“If you say so.” Joe disappeared into the kitchen.
Jake gulped down coffee as though it was no warmer than milk. “I hear you’re up for promotion.”
“You heard that?”
“Sure. And this park assignment could be just the ticket for you. I’m going to do what I can to make it happen. You know as well as I do that all this—” he waved the doughnut toward the plate-glass window—“can’t be cleaned up. Not most of it. We do our job and trust that more folks are safe because we’re here. We’re a deterrent to some of ’em, you know. Think about what it was like down here even five years ago.”
Owen was ashamed to admit that five years ago he couldn’t have named a street in Lower Manhattan. He couldn’t have offered an opinion about the police department because . . . well, back then he just didn’t care. “Hey, Jakey, do you think a fellow can change his life?”
“What life? What fellow?”
“I’m just supposing. Do you think someone can truly care about things he used to never give a second thought to?”
“Ever heard of the Progressives?”
“Sure.” Politics. But there did seem to be an awakening of sorts, and more charitable organizations were springing up all the time—real ones, not hypocrites like Middleton the writer.
“I know what you need, pal.”
“You know what I need?”
“A night on the town. Anyplace. Just a time to relax. If I wasn’t married, I’d make sure you had it.”
Maybe that was just what he needed. But no more fancy uptown balls.
19
“I’M NOT FEELING WELL, GRACE. I think the baby’s coming.”
By Grace’s estimation the baby was overdue. Panic crawled up her neck. Why couldn’t this happen when Mr. Parker was at home? Yesterday was Sunday. Why not then? Tomorrow would be Christmas. Mr. Parker would be home tomorrow.
Alice Parker grabbed a candlestick from the dining room mantel and flung it across the room. Linden wailed and the girls clung to Grace’s side.
“Didn’t you hear me, girl?” She bent over, clutching her belly.
Grace spoke to the children. “To the playroom.” They didn’t hesitate. As soon as she saw the heels of their shoes disappear up the stairs, she hurried to help the mistress sit down in a chair. “What shall I do?”
Mrs. Parker gritted her teeth. “Call for the doctor.”
“The midwife, Widow Brown, is right next door—”
“No!” She grunted and hung on to Grace’s arm. “Something’s wrong. Call the doctor!”
Grace had to pry the woman’s fingers from her arm so she could leave and do as she was told. When she returned, she found the mistress trying to ascend the stairs. “I’ll not have my child born down here in the dining room, Grace. Help me into bed. Did you tell the doctor I want chloroform?”
“I . . . uh . . .”
The woman swore. “This is all I need. An Irish biddy who’s as dumb as a log. Just do as I say. For once.”
“Shall I send for Mr. Parker?”
The woman’s eyes went wide. “No. No, do you hear me? I don’t want him to think I can’t handle things.”
“Aye, yes, ma’am.”
By the time the doctor arrived, Grace was exhausted from running between the mistress’s bedroom and the children’s attic playroom. Grace had seen many pregnant women when she was in the workhouse. Obviously the separate floors had not kept men and women apart. None of those women had doctors or chloroform, and they’d survived. She couldn’t imagine why Mrs. Parker wanted it so badly.
“Grace!” The doctor called to her from the hall.
Grace held a finger to her lips as the children gazed at her wide-eyed. She shut the playroom door behind her and rushed down the stairs.
The doctor stood with his bag in his hands. “I’m afraid you’ll have to sit with her. The baby is reluctant to move down the birth canal. She is in for a long labor. Hurry and summon a neighbor to look after the children.”
“Oh, the midwife—”
“Is attending another birth over on Eleventh Street.”
Grace would much rather find someone to sit with the mistress than with the children. “I’ll see to it. Will you stay until I get back?”
“Not possible. Be quick about it.”
She had to first see him out and then hurry back to the children. “Hazel, you will have to look after your sister and brother.”
She moaned. Linden looked worried.
“Just for a little while.”
Holly began to twist a strand of her hair, something she did when she felt ill at ease. Mr. Parker had made it clear the children were not to go out alone. But it might be better, with Mrs. Parker in labor, for Grace to stay and Hazel to go. “Do you think you could just run across the street and ask Mrs. Wallace, the baker’s wife, to come help?”
Hazel nodded eagerly.
“This is important, Hazel. You cannot go anywhere else. Your mother needs you.” Grace hoped this would compel the girl to obey, but she knew the children held little affection for their mother. “I need you to do this, Hazel.”
“I know.” She hopped off the hobbyhorse and headed downstairs.
Linden was growing sleepy. Grace hoisted him onto her hip and led Holly down to the next floor. “Wait out here.” She left them in the hall outside their mother’s room.
She walked Hazel to the front door. “Go right out there to that house. Get the woman who lives there and then come right back. Hear me?”
She nodded.
Mrs. Parker moaned so loud that Grace had to hurry. She urged Hazel out the door and then ran upstairs.
Alice Parker continued groaning but otherwise seemed unaware. Grace dabbed her forehead with a wet cloth and then went back to the hall. Linden slumped on the floor against the wall, his eyelids at half-mast, but Holly wasn’t there.
“Holly, come here!” Grace began searching the rooms. Finally she found the girl hunkered underneath her bed, clutching a blanket. “’Tis all right, lassie. Everything will be fine. Don’t hide.” She could not lure the girl out. She finally gave up and plunked Linden down on his bed and sat in the room with them for several minutes.
Where is Hazel?
Grace bolted from the room, down the stairs, and out the front door. Soot glided from the neighbor’s chimney and swam in front of her view. She dodged a carriage crossing the street and hurried to the Wallaces’ house.
“I have not seen the little girl,” Mrs. Wallace said, looking over her wire-framed spectacles. “I never see those children. I don’t believe they are permitted out of the house.”
“They are not, but I sent her over here to fetch you.”
“What’s the trouble, dear?”
“Mrs. Parker’s baby is coming. Doctor says I’m to stay with her at all times. I just needed help with the children.”
The woman wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. “Dorothy, I’m going across the street. Look after your brothers and sisters and don’t let the bird in the oven burn.”
“Yes, Mama,” came a voice from another room.
Mrs. Wallace followed her back to the Parkers’ house. “The others are napping, you say?”
“Aye. In their room.”
“Well, I’ll see to Alice. You better find that child.”
The angle of the sun told Grace she did not have much time before Mr. Parker came home from the office. Why had Hazel not obeyed her?
As she peeked down alleys and studied the faces of children in the park, she wondered if Hazel had done the same thing Holly did—hide. Never being allowed outside alone before, anything could have distracted her and sent her down an alley. A cat. A milk wagon. A friend from school. It would not have taken much to be more appealing than returning to this house and listening to her mother moan.
As Grace passed house after house, she glanced under porch steps and behind coal bins, calling the girl’s name. She thought about the time she herself had encountered a thug at the aquarium. Oh, God, protect
this child. This might be a more affluent neighborhood, but there were folks everywhere who could not be trusted.
She passed a policeman, who greeted her and tipped his hat. “Everything in order, miss?”
Be respectful. Befriend men like him, Mrs. Hawkins had said.
“A little girl is missing.” She gave a description, and soon the two of them were looking under shop awnings, between houses, in the candy shop.
“Wait a minute,” Grace said. “We take the same path to and from the school. That is all Hazel knows.”
“Public school one block over?”
“Aye. I mean, yes.”
The man followed Grace as she retraced the path she and the girls took to school.
“That her?” the man asked, pointing to the building with his nightstick.
“Yes. Thank you, Officer.” Hazel sat on the building’s front steps, hugging her knees.
“Glad I could help.” He crossed the street and continued on his way.
Grace was more than impressed with how helpful he had been.
“Now what would you be doing out here, lassie?” Grace brushed back Hazel’s long hair, but the girl would not look at her. “Ready to go home?”
Hazel nodded. Surprisingly the girl clutched Grace’s hand as they walked. Hazel was not normally cuddly like her little brother. She must be truly frightened.
“Did you get lost? Mrs. Wallace’s home was right across the street.”
“I was going there, but Millie called me from the corner. I went to see her new doll, but she lives on another street. Her mother called her inside and I couldn’t find my way back. I saw the tailor shop, though. The one we pass on the way to school. I thought that if I went that way, I could turn around and come back. But then I didn’t get Mrs. Wallace for you. I thought you’d be angry. Don’t tell Father I was bad, please, Miss Gracie.”
“Shh, so. Mrs. Wallace is with your mother right now. Everything’s fine. Let’s hurry along so the neighbor can get back to her home.”
Hazel squeezed Grace’s fingers. Mr. Parker had done the children no favors sheltering them so.
When they got back to the house, a hefty fellow in uniform stood blocking the door. He pointed a nightstick at them. “Is that little Miss Parker, Hazel Parker?”
Hazel flung herself behind Grace, nearly knocking her over. The child was only a head shorter than she was.
“’Tis herself. Let us by.” Grace turned to the side to squeeze past him.
“She can go in, but you better wait out here.”
“Hazel? Is that you?” Mr. Parker came running to the door, and Hazel fell into his arms.
“I didn’t mean to, Father. I went to get Mrs. Wallace, and then I . . . I was afraid.”
“Of course, sweetheart.” He kissed the top of her head and sent her off inside. “Thank you, Officer. I will handle this now.”
Handle this?
“Come inside, Grace. We’ll talk in my study. Mrs. Wallace is with my wife.”
“Yes, I know. I asked her—”
“Inside. We better have a talk.”
She followed him down the hall to the back of the house, where he had a closet-size office, just room enough for a desk and two chairs. “There was no need to call the police.”
“No need?” He pounded a fist on the surface of his oak desk. “My child is missing and there is no need to call the police? Why, may I ask, did you not do that straight away, Grace? Do you know what kind of people roam the streets of New York City?”
“A policeman helped me look for her.”
“When I called the precinct, they’d had no report, Grace.”
“Well, I know, but—”
She could tell she was not going to be allowed to speak. She kept her head low while he continued his rampage. When his voice pitched high, she squeezed her eyes tight.
“Would you admit this was an error of judgment on your part, Grace?”
She pressed her hands together and opened her eyes. “I would.”
“Very well. It cannot happen again.”
He was not going to fire her then. “I promise.”
He sighed loudly. “After that incident with Lindy . . . well, I should have known. They are not allowed out alone, Grace. I’ve told you that.”
“But perhaps if she knew her way around, then—”
“You will obey my wishes! Are you that pitifully stupid? I hired you because you were timid. I liked that. Don’t go asserting yourself now, girl.”
I am smart. I am important. I am able. “I am not stupid, Mr. Parker.”
“Good. Then you’ll know better not to violate my trust again. As punishment I’m docking your pay for one week.”
“Sir?”
He stood. “Don’t disappoint me like this again or you’ll be out of a job. And from what Mrs. Hawkins explained, you don’t have many options because folks don’t want a maid who is completely . . . shall we say, backward? If not stupid, you are certainly without common sense. I’m trusting that you have enough intelligence to correct that, Grace.”
Did he expect her to thank him? “I won’t let the children out of my sight again.”
“Right. Now go see to my wife. I’ve telephoned Mrs. Hawkins’s neighbor and asked her to relay the message that you’ll be spending the night. If you are able to sleep at all tonight—and according to the doctor, it’s not likely—you may sleep with the children.”
She stared at him a moment, not seeing the thin, sandy-haired American, but her father, angry, red-faced, eyes afire. “Another blunder, lass! Is there nothing ya can do right?”
Sucking in her breath, she nodded and left the room. Don’t listen. She held her fists over her ears as she walked. God, am I important? To you?
Perhaps her worth was measured by someone with more authority and power than George Parker or her father.
Alice Parker lay in the dark room, softly groaning. Mrs. Wallace stood when Grace entered. She wrung her hands. “I really must be getting home now.”
“Oh, aye, please.” Grace backed away from the door. “Thank you kindly, Mrs. Wallace.”
“I’m happy to help, although no one from this family ever asks. Come get me, Grace, whenever you need something.”
“You are generous. We will get along fine now, Mrs. Wallace.”
“Yes. Well, God bless.” She turned slightly toward the bed, her brow wrinkled. Then she left, shutting the door behind her.
Grace checked. Mrs. Parker was sleeping. Grace darted up to the playroom to see the children and found Mr. Parker there, playing checkers with Hazel. He looked surprised.
“Oh, I forgot to ask if I should start the evening meal.”
“I don’t see how that’s possible, Grace, when you are to keep a constant watch over Mrs. Parker. If she gets worse, call for me and I’ll hail the doctor. Do you understand?”
“But the children’s supper . . . ?”
“Is there cold meat in the icebox?”
“There is.”
“I will take care of my children, Grace. Please do as I asked now.”
Four sets of eyes glared at her. Were they safe with him? “I’ll just be . . . uh . . . Come get me if you need me. Any of you.”
“Go, Grace.”
She didn’t want to risk having him raise his voice any more in front of the children, but she also didn’t want to sit sentry while Alice Parker awaited the birth of her fourth child. Grace was no midwife and didn’t care to be one. “Shall I call Widow Brown? Surely she’s back now from her other delivery.”
He rose and stepped out into the hall. “We shall not alarm the children any more than need be. Mrs. Parker wants only the doctor and we’ll grant her wishes.”
“But the doctor is so busy. He might not get back in time.”
“You let me worry about that. All she needs now is you.” He took a step toward her, effectively ushering her back toward the mistress’s side.
Grace talked as she walked backward. “There are crackers in a
tin in the scullery and some apples too.”
“Thank you, Grace.”
Alice Parker’s face had turned deadly white. She still breathed but didn’t speak. Grace wished Mrs. Wallace had stayed. Grace had counted at least five children roaming in and out of the hall in the Wallace house when they had spoken at the front door. She would know what to do. Grace was not the right person for this. She didn’t know anything.
Grace moved closer. Mrs. Wallace had changed some of the bedclothes and pulled Alice Parker’s hair away from her face with a green bandanna.
Suddenly Mrs. Parker wailed and rolled onto her side. She pressed the heel of one hand to her back.
“Your back? Your back hurts?”
No answer.
Grace rolled a towel and wedged it behind the woman, and she seemed to ease.
You are able.
Grace waited.
And paced.
And counted the hours chiming away on the clock.
At long last when the clock struck ten, loud footsteps erupted from the stairs outside the room. The door opened and someone pulled the chain to light up the room. The doctor and Mr. Parker hurried toward the bed.
“How is she, Grace?” Mr. Parker reached for his wife’s hand.
“Wait outside, George.” The doctor practically pushed him out. “We will keep you updated.”
Grace told the doctor about Mrs. Parker’s apparent back pain.
“It’s the position of the baby.” He lifted the sheets at the bottom of the bed and examined with one hand, modestly keeping his eyes focused on some spot on the far wall.
The woman tensed and cried out.
“Now, now, Alice,” the doctor said. “We’ve been through this before. This baby’s just being a little cantankerous. We’ll convince him to turn.”
Grace stared at the bespectacled man. “Isn’t Mrs. Parker asleep? I mean, because of the chloroform?”
“Delirious. She’ll hear me. I’ll need my forceps. The baby’s moved down now but needs assistance. In my bag there.”
Grace followed his gaze to a carpetbag he’d left on the chair near the door. Inside she found bottles, capped needles, miscellaneous objects she couldn’t identify, and one large mechanical article. She pulled it out.
“Bring it here now. I’ve determined the malpresentation.”
Cindy Thomson - [Ellis Island 01] Page 15
