Upstairs they saw the workrooms where the girls learned various skills. Mrs. Wells pointed out the two sewing machines she’d been able to provide for the girls to practice on. The attic had been converted into a dormitory where the residents slept on rows of identical cots under the sloping roof, all neatly made up with identical blankets.
“What exactly did my wife do when she came here?” Richard asked as they made their way back down the stairs to the first floor.
“Let’s see,” Mrs. Wells said, considering. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I’m not sure, but I believe she led the singing. She had a fine voice, if I recall.”
“Yes, she did,” Richard confirmed eagerly. “Our friends always enjoyed hearing her sing.”
“I seem to remember she may also have taught sewing. Did she do needlework?”
“She… I believe she did.” He was less confident of this.
They had reached the front hallway, and Mrs. Wells turned to face them. “Mr. Dennis, what your wife did here exactly really isn’t important. The fact that she came at all is what matters. The work she did here helped to save young girls from the streets and prepare them for heaven. You can comfort yourself with knowing her life had meaning and purpose, even if it was shorter than we might have wished. You may also comfort yourself that she is with God. I’m certain of that.”
Her words transformed Richard, finally giving him the consolation he’d sought. “Thank you, Mrs. Wells,” he said gratefully. “You’ve been very kind.”
“Not at all, Mr. Dennis. I’ve simply told the truth,” she said. “Do you have any other questions that I can answer?”
Richard glanced at Sarah, giving her the opportunity to respond. She couldn’t think of any questions, but she did remember something else. “I brought a few things of mine that I thought your residents might be able to use,” she said, indicating the bundle that still sat on the floor in the front parlor.
“Thank you very much, Mrs. Brandt. I know the girls will appreciate your generosity,” Mrs. Wells said with her sweet smile.
“I didn’t bring anything with me,” Richard said, “but you will be receiving a donation from me very soon.”
“That really isn’t necessary, but we will accept it gratefully, in your wife’s memory, Mr. Dennis,” Mrs. Wells said. She could not have said anything that could have pleased Richard more, and to Sarah’s amazement, her voice held no hint that she considered Richard’s money any more important to her ministry than Sarah’s old clothes.
As they walked back down Mulberry Street after taking their leave of Mrs. Wells, Sarah allowed Richard some time to reflect on what he had learned. The noise and activity in the neighborhood didn’t allow for much conversation anyway, so he didn’t really say anything until they were back in the relative quiet of the El station, waiting for the next train to arrive.
“I had no idea,” he finally said. “What would happen to those girls if the mission wasn’t there?”
“Many of them would probably become prostitutes,” Sarah said. “And most of those would die young.”
He frowned, probably not certain whether he should be shocked by the facts or by hearing Sarah say them aloud. Ladies of her class studiously avoided acknowledging that prostitution existed. “I still can’t imagine Hazel in a place like that. I guess you’re right, I didn’t know her at all.”
“I didn’t say that,” Sarah hastily reminded him. “Sometimes we hide things from the people we love. She might not have allowed you to see that side of her. Maybe she thought you’d disapprove.”
“Or maybe she thought I just didn’t care,” he said with a sigh.
“Since we’ll never know for certain, why don’t we decide that you weren’t as much to blame as you are trying to be,” Sarah suggested with a small smile. “I think your grief over losing her is deep enough without punishing yourself with guilt that you might not even deserve.”
“You’re generous, Sarah,” he said, returning her smile with a sad one of his own.
“I’m not generous at all,” she corrected him. “I’m just being reasonable. I thought men appreciated that in a female.”
“I’m learning to,” Richard said with a smile as the train pulled into the station.
Sarah had to stop and catch her breath for a moment before she could tell the nurse what she wanted. She’d practically run most of the way to Dr. Newton’s office in an effort to get there in time for Brian’s appointment to get his cast off. “Is Mr. Malloy still here?” she finally asked.
The nurse smiled in recognition. “Oh, yes, I remember now! You came in with Mr. Malloy the first time. They’re still in with the doctor. Would you like to join them?”
“If it’s all right.”
“I’m sure it is.” The nurse led her back to the examining room.
She opened the door to a strange tableau. Dr. David Newton was hunkered down with one knee on the floor. Malloy was in the same position, facing him and holding Brian, who was making pathetic whimpering sounds and struggling to get free. He was deaf, so he hadn’t learned how to howl in his unhappiness.
Sarah saw at once that the cast was off his foot. There were some angry red lines where Dr. Newton’s knife had cut in order to make the necessary repairs, but otherwise the foot seemed almost perfectly normal in size and shape.
Both men looked up when the door opened, and Dr. Newton instantly rose to his feet. “Sarah,” he said in greeting. “How nice to see you. Mr. Malloy didn’t think you were coming.”
Sarah glanced at Malloy, who was rising more slowly since he had a squirming three-year-old to contend with. He avoided meeting her eye, and Sarah wondered why he looked so angry.
“I had a birth last night,” she explained to David, who had been an old friend of her husband’s. “I got here as quickly as I could,” she added for Malloy’s benefit. Could he be angry because she was late?
Brian had finally noticed her arrival, and now he was reaching out for her, anxious to escape his father. Brian was particularly fond of Sarah because she often brought him presents.
“What have you been doing to the poor boy?” she scolded the men, gladly taking Brian’s small body into her arms. He clung to her fiercely.
“We’ve been trying to get him to put his weight on his foot,” David explained. “He’s never walked, and his foot has been sore for a while, so naturally, he’s reluctant.”
Sarah turned to Malloy. “He’s probably just stubborn, like his father,” she said with a smile. He didn’t smile back. Maybe he really was angry at her. Or maybe he was just upset about Brian and didn’t want to show it. She didn’t bother to wonder how she knew that about him.
Brian was still clinging to her tightly. “Let’s see if we can give him a reason to walk,” Sarah suggested. “Malloy, take him back.”
“He’ll throw a fit,” Malloy protested.
“And he’ll want to get back to me,” Sarah said. “When he does, set him on his feet and let him go.”
“Wonderful idea, Sarah,” David said, moving out of the way to give them room.
Malloy’s dark gaze was unfathomable as he reached out and wrenched Brian away from her. The boy did pitch a fit, arms and legs flailing as garbled sounds erupted from his throat. Malloy held him at arm’s length until Sarah could step back a bit and stoop down, her long skirts pooling around her.
“All right,” she said to Malloy, who slowly lowered the boy to the floor.
“Brian, come here,” Sarah said, forgetting he couldn’t hear her. He didn’t need to hear to know what her outstretched arms meant, though. He tried to drop to his knees so he could crawl across the distance that separated them, but Malloy held him up, allowing his feet to touch the floor but letting him go no farther down.
His normal foot planted on the floor, but he kept drawing up the damaged one each time it touched.