The man set the tray down and appraised Hannah. “You sure know what a shop owner likes to hear,” he laughed. “I must admit, we’re not looking to hire anyone right now. But, who knows? Tell me a bit more about your baking skills, and maybe—just maybe—I can find a spot for you to fill.”
Hannah went on to tell Mr. O’Leary about her history of home-baking and professional baking. She told him about a number of her recipes (without revealing all of the secret ingredients, of course), listed her strengths in the kitchen, and discussed some of the “tricks of the trade” she’d learned and perfected over the past several months. She made no mention of Mrs. Thomas’s bakery by name, however, and merely said that she’d worked in another shop.
When Hannah was done telling the man all she had to tell, he smiled at her and seemed quite impressed. “As I said,” he reminded her, “we’re not looking to hire anyone right now. But, I must admit, it sounds like you could bring a lot to this bakery… So, here’s what I’ll do.
“I’ll talk things over with my wife and see what she thinks. She’s a bit more conservative when it comes to business matters than I am, so she might need a few days to think it over. But, if you leave your name and address here, I’ll send for you once she’s made up her mind.”
Hannah felt very optimistic. She smiled at Mr. O’Leary as he picked up his pencil and pad, ready to write down her information.
“My name is Hannah Howell,” she told him with a smile. “I live on the third house on First Street—house number 105, to be exact.”
“Ah, all right,” Mr. O’Leary responded, bowing his head. “Thank you, dear. Have a good day.” He set the pad and pencil down on the shelf, then went about his business. Hannah was a bit confused. He hadn’t written her information down like he’d said he would.
“You didn’t write my name and address down,” she pointed out. “How will you get a hold of me after you’ve talked to your wife?”
“I have a good memory,” Mr. O’Leary replied. His back was facing Hannah now, and he didn’t even bother to turn around to look at her. “If my wife agrees, I’ll be in touch… But, if I were you, I wouldn’t hold my breath.”
Mr. O’Leary’s comment further confounded Hannah. Just as with Mrs. Evans, the old man’s attitude had suddenly shifted. And, what was more, although Mrs. Evans had cited her bad memory and Mr. O’Leary had referenced his good memory, both shop owners had been very dismissive of her the moment they’d learned her name.
Hannah left O’Leary’s Bakery, crestfallen, a thousand questions running through her head. She felt dejected and hopeless. None of the town’s bakeries would have her, and she worried that her professional dreams would never come true.
But, more pressingly, Hannah worried that, without her having a job, her family would suffer. They were barely able to make ends meet as it was, and, without her bringing in any income, there’d be an even bigger void.
So, she decided, for the time being, to put her dream on hold. Yes, she wanted to work at a bakery, but, until she could find a job in that field, she decided she’d take any job she could get, just so that her family could pay their bills and not starve.
As Hannah made her way back home through the city, she eyed every window she saw, in search of other “Help Wanted” signs. And, lo and behold, she finally found one, hanging in the feed store on the outskirts of town.
Hannah went into the feed store and politely greeted the man behind the counter. He wasn’t very pleasant to look at, but she overlooked his crooked teeth, pocked face, oily hair, and soiled clothing in order to pursue her goal.
“I saw the sign in your window,” she said. “My name is Hannah Howell, and I’d like you to consider me for the job.”
“Sorry, sweetheart,” the man replied from between his crooked teeth. “We’re looking to hire someone for heavy lifting and hard labor—so the job’s better suited for a man.”
“Ah, all right,” Hannah consented with a sigh. She turned to leave the store. But before she could, the man spoke up to stop her.
“Hold on,” he said. “Did you say your name was Hannah Howell?”
“Yes,” Hannah replied, turning around again.
“Well, well, well,” the man smiled, stepping out from behind the counter and snaking over toward Hannah. “I might have a job for you after all—and, trust me you, it’s one that only a woman could do.”
The man had a wanton expression on his face, and he licked his lips as he looked Hannah over. Hannah was young and innocent, as far as the ways of men went. But, rest assured, she was not naïve. She knew very well that this man was being a scoundrel and suggesting something unsavory and depraved.
“How dare you say such a thing!” she exclaimed, backing away.
“I’m sorry,” the man answered insincerely, rubbing his hand over his chin as he continued to eye Hannah like a piece of meat. “But, from what I heard about you, you got some pretty loose morals. Rumor has it you worked for Mrs. Thomas and robbed her register… So, you can’t blame me for thinkin’ that a gal who likes to steal might also like to commit other kinds of sin.”
Hannah felt a sickness in her stomach. But, at the same time, things had finally started to make sense. Now she understood why this scoundrel had made such a filthy comment to her. Now she understood why the more respectable store owners had turned their noses up at her. Now she understood why no one she’d encountered on her way into town had stopped to talk with her. She’d been labeled a thief, and her name was no good in this town.
Hannah stormed out of the feed store without so much as another word. Once she was outside, she wanted to scream, cry, and run as fast as she could back to her house. But she realized that she could not do any of those things. There were still many people out on the streets, and she didn’t want to exhibit such volatile behavior, as it would only make the public’s bad opinion of her even worse.
So instead, Hannah held back her tears, kept her head high, and slowly made her way home.
FIVE
Over the next few days, Hannah learned that the gossip about her was even more widespread than she’d initially thought. It seemed that everyone in town had heard about the incident at Mrs. Thomas’s bakery, and that made life quite difficult for Hannah. In addition to not being able to find a job, her friendships and other relationships suffered, and the kids at school made fun of her brother Jason for having a sister who was a thief.
Hannah spent most of her time curled up in bed, crying. Her mother tried to console her on numerous occasions, but it was all for naught. By all measures, Hannah had sunk into a deep depression, one from which she seemed unlikely to return.
After a few more days had passed, Mrs. Howell had had enough and decided to take action. She hated seeing her daughter in this condition and wanted to find a way to address her woes. So, after work one day, she went to town to get some “tools” to help her accomplish her task. Once she got home, Mrs. Howell postponed making dinner and went to Hannah’s room instead.
“Get up, my child,” she demanded.
Hannah obeyed her mother as best she could and lifted herself so that she was sitting upright. “I don’t feel like talking right now, Mother,” she said.
“That’s too bad,” Mrs. Howell fired back, taking a seat on the edge of her daughter’s bed. She set a flat paper bag beside her and pointed at it. “We have work to do.”
“What’s that?” Hannah asked, looking at the bag.
“I went into town today and purchased a number of newspapers,” Mrs. Howell answered. “We’re going to search though the employment advertisements to find you a job, so that you can get your life back on track.”
“But, Mother,” Hannah whined, “no one will hire me. The people of Baltimore want nothing to do with me.”
“Then so be it!” Mrs. Howell responded in a snap. “These newspapers are national newspapers with job advertisements from all across the country. Perhaps no one will hire you here, but there’s plenty of work to be found
elsewhere—and Baltimore’s loss can be some other city’s gain.”
Mrs. Howell pulled a stack of several newspapers out of the bag and began dividing them into two piles.
“But, Mother,” Hannah whined again, “I don’t want to leave Baltimore, or leave you and Jason. I can’t just—”
“Stop your whining, girl,” Mrs. Howell interrupted. She was usually soft-spoken, and it was not like her to be so harsh with her daughter. But the situation demanded a certain degree of authority, which Mrs. Howell had forced herself to express.
“Why wouldn’t you want to leave Baltimore?” Mrs. Howell went on. “You just said the people here want nothing to do with you—and, at the rate things are going, you’ll waste away in this bed without living any kind of life. So, why not go somewhere else for a fresh start? And, as far as your concerns about leaving Jason and me, you need not be worried about that. Life hasn’t exactly been easy for us since all of this ugliness occurred, and I must admit, I’d like to go somewhere else and get a fresh start, as well.
“So, let’s search these periodicals to find a fitting job for you. If you’re hired, you can move to whatever city that job is in—and, once you have established yourself on a firm footing there, Jason and I will come out and join you.”
Mrs. Howell tossed one of the two stacks of papers at Hannah, then began flipping through hers. Hannah was a little caught off-guard by her mother’s plan, as well as by her tone and behavior. But, nonetheless, she saw the sense in all.
Hannah picked up her stack of papers and reluctantly started thumbing through them. She didn’t expect to find anything particularly promising, but she looked through them anyway, just in case.
For about thirty minutes, Hannah read ad after ad. She was repeatedly disappointed, as some jobs were designated specifically for men, others required skills or knowledge she did not have, and the remainder did not interest her at all. But, then, just as she flipped to the last page of one of the newspapers, she jolted fully upright in her bed. Her eyes widened, and a smile flashed across her face.
“Oh, Mother,” Hannah breathed. “Here it is. I’ve found the perfect job.”
Mrs. Howell set down the newspaper she’d been examining and glanced back at her daughter. “You have?” she asked with a smile. “Do tell me more!”
Hannah cleared her throat and brought the newspaper closer to her face. “Longstanding, very successful bakery in Silver City, New Mexico, seeks experienced baker to join our ranks,” Hannah read from the ad. “If interested, please reply with information about yourself, your work history, and an explanation of any special baking skills or talents you possess.”
“Oh, my,” Mrs. Howell cooed. “That does sound perfect! You must send them your information right away.”
“But, Mother,” Hannah replied, mocking the whining tone she’d used earlier.
“What?” Mrs. Howell asked with an irritated sigh, shaking her head.
“If I’m to send them my information,” Hannah answered, “I’ll need some paper and a pen.” She grinned broadly.
“Oh, Hannah,” her mother laughed, relieved. She slapped her hand against her thigh, then stood up. “I’ll go fetch you a pen and paper,” she added, leaving the room.
SIX
Three Months Later
“Attention, passengers!” the tall, thin train attendant shouted. “Attention! Train’ll be pulling into Silver City, New Mexico, within the next half-hour. All passengers bound for Silver City, ready yourselves and your bags.”
Hannah had dozed off, but, as soon as she heard the words “Silver City,” she was roused from her sleep. She sat up straight, smoothed out her hair and clothing, then gazed out the window with a huge smile. She was so very happy and excited. She was getting closer and closer to her dream.
Three months ago, after she’d found the advertisement in the newspaper, Hannah had penned a very detailed letter to the bakery in New Mexico. In it, she’d written about her lifelong passion for baking, her childhood practice at the trade, and her six months of professional experience working in a very popular, busy shop. She’d also cited some of her major strengths, both in terms of baking and her work ethic, and included two of her own recipes.
When it came to explaining her employment at Mrs. Thomas’s bakery, Hannah did mention the bakery by name. But she didn’t fully detail the circumstances under which she had left. Rather than attempting to explain what had happened, she’d merely said that she had stopped working there after a meddlesome coworker had treated her in an unsavory manner. The way Hannah saw it—the way anyone with any sense would see it—this statement was true, even if it didn’t disclose all of the facts.
About a month after she sent her letter, Hannah received a reply from a man named Blake Mason. In his letter, he wrote that he was very impressed by Hannah’s experience and passion for baking. He said that he’d heard talk of Mrs. Thomas’s bakery before, from travelers who’d compared the excellence of his products to hers. In closing, he offered Hannah a “trial position” at his bakery.
As he explained in his letter, “I invite you to come out to Silver City and work at my bakery for one month. After that month, if things work out, and we are both satisfied, you can take on a permanent position.”
Hannah was not at all deterred by the temporary nature of the job, and she was confident that she’d be able to prove herself and secure a permanent position in a month’s time. Therefore, she accepted Mr. Mason’s offer in her response. And, though it humbled her to do so, she also included a request for Mr. Mason to send her a small advance on her salary, so that she could pay for her train fare.
“I have no money to my name,” she wrote. “And I cannot borrow any from my family, as my mother is a hardworking widow, struggling to provide for my younger brother.”
A few weeks later, when Hannah received Mr. Mason’s reply, her concerns over her traveling expenses were allayed, and her heart was warmed. Mr. Mason had not only sent enough money to cover her train fare; he’d sent a much larger sum, the bulk of which, he explained, was meant to help Hannah’s mother keep up her home in Hannah’s absence.
Mr. Mason’s reply also detailed some of the arrangements he’d made for Hannah in Silver City. He said he’d spoken with a local boardinghouse owner named Miss Hayes, with whom he’d made an agreement for Hannah’s reduced rent. Provided that Hannah was willing to help the older woman with household chores during the weekends, when the bakery was closed, Miss Hayes would allow her to stay at her house for half of the cost.
Hannah was deeply touched by Mr. Mason’s kindness and efforts. He’d gone above and beyond what was expected of him, and she intended to express her gratitude through exceptional work once she arrived in Silver City.
After procuring her advance ticket from the train station, Hannah wrote back to Mr. Mason and told him about her travel itinerary. Then she set about settling her affairs in Baltimore, and boarded the train two weeks later to start her new life.
Hannah had never been on a train before, and, indeed, riding the rails proved to be quite burdensome. She was hungry, thirsty, and tired most of the time, and both her head and body ached frequently throughout the journey. But, despite these many hardships, she remained cheery, for she knew they were but momentary sufferings in pursuit of the greater good.
Still, when she heard the attendant announce the train’s impending arrival in Silver City, Hannah was very, very relieved. She’d managed to tolerate her time on the train, but, goodness, was she happy to have it end! When the train finally pulled into the station at Silver City, she sprang up from her seat and collected her things. She was one of the first people off of the train.
As she walked away from the locomotive, she took in her new surroundings. This place was much different from Baltimore. The weather was warmer, and the colors of the landscape were unfamiliar hues. She found it quite beautiful.
A bit lost in her thoughts, Hannah continued to admire this unfamiliar region of God’s world. The
n, out of nowhere, she heard a voice calling her name. She turned toward the sound and saw an older man, who was somewhat shabbily dressed.
“I’m Hannah Howell,” she said, smiling as she walked over to him. “Are you Mr. Mason?”
“No,” the older man laughed. “I’m Gary Wright. I’m a paid carriage driver. Mr. Mason sent me to fetch you and take you to Miss Hayes’s boardinghouse, as he can’t get away from the bakery at this time.”
“Oh.” Hannah blushed. In all her communications with Blake Mason, she’d never learned much about him, and she didn’t even know what he looked like, how old he was, or anything else about him.
“Right this way,” Gary went on, taking Hannah’s luggage. He led her to his modest carriage, loaded her things in the back, then helped her aboard.
A few minutes later, the two of them were on their way into the city. The ride was a quiet one, but Hannah used it as an opportunity to further appraise and enjoy the beauty of her new home.
About twenty minutes later, Gary stopped his carriage outside of a tall house located in the heart of the city. “Here we are,” he called back to Hannah. “This is Miss Hayes’s boardinghouse.”
With Gary’s help, Hannah got down from the carriage and unloaded her things. As the two of them carried her luggage up to the house, the front door swung open, and a very heavyset older woman stood smiling at the door.
“Hannah?” the woman asked. “Hannah Howell?”
Hannah nodded politely and smiled.
“I’m Miss Hayes,” the woman said, introducing herself. She opened the door further to allow Hannah in, then exchanged a few words with Gary before he left. Once Gary was gone, Miss Hayes turned to Hannah again. “Come, girl, I’ll show you to your room,” she said.
She led Hannah up one flight of stairs and took her to the second room on the right. “This one is yours,” she said, opening the door.
New Beginnings Spring 20 Book Box Set Page 47
