must say, Simone, this is a pleasant surprise,” he said, laughing.
He stepped back to release her, but by this time Simone’s strength had
given out. “Help me,” she whispered, collapsing against him.
“Simone!” He easily lifted her into his arms. “Simone, what is it?”
“Hot. So hot,” she murmured. His worried expression was the last thing she remembered before the room went black.
Jeffery stared down in stunned silence at the woman in his arms. Simone’s face was flushed red and her body felt on fire with fever. Rachel came through the door and stopped in her tracks at the sight.
“She fainted,” Jeffery told the woman. “I think it might be the heat.”
“Henri, get some ice,” Rachel called to the worried chef.
“Come up the back way,” she told Jeffery, “we’ll get her to bed.” She grabbed up the ice as she passed by Henri and led the way up the back stairs.
“Una thought she looked sick, and I was just coming to check on her,” Rachel explained. “She hasn’t handled the heat very well. I don’t suppose she’s used to it.”
“No, I don’t suppose she is,” Jeffery replied, carefully negotiating the stairway.
An odd feeling of despair washed over him. He had looked forward to his return to Topeka with great relish. He had already planned to join the Harvey Girls as they attended the Fourth of July celebration and had even plotted as to how he might have a private moment or two with Simone Irving. Now she lay so lifeless in his arms that he worried she might not recover at all, much less in time for the Independence Day festivities.
“This is her room. Bring her in here,” Rachel ordered.
Jeffery barely heard the words. He couldn’t believe how frail and tiny Simone felt. Why, she couldn’t weigh much more than a hundred pounds, he thought. Jeffrey had known from the first moment the train had pulled out of the Topeka station that he’d be unable to keep her from his thoughts. Now he felt only despair and misery in his concern for her well-being.
“Put her on this bed.”
He did as he was told and watched as Rachel rolled the small woman over and began unbuttoning her uniform.
“Mr. O’Donnell, you’ll have to leave us. Men aren’t allowed on the dormitory floors, and you know that better than anyone else. Go for the doctor and feel free to wait in my office. I’ll let you know the minute I learn anything regarding her condition.”
Jeffery stared at her for several moments before realizing there was nothing else to be done. “I’ll get the doctor and send one of the girls up to help you.”
“No, there are too many customers to take care of. I have this ice, and if you would move the washbasin over here and pour some water before you go, I’ll have everything I need.”
Jeffery quickly complied and turned to go. He hesitated at the door, glancing back one final time as Rachel slipped the apron from Simone’s body. “She will be all right, won’t she?” he asked.
Rachel looked up, and the seriousness of her expression spoke volumes. “Just get the doctor quickly.”
SEVENTEEN
RACHEL STRUGGLED TO get Simone out of the heavy black Harvey uniform. Why hadn’t she been more attentive to the poor girl’s condition? As housemother, it was her place to see to their well-being, and now she had failed. She tugged at the sleeves of the dress and was finally rewarded for her efforts when the gown separated from Simone’s body. Pulling the dress forward, Rachel gently rolled Simone to one side and pushed the uniform off without any further hindrance.
Placing the ice in the washbasin, Rachel allowed the water to grow cold before dipping the washcloth. She began by systematically rubbing the cool cloth over Simone’s burning body, hoping and praying that the girl was merely overcome and not suffering from a heat stroke, as Jeffery had suggested.
Drawing the cloth over Simone’s silky white arms, Rachel felt double guilt for having snapped at her young charge earlier in the day. The heat was difficult for everyone. Rolling Simone forward so that she could wash her back, Rachel gasped at the scars that peeked out from beneath the girl’s chemise.
“What in the world has this poor child endured?” Rachel whispered, pulling the chemise down as far as she could. Ugly pink scars stretched from one shoulder to the other, revealing the unquestionable mark of multiple beatings. In fact, Simone’s entire back was a crisscross pattern of scars, both old and new. Some were thin-lined and white with age, while others were still pink and raised, maybe no more than a month or two old.
Rachel calculated the three weeks Simone had been on the Harvey payroll and realized that the girl must have left her abuse and fled directly to Chicago. No wonder she was on the train, Rachel thought. And no wonder she hesitated to talk about her past. Was it possible that Simone had been placed in the care of heavy-handed relatives and now wished to forget them and what they’d done? Could it be that her parents weren’t really dead after all but, rather, were abusive in their actions? Questions flooded Rachel’s mind, refusing to be ignored.
“How does one so young endure such beatings?” Rachel murmured. “Oh, Lord, help this child. Whatever her past, no one deserves to be dealt with in such a manner.”
A knock sounded at the door, and Rachel quickly drew the sheet over Simone’s body and got up to see who it might be. Finding the familiar face of a local physician, Rachel ushered him in with grave concern.
“Dr. Hill, I’m afraid one of my girls succumbed to the heat.”
“Mr. O’Donnell told me all about it. Let’s have a look,” the short, stocky man said, handing his bowler hat to Rachel.
“There’s something else,” Rachel said hesitantly. “I mean … that is …”
“Well, speak up, Miss Taylor. I’ve never known you to be at a loss for words.”
“I’ve never found myself dealing with this situation before,” she replied and motioned him to Simone’s bed. Pulling back the sheet, she pointed to Simone’s back. “She’s clearly endured years of unthinkable punishment.”
The doctor sat down on the bedside and examined the scars for himself. “Yes, she has. And not so long ago, by the look of these marks atop her shoulders. Although they’ve healed, it’s quite clear that they aren’t that old.”
“That’s what first drew my attention,” Rachel replied. “She’s only been with us for about three weeks. I know very little about her, but this came as a complete shock.”
The doctor eyed the marks critically for a moment, then rolled Simone onto her back. “There’s nothing I can do for them now. The more immediate concern is her fever.”
Rachel nodded. “I need to go speak with Mr. O’Donnell, but I’ll be right back.” The doctor nodded and opened his black bag.
Rachel hurried from the room, unsure of what she should tell Jeffery. Obviously there was more to Simone than met the eye, but Rachel had no way of knowing what the vicious scars indicated in Simone’s past. Perhaps Jeffery had been able to learn something more about Simone while on his trip. He would have little trouble getting information back and forth from Chicago, and knowing his persistence to fully examine each of the Harvey employee’s backgrounds, Rachel had no reason to believe he wouldn’t have pursued Simone’s past with great enthusiasm. Added to this was his own personal interest, which Rachel was sure ran deeper than simple employer and employee matters. Yes, Rachel thought, he would have taken the time to carefully investigate Simone’s life. Coming to her office, Rachel wasn’t surprised to find Jeffery pacing the floor inside.
“Well?” he asked, concern clearly written in his expression.
“I don’t know anything yet. The doctor is with her now,” Rachel began. “I thought I’d come here and speak to you… .” She let the words trail away as she glanced to the floor.
“What is it?” he asked, coming forward to take hold of her shoulders. “You have to tell me.”
Rachel looked up and shook her head. “Have you learned anything more about Simone?”
Jeffery’s expression contorted. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, did you finish your investigation of her character and background?”
He dropped his
hold and shook his head. “No one knows anything about her. I wired your mother’s friend in Chicago, but she basically told me the same things your mother said. Simone was already on the train in Cheyenne. She was dirty and unkempt, clearly had been traveling for some time, and didn’t seem to have a clue as to where she was headed. The woman spent most of her time explaining things about Chicago and said that Simone said very little about herself. Now, why do you ask me this, unless …” It was Jeffery’s turn to fall silent. “Are you … I mean, do you believe that she will die? Are you trying to find someone to contact about her condition?”
Rachel shook her head. “I don’t know. I have no way of knowing how seriously ill she might be. But something else has come to my attention.” She twisted her hands, wondering how much she should say. She didn’t want to hurt Simone further by gossiping about the child. The scars on her back had nothing to do with her quality of work, Rachel reasoned.
“Please tell me what it is,” Jeffery said.
He looked so troubled and worried that Rachel couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. “I undressed Simone and found her back to be a mass of scars.”
“Scars? What do you mean? Has she been injured?”
Rachel bit at her lower lip, realizing that she had to continue to tell of Simone’s situation. “She’s been beaten. And from the looks of it, I believe it’s been an ongoing thing for some time.”
Jeffery’s jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. “Beaten?” he questioned between clenched teeth.
Rachel nodded. “There are long, ugly scars that crisscross her back. Some are faded and white, indicating to me that some time has passed since they were issued. Others, however, are newer. Maybe given to her just before coming to you in Chicago.”
“Who would be animal enough to beat her?” he demanded, anger edging his tone.
“I don’t know. I wondered if it might have something to do with her unwillingness to speak of the past. Just the other day I tried to get her to open up about her parents and her childhood, but she closed up faster than a new saloon in Kansas.”
A Shelter of Hope Page 15
