Silent Echoes

by Carla Jablonski

  A small, weak voice responded from a back room.

  He crossed to the doorway. “I have a friend with me. May she come in too?” He cocked his head, listening, then nodded to Lucy.

  A woman lay on the bed, enormous with child. As Lucy got closer, she could see that the woman was sweating and pale. It was impossible to guess her age.

  “How are you today, Claudia?” Alan asked.

  “F-fine,” Claudia responded.

  “You’re feverish,” Alan said. “I think it’s time you come with me to the hospital.”

  “No,” Claudia murmured. “No, please, I don’t want to die there.”

  “You won’t die there. We’ll be there to help you.”

  “No!” She rolled away from him. “No!”

  Alan rubbed his face, exasperated. “Why won’t she listen to reason?”

  Lucy stepped toward the bed. “Claudia? My name is Lucy. I hate hospitals too. They’re awful and scary.”

  Claudia looked at Lucy and gripped her hand. “They do things to you there.” Her eyes were rolling around, like a spooked horse’s.

  Lucy winced—Claudia was a lot stronger than she looked. “But they can also help. Dr. Wordsworth saved the life of a girl I know. She would have died if he hadn’t taken such good care of her. I’m very glad we took her to the hospital.”

  Claudia shut her eyes. “But I can’t pay—”

  “I told you,” Alan said. “There is no charge.”

  “He’s a good doctor,” Lucy said. “And the nurses will take care of you. And your baby.”

  “I don’t know,” Claudia whispered. “I don’t know.”

  “Wouldn’t it be nice to be in a warm, clean bed where you can rest?” Lucy said.

  “I suppose….” Claudia looked at Alan. “When would I have to go? I need to tell Charlie.”

  “I’d like you there as soon as possible. How’s this? I’ll send an ambulance by to come get you. And I’ll get a message to your husband. He won’t have to try to get you there himself or take the day off work. Is that all right?”

  Claudia shut her eyes and nodded.

  “Good. Then I’ll be seeing you later today. Will you be all right until then?”

  “Yes. My sister is on her way here.” Claudia released Lucy’s hand and gave her a weak smile. “Are you sure he’s a good doctor?”

  “I’m certain,” Lucy said. “Good luck.”

  She and Alan headed down the stairs. “This really matters to you,” Lucy said. “Why?”

  “These things matter to all doctors,” Alan said.

  “But the girls and the babies,” Lucy pressed. “They’re special to you.”

  Alan gave her a sidelong look, then gazed forward again. “I guess they are important to me. My sister…my sister died in childbirth. And I watched my aunts wear out their bodies with pregnancy after pregnancy. Babies and miscarriages and stillbirths. My mother had…methods.”

  “Do you think Claudia will really be all right?” Lucy asked as they stepped out onto the street.

  “She has to be,” Alan said, smiling down at her. “I can’t make you a liar, can I?”

  Lucy smiled back. “That’s true.”

  “You were very good with her,” Alan said. “I don’t know if she would have agreed without your help.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “What matters to you?” he asked suddenly, seriously.

  Lucy stared at him. No one had ever asked her that before. She looked away and spotted a familiar girl sitting on the next stoop. “Isn’t that Katie?”

  Alan glanced over. “I think it is.”

  “This must be where she lives now,” Lucy said.

  They went over to the stoop. “Katie?” Lucy asked.

  The girl started and looked up, terror on her face. Lucy gasped. Katie had been badly beaten. When she recognized Lucy and Alan, she ducked her head.

  Alan knelt beside her and gingerly examined her face. “What happened?”

  Katie yanked her face out of Alan’s hands. Then, quicker than Lucy imagined possible, she jumped up and raced down the street.

  Lucy gaped after her. “Why did she do that? We just wanted to help her.”

  “She’s probably afraid that if whoever beat her saw us, she’ll be worse for it.”

  Harriet came back out to the street. “I left a lot of pamphlets,” she said. “But I didn’t talk to too many people.”

  Alan pulled a watch from his pocket. “I need to go.”

  “I thought you were on the night shift,” Lucy said.

  “I am. But I have a paying client to see. I can’t just wait for Bryce’s investment plans to come through. Lucy, can you describe Katie to Harriet? I’d like her to keep an eye out for her.”

  “Of course.”

  “We’ll talk soon,” Harriet said.

  Alan turned and walked away.

  “I’m out of pamphlets,” Harriet said. “I’ll need go back to the office and fold some more.”

  “I can do that for a while,” Lucy volunteered. They headed back toward Harriet’s office. “I didn’t realize he had clients too.”

  Harriet nodded. “One wealthy private client. She likes having a young doctor at her beck and call. I’ve seen it before. She goes through them quickly. Either she grows bored or they can’t stand her demands any longer and leave.” She shrugged. “He needs the money and she needs the attention. He’s trying to wean her from her laudanum, but it’s a struggle. Oh, don’t looked shocked,” she added when she saw Lucy’s expression. “Laudanum use is as prevalent among society ladies as it is among the prostitutes. It’s another thing they have in common.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Society men are among the steadiest of the prostitutes’ clients.”

  They arrived at Harriet’s office and folded stacks of paper—the pamphlets Harriet handed out giving women information about conception, proper health care during pregnancy, and how to find her.

  “Dr. Wordsworth hardly talks about himself—just his work, his ideas,” Lucy said.

  “Alan?” Harriet asked. “Well, there are some things he’s private about.” She moved a stack of pamphlets to a bookshelf and brought another batch to the table.

  “His parents were friends of yours?” Lucy asked, reaching for a fresh sheet.

  “Still are. Good people. Occasionally misguided, but they mean well. They lost most of their money, so Alan has always worked.” She smiled, gazing somewhere distant. “They are so proud of his schooling. All on special scholarship and help from friends.” She gave Lucy a sharp glance. “His only fortune is the one he’ll earn. So any woman will need to believe in him and his own worth—because nothing is coming from his family.”

  Lucy blushed. “I—I have no family money either,” she said. “But I’m earning my own way.”

  Harriet smiled. “By being a medium of some sort? Alan told me. How certain is that as a profession?”

  “I don’t intend to do it forever,” Lucy said. “In fact, that reminds me. I have an appointment to get to.”

  Lucy returned to the boardinghouse. Her father wasn’t home, so she let herself in. “Lindsay,” she called. “I’m here. Are you here?” She held still, listening carefully.

  “I can feel you,” she said after a moment. “Can you feel me? Please talk to me. Listen, I agree with you. It’s not fair that I make this money while you get nothing. So my father left you some in the hiding place.”

  “He did what?”

  Lucy’s body relaxed with relief. “He hid money in McSorley’s for you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I don’t actually know how much, but it’s something.”

  “Oh. Well, thanks.”

  “So…will you still get me newspapers? And give me advice for Mr. Smithton?”

  There was a long pause; Lucy bit her lower lip, waiting.

  “Yeah, all right,” Lindsay said. “It’s so boring otherwise.”

  “Thank you,” Lucy said.r />
  “God. I hate this,” Lindsay suddenly blurted. “I spent the whole day in this stupid room because I’m afraid someone will see me. I don’t have enough money to pay the hotel bill. If he kicks me out, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

  “Don’t you have anyone who can help you? Anywhere to go?” Lucy asked.

  “I can’t talk to any of my old friends because I could get caught.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I ran away from a mental hospital,” Lindsay confessed, her voice breaking. “The only reason I was there was because I was talking to you. That made everyone think I was crazy. I even thought I was crazy for a while. If anyone finds me, they’ll send me back.”

  Lucy didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  “I know.” Lindsay’s voice was shaky.

  “I’ll try to think of some way to help you,” Lucy promised.

  “How?” Lindsay demanded, her voice rising in pitch, in volume. “You’re back in 1882!”

  Lucy paced, her arms crossed over her chest, her hands gripping and releasing. “I don’t know. But I will.” She stopped and pushed her hair away from her face. “Won’t it help if we keep leaving you money?”

  Lindsay sighed. “I guess. But you don’t understand—I’m only sixteen. I’m supposed to be in school. I was supposed to go to college. I’m really smart. I had a future. It’s gone. All gone.”

  Lucy could hear Lindsay’s sobs, each wave of grief tugging at her.

  “Because of me,” Lucy whispered.

  “I guess it’s not your fault,” Lindsay said. “I mean, I don’t know if I can hear you because of something you’re doing or something I’m doing.”

  “I don’t understand it either. There must be some reason.”

  Lindsay let out a strange, hollow laugh. “To make you rich and torture me? I mean, my life was horrible before, but now it’s so much worse. And I didn’t think that was possible.”

  “I wish it wasn’t so,” Lucy said helplessly. “I don’t know how to change it.”

  She heard a long sigh. “Yeah. Well, I guess I should go to McSorley’s and make sure that money is still there.”

  Lucy felt the connection close. She drifted down onto her father’s hard and lumpy bed and sat for a long time, thinking about how unpredictable and uncertain the world was.

  “You were where?” Bryce demanded after the waiter had left their table. They were dining at the fashionable Delmonico’s restaurant, and because of the glittering couples around them, Lucy could see that Bryce was making an effort to keep his voice down. Though she couldn’t fathom why he was so shocked.

  “I was making visits for the Women’s Help Committee. I told you about this.” She felt the slight tension in her body that she always experienced around Bryce as she tried to stay one step ahead of him, tried to make the right impression. She watched Bryce for clues on which silverware she was supposed to use, but he didn’t pick up a single utensil; he just stared at her.

  “When you said charity work, I imagined you’d be doing what my mother does. Planning balls, raising money, that kind of thing. Not actually going and cavorting with the depraved slum dwellers.”

  Lucy gaped at him. “It’s not like that,” she protested.

  Bryce raised an eyebrow. When she didn’t respond to the implied challenge, he shook his head. “It’s not safe.”

  “I don’t go alone,” she assured him. “I’m with Harriet Embers and Alan Wordsworth.”

  Bryce rolled his eyes and laughed nastily. “Of course! It’s clear now.” He slapped a hand on the table, then quickly glanced around to be sure no one had noticed. “This just gets worse and worse,” he said in a lower voice.

  “What do you mean?” Lucy couldn’t understand why this was such a problem for him. She was doing good, wasn’t she? And Bryce’s own parents held Alan up as an example.

  “Harriet Embers is notorious. She has been arrested for obscenity.”

  Lucy’s mouth dropped open. She couldn’t picture motherly, no-nonsense Harriet being arrested for anything. “For what?”

  “I can’t describe it to you. What she does, the lectures she gives. The…materials she distributes.”

  “Oh.” Lucy recalled the reactions of some of the tenants in the places they’d visited—and her own initial response.

  “Good God, Lucy, is that what you’re helping her with? This will not do. Not at all.”

  “But Alan says—”

  “Alan.” Bryce sneered. “He’s just as bad. Yes, he has made something of himself, become more respectable with his work as a physician. But of course he sees nothing wrong with Harriet. Not with his parents. His background.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This makes complete sense.” Bryce drummed his fingers on the table, making the glasses and plates vibrate. “Harriet Embers was part of that whole group. No wonder they’re working together.”

  Lucy grabbed her water glass before Bryce’s tapping sent it crashing to the floor. “I don’t understand.”

  “Hasn’t he told you?” He waved a hand at her. “No, why would he? He’s ashamed. Or should be. His parents—once respectable in the New York community—are shunned now.”

  “What did they do that was so terrible?” Lucy clutched the glass with both hands.

  Bryce leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “They were part of that scandalous Oneida community. The free-love, experiment-in-living upstate. They had group marriages and claimed to be ordained by God to create a heaven on earth.” He leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “They disbanded a number of years ago in scandal, but the damage to their reputations was done.”

  Lucy set down her water glass, grappling with this new information, this sudden window into Alan’s private life.

  “Those performances of yours are bad enough,” Bryce said. “But to associate with—to be seen—to be among the filthy, depraved—” He shuddered.

  “They’re just poor,” Lucy protested.

  Bryce took her hand and patted it. “I’m not really angry with you. You have a kind heart; you’re just misguided. You’ve had no one to teach you. That’s it.”

  Lucy looked at his soft, elegant hand covering hers and didn’t think that was it at all.

  Twenty-six

  Lindsay hoped Lucy’s father had left her enough money to buy something to eat but wasn’t counting on it. Prices back then were seriously different, and what Lucy might feel was generous probably wouldn’t pay for a sandwich, much less her hotel room.

  She hurried into McSorley’s, ducked down, and slipped her hand in behind the refrigerator. She pulled out a brown paper envelope. When she opened it, she realized it was money, all right, but it didn’t look like money she’d ever seen.

  She started laughing. Of course—money was different back then! If she hadn’t been so freaked she would have remembered and told Lucy not to bother.

  She stared at the two silvery bills in her hand, knowing that they were extremely valuable. In fact, they could be college tuition valuable. The problem was—the money was totally useless to her. She couldn’t spend it, and how could she sell it? There’d be all those questions; besides, wouldn’t any dealer—if she even knew how to find one—assume she’d stolen it?

  She slipped the bills into her pocket. Maybe Tanya would know what to do. She’d ask her as soon as she figured out how to talk to her again.

  Lindsay walked back to the hotel. Her pace slowed when she spotted Haley and Flip hanging around out front. Her heart pounded, and she ducked behind a newsstand.

  She peeked around the side. They were still there. Glancing up and down the street, she scanned the storefronts. Was there anyplace she could go until they left? She stamped her feet and shoved her hands into her pockets. It was getting cold. Without money she couldn’t go get a coffee or sit in a movie theater.

  What if they never went away? She couldn’t just stay out all night.

  Bra
cing herself for a confrontation, she stepped away from the newsstand.

  “Lindsay! Hi!” Haley called while Lindsay was still half a block away.

  “Hey, girl,” Flip said as Lindsay stepped up to them.

  “Hi.” Lindsay eyed them warily. “Well, see ya.” She turned to go inside.

  “Have you seen Blair?” Flip asked.

  Lindsay looked at him. “No.”

  Flip glanced at Haley, who shrugged. “You sure?” he asked. “We haven’t seen her for a coupla days. She’s never been gone that long.”

  “Whatever,” Haley said. “We probably won’t be seeing her anymore.”

  “Shut up,” Flip said.

  “You know how it goes out here,” Haley said. “You’re here and then you’re gone. Life. It’s like that.”

  Lindsay took a step backward, eager to get away. As she turned to go inside, Haley grabbed her arm.

  “It’s cold,” Haley said. “Can we stay with you?”

  “Please, pretty please,” Flip whined. “We’ll be your best friends.”

  Lindsay gaped at them. Were they nuts? Did they think she was stupid? She shook off Haley’s hand. “No.”

  Flip grabbed her. “It’s not nice not to share,” he said. “You have a room.”

  “Let go!” Lindsay yanked her arm away from Flip.

  Haley stepped right up to her. “We need a place to sleep.”

  “Get away from me,” Lindsay said. She pushed Haley, who smacked her across the face. Lindsay stumbled backward.

  “You get out of here!” the hotel manager shouted from the doorway. “I’ll call the cops.”

  Like wisps of smoke, Flip and Haley instantly vanished.

  “Th-thanks,” Lindsay said, still feeling Haley’s slap, the skin tingling.

  “This is your only warning, kid,” the manager growled. “You cause any more trouble and you’re out. Got that?”

  “Yes,” Lindsay mumbled.

  He squinted at her. “Ain’t your rent due?”

  Lindsay swallowed and cleared her throat. “Tomorrow.”

  “Watch your step,” he warned. “Because I am.”

  Lindsay nodded and walked past him into the hotel. She charged up the stairs, unlocked her door with shaking hands, and threw herself onto her bed.