An Awakened Heart An Awakened Heart

by Jody Hedlund

  “They’ll allow you to stay on here at the chapel, won’t they?”

  “It doesn’t matter now. I gave my notice—”

  “No. You can’t quit.”

  “It’s more of a mutual parting of ways.” He gave her a weak smile. “I don’t agree with their decision, and I let them know it a little too adamantly.”

  Her mind spun trying to find a solution, anything. “I’ll go and explain things to them and tell them it was all my fault. I’ll tell them they need to keep you here. They can’t let you go—”

  “Christine.” His voice cut through her panic. “I need to move on.”

  Maybe he’d thought he cared about her before. But now he would surely change his mind. He’d see her for the nuisance she really was. If he’d once thought of marrying her, he wouldn’t have any desire to do so anymore—not after she’d ruined his job and ministry.

  “I’m sorry, Guy,” she managed through a tight throat, extricating her hand from his and standing.

  He didn’t try to stop her. Instead he buried his face in his hands again. When she walked away, he didn’t call her back.

  She’d hurt him. Why would he want her now?

  A sob caught in her throat. She should have known a relationship with him was too good to be true. She shouldn’t have allowed herself any hope. She should have kept the door locked on her spinsterhood and hidden her emotions out of reach where she would be safe.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Pendleton,” a stocky maid said as she approached her in the sitting room, “but the advisory board won’t be able to meet with you after all.”

  Christine stood and smoothed a hand over her best black-silk bombazine. She’d been waiting for half an hour at least. She wanted to throttle the maid and force her to turn around and speak with the men again, who were holed up in the study. Instead she did what was socially expected of her. She inclined her head graciously.

  Ridley met her at the door of the large brownstone home, and once it was closed behind her, she exhaled an exasperated breath. “That was a waste of time.”

  Ridley quirked a brow. “So they won’t change their minds?”

  “They wouldn’t even meet with me.” She tilted her hat to keep the hot sun off her face.

  “I’m sorry, Christine.” Ridley walked next to her down the brick path to the waiting carriage.

  Her heart felt even heavier than it did when she’d left Guy at the chapel. All her dreams and plans had disappeared in one moment. Her hands and chest ached with an emptiness she’d never experienced before. Even though she’d grown up lonely and empty, this was different. She supposed she’d tasted of what a full and purposeful life could look like, and once having tasted it, how could she go back to the way things were?

  She halted halfway down the path. The spacious lawn spread out before her, as did the many other large homes belonging to New York City’s elite. “There has to be some way to access more of my fortune, Ridley,” she said again.

  Ridley strode two steps ahead of her before pausing and sighing. “We’ve already been over this, Christine. Your father tied double knots around your trust. I’ve already extracted as much as I can for now.”

  Her father had probably thought that, as a woman, she wouldn’t be able to handle her own finances, likely considering her inept or frivolous or both. Even in death he continued to criticize her.

  “I wish there was more we could do,” Ridley said. “I’m afraid that legally we’re at a loss.”

  Was her situation entirely hopeless, then? Was she doomed to a life of frivolity after all? How ironic that her father had wanted to prevent her from wasting her money on foolish things, yet his regulations were forcing her away from a truly worthy pursuit. Although she doubted he would have approved of her endeavor; he’d never had a charitable bone in his body.

  The snort of her horses and the constant swishing sound of their tails reminded her that the team had been waiting in the sun for far too long. She may as well admit defeat and go home. But now that she’d witnessed what life was like for the thousands of people who resided only a few miles away, she could not sit idly by and pretend their plight didn’t exist. And the thought of her big empty house waiting for her made her shiver in spite of the heat. She didn’t know how she could bear returning to endless days of doing nothing meaningful in the mausoleum that bore all the glory of her father’s wealth but none of his love.

  Ridley was already at the team, feeding each of the horses an apple and murmuring endearments to them.

  She didn’t want to go home. Her pulse sped in resistance. Well, what if she decided not to return? No one was making her.

  She started at the thought. Then she smiled. “Ridley, I think I may have a solution.”

  Chapter 9

  Elise jerked Sophie behind her, forcing her back under the kitchen table. “Don’t you dare lay a hand on either of my sisters or you’ll have to answer to me.” Elise ground out the words through clenched teeth.

  Friedric laughed into her face. His hands found her waist, and he yanked her against his body. “I don’t mind having you instead,” he whispered against her neck, even as his hands began to roam in places they shouldn’t.

  Elise brought her knee up swiftly and caught him between the legs. He yelped and fell backward, bumping into the kitchen table and causing a chair to topple over.

  “Stop the noise!” Aunt Gertie called from the bedroom. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

  The past week had been a nightmare living with the new boarders. Elise had hardly slept since the family had arrived. She’d been too busy keeping watch over her sisters, protecting them from the roving hands and eyes of Mr. Kaiser and his two oldest sons. Mr. Kaiser enjoyed frequenting the beer halls as much as Uncle and so he’d rarely been around. But she’d been dodging the two boys all week, and that was hard to do with their sleeping only feet away.

  She’d moved her family under the kitchen table, thinking the chairs would provide a barrier. But they hadn’t stopped Friedric from attempting to paw at Sophie.

  Friedric groaned before straightening. She guessed that he was younger than her. But he was wiry and strong, and she was afraid that at some point he would overpower her.

  In the darkness of the apartment she could see only the outline of his body. But when he lunged for her again, she sidestepped and he fell into the stove with a crash. His curses filled the air, and this time his own mother spoke up from her spot on the sofa.

  “Stop pestering the girls, Friedric, and go to sleep.”

  “Shut up, Ma.”

  Behind her, Elise could feel Sophie curled up and trembling against her legs. Elise stuck her hand in her pocket and found the small sheathed knife that Reinhold had given her earlier in the week when she complained to him about the new boarders.

  Friedric shuffled toward her. “If Sophie’s too young,” he said, “then you can be my girl, Elise. You’re a looker.”

  “None of us are going to be your girl,” she shot back.

  He advanced closer. “Your uncle told us he’s throwing you all out of here soon. But if you’re my girl, I’ll make sure you stay.”

  Elise was surprised Uncle Hermann hadn’t forced them out yet. She’d known it was only a matter of time before he did. Since Reinhold had brought her the news of Uncle’s plans, she’d been asking around the neighborhood for a new place to live. But whenever she found an available space, no one wanted so many young dependents, especially when over half weren’t wage earners.

  Friedric drew close enough that she caught the smell of beer on his breath. “You know you want me.” He leaned in and attempted to kiss her.

  She dodged him and at the same time thrust out the knife. When the sharp tip pricked him in the chest, he froze.

  “Don’t try to touch me or my sisters again.” She attempted to keep her hand from trembling. “If you so much as breathe on us, I won’t hesitate to cut you up.”

  He was silent for a moment as though trying to grasp
the meaning of her words in his beer-fogged brain. Finally he stepped out of her reach and said, “You’ll regret turning me down, princess,” and his voice rumbled low with menace.

  “Never.”

  “You just wait and see. I’ll make sure that next time you’re not here when I want one of your sisters.”

  Elise fought back panic and forced herself to remain calm. She drew in a steadying breath. “Okay, Friedric. You’re right. You’re my best option. I’ll consider being your girl so long as you promise to get Uncle to let me and my sisters stay.”

  Her words must have taken Friedric by surprise because he was speechless for a minute before giving a triumphant laugh. “You have a deal. You’ll have to get rid of the two snot-nosed babies. But I won’t have any trouble convincing your uncle to let you and your sisters stay.” He fumbled for her again.

  She stopped him with her knife.

  “You said you’d be my girl,” he whined, backing away again.

  “Only after I have proof that Uncle won’t throw us out. If you touch me before that, I’ll hack off your fingers.”

  He grumbled under his breath before finally muttering, “Fine.”

  Once Elise was lying down again under the table, she felt Marianne’s shaking hand brush against hers. Elise raised a finger to Marianne’s lips to silence her. They had to pretend for now that everything was all right and that they were going to sleep as usual.

  But the truth was they had to leave as soon as possible. She didn’t care where they went or how they would survive. All Elise knew was that they weren’t safe here any longer.

  Later, long after Uncle and Mr. Kaiser had returned and fallen asleep, Elise dared to whisper the escape plan first to Marianne and then to Sophie. She thanked God that it was summer and warm outside. Running away would be hard enough with such a large group of them, but at least they wouldn’t have to battle the cold.

  At the first light of dawn, they awoke as usual and did their toiletries and grooming behind the makeshift blanket they took turns holding up for one another. Elise made sure they ate every crumb of their sparse breakfast of bread and butter. As she and Marianne left for work, Elise prayed that Sophie would remember her instructions and be able to make her escape with the few coins Uncle hadn’t yet spent on beer.

  Elise could hardly focus on her needle and thread in the dim light of the morning. Now and then when she glanced at Marianne, she could see her sister’s fingers were shaking and her tiny stitches were uneven as a result. Elise knew they couldn’t wait too long. But she also needed to give Sophie enough time to get away.

  Sophie had to leave first with Olivia and Nicholas. She had to be well on her way to the appointed meeting spot by the time Elise and Marianne slipped out of the garment shop under the guise of using the privy behind the tenement. Once both of them were absent for only a short while, Aunt Gertie would realize something was amiss and alert everyone. She couldn’t chance Friedric finding out they’d left until they were well on their way. And if Uncle realized they were running away, he’d stop them from taking any money.

  Marianne made the excuse to use the privy first. As the minutes dragged by, Elise hoped none of the other women could hear her heart thudding against her rib cage. When enough time had passed for Marianne to safely leave, she finally stood and said, “I’ll go see what’s wrong with Marianne. She was complaining of a stomachache earlier.”

  The rehearsed lie fell easily from her tongue. Every inch she moved through the apartment felt like a mile. Although she tried to remain nonchalant, her back felt like a target, and she waited for the first arrow of accusation to pierce it, for someone to call her a liar and force her to stay.

  She didn’t breathe until the apartment door closed behind her. In the dark, windowless hallway, she paused to draw in a sharp breath of the familiar scents of fried fish and sauerkraut. She debated crossing the hallway and making sure Sophie was gone. But to do so would risk discovery by Uncle.

  Elise tiptoed so she wouldn’t draw any undue attention. But as she descended, her footsteps on the squeaky wood floor threatened to alert others to her presence.

  Finally reaching the bottom landing, she let out a sigh of relief. Yet before she could push the tenement door open, it was jerked wide by someone else.

  It was Friedric.

  “There’s my girl,” he said, breaking into a grin.

  “Not yet.” She decided her best course of action was to brush past him and pretend he didn’t worry her. She made it out the door and was almost to the sidewalk when his fingers encircled her upper arm and forced her to a halt.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he growled.

  Did Friedric suspect she was running away? Her hand crept toward her pocket, and Reinhold’s knife.

  Friedric twisted her to face him. In the morning light she could see he’d taken the time to clean himself up. His dark hair was damp, the comb marks making trails through the thick waves. He smelled of soap and musk, and his jaw was shaven. She guessed he’d taken a trip to one of the public bathhouses, and she smoldered at the thought he could afford such a luxury when she could hardly keep her stomach from grumbling.

  Where had he come up with the money anyway? Surely he must work somewhere. And if so, why wasn’t he there now? Perhaps he was a member of one of the many gangs that roamed Kleindeutschland.

  She yanked her arm to free herself. Nothing about Friedric Kaiser mattered. The sooner she could get away from him and never see him again, the better.

  But his grip was unrelenting. “You can’t go anywhere without me. Not if you’re my girl.”

  “I’m going to the privy, Friedric,” she said flatly, hoping he’d buy her act. “Give me some space, will you?”

  All she could think about was getting away from the tenement before Aunt Gertie realized she and Marianne weren’t coming back and that Sophie was gone too.

  “Why aren’t you using the back door?” Friedric asked.

  “Mr. Glatz is still using it as his bed.” She didn’t know if the man was still there, but prayed he hadn’t moved since before breakfast when she saw him blocking the doorway.

  Friedric’s grip loosened. “Fine.”

  She guessed he’d seen the old drunk there earlier as well. She pulled away from Friedric with a calmness that belied the frantic fluttering of her nerves. Proceeding down the steps, she veered toward the side of the tenement next to theirs, a route that would take her to the narrow alley behind the buildings that was crowded with privies and shacks made out of whatever solid material the homeless could piece together.

  “I’ll expect my repayment tonight,” he shouted after her.

  “You’ll get it,” she said without glancing back at him.

  Once in the alley, she peeked over her shoulder to make sure he hadn’t followed her. Then she disappeared into New York City’s masses of depraved humanity.

  Chapter 10

  Guy ran his fingers along the spines of his books. The flimsy shelf sagged under the weight of all the commentaries and classics. He needed to start packing them. He’d brought crates up from the cellar for that purpose. But he’d dawdled all morning, unable to find any motivation.

  Tomorrow he’d preach his last sermon. He’d decided to deliver the news of the chapel and workshop’s closing then. He and Christine had agreed they’d let the women complete this week without devastating them with the news that after only two weeks on the job, they would be losing their employment.

  “God,” he whispered into the stale air of his office at the back of the chapel, “I thought your hand was in this project. I thought this was what you wanted me to do. It all seemed so right. So clear . . .”

  He lowered himself to his desk chair. He’d been praying all week that somehow God would intervene. He’d felt so strongly that if God was behind this newest venture, He’d provide for their needs. On this last day before their eviction, however, he could only conclude that maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe God hadn’t wanted
him to open the garment shop after all.

  At a soft rap on the doorjamb, he glanced up to see Christine standing in the doorway. As usual the sight of her stirred him. Even if her expression had been somber this week, she was still as lovely and composed as always in her black gown and hat.

  “Reverend Bedell,” she said hesitantly, clasping her reticule in her gloved hands. She’d been in and out of the workshop quite often over the past several days, and although they’d talked together during the week, she’d been more reserved and formal with him.

  Had he disappointed her? She’d badly wanted their effort to succeed. She had invested her time, energy, and capital into the project. She’d done her part. But he’d failed to maintain the connections they needed. If she’d been hesitant about accepting his proposal before, she certainly wouldn’t agree anymore that God had brought them together to be partners, to work side by side in the ministry.

  Maybe his proposal of marriage had been somewhat spontaneous, a reaction to the way her kisses had stirred him, but once it was offered he knew then he wanted to be with her. She hadn’t just tolerated his kiss the way Bettina had always done, and she wasn’t so delicate and breakable as he’d imagined. Rather she’d responded to him with true affection. He recalled how she had felt pressed against his chest, how she’d kissed him back with such passion. . . .

  He didn’t realize he’d been staring at her lips until she shifted. The clicking of her reticule clasping and unclasping filled the air. “Christine,” he said, rising from his chair and trying to quell his longing before he scared her away.

  Maybe his offer to marry her had taken them both by surprise, but now that he’d brought it up, he couldn’t imagine his life without her. In fact, dread tightened his chest at the thought of what life would be like after tomorrow. If only he could find a way to be with her even though this project of theirs was coming to an end.

  He’d considered his options. Perhaps he could assume a position with a new church. With his pastoral experience, surely he’d be given a larger congregation with a salary that would allow him to offer Christine a comfortable life. Or he could apply for a professorship at the seminary, which hopefully would be prestigious enough for a woman of Christine’s social standing.