“Sure. Follow me.” Sitting in the back booth facing away from all the other patrons where a stream of wait staff juggled plates of food and trays of dirty dishes normally would have been Marie’s last choice to sit. But not this time.
“My name is Alice. The soup today is cream of chicken,” the waitress informed her without expression as she handed her a menu. Alice scrutinized Marie’s face, or as much of it as she could see given the wide brim of her hat. “Are you okay, dear?” she asked.
“Why yes, of course,” Marie answered. “I’ll have a bowl of the cream of chicken soup, please.”
“Okay. Anything to drink? Some hot tea perhaps?”
“Just a glass of water.”
Marie took in a big breath and slowly exhaled while she sat on the periphery of the swirling conversations of the restaurant guests. It didn’t matter to Marie what they were saying. What mattered to her was that it provided a backdrop of normalcy.
“Here you go. Is there anything else I can get for you?”
“No. Thank you.”
Marie closed her eyes as each dose of the thick creamy liquid slid down her throat. Her stomach rumbled at first, but soon calmed down.
She took the long way back to the shoe store to get a closer look at the Victorian mansion she saw earlier. There was a plaque of some sort on the front door. She walked in for a closer look. It read, Cook Memorial Library. Her eyes glided over the lush landscape. A rush of peacefulness passed through her. She strolled down Milwaukee Avenue toward the shoe store, taking in all the sights and sounds, and for a brief moment, she forgot about the situation she was in and all the trouble she had caused.
“Hi. I’m Juanita. Are you Marie?” the middle-aged stranger asked brusquely. Juanita was no more than four and a half feet tall and had a solid build and purposeful stride. Her dull blond hair was pulled back behind her ears in no particular style.
“Yes, that’s me.” She made eye contact from underneath the brim of her hat. If Juanita noticed her blackened eye, she didn’t let on.
“C’mon. I’ll show ya the room.” She opened the door next to the shoe store. “These stairs may seem like a lot now, but you’ll get used to ’em.”
Marie’s muscles complained with each stair as she tried to keep up with Juanita, who was now at the top and talking to Marie as if she was right behind her. “Actually, this is the best room in the joint. It’s at the end of the hall, so it has the most privacy, and it has its own bathroom.” She allowed Marie to go in first.
The dingy walls of the room provided a dreary backdrop for its equally cheerless furniture; a twin bed with a thin grey bedspread, a small dresser with some missing drawer pulls, and a wooden chair that wouldn’t hold the weight of a five-year-old. The piéce de résistance was a dust-ridden plastic potted palm, artfully propped up in the corner, apparently unable to stand on its own. A beat-up nightstand completed the so-called décor. Marie peeked in the bathroom. Dreary but clean.
“I’ll take it.”
Juanita gave Marie a surprised look. “Okay. That’ll be fifteen dollars… cash. How long do you think you’ll be staying with us, Miss Adams?”
“I’m not sure. A week might do it.” She handed her the money for the room. “May I ask who lives in the other rooms?”
Juanita flashed a dubious smile. “Well, let’s see. Jumpin’ Joe’s been here forever. He looks a little scary, but I assure you he’s harmless. Then there’s Pete something or other in the room next to yours. I don’t think he’ll be here for long. Looks like a drifter if you ask me. My husband’s deadbeat brother lives in the room farthest down the hall. He’ll be here a long time. And good ole Rosie lives across from Joe. She’s been here awhile, at least ten years. She’s an odd one. Doesn’t come out too often, and when she does it’s usually at night.”
Marie tried not to react to the woman’s colorful characterization of her new neighbors. “Well, I’m sure I’ll be just fine here. Thank you very much.”
Juanita continued with her “new tenant” speech, which she had obviously performed a hundred times before, all the time looking Marie up and down with a skeptical eye. “Here’s your key. Don’t lose it. It’s the only one you’ll get. You’ve got our number. Call when you’re going to leave so we can get the key from you. If you want to stay another week, the rent is due on the first day. No noise after ten p.m. There’s a Laundromat across the railroad tracks two blocks up the street if ya need one.” She finished giving Marie the once over. “Keep your door locked at all times. Any questions?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Okay. Enjoy your stay,” Juanita said halfway down the stairs.
A door closed somewhere on the floor. Marie couldn’t tell which door it was, but she suspected it was one of the other tenants checking her out. It was a small space for five people to occupy, and it didn’t surprise her that someone was curious about the new roomer. She was, after all, just as curious about Jumpin’ Joe, Pete the drifter, the brother-n-law with no name, and good ole Rosie.
Marie examined the room. It appeared to be relatively clean. She checked the sheets. They looked okay, but she stripped them off the bed anyway. She threw the bathroom towels on top of the sheets. Then she dug out a pencil from her purse, tore off a piece of the newspaper she had picked up in the train station, and started a shopping list.
List complete, Marie took a good look at herself in the bathroom mirror. The gash on her forehead was well scabbed over. She touched the pulsating nerve beneath her blackened eye, and then her hair, a tangled mess of curls with dried blood and debris from her trek through the woods laced through it.
She looked through the dirty window at the street below. She was directly across the street from the bakery, a jewelry store, a clothing store, and Woolworth’s. Above these establishments a sign read New Castle Hotel. She hadn’t seen it earlier and wondered how it compared with the one she was in. She looked farther down the block at The Liberty movie theater and Liberty Barber Shop. Patriotism everywhere.
She tried hard to blend in with the other people on the sidewalk who were going in and out of the stores and restaurants. She walked farther down the length of Milwaukee Avenue, past the library, to see more of the business district, past the Chamber of Commerce, a travel agency, and a florist.
She crossed to the other side of the street. The first store of interest to her was Ruth’s Dresses. Disappointed to find only high-end clothing and nothing casual, Marie continued her shopping expedition. Next to Ruth’s was Sheridan Beauty Salon. Much to her dismay, she knew beauty treatments would have to go on hold for the time being. Taylor’s Drug Store had much of what she needed. She left there with a bag of essential toiletries.
In the next block, Marie had a hard time passing up Parkside Liquors. A glass of wine in the evening would be most welcome. But there were more important items to buy, so she proceeded to the A&P where she emerged with a bag of groceries—nonrefrigerated items that she could make do for a few meals.
A visit to Woolworth’s completed her shopping expedition, which included a nightgown, slippers, two pairs of shapeless pants, and two flowered tops that you might see on a middle-aged woman who couldn’t afford to shop in a regular clothing store—a far cry from the expensive tailored clothes Marie was used to wearing.
Back in her room, Marie longed to take a hot bath but decided that would have to wait. She stripped off all her clothes and put on the new ones, ready for her next adventure.
The lint-ridden Laundromat was empty except for a young mother and her toddler. Marie situated her things in a corner of the room farthest from them. Never having been in a Laundromat before, she watched the woman stuff clothes in several of the washers, sprinkle a little detergent on top, then slam down the lids and feed the coin slots. Luckily, Marie had enough change for the five-cent washers, three-cents-a-minute dryers, and ten-cent boxes of soap.
The sun was low in the sky by the time Marie reached her room. She made the bed, hung up the cl
ean towels, and drew a hot bath. After soaking for fifteen minutes, she carefully washed her hair.
Marie stared at the weak reflection of the person she saw in the bathroom mirror, someone she hardly recognized. She dressed in her nightclothes with tear-filled eyes, not knowing if she was madder at him or herself for the mess she was in.
The new nightgown and slippers felt comforting against her clean skin. She looked at the bed and didn’t know if it was hard or soft, lumpy or smooth, but didn’t care. Fresh sheets would make up for any flaws the bed might have.
She tilted the slats of the Venetian window blinds so that no one could see in, but she could look down on the street below. She spied on the people who were still walking about, feeling remarkably safe in her simulated ivory tower. He would never think to look for me here, that’s for sure.
As she lay in bed, she thought about the house she had broken into. She couldn’t help but wonder if the noises she heard were actually caused by someone on the second floor. It didn’t make complete sense that someone lived up there, given the planks of wood that had been crudely placed at the top of the landing. It would have made more sense if someone lived on the first floor and closed off the second floor. But she had checked the first floor fairly well, so she remained confused.
Marie’s sleep that night was restless.
She was trapped in the alley behind her house. It was closed off at both ends. She looked up at the nun who was floating above her. A motorcycle careened out of control and headed right for her. She tried to run, but her legs were too heavy. She looked ahead at the closed gate and the bright light squeezing through the cracks. The rain came down so hard; she thought she would drown. The zebra ahead of her didn’t drown, but she thought she would.
The sound of a car horn wakened her. She looked at the cheap plastic clock on the wobbly table next to the bed. It was 9:00 a.m. She had been sleeping for twelve hours. She took a moment to feel the coziness of the soft pajamas against her body and the comfort of the sheets against her cheeks. She looked up at the cracked water-stained ceiling, gathering her thoughts.
She readied herself for the day, camouflaging the bruises on her face and neck with makeup she had purchased at the drug store. She made a mental list of what she wanted to accomplish this day.
The sun glistened through billowy clouds while Marie walked the short distance to the Independence House. Before being seated, she grabbed a copy of the local newspaper, The Independent Register, from the newsstand.
“Would you like the same booth, hon? It’s empty.” Alice gave her a wink.
“Yes. That would be nice. How are you today?” She was pleasantly surprised Alice remembered her.
Alice beamed. “I’m great, thank you. It’s a beautiful day. My daughter told us last night she’s going to have a baby. Our first grandchild.”
“Well congratulations! When is she due?”
“The end of October. What can I get you for breakfast, dear? Or do you need a few minutes?” Alice waited while Marie looked at the menu. Her stomach was still tight, but she had had no adverse reaction to the soup the day before. “I’ll have a poached egg, toast, and a small orange juice.”
Marie couldn’t help but smile as she read the paper. On the front page was the story of a hometown boy who recently came back from spending a year in Africa as a missionary. Another article listed the winners of a relay race held at Butler Lake the week before. Someone’s sixtieth wedding anniversary. A used bookstore opening. All the articles focused on local news, mostly cheerful agreeable news. Not at all like the Chicago Tribune.
“Here you go.” Alice placed the plate of food in front of Marie. “Anything else? Coffee? Tea?”
“No, that should do it. Thank you.”
Marie flipped through the paper while she ate her breakfast. She looked at the ads and made mental notes on a few more stores she might want to visit. The “Police Blotter” column amused her, the most serious crime reported that week being a disturbance caused by a barking dog. No murders or muggings, mobsters or arrests. No raids. Impulsively and not knowing exactly why, she removed the “Employment” section, folded it, and stuck it in her purse.
“Can I get you anything else?”
“Just the bill. Thanks.” As Marie stood at the cash register waiting to pay the bill, she longingly looked around at the other patrons. It all looked so normal.
She walked up the long sidewalk toward the Cook Library. She imagined what it would look like in a couple of months when the hundreds of rose bushes in the front lawn were in full bloom.
Marie gasped at the grand interior of what presumably was once someone’s home. On the right, an ornately carved winding staircase led to the upstairs. What may have been either a parlor or living room had been converted into the library’s book check-in and out area, complete with a marble fireplace and crystal chandelier. Period furniture adorned the room, which provided a look into the past when it was someone’s home and functionality for the library personnel.
Fascinated by the architecture and décor of the house, Marie paid no attention to the books as she examined each room. The upstairs was as impressive as the first floor with each bedroom having been converted into a haven for a variety of literary works. There was so much to take in.
On her way back to her room, Marie passed mothers and their children bustling along the sidewalk. Shopkeepers peered out their front windows looking for the next customer or maybe just someone with whom they could pass the time of day. The bakery smells floated out the doors as patrons went in and out.
Once back in the comfort of her room, Marie took out the one-page employment section of the paper from her purse. She absentmindedly circled a few positions, none of which came even close to her position at Marshall Field’s. What must they think of me by now? She desperately wanted to call someone there, explain what had happened, but not wanting to put them in a compromising position in case Richard confronted them, she didn’t dare.
An hour later, Marie felt a strong desire to see more of the town and once again ventured out of her safe haven. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for or what she expected, but she felt compelled to know more.
She walked toward the library and turned right. A fire station was in the first block. After that it was all residential, mostly older two- and three-story Victorian homes, but none as grand as the library. She turned left onto Brainerd Avenue and walked for several blocks, passing a couple of churches, the post office, and more well-maintained homes. She continued her walk, savoring the feel of the gentle breeze on her face. While she always thought of herself as a city girl, she could picture herself in a town like this.
It was almost 4:30 p.m. when Marie neared her room. She picked up dinner to go from a Chinese restaurant. Bag in hand, she exited the restaurant and glanced down the alley at Abe’s Pawn Shop.
Abe was a crusty old character with a three-day stubble for a beard, hair growing out of his ears, and clothes that appeared to have never seen the inside of a washing machine. Marie showed him her engagement ring. “How much would you give me for this?”
Abe examined at the ring. “Fifty bucks,” he said, flatly.
Marie took the ring back. “Thanks,” she said and headed toward the door.
“Wait,” he hollered. “Maybe I can do better.”
Marie turned toward him. “This is a perfect emerald cut two-carat diamond set in platinum.”
“I’ll give you a hundred bucks for it. That’s my final offer.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.” Abe grumbled something under his breath that Marie didn’t comprehend.
As she settled in for the evening, Marie started to formulate a plan to leave her temporary safe haven in Libertyville before it became unsafe. Her last thought before she fell asleep was that it was too bad this place was only forty miles from Chicago and Richard, as she had become quickly enamored by it.
CHAPTER 16
Track 13
By day five, Marie had had enoug
h of her transient room over the shoe store. Her facial wounds were hardly noticeable with help from makeup, and the dark circles under her eyes were fading thanks to a few nights of good sleep. She felt as close to normal as she thought she could possibly get. It was Sunday, the day of the week she figured was the safest to attempt the next leg of her journey.
With her Woolworth’s bag filled to the brim with her worldly belongings, Marie traipsed over to the train station and waited for the next train to Chicago’s Union Station. It was the middle of May, and the scent of early spring flowers and crab tree blossoms filled her nostrils with confidence. She sat tall on the bench outside the station, not hiding under the brim of the floppy hat this time. The hum of people talking around her invigorated her.
She focused on the future. While a safe and meaningful lifestyle still felt out of reach, she was certain it would eventually come to be. Eventually. That word scared her. She pictured herself starting over in a new job, in a new city far enough away from Richard that he would be out of her life. She was ready to put him and her marriage behind her.
Union Station, built almost entirely underground, occupied nearly ten city blocks. Huge statuaries, elaborate staircases, and balconies flanked the one-hundred-foot-tall main waiting room where Marie entered.
Not that familiar with the station, she wandered around until she found a sign directing her to the ticket agents. Businessmen, mothers with their children, conductors, and porters bustled around her. She tried to blend in, pretending her purpose for being there was just as legitimate as everyone else’s.
She studied the departure board, concentrating on trains leaving within the next hour.
Kansas City
Austin
Pittsburgh
Seattle
Buffalo
Milwaukee
Cincinnati
Denver
Minneapolis
New York City
She eliminated Milwaukee and Minneapolis immediately, as they were in Richard’s sales territory. The East Coast didn’t appeal to her, so she eliminated New York and Pittsburg.
The Coach House Page 20