Circled Heart (14 page)

“I can’t help it. I have to be nice to you.”

“You don’t have to be nice to me.”

“Of course, I do. I want something from you. I’m not an idiot.”

For just a moment he peered at me through the darkness, trying, I imagine, to gauge how sincere I was, trying to see if I was telling him the truth or even a portion of it. Then he gave a bark of laughter that sounded unusually loud in the quiet night and stepped away from me.

“You humble me, Miss Swan, you really do. Good night. I’ll be in touch.”

“Miss Swan again?”

“You deserve Miss Swan for that last remark.”

“I suppose I do. Good night, Mr. Gallagher. Thank you for the evening. I enjoyed myself very much.”

He was halfway to the curb before stopping long enough to turn and ask, “Being nice to me again?”

“Yes, but I really mean it. I did enjoy myself.”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” he said lightly before he got into his automobile. I watched the beautiful, quiet vehicle pull away from the curb and went inside, deep in thought about the evening. May heard the door and stepped out of the front parlor as I started up the stairs to my room.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me, May. I’m not eighteen any more.”

“You’re not as old as you like to think, missy, not when it comes to a man like that. How was the evening?”

“Lovely. We went to a very fine restaurant and had an enjoyable argument halfway through the meal. By the end of dessert, though, we were both in charity with each other again. All in all, it was a well-invested effort and time well spent.”

“You talk like your grandfather sometimes.” She came closer so she could look into my face. “I thought you favored that Mr. Goldwyn, but I believe this one tonight could give him a run for his money.”

“I don’t favor anyone,” I answered too abruptly, then softened my words by adding, “Not yet anyway. I’m enjoying myself too much. How’s Grandmother?”

“She got up for a while this evening and came downstairs. Said she was feeling better, but I don’t like her color. Why don’t you look in on her before you go to bed?”

I did so and found her sleeping soundly. Grandmother looked elderly and small in the big bed she’d shared with my grandfather for forty years. When I leaned to kiss her lightly on the forehead, she awoke and murmured my name.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” I said quietly.

Ignoring my apology, she asked, “Did you have a pleasant evening?”

“Very.”

She gave a little yawn and closed her eyes. “Good. Now go to bed. I’d like to go back to sleep.” She seemed to drift off again, but it may have been pretense; I couldn’t always tell with her.

Back in my own room, I sat on the edge of the bed, reluctant to remove the black dress, reluctant to have the evening end. I really had enjoyed myself, enjoyed Drew Gallagher’s company a great deal, appreciated that Gallagher charm and that Gallagher attention turned fully and solely on me. At one time I had imagined myself in the company of the dark brother, had wished it so. Now, however, the mental picture had altered, with a companion considerably fairer but equally as intriguing. Finally breaking the spell that held me deep in thought, I dressed for bed and hung the black dress out of sight. I still needed something from Drew Gallagher, and it would not do to sentimentalize him too much. He was right about my impatience with words and my predilection for action. As much as I enjoyed his company and his compliments, I would not be content until I had what I wanted from him.

So comes to us at times, from the unknown

And inaccessible solitudes of being,

The rushing of the sea-tides of the soul;

And inspirations, that we deem our own,

Are some divine foreshadowing and foreseeing

Of things beyond our reason or control.

Chapter Seven

Over the next weeks the Anchorage experienced a spurt of activity. The doorbell rang day and night, forcing me to have a serious discussion with Hilda about where to put the newcomers.

“Are you sure Mr. Gallagher will find a place for Betsy and Henrietta, Johanna?”

“Yes, but I admit I expected to hear from him by now.”

Hilda chewed her lip in thought. “Even if those two beds open up, we’ll still be cramped. We have to find a place for Mrs. McElhanie, Johanna. She’s been here quite a while, and we try to limit the time spent at the Anchorage. It’s only meant to be a place of transition, not a permanent residence.”

I felt she was criticizing me and didn’t know how to respond. “I know that,” I finally said. “The classes will make a difference in the residents’ ability to take care of themselves, but the results won’t happen over night. I persuaded Ruthie to contact her family and once she has the baby, it looks like she’ll be able to go home. Elena wants to go back to Greece, and I’ve inquired about transportation for her. I don’t want her to have to ride third class.” I had a vivid memory of the poor people traveling third class on the Titanic, trapped in the belly of the great ship and unable to make it up on deck. Not many had survived the catastrophe, and I did not wish that for Elena.

Hilda put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m not chastising you, Johanna. You’ve done wonders in the short time you’ve been here. I’ll contact some of our benefactors and see whether I can arrange the necessary money for a one-way trip to Greece for Elena. Is second class acceptable?” Her eyes twinkled as I nodded a response. “But we’re still short of space. The more people squeeze into Chicago, the more women will show up at our door. It’s a worry.”

Later that day Crea came to my office and began to speak in a way that made me wonder whether she’d overheard Hilda’s and my conversation. “I’ve been here longer than anyone, Johanna, and I know it’s time for me to leave. Do you know where I can find work? I’m not very good with a needle, but maybe I could learn to be one of those typewriters. I’m not afraid of hard work.” I motioned her in and she crowded into my little closet of an office.

“Is that what you want to do?”

The scarf covering her red hair nearly slipped off when she shook her head in response. “No, but it doesn’t matter what I want to do. I have to earn a living somehow, and it’s obvious I can’t stay here any longer. We had to put a bed in the hallway for the new girl this afternoon. I was earning my keep here for a while, but since you arrived, I’m not needed as I was. Matron’s been more than kind to me, but it’s time for me to be out on my own.”

After her answer ran down, I persisted, “But what would you do if you could choose?”

With a slightly defiant look that indicated she thought I might laugh at her answer, Crea responded, “I’d be a teacher with my own class and my own classroom in my own school. Children would call me Miss O’Rourke. I’d be surrounded by books and blackboards and desks and maps and everything else you find in a classroom. I’d be a teacher. If I had the choice.” Despite her ironic closing words, there was no denying Crea’s passionate sincerity.

“Then teach. Don’t waste time and effort on anything else. Chicago has several fine teachers’ colleges. Do what you want to do.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Why not?”

Her green eyes flared in temper. “You always make everything sound easy, Johanna, but you take so much for granted. You had a family to support you and money to do what you chose and if you failed, you had someplace to go back to where you were assured you’d be welcome. Most of us don’t have those luxuries; I don’t have those luxuries. How do you suggest I pay for an education while I’m also putting a roof over my head and food on the table?”

“I can’t answer that right now,” I replied mildly, “but I know it can be done. Anything can be done if you want it badly enough.”

“I never finished high school. How could I even start college?” But amid the skepticism I was sure I heard faint hope in her voice.

“I don’t know that either, but I’ll find out.” I leaned across my makeshift desk so that in the small room I could speak more directly to her. “Don’t settle for anything other than your dream, Crea. Don’t do it. You’ll regret it all your life. Let me dig around a little.”

“Johanna, there’s no way even you could change the way my life has gone.” I appreciated the “even you.”

“I don’t claim to be able to change the past, Crea. That’s out of my hands. Whatever’s happened in your life before this moment, good or bad, is unchangeable. But promise you’ll give me two weeks to look into your future. That’s why the Anchorage hired me, after all. Just keep earning your keep here for two more weeks. Promise?”

“You’ve a smooth tongue, Johanna. You ought to be Irish,” Crea grumbled, her brogue thick and musical. She met my gaze and frowned. “All right, then, two weeks, but you must tell Matron I’m staying only because you’re making me. She’s been good to me, and I don’t want her to think I’m taking advantage of her kindness.”

“I’ll tell her.”

She turned in the doorway on her way out. “I wish I could be like you, Johanna, but it’s too late for that.”

“You don’t need to be like me, Crea. Why would you want to be? You’re Crea O’Rourke, not Johanna Swan. Be proud of that.” I thought her face grew sad for just a moment, but perhaps I was mistaken, for she responded to my advice with a disdainful tsk and left abruptly without another word.

The following Friday, Drew Gallagher showed up unannounced at the Anchorage. He rose when I entered the front room where he waited.

“You’re looking awfully pleased with yourself,” I observed, taking him in from his fair hair to his polished shoes.

“I am awfully pleased with myself. And good morning to you, too, Johanna.”

“I ceased standing on ceremony with you some time ago. Didn’t you notice?” He grinned.

“Yes, I recall.” His gaze swept over me from head to foot. “I was anticipating another metamorphosis but your color is not very remarkable today.”

I may have flushed slightly as I said, “Thank you for that sensitive observation. It’s clear you haven’t the slightest idea what it’s like to work for a living. I’ve been here since daybreak this morning because one of the girls is due, and between teaching classes and giving medical check ups, I may look a little worn.”

“I didn’t mean your personal color,” he replied mildly. “I was referring to your clothing. You must really think I’m a clod, Johanna.”

“I don’t think anything of the sort.”

“That’s right. I remember now. Not a clod, only selfish and immature.”

“I took the immature back.”

He laughed at that. “Yes, you did. I recall that now, too.”

I looked down at my straight, unadorned tan skirt. “You’re right, of course. This shade is unremarkable and probably unbecoming, but I haven’t completely ignored your advice to try more dramatic colors. Tomorrow night I’m wearing apple red, a color I never thought I could get away with, and it looks wonderful.”

He didn’t acknowledge my comment, only asked, “Aren’t you at all curious about that self-satisfied expression you so astutely observed on my face?”

“I’m very curious. Have you brought me welcome news?”

“Come with me and see. Can you take the time?”

I nodded, heading for the door. “The doctor just said the pains were a false alarm and my afternoon class can wait. Let me tell Hilda I’m leaving. Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” he called after me. “Just tell Miss Cartwright we’re on Anchorage business.”

We traveled into the city, down several smaller streets, and into a heavily populated industrial district. Fritz, the Gallagher chauffeur, drove us as Drew and I sat side by side behind him.

“By the way, Johanna, Fritz is quite taken with Yvesta.” Drew lowered his voice. “I wouldn’t be surprised to see a wedding in their future.”

“Yvesta already has a husband,” I pointed out.

“I’m not sure that really matters to either of them, and from what you’ve told me, Fritz as an illegal father would be better for the girls than their real father, regardless of the law. Besides, Fritz could use the stabilizing influence of a wife in his life.”

I couldn’t help but hoot at that. “You’re a fine one to be lecturing Fritz on the stabilizing influence of marriage.”

“I believe my feelings are hurt.”

“I doubt it. You enjoy your single status more than any man I’ve ever met. I wonder how you can talk to Fritz about matrimony with any kind of a straight face and clear conscience.” When he didn’t respond, I turned and surprised an expression on his face that almost did look hurt or if not hurt, at least pensive. I felt I must have spoken too flippantly and as the auto pulled to a halt in front of a square, red brick building, quickly moved the conversation onto safer ground. “Where’s the surprise?” Drew didn’t answer immediately but got out of the auto on his side and waited for Fritz to open my door so I could join Drew on the sidewalk.

“Right in front of you,” he told me, smiling. I was glad to see that usual good-humored expression restored. The thoughtful, brooding look I’d surprised on Drew’s face was out of character for him and made me unaccountably uncomfortable. The truth was that I wouldn’t hurt his feelings for the world and was afraid I had.

I took a closer look at the four-story brick building directly before me. It sat surrounded by buildings similar in size and shape but set apart by its obvious and recent renovations. The front door was new and all the windows on the upper floors were clean and unbroken, apparently recently replaced, with an interesting clerestory line of windows added to the first floor as well. A gaily striped awning shaded the front entrance, which had been freshly painted to match the new sign that hung next to the door displaying the words Cox’s Fine Women’s Garments in elegant script.

Drew took my hand and led me forward, pulled open one of the front double doors, and stepped inside. A heavy wooden desk sat immediately at the threshold and behind it, as far as I could see into the dim exterior of the large, cavernous room, were rows of sewing machines, interspersed with several work tables.

“I’m installing electric lights. They’re safer and brighter than anything else. In case of an emergency, I’ve made sure there are two emergency exits, one on each end of each floor. I’ll have an elevator in by the end of June, but for now we’ll have to take the stairs to the next floor.” I followed him into a stairwell without comment, puzzled yet captivated by his enthusiasm, and we climbed to the second floor. That floor was divided into two large rooms on either side of a central hallway, everything freshly painted and cleaned. Natural light spilled into both rooms from the modern new windows I’d noticed from the outside.

“I don’t understand what I’m looking at, Drew. Is this floor still for factory work?”

“This floor is for children.”

I frowned at him. “You intend to have children working in this factory? That’s unacceptable even if the law didn’t prohibit it.”

“Don’t preach. You haven’t seen everything yet. Are you up to two more floors?” He took the steps much more easily than I, once again reminding me that despite the impression Drew Gallagher gave of being a man spoiled by the finer things in life, he was in very good physical shape, not winded by the climb while I panted along behind him.

The top two floors were newly divided into small two and three-room apartments, each one with a tiny kitchen and one or two additional rooms. Communal bathrooms with indoor plumbing were conveniently located on each floor.

After taking a minute to catch my breath, I demanded, “All right, I give up. I thought I understood what you were showing me, but now I’m completely at a loss. I don’t know if I’m in a factory or an apartment building.”

“You’re in both, Johanna.” He grinned at my still uncomprehending expression and continued, “Have you heard of George Pullman and the town of Pullman he established?”

“‘The World’s Most Perfect Town,’ you mean? I recall hearing that the papers dubbed it the noble experiment that failed.”

“I don’t know how noble it was, Johanna. I once read a description of it that classified the place as a “civilized relic of European serfdom.” People not only had to live under the Pullman rules, they also had to pay the escalating Pullman rents to continue to live in the company town. Pullman deducted the rent from the workers’ wages even when doing so cut their pay to the bone. Everything fell apart after the strike, and today the place lies in ruins.”

“That was before my time, Drew, but I always thought George Pullman meant well.”

“My point exactly. Pullman believed that poverty and uncongenial home surroundings did not encourage a content, productive work force, and I believe he was right.” My face must have shown some kind of surprise because Drew smiled slightly and added, “I know it must seem incredible to you that I had moments of lucid intelligence as I bounced from university to university spending my inheritance on riotous living, but I actually recall being fascinated by a lecture about the Pullman experiment.”

“I never meant to imply you weren’t intelligent,” I protested. Then, as I recalled all the changes he had made in the building, I turned away from him to look down the hallway again, finally making sense of the line of freshly painted apartment doors. “Is that what you’ve done here, Drew—created a great Gallagher experiment?” He remained quiet as I thought through everything I’d seen. “The second floor is for children, you said?” He nodded, still silent but closely watching my face, clearly looking for something specific in my expression. Finally I turned to face him. “It should work. Why wouldn’t it? A self-contained city that goes up instead of out. Drew, I am so impressed with the idea. It’s nothing short of brilliant but so simple, really, that I don’t know why others haven’t thought of it.” I felt such a surge of excitement and admiration that for a moment I wanted to hug him. At the last minute I contented myself instead with a wide smile and instructed, “Now give me the details as you picture them.”