A light flickered on her panel. She slipped the plug into the jack. “Hello, Main. Number, please.”
“I wanna lull-by,” a child’s voice responded.
“Sweetie, you should hang up the telephone. Telephones are for grown-ups.”
“Sing me.”
Hannah smiled. The child was very young. If she had to guess, she’d say he was about two. Where was his mother?
She recalled Mrs. Reuff at the operators’ school telling them that some parents gave the phone to their children as a toy to entertain them. Perhaps this was one such occasion. Mrs. Reuff had insisted the best way to handle the situation was not to encourage the child by interacting with him or her. Should she disconnect this call?
“Sing me. Pweeese.”
Such a sweet little voice. Jesus never refused the children. Why should she? One song wouldn’t hurt.
The only song she could recall at the moment was one she’d learned in Sunday school. She wrapped her hand around the cold metal of the speaker and held it close to her lips. “Thy little ones, dear Lord, are we, and come thy lowly bed to see. Enlighten every soul and mind, that we the way to thee may find.”
“More!” the toddler squealed.
She smiled, imagining a cherubic face with dove-blue eyes like Lincoln’s.
“Miss Gregory!”
“Sir?” She jumped but didn’t dare turn her head to face the man now looming over her.
“Please tell me I did not hear singing.”
How was she to answer him?
“If I hear any melodies from this area again, I’ll assume you’d like to see if the night shift’s supervisor would enjoy being serenaded, because I, Miss Gregory, do not.”
“Yes, sir.”
Night shift? Good grief. What had she done? She’d never be able to help Lincoln clear Walt if she was moved to that. Instead of doing research during the day, she’d have to sleep.
Until the clock struck midnight, Hannah made certain she was the perfect switchboard operator. Every call was completed in seconds, and not one word was uttered other than those deemed acceptable by the Iowa Telephone Company. Even when thunder rumbled outside, she kept her eyes on her switchboard, not glancing up at the overhead windows once.
When the time came for the night shift to take over, the fresh operator appeared behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder. The switch was made flawlessly, and Mr. Grabowski nodded his approval at her. Perhaps she’d redeemed herself.
She stepped out of the building into the dark of the night and shivered in the chill of the air. The brief thunderstorm had left the air scented with rain, and clouds still shrouded the moon and stars. Even though she already knew no cars would clang along, she glanced at the streetcar line. Buggies lined the curb, driven by husbands, fathers, and brothers to pick up the other operators. Only she had no ride home.
Mr. Grabowski glanced back at her from the bottom of the stairs. “Miss Gregory, you do have a ride home, don’t you?”
What would he think of her if he knew the truth? After tonight’s faux pas, she didn’t dare disappoint the man further.
“I’ll be fine, sir,” she said. “Thank you for your concern.”
He nodded and started walking in the opposite direction of her home.
Slipping her hands beneath her spring cloak, she started down the stairs. Solitude descended on her like a fog. Shadows seemed to arch and grin at her cowardice.
A cat yowled and darted across her path. She gasped and pressed a hand to her throat. Beneath her palm, her pulse raced. Why was she acting like a silly schoolgirl? It would take less than half an hour to walk the few blocks home. So what if it was past midnight? It wasn’t like she was walking in a bad area of town.
She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and plunged down the dark, empty street.
Lincoln punched his pillow and jammed it beneath his head. When sleep failed to claim him, he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling of his bedroom. What was his problem?
He already knew the answer.
Hannah Gregory.
Maybe some fresh air would settle his thoughts. He crawled out of bed, went to the window, and lifted the sash. A cool breeze drifted inside the stuffy room. He drank in the clean scent. Was Hannah sleeping any better than he was?
Obviously, she was upset with the way he’d acted earlier today. When he’d called her this evening, Charlotte said she wasn’t home. He wasn’t a fool. He recognized her sister’s answer for what it was—an excuse for Hannah not to speak to him. Still, it seemed so unlike Hannah to lie to him and especially to ask her sister to lie on her behalf.
He sat down in the overstuffed chair and ran his hand through his hair. Something felt off. Wrong. God kept pointing him to Hannah and that call. Why?
When she’d come to the hearing—
Wait. She should have been working, but what had she told him? She’d been able to get away. He pictured her face and remembered catching the way she’d paused and licked her lips before answering. She changed the subject as soon as she answered too. Usually, all those things would tell him a client was hiding something. But what would Hannah be hiding about her presence there? Had she lost her job?
No. She wasn’t in poor spirits, and he’d seen few signs of stress on her face.
But the telephone company wouldn’t let her off to come to the hearing in the middle of the day …
Unless she really wasn’t home when he called.
Was Hannah working evenings or nights now?
The clock downstairs gonged twelve times. Midnight was much too late to telephone her home, but he’d never get any sleep unless he knew where she was. His stomach fisted. Even with all the courtroom trials he’d faced, nothing had demanded an answer like this did.
It felt improper to ring her wearing his pajamas, so he threw on a pair of trousers and a shirt before rushing downstairs.
He glanced at her number jotted on a pad by his candlestick telephone and picked up the receiver. In seconds, the switchboard operator was ringing the Gregory house, but it took several rings before anyone came on the line.
A sleepy voice answered.
“Tessa?”
“Mr. Cole?”
“May I speak to Hannah?”
“Uh, she’s not home from work yet.”
So he was right. She was now working nights. Poor thing probably wouldn’t get off until morning. Maybe he could take her to breakfast. “When will she get home?”
“Probably half past midnight or so.”
“Tonight?” His chest squeezed tight. “Who’s bringing her home?”
“I dunno.” Tessa’s voice cracked. “No one, I guess, if you aren’t. Can I go back to bed now?”
“Sure, Tessa. Good night.”
He slammed the phone back on the hook. Surely Hannah wouldn’t take a chance like walking home in the dark alone.
Or would she?
A dog growled.
Hannah halted and scanned the street for the animal. Her gaze fell on the massive beast lurking half a block before her.
Fingers of fear spread down her neck.
Don’t be silly. You’ve dealt with dogs before. Show him who is boss.
She took a step forward.
Another low, menacing growl.
Maybe this dog already knew who was boss—him.
Perhaps she could retrace her steps and go around the block. It would take longer, but she’d get home with all her parts intact.
Backing away from the dog, she sent a prayer heavenward, asking God to clamp the mouth of the dog like he had those of the lions for Daniel.
The dog rumbled another threat and advanced. She froze. What was she going to do? She couldn’t stand here until daybreak.
The sound of an automobile nearing made her pulse thunder. She swallowed. Who would be out driving this late at night? She’d heard about dandy young men out and about, up to no good. What if the driver was one of them? Which was a worse threat? The dog or the d
river?
The dog charged forward. Her blood ran cold. She fisted her skirt and turned to run. Feet pounding against the street, she raced toward the gas lamps of the oncoming automobile. Her foot slipped on the wet paving bricks, and she stumbled. The automobile swerved and stopped.
“Hannah!”
Lincoln? She whirled and bolted for the Reo. She jumped onto the running board, but the forward momentum thrust her over the side of the seat and halfway into the automobile. Her hands met the leather seat. The dog yanked on her skirt, and she cringed at the sound of ripping fabric. Lincoln hurled something at the dog, and it yelped and ran away.
Safe at last, she released a puff of breath, but her heart continued to hammer beneath her corset. With her backside pointed toward the moon, she looked up at him. “Would you mind helping me right myself?”
“Actually, I’ve a good mind to take advantage of your current position and give you the paddling you deserve.”
She squirmed, trying to get up on her own. “You wouldn’t dare.”
He exited the Reo, rounded the back, and placed his hands on her waist. “Are you sure about that, Miss Risk Taker?”
26
Hannah tensed, but Lincoln didn’t throttle her. Instead he drew her waist toward him until she could feel her backside against his body. Once she was upright, he stepped back and let her climb down from the running board on her own.
Anger poured off him like steam from a teakettle. Why would he be mad? Was he worried about her ungraceful arrival scratching his precious automobile?
She adjusted her shirtwaist and skirt. “Are you upset with me?”
“Get in.”
When she was properly seated in the Reo, she stuck her finger through the slobber-covered hole in her skirt. Would a patch be noticeable?
“It was a good thing you showed up when you did. For some reason, that dog considered me his midnight snack.” She laughed, but it came out forced and nervous.
“It’s not funny, Hannah.” Lincoln shifted the foot pedal, then jammed the throttle lever upward. The automobile roared to life and took off.
When he turned toward her home, she gasped. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m taking you home.”
“You can’t do that!”
“You’d prefer to be escorted by Fido?”
“But Lincoln, it’s not proper. Our neighbors will hear the automobile, and they won’t understand why I’m out in the middle of the night with you.”
He pulled the car to the side of the street, beside an empty lot, and shut it off. He gripped the steering wheel with both gloved hands. “Why?”
“I told you. It’s not proper. What would people think?”
“No.” He turned toward her. “I mean why didn’t you tell me your hours changed? Why didn’t you tell me you needed someone to take you home? Why didn’t you ask me for help?”
“I couldn’t.”
“No, Hannah. You could, but you wouldn’t.” His chest heaved. “Get out.”
Her heart thudded to a stop. Was it over between them? “I’m sorry. I just didn’t see a way you could help.”
He marched to her side of the Reo. “I said get out.”
Easing off the seat, she stepped onto the running board. He placed his hands on her waist and lifted her to the ground but didn’t release her. “You didn’t think I could figure something out so the woman I care about doesn’t have to walk home in the dark, running from wild dogs? You didn’t think I could manage to arrange that and still maintain your honor?”
He smelled like Diamond C soap and something woodsy, and his nearness was intoxicating. She splayed her hands on his chest and could feel it heave beneath her palms. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Hannah, I’m not offended.” He cupped her cheek with one hand. “You scared me senseless.”
“I scared you?”
“Yes, and I’d tell you never to do it again, but I think that would be a wasted effort.” He traced her lips with the pad of his thumb. “And right now, I have something else I’d much rather put my effort into.”
His hand slipped around the back of her neck, sending shivers coursing through her. She held her breath as he lowered his head until his lips touched hers in the sweetest of kisses.
As if he’d struck a match within her, warmth spread in her soul like wildfire. Never before had she felt a rush like this. She leaned into his touch, savoring the moment. All too quickly the kiss was over, and disappointment flooded through her.
“Now, I’m going to walk you home, and you’re going to let me. And tomorrow night I’ll make sure you’re not walking home alone, and you’re going to trust me to take care of that. Understand?”
She simply nodded, because for the first time in her life, she was speechless.
Wearing a snow-white muslin dress remade from one of their mother’s, Charlotte walked down the aisle toward the front of the auditorium, and Hannah’s heart swelled with pride. As one of the nearly 250 greater Des Moines graduates in the auditorium, Charlotte might have been easy to lose in the crowd if not for her maple-syrup-colored hair set off by a white silk ribbon.
“Charlotte Gregory.” The school superintendent’s voice rang out.
With great poise, she crossed the stage, and the school board president presented her with a diploma. Hannah swiped a tear from the corner of her eye, and Lincoln squeezed her hand. Thank goodness she’d been able to change with one of the other Hello Girls, or she would have missed this. She’d never have forgiven herself if that had happened. This graduation had stirred everyone’s grief, but especially Charlotte’s.
It was at times like this that Hannah struggled the most. It never seemed fair. Their parents should have been present for this day.
After the ceremony, Charlotte hurried over to them, and after a round of congratulatory hugs, Lincoln announced they were going to his home to celebrate.
“Your place?” Charlotte’s eyes widened.
“I asked my housekeeper to prepare a special dinner. She’s an excellent cook.” He tapped Charlotte’s nose. “Not as good as you, but I think you’ll find her food more than palatable.”
Charlotte looked at Hannah for confirmation, and Hannah laughed. “Don’t look so shocked. He asked if he could do this for you, and I agreed.”
“Do I get to go too?” Tessa asked.
Lincoln’s eyes crinkled. “I don’t know, Hannah. What do you think?”
“Hmm. Maybe we could squeeze her in if she promises to keep her headlines to herself.”
“I will. I promise.” She whipped off her gloves and fell in step beside them. “But I have to tell you all about the earthworms I’ve been reading about. They’re amazing. Did you know—”
Hannah moaned.
“She’s your sister.” Charlotte laughed. “As the eldest, it’s your job to educate her.”
“Uh-uh-uh.” Hannah wagged her finger. “Now that you’re a graduate, I think we should share the burden equally. It’s going to take both of us to make Tessa into a lady.”
“A lady?” Tessa ran ahead, then turned and walked backward so she could face them. “I want to be a newspaperwoman or a horticulturalist, or maybe I’ll race cars like Mr. Vanderbilt.”
Hannah shot a mock glare at Lincoln as if the last part was his fault, then hooked her arm with Charlotte’s. “On second thought, Charlotte, she’s all yours.”
27
Lincoln stared at Pete. How could the man let his wife use one of those electrical home treatment machines for her melancholy? Sure, the makers claimed it was a safe curative, but Lincoln found that hard to imagine.
Leaning forward, Pete placed his folded hands on top of his desk. “Elise has used it for three days now and says it’s helping.”
“I’m shocked.”
Pete chuckled. “So is she—literally—twice a day.”
“May I ask how much the little apparatus cost you?”
“Five whole dollars.
I know it’s probably quackery, but if it helps her spirits, it’s worth every penny.” He leaned back in his chair, and it squeaked beneath his weight. “The worst part is she wants me to use the special electrical comb attachment. It’s supposed to stimulate hair follicles.”
“You are getting a little thin up top.” Lincoln patted the top of his own head to indicate Pete’s thinning area.
He frowned. “Your day will come soon enough.”
“Not for a long time.” He chuckled. “So what does this contraption look like?”
“You can see it for yourself on Friday. She’s feeling so well she’s having a dinner party, and she wants you and Miss Gregory to come.”
Lincoln rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not sure if Hannah can make it. Her hours have changed at the telephone company.”
It had been two weeks since she’d been transferred, and Hannah’s supervisor had yet to tell her she was going back to days. Although Lincoln had made arrangements for a hansom cab to bring her home each night, he still worried about her being out so late. Not only were these hours difficult on her physically and emotionally, they were also hard on her sisters. Tessa and Charlotte needed her, and they’d already grown tired of her absence.
Most of all, the evening shift was hard on the time he and Hannah had together. In order to see one another, it had to be during the daytime, and most of his days were filled with work at the law practice. Sneaking in a research trip or a quick lunch was not giving him the quality time with Hannah he so wanted to have during the week. Although he’d prayed for a solution to the problem, so far none had come his way, and he wasn’t sure she’d let him help out even if he discovered the perfect answer.
“Well, I hope you can persuade her to come Friday,” Pete said. “I thought that meeting her might convince Charles to let you continue the pro bono case with the Calloway fellow.”
Lincoln stiffened. “Has he been fighting you about that again?”
“He has a point, Lincoln. Two fire insurance companies are interested in retaining us, but they won’t if we’re representing an arsonist. I understand your position, so I’ve been able to keep Charles from doing anything rash.” Pete rapped on his desk. “But I can assure you Cedric is doing everything he can to stir things up. I believe it would be harder for Charles to force the point if he met Miss Gregory, so I do hope you’ll try to persuade her.”
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