“What about you?”
“So you’d like me to warm you up too?”
Her face bloomed crimson.
He grinned. “I’d love to warm you up, but your sisters are watching.”
“Th-that’s not what I meant. I was worried about you being cold.”
“It’s nice to know you care.” He pulled the coat from her hands and draped it around her shoulders.
“I didn’t say that.” She hugged the coat close and lifted her eyebrows. “We simply need you warm enough to drive us home.”
“You should have seen her, Rosie.” Charlotte leaned on the rake handle. Already, even with only an hour’s worth of work, the front yard of their rented home looked better.
Hannah, who’d changed out of her work clothes for the evening and donned a split skirt, placed her boot on the spade and forced it through the crust of the earth.
Charlotte took a deep breath. The scent of freshly turned soil rose up from the ground, and a worm wriggled from the rich, dark clod.
“I didn’t look that bad,” Hannah insisted.
Flicking the ribbon on Hannah’s sunbonnet, Tessa giggled. “You looked like a drowned rat.”
Charlotte smiled and sighed. It was true. Yesterday Hannah had emerged from the lake looking like a sopping piece of laundry in need of a good wringing, but Mr. Cole still gazed at her as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world.
Would George ever admire Charlotte like that? Maybe tomorrow night at the box social he’d tell her that she took his breath away.
“And then”—Tessa knelt and carefully placed the dormant rosebush in the hole Hannah had made—“when Mr. Cole went to help her get out, she pulled him right in the lake with her.”
Rosie gasped. “Hannah, you didn’t!”
“I couldn’t let him get away with laughing at me, now could I?” Hannah dug another hole. “He had the nerve to stand there and laugh at me.”
The pink tinge in Hannah’s cheeks said there was more to the story. From the subtle change in the way she and Mr. Cole interacted after the boating incident, some sort of understanding must have passed between them—at least on Mr. Cole’s part. While Hannah didn’t rebuff his attention, she didn’t encourage it either. At the rate Hannah was going, Mr. Cole would be old and gray before he even got a first kiss. But Charlotte had a sneaking suspicion he would wait no matter how long it took.
She scooped up the dried leaves and branches in her pile and deposited them in the wheelbarrow they’d borrowed from Rosie. How long would George wait for a kiss? Impatience oozed from him. He didn’t like to wait too long for her after school, so she always hurried, and he didn’t like to wait for her to come out to the porch in the evenings, so she tried to finish her chores quickly.
Even though he’d made his intentions to steal a kiss clear, so far he’d been willing to wait for that. Charlotte didn’t know when was the right time to let a fellow kiss her. She could ask Hannah, but Charlotte probably wouldn’t like the answer. She could ask Rosie, but she’d most likely tell Hannah. If only her mother was still alive, she’d be able to answer all her questions.
Charlotte wiped her sleeve over her damp eyes and returned to her sisters.
“It’s only your second day,” Tessa was saying. She stood up and wiped her hands together. The soil sprinkled to the ground. “You’re worse than me. At least I can go more than a day without getting in trouble.”
Rosie smiled. “So, Hannah, how many marks do you have on your deportment card?”
“Just the two from today. I’m telling you, Rosie, it’s much harder than it was in operators’ class. I tried not to look around, but everything is so new and fascinating.”
“I bet Miss Frogge almost croaked.” Tessa giggled and patted the earth around the second rosebush.
“You’re incorrigible, Tessa.” Hannah dug the final hole for their mother’s yellow tea roses.
Tessa moved to Hannah’s side and loosened the soil in the bottom with her gloved fingers. Charlotte handed her the burlap-wrapped plant. After removing the string securing the burlap, Tessa examined the plant.
Rosie leaned down for a closer look. “That one looks dead.”
“It’s not dead. It’s dormant, and early spring is the best time to transplant them.” Tessa tucked the plant in the opening and filled the hole with water. “After this water soaks in, we’ll fill the hole again before we add the soil. The extra moisture will give it a good chance at taking root.”
When the water had seeped into the dirt, Tessa refilled the hole. Charlotte fought the urge to laugh. How odd it was to see four people standing around a hole watching the water soak in. After Tessa added soil to the hole, she created a mound, shielding the young plant from drying out. She then took out a pair of sharp scissors.
“Why are you cutting the branches?” Rosie asked.
Tessa made an angled snip above a bud. “They’re canes, not branches, and the plant will do better if they’re only about eight inches long.”
“Tessa is our plant girl.” Hannah tapped the shovel against the ground to remove the dirt.
“And Charlotte cooks.” Rosie collected her mother’s shovel and rake. “So, Hannah, what’s your specialty?”
Charlotte giggled. “Bossing us around.”
“Speaking of bossy, look who’s coming.” Tessa tipped her head toward the sidewalk. “Georgie Porgie.”
“Don’t call him that.” Charlotte turned to see George sauntering up the sidewalk, wearing his baseball uniform. Charlotte’s heart skipped. He looked so handsome!
He glanced at Charlotte and tipped his cap. Did his heart do a jig at the sight of her like hers did when she’d spotted him?
“Hey, Lottie, come to my game.” He leaned over the fence. “I want you there to cheer for me.”
Charlotte turned to Hannah but found a frown marring her sister’s face.
Please, please, please, Lord, let her say yes.
“Oh, go on and have fun.” Hannah made a shooing motion with her hand. “We’ll finish up here.” She leaned closer and whispered in Charlotte’s ear, “But remember how special you are, and make sure he’s worthy of you.”
Charlotte’s face heated. Anger, pleasure, and confusion mingled inside her. Having Hannah remind her she was special was sweet, but why did she say the rest? George was worthy. He was handsome and athletic. Why did it feel like Hannah was implying George wasn’t good enough?
With a wave of her hand, she hurried to join George.
After all, he didn’t like to wait.
On her third day at the Iowa Telephone Company, Hannah stepped off the elevator with confidence and went to gather her headset. The assurance in her steps contrasted with the turmoil in her thoughts.
Charlotte had come home after the ball game full of “George did this” and “George did that.” After the game, he’d officially asked her to be his girl, but he hadn’t even taken the time to walk her home. How long would it take Charlotte to see George the way Hannah did?
If Hannah was honest with herself, she’d admit Charlotte wasn’t the only person creating turmoil inside her. Ever since the lake experience with Lincoln, she couldn’t get his words off her mind. He’d asked her to take a risk on him. Had she agreed? Perhaps she had—sort of.
But there was nothing solid. She could easily explain it was a misunderstanding, but did she want to? If she could only get him to stay out of her thoughts, she could truly think this through. He had a way of sticking his nose into everything. And to make matters worse, her sisters had become his greatest champions. Was she the only person with enough sense to see that she and Lincoln were from two different worlds?
Hannah glanced at the clock. Good. She’d arrived early enough to make a quick stop in the reading room. Maybe that would help turn her thoughts toward something other than a certain attorney. A strong, handsome, thoughtful attorney.
Stop that. Think about something else. Airplanes, laws, Walt—anything except Lincoln Col
e.
In the operators’ parlor, she avoided the scrapbookers and slipped into the reading room. After reading the spine of each book on the maple shelves, her gaze rested on a set of three blue volumes. Her pulse raced.
She eased them from the shelf and set them on the table. A History of North American Birds. Opening the first book, she noted it was first published in 1874. What a treasure! How had this set ended up here in the telephone company’s book room? If it were hers, she would never have parted with it.
Scanning the book, she was amazed at the intricate drawings. She paused when she came to the sparrows. Her Bible reading that morning had reminded her that not one sparrow falls without God caring. How much more did God care about her? A sense of awe captured her as she considered the concept again. In view of the size of the earth and the vast number of common sparrows, it was hard to fathom God would even know when one fell to the earth, let alone care.
And God cared much more for her. Even though she struggled with believing this, especially now that her parents had been taken, she knew it was true. God saw her confusion about Lincoln, and he cared. Now if only he’d give her some answers.
Hannah flipped the page and gasped. It couldn’t be. A Lincoln’s sparrow? She’d never heard of such a bird. It figured he’d be a sparrow. Troublesome birds that nested in places no one wanted them.
But she’d always liked the protective little bird. Once, she had accompanied her father while he was doing his chores. When they neared the barn, a sparrow dove at them, snapping its beak at her and her father. The bird pulled away just inches above her father’s head. Her father told her the sparrow would settle down in a few days. He guessed they had young ones in their nests. He also said he had to admire the little bird’s willingness to go up against a man in order to protect his wife and babies.
She closed the book and sighed. Was God trying to tell her something now by pointing her to Lincoln’s sparrow?
The wall clock in the parlor chimed. She placed the books on the shelf and hurried to join the other women. After lifting her headset from its hook, she strapped the speaker in place around her neck. Over the last few weeks, she’d grown used to its heavy weight resting against her chest, both at the exchange and at the operators’ school.
She eased the headset over her wide pompadour and adjusted the receiver over her ear. Now, if she could just get her stomach to settle.
A few minutes later, the women filed into the main operating room like soldiers and assumed their stations.
All business, Miss Frogge was waiting for her without so much as a smile of greeting. “Remember, Miss Gregory, every morning the operator must ring up all of her subscribers and make sure their lines are in good working order.” Miss Frogge waved her hand in a circular motion. “Go ahead. It won’t get done with you sitting there.”
Hannah sat up straight and touched the jack to the rim of the first plug on her list of subscribers. She heard a sharp click. Knowing that meant the line was busy, she moved on to the next. “Good morning, Mrs. Wallace. Excuse me for troubling you, but I wanted to know if your telephone is working nicely this morning.”
Miss Frogge nodded approval and stepped away. Hannah relaxed and thanked Mrs. Wallace. In no time, she had her subscribers called. Thankfully, no one was having line trouble.
Telephone traffic surged by ten o’clock, when wives began to place their orders with the butcher, druggist, or grocer, but eased as the clock neared noon.
“Hello, Main. Number, please.” She prayed the callers could hear the smile in her voice.
“Can I have the butcher?”
Hannah recognized Mrs. Connor’s sweet voice and smiled. “One-nine-eight. Thank you.”
After answering several more calls, Hannah noted that Mrs. Connor’s light on the panel again flickered.
“Main?” Mrs. Connor asked. “Do you realize you connected me to the mortician and not the butcher?”
Lowering her voice so Miss Frogge didn’t hear, Hannah said, “I apologize, ma’am. I’ll connect you now.”
“No, wait.” The woman laughed. “You should enjoy this as much as I did. Before I realized the mix-up, I asked him if he had any nice soup bones. He said he had several bones but could not recommend the ones he had for soup. My dear Hello Girl, I want to thank you. I haven’t had such a good laugh before noon in ages.”
Hannah swallowed a giggle. “You’re welcome, ma’am.”
“Miss Gregory, why is that call taking so long?” Miss Frogge again hovered over her shoulder.
“Ringing one-nine-seven. Thank you.” Hannah jabbed the jack into the plug and sighed.
“How many times do I have to tell you not to say the word ringing? All you need to say is thank you. Anything else wastes valuable time.”
“Yes, Miss Frogge.”
Lunch was over all too soon, and Hannah hurried back to her switchboard. Unlike the rushed morning, the afternoon seemed to drag. Fighting the urge to look around lest she be reprimanded, Hannah picked up her pencil and began to make a few notes on her notebook of things she needed to take care of before Charlotte’s box social tonight.
She connected a call, then leaned back in her chair and smiled. Charlotte had worked past dark on decorating her box with snippets of lace and ribbons. She’d outlined her menu and planned to make everything as soon as she got home from school. If George didn’t rave about Charlotte’s cooking, her sister would be crushed.
A knot tightened in her stomach whenever she thought of George. Maybe she was simply too protective of her sister. Too bad Lincoln wasn’t going to be at the social. She could ask him for his opinion of Charlotte’s suitor. As a man, perhaps he’d have a different perspective.
“Miss Gregory!”
Hannah jumped and sat ramrod straight.
“What is the meaning of this?” Miss Frogge thrust her finger at the tablet beside her board.
Hannah glanced at the tablet, and her cheeks warmed. When had she drawn the sparrow? And worse, how did the heart get drawn around it?
“We do not doodle at the switchboard.”
“Yes, ma’am. I apologize.”
“Apologies will not make up for the lost time. That, you’ll have to do by staying later.”
“But—” She couldn’t stay late. She had planned to see Walt and then get home to help Charlotte.
Miss Frogge hiked an eyebrow, daring Hannah to continue.
Hannah clenched her fists. This wasn’t fair. With her lips pressed together, she lowered her gaze. “I understand.”
How could she have let her mind wander? This job demanded her complete attention. Why couldn’t she have simply followed the rules? Now she’d have to skip seeing Walt, and she hadn’t visited him in days. Would he think she’d abandoned him?
She glanced at the tablet and bit her lip. Maybe she already had—in more ways than one.
22
Where was Hannah? Charlotte held the mint dress to her body and looked in the mirror. Yesterday she’d chosen this dress to wear, but perhaps her other Sunday dress would be a better choice. The burnt-orange color might complement her hair, although the mint-green dress was newer. If Hannah was here, she’d help her decide. Hannah never had trouble making a decision.
Charlotte glanced at the wall clock. How odd. Hannah should have been home half an hour ago. Rubbing her chin, Charlotte again glanced between the two dresses. She couldn’t wait any longer to decide. Before she could change her mind again, she grabbed the burnt-orange dress and shimmied into it.
It took several minutes to do up the long line of buttons on the cedar-brown voile trim running down the length of the dress’s front. She carried her hat downstairs, set it on a table in the parlor, and hurried to the kitchen to pack the food.
With the fried chicken wrapped in brown paper, she hoped it would stay warm and crispy. She added a jar of peaches to each box, then her fresh biscuits and some of the crab apple jelly she and her mother had made last year. The crowning glory was the dess
ert. No one could resist her warm apple charlotte smothered in velvety vanilla cream sauce. Her mouth watered thinking about it. Surely George would love it as much as she did.
She set the lid on the lace-trimmed box and tied it with a brown velvet ribbon that matched the one on her hat. George knew to be looking for that particular ribbon. She slipped knives, forks, and spoons beneath the ribbon’s bow, then did the same for the other box on the table.
“Tessa, do you see any sign of Hannah?”
The screen door banged open and shut before Tessa hurried into the room. “Not yet. I’m heading on over to Betty’s, okay?”
“Maybe you should wait for Hannah to get here. She might want to speak with you before you go.”
Tessa rolled her eyes. “She’d tell me to listen to Betty’s parents and not to get into any trouble.”
“And to not shock them with that scrapbook of yours.” Charlotte opened the cookie jar and removed two gingerbread wafers. She passed one to Tessa and ate the other.
Tessa took a bite. “They’re just headlines. They probably read them in the paper all the time.”
“But you have a way of finding the ones that give people nightmares.”
Tessa shrugged. “Those are the good ones. Speaking of headlines, do you want to hear my new favorite?”
“If I say no, you’re going to tell me anyway.”
“Probably.” Tessa took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water. “I’d hate for you to miss it. It’s such a good one.”
Charlotte sighed. “Oh, all right, tell me.”
“‘Surgeon cuts arm during autopsy on rabies victim.’”
“Tessa! That’s awful.”
“I know. Isn’t it great?” Tessa downed her water. “No one could keep from reading that story, could they?”
Charlotte sighed. “Please don’t tell Betty’s parents about your hobby. They’re going to think you’re some kind of ill-bred heathen.”
“I promise to be a perfect lady.” Tessa curtsied and crossed her heart. “Have fun with Georgie Porgie—if that’s even possible.” She giggled and scurried out of the room.
Lorna Seilstad Page 16
