by Nancy Moser
She turned off the lights and hurried into the hall. In her haste she caught the hem of her skirt in the door. She yanked on it once, then twice with extra force.
As it loosed itself, she lost her footing on the landing and…
Fell. Toppled. Rolled to the bottom of the stairs, landing in a heap amid her echoing scream.
She lay still as the pain took her captive. Which hurt most? Her ankle, her forehead, her shoulder? Or her side?
“The baby!” She covered the growing child with protective hands. The fear of harm overshadowed the sting or throbbing of any other injury.
She heard voices. And doors. Their neighbor, Mr. Ruffalo, rushed to her side. He turned to his wife, “Get Sean!”
There was no need, for Sean had also heard Annie’s fall. He ran to her side, taking over. “Are you hurt?”
“I—I don’t know. The baby…”
Sean turned to the Ruffalos. “Run and get Dr. Grant!”
Luckily, a doctor lived in the next building. Mrs. Ruffalo rushed off to fetch him.
“Help me sit up,” Annie said.
“Should you?” Sean asked.
She wasn’t sure, but as more neighbors came out to see the cause of the clatter, she made a choice. “I can’t very well stay here. Help me inside.”
She began to stand, but Sean would have none of it. With Mr. Ruffalo’s help, he took her into his arms and carried her to their sofa.
Mr. Ruffalo pointed at Annie’s head. “You’re bleeding.”
“Get a towel.” Sean pointed to a dish towel nearby. Mr. Ruffalo handed it to him, and Sean folded it into a compress he gingerly pressed against the back of her head. “Breathe deeply.” He touched her cheek then bowed his head. “Father, please help Annie and the baby be all right.”
“Amen to that,” Mr. Ruffalo said.
Annie added her own prayers and closed her eyes, grimacing against the pain. Please, God, please God…
She heard the two men talk, then silence. Annie opened an eye and saw that their door was closed against the curious. She and Sean were alone.
“Is the doctor coming?”
“Any minute,” Sean said. “What happened?”
Annie didn’t have time to explain, as the door opened and Dr. Grant entered. Sean relinquished his spot, and the doctor pulled a chair close to the sofa. “What happened?”
“I fell down the stairs.”
He opened his bag and removed a stethoscope. “What were you doing out at this early hour?”
“I’d like to know that too,” Sean said.
“I was in our workshop upstairs. Sewing.”
“You were what?” Sean asked.
Dr. Grant shushed him and listened to her heart.
“The baby,” Annie said. “I worry about the baby.”
He glanced at her abdomen. “You’re four months, yes?”
She nodded. He had been the doctor who confirmed her pregnancy.
He shook his head. “It’s too soon for me to hear its heartbeat.” He positioned his hands above her midsection then hesitated. “May I?”
“Please.”
He gently pressed against her abdomen. “Does this hurt?”
“No.”
He prodded a bit more, and she was relieved to feel no pain.
Then he sat back. “Where do you hurt?”
Upon her explanation, he examined her side, her shoulder, and her ankle—which was swollen, and moved her joints to check for breaks. He asked Sean to bring a bowl of water and cleaned the cut on Annie’s forehead and applied a bandage.
“You are lucky to have no broken bones.”
“And the baby?”
“We won’t know for sure, but since you feel no pain there…”
A wave of relief swept over her. “Thank You, Lord.” She began to sit up but he gently pushed her back.
“There will be none of that.”
“None of what?”
“Getting out of bed. Not for at least a week.”
“But I have work to do! There’s a fashion soiree and—”
The doctor put the stethoscope in his medical bag then leveled her with a look. “You just fell down a flight of stairs, young lady. You are carrying a child. That is your work for the next five months.”
“Five months?”
“I’m not saying you can’t ever return to your sewing, but I do forbid you from even visiting your workshop for an entire week.”
“I’m being held prisoner.”
“You’re being held accountable to your child and to common sense.” He took her hand in his. “Mrs. Culver. Annie. All who know you admire your spunk, your creativity, and your drive. But you must get your priorities in proper order and take care of yourself and the child. If your health fails, none of the rest matters. Understand?”
Sean nodded emphatically, also waiting for her answer.
She looked into his eyes, and then into Dr. Grant’s, and knew she was beaten. But more than beaten, she knew they were right. “I understand.”
“And…?”
“And I agree to your conditions.”
“Excellent.” He handed her a small bottle of pills. “Here is some aspirin for the pain. You may take two pills every four hours. I will stop by this evening to check on you. And know that I will come at any time if you feel any unusual pain or cramping.” He wrote a number down and handed it to Sean. “During the day this is my office telephone. Or if it’s after hours, run next door and get me.”
After the doctor left, Sean sat beside Annie and stroked her hair. “My darling Annie-girl. Why were you working in the middle of the night?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Not being able to sleep is one thing, but going to work is another. You wouldn’t condone Maude or Edna working in the wee hours of the morning.”
He was right. “But we have so much to do.”
“Then the others will have to step up and work harder. You’ve taken on a disproportionate amount of the responsibility. It’s time to share the burden.” There was a knock on the door, but it immediately opened. Edna and Maude streamed in, their hair still mussed from sleep.
“We heard you fell?”
“Heard from whom?”
Edna waved the question away. “The neighborhood grapevine travels quickly.”
“Whatever were you doing in the workshop?” Maude asked.
Annie found her explanation more embarrassing than courageous.
Maude put her hands on her hips. “You don’t trust us.”
“Of course I do.”
“Your actions prove otherwise.”
She changed the subject. “Would you make some tea, please?”
“No, you don’t, chickie. You are not getting off that easily,” Maude said. “You thought extraordinary measures were needed to finish the work, and you were just the one to do it.”
“I was trying to help.”
Edna took her hand. “Maude, shush now. You are being far too hard on our Annie. We know her heart was in the right place.”
“Even if her common sense was absent.”
Edna flashed Maude a look. “The point is this: I am certain God has given us the abilities and the time to achieve good results. Extra hours may be required, but not at the expense of our health. Or the baby’s health.” She glanced at Annie’s midsection. “The doctor said all is well?”
“As much as can be known. Yes.”
Edna glanced heavenward. “Thank You for that, dear Lord.”
“But the doctor said she is not to work for a week,” Sean said.
Annie saw the smallest flash of panic spark between her friends. Then Edna repeated, “A week?”
Annie explained. “I am supposed to rest. But I know I will go barmy here with nothing to do.”
Edna touched the bandage on her forehead then looked at Maude. “We will do the work. Another seamstress is starting today so there are now two of them, plus the two of us.”
Maude stared toward the d
oor, and Annie could tell something was bothering her.
“Maude?”
“I know you’re not to work, but one issue remains unsettled: what should we do with all those gaudy trims Mrs. Sampson brought over?”
“Ignore them.”
“Really?”
Annie cemented her decision with a nod. “They aren’t suitable.”
Maude let out a breath. “I agree.”
“Mrs. Sampson will not agree,” Edna said.
“I’ll deal with her.” Annie exuded more confidence than she felt.
“Enough of that.” Edna pointed toward their flat across the street. “We’ll go get properly dressed and come back with some tea, rolls, and jam. And a few hard-boiled eggs. You must eat.”
Annie squeezed her hand. “You are the best of friends. And I do trust you to accomplish the work.”
The women left, and Annie could hear their footfalls on the stairs.
“I’m proud of you for relinquishing control so graciously,” Sean said.
“It was an act,” Annie said.
“You aren’t relinquishing control?”
“I have to. But that doesn’t mean I like it.”
After eating breakfast Sean helped Annie get to bed. Her body ached from the fall, and her head hurt. She needed sleep, not just from the shortness of her night but from a deeper need to heal.
When she awakened, she saw a note on Sean’s pillow saying he’d gone out on an errand. He would return soon. At the bottom of his note was a verse: “Be still, and know that I am God.”
She lay on her back, feeling thankful for his care and his wisdom. She put her hands on her abdomen. “Please be all right, little one. I am sorry for putting you through such a jostling.” She looked to the ceiling. “Please, Father, don’t punish our child for my mistake.”
She smoothed the covers and set her arms upon them. It was then she was confronted by something foreign: solitude and stillness. She’d been alone up in the workshop, but she had been busy. To be still and cognizant of that stillness was disconcerting.
Her breathing slowed, and she felt her muscles relax. Her mind drifted from the here and now to the past.
Her life had always been filled with the busyness of necessity. She’d been raised in the countryside of England where there were always chores to be done, and had moved to Crompton Hall as an under-housemaid when she was fourteen. In that position she was up before the dawn, lighting fires in the grates, making beds, cleaning bathrooms, the work never ceasing. She did not return to her tiny bedroom until long after dark, when she fell into bed for a few hours’ sleep before the cycle began again.
Last year, she’d come to New York City with Lady Newley and Miss Henrietta and had shared a room at their relative’s mansion with Iris, an American maid. Iris and her brother Danny—the hall boy—had been her coconspirators, leaving service behind, diving into the ocean of the big city. They’d been taken in by the loving Tuttle family, helping in their bakery and sleeping in the storeroom amid the sugar and flour.
Annie smiled when she remembered their desire to better themselves. Her thoughts darkened at the memory of Danny being killed soon after, but brightened at the knowledge that Iris had married Thomas Tuttle and they would soon have a child.
Working at Macy’s and then Butterick, moving in with Edna, marrying Sean, going into business with the Sampsons…each portion of her life was filled with decisions and movement, never-ceasing, relentless.
Until now.
She picked up Sean’s note and read the verse aloud. “‘Be still and know that I am God.’” She laughed. “You have me right where You want me, don’t You?”
Suddenly, she felt the oddest flutter in her abdomen, as though a butterfly was moving about on the inside. She held her breath and waited to feel it again.
And there it was!
“Is that you, little one?” she whispered.
But she knew it was more than the child.
It was God.
Annie was awakened by the sound of the door opening. Then hushed whispers.
“Sean?” She sat up in bed then immediately remembered feeling the baby move. “Sean, come in here, I have something exciting to—”
Sean appeared in the doorway, but he was not alone.
“Vesta!”
His mother rushed to her side, leaning over to give her a hug. “You gave us a scare, my dear. How are you feeling?”
“I’m feeling better. In fact…” She hesitated then decided the time was perfect. “I felt the baby move!”
Sean sat beside her, taking her hand. “How do you know?”
“I just do. It was like a butterfly’s wings from the inside.”
“That’s it!” Vesta said. “That’s how it feels at first.”
Sean touched her abdomen. “Can I feel it?”
“Not for a while,” Vesta said. “But eventually you will feel the kick and even see an elbow move from side to side.”
Sean’s eyes grew large. “Really?”
“Don’t look so terrified. It’s a miraculous thing.”
Annie nodded. “It’s a miraculous thing to feel the baby move now, after the fall. I was so afraid…”
“God is good,” Vesta said. “And you will be well soon.”
“I know it,” Annie said. “With all certainty.”
“Until then,” Sean said, “I have brought Mother to help in the workshop, or with anything you need down here.”
Annie remembered Vesta’s enthusiasm for their project but also her husband forbidding her from being a part of it. “What does Richard say about it?”
Vesta stood and straightened her shoulders. “We didn’t ask him.”
“You didn’t?”
She looked to her son for support. “We told him about your fall and that my services were needed.”
“He could not object,” Sean said. “I think we shocked him into submission by not asking.”
Vesta chuckled. “You should have seen the look on his face when I left with Sean.”
“He will get over it.”
She nodded, making wisps of gray hair dance around her face. “I plan to come every day to help in whatever capacity is needed.”
Annie extended her hands. “You are both a godsend.”
“I even commandeered Father’s driver to bring us here today,” Sean said.
“And he will pick me up to take me home at six each evening,” Vesta said.
Annie was overcome with relief. Vesta was a willing set of hands. That she had an interest in fashion was a blessed bounty. On their first meeting she had intimated that before her marriage to Richard she had wanted to design clothes. Now was her chance.
“Come, Mother,” Sean said. “Let me show you the workshop.”
Vesta kissed Annie’s cheek. “Never fear, Vesta is here!”
Returning home at the end of her first day at work, Vesta smiled when her butler opened the front door before she reached it. “How do you do that, Baines?” she asked. “I have never had to wait a single moment on the stoop because you always open the door at just the right moment.”
“That is my intent, Mrs. Culver.”
She took out a hatpin, removed her hat, and stuck the pin in the band. She gave it to him and peered into the parlor. “Has Mr. Culver arrived home yet?” She sincerely hoped he had not.
“He is in his study, ma’am. He requested that you join him as soon as you returned.”
Drat.
“How was your day, ma’am?”
“Delightful.”
“And Miss Annie? Is she recovering?”
“I believe she is. It’s kind of you to ask.”
He gave her a bow and left her alone in the foyer. Richard wanted to see her. If only she could go out and not come in at all. Yet she knew if she came home at seven or eleven, he would have his say. Richard was not a man who would be denied.
The negative train of her thoughts shocked her. She loved her husband. The highlight of her d
ay was when he returned from the store.
That used to be the highlight of my day. Before today, before the door of the world opened and I stepped through.
“Vesta?”
She stepped to the right enough to see down the hallway that led to his office. Richard stood outside the doorway, summoning her.
Don’t be so dramatic. He’s calling you, asking for you, saying your name, not summoning you.
“Vesta,” he said again, his voice stern. “Come here.”
The image of her own father came to mind, and the many times she had responded to his demands with Yes, Father. But she quickly—and wisely—adapted her response. “Yes, Richard.”
He disappeared into the study, and she reminded herself to breathe as she entered the room. She applied the smile she had perfected after decades of marriage. “How was your day, dear?”
“Sit.”
Good dog. She sat, trying without success to act nonchalant. She’d never been good at it. Her face reflected her emotions and thoughts like a finely polished mirror.
“I never expected you to be gone all day.”
“I was needed.”
He blinked, as if remembering the reason for her absence. “How is Annie?”
“She must rest—for many days. Doctor’s orders.” And since she knew he would never ask, “The baby seems fine too.”
“Capital. I still don’t understand why she was at that dratted workshop of theirs at such an hour.”
“Because it is a workshop. Because there is work to do. There are many days when you go into the store early and return home late—because there is much work to do.”
“Yes, but…”
Vesta bravely finished his sentence. “But she’s a woman.”
“Well yes. This whole women’s rights brouhaha is absurd. Women voting? Women in the workplace? I went to the bank today and there were women tellers, and the president’s secretary has been replaced with a woman.”
Vesta exaggerated a gasp. “How shocking!”
He stopped stroking his mustache. “It is highly disconcerting.”
“Yes, dear.” Suddenly, a thought burst into Vesta’s mind, and she found herself speaking it aloud. “Women have always worked.”