The Golden Angel

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Thank you, Mary.”

  “I’ll show you to the dining room. You’ll eat in the small dining room today.”

  Erin followed the maid downstairs, and as she entered the dining room, she thought, If this is the small one, I’d like to see the large one. It was a fourteen-by-sixteen-foot room with white walls and white furniture. Lola came in through another door and saw her. “Oh, you’re here! Mary, will you bring the food in? Erin, go over by the fire and get yourself warm.”

  Erin stood before the fire and stretched her hands out toward it. “This feels good,” she said.

  “Did you sleep well last night?”

  “Oh yes. That featherbed was wonderful! I’m not used to this cold weather, though. I’ll have to buy some heavier clothes and some sturdier shoes, I’m afraid.”

  “Maybe we can go shopping, and I’ll help you pick out some things.”

  The two women sat down, and Erin enjoyed her breakfast, which consisted of scrambled eggs, thick slices of ham, and something called grits, which, Lola explained, most northerners did not eat, but which Mark had developed a taste for in Virginia, where he had grown up.

  They were almost finished when Mark came in and walked over to Erin. She stood up, and he reached out and pulled her into an embrace. Stepping back, he said, “Well, I must say. You’ve taken your good looks from your grandfather.”

  Erin laughed, for she remembered that Mark had always teased her on her last visit here. “Thank you, Grandfather.”

  “If your ego will allow it, why don’t you sit down, Mark?” Lola smiled at the pair. “We just started. Could you eat some eggs?”

  “I think maybe I could, and if Cora has any of those fresh biscuits, I could certainly eat one of those.”

  Erin noted that her grandfather still retained traces of his early good looks, but there was a frail look about him now. He had been a strong man all his life, her father had told her, but now he had the appearance of a chronically ill man. His eyes were tired, but he made an effort to speak with her and to find out all about her.

  After breakfast was over, they sat at the table drinking coffee. Mark asked directly, “Well, what are you going to do with yourself here, Erin?”

  “I’ve become a flier and have been working at it commercially in Africa. I’d like to do the same thing here—earn a living by flying.”

  “That might be a little bit difficult,” Lola remarked. “Women don’t do that in this country much.”

  “They didn’t do it in Africa much, either. I think I was the only one.”

  Mark said, “Well, you can stay here with us while you look around.”

  “I knew you’d say that, Grandfather, but what I want to do is get a little place of my own.”

  Mark suddenly smiled, his eyes crinkling up. “You want to be an independent woman. Is that it?”

  “It really is,” Erin said quietly. “I’ve never had to make it completely on my own. There’s always been family nearby to help, but now I think it’s time to try it out.”

  “My, at the decrepit age of seventeen you’ve never had to make it on your own. Well,” Mark smiled. “I think that will be good. But I want you to remember something, Erin. You’ll always have family nearby. We’re here now, and we’re always ready to help.”

  Erin was warmed by the assurances of the tall, silver-haired man. “Thank you. I knew I could count on you, but this is something I have to do for myself.”

  ****

  Erin enjoyed the next week immensely. She was tired from her journey and emotionally drained from the disaster of Stephen Charterhouse. Her grandparents’ house was like a haven for her. She rose early in the morning and went for long walks in the snow. She had long conversations with her grandparents, and she found herself growing very fond of them. But during this time an anxiety kept pushing at her, and finally after a week she set out to find an apartment in the city. She knew very little about New York City, but she got some good advice from her grandfather, who knew it very well. Finally she found a small apartment close to the airstrip. It was not a luxurious place, but it was in a respectable part of town, and for several days she took pleasure in settling in. She enjoyed stocking her larder and experimenting with different kinds of food she had never encountered before. She had always been a fine cook, and each night she prepared herself a different sort of meal.

  One thing she quickly discovered was that men were interested in her. Some were brash and bold and came right up to her; this sort she handled without problems. Others were shy, but she could feel their eyes on her. None of them got anywhere, however, for she was determined to find her way in the world of aviation, and men were not part of her plan.

  ****

  “I’m sorry, Miss Winslow, but I don’t think you’re going to have much luck.” Robert Jennings, the manager of the airstrip, had been kind to her when she had appeared asking for work. He had listened carefully as she explained her experience, then he had examined her license and shook his head with a look of regret. “You have to understand,” he said, “it’s not the best time of the year, and there are a great many experienced pilots who are out of work.”

  Erin felt a moment’s disappointment, but then she said, “I thank you for being honest, Mr. Jennings, but it’s only fair to warn you that you’re going to get pretty sick of me.”

  “Oh, I doubt that, Miss Winslow!”

  “You don’t know how pesky I can be. I’ll be coming back from time to time, and if you hear of anything, I’d appreciate it if you would call me at this number.”

  Jennings took the card, placed it in his desk drawer, and said, “I’ll be happy to do that. I’ll keep my ears to the ground, Miss Winslow. One thing I’d better mention: I’m not sure that your license will be good in this country. I expect you’d better check with the aeronautics people. They’re getting rather strict. Anybody and everybody started flying after the war, and some pretty bad things happened.”

  “I’ll do that, Mr. Jennings. Thank you very much for your time.”

  Erin made the rounds for the rest of the week, contacting and getting interviews with anybody who had anything whatsoever to do with flying in New York. There were not all that many, but she kept a list of their names, gave them her name and phone number, and promised each one of them that she would make a nuisance of herself.

  Two weeks passed, and Erin began to grow somewhat fearful. She did not have a great deal of money, and it was going fast.

  One Sunday she went to a large church in the center of New York. The building was impressive, almost like a cathedral, but the preaching was poor and no one even spoke to her, either going or coming. “I’ll have to find something better than this,” she said.

  The next Sunday she found a small Baptist church off Broadway. The pastor’s name was Harris Howell, a Welshman with a rich, warm baritone voice and excitement in his preaching. He met her at the door after the service and wrote down her name and address. He was a handsome man in his midforties with glowing blue eyes and a rich complexion. “You’re from Africa!” he exclaimed. “How wonderful! I’ll want to be hearing about that. Do you know any missionaries there?”

  Erin smiled. “My parents are missionaries.”

  “Indeed! And their names?”

  “My father’s Barney Winslow.”

  “Why, I’ve heard him speak. Indeed, we are glad to have you! Perhaps you’d come and speak to those of us interested in mission work.”

  “Yes, I’d be happy to do that, Reverend Howell.”

  The church situation was solved, and Erin found herself looking forward to the services. She and Reverend Howell arranged a date for her to speak to a group of the congregation who were vitally interested in missions, and she found to her surprise that she did better than she had expected. The people were eager to hear about her father’s work in Africa, and after it was over they surrounded her, wanting to know what they could do to help.

  Reverend Howell said, “I believe you can be a big help to yo
ur parents and to other missionaries. People are anxious to hear firsthand about the work over there.”

  “I’ll be glad to do all I can, Reverend.”

  ****

  January passed and February came; the snow, which had been so beautiful, was now dirty and covered with soot. Erin continued her pursuit of validating her license, which seemed to take forever, and she continued to pester Mr. Jennings and others who might know of available employment. She wrote faithfully to her parents and her other relatives in Africa, and she visited her grandparents three times during this period. Each time they had offered their help, but she simply smiled and said she did not need it. This was not exactly true, for she did need it desperately. She was almost down to the bottom of her purse and knew that something must be done.

  The something turned out to be a job she had never thought she could handle. She had eaten out several times at a very small place called the Elite Café, which was operated by an elderly couple, Mattie and Silas Barnes, who lived in an apartment above the café. Silas did the cooking, and Mattie did the serving, along with the help of two girls who doubled as dishwashers and waitresses.

  Erin had been eating her meal when Mattie Barnes came by to ask how she liked the food. Erin said, “It’s just fine. Your husband’s a very good cook, Mrs. Barnes.”

  “Well, I don’t know what I’m going to do. Both of my girls quit yesterday. I’ll have to find somebody.”

  Erin looked up and said, “Would you consider me? I need to work, Mrs. Barnes.”

  Mattie was surprised. The young woman was well dressed, and although she knew little about her, Mattie would never have thought she needed a job as a waitress. “It doesn’t pay much,” she said doubtfully. “And it’s not real high-class work.”

  “Oh, I’m used to work,” Erin assured her. “I think I could be of some help to you.”

  Mattie was somewhat doubtful, but when she saw that the young woman meant it, she said, “Well, it would be a godsend to me. When could you start?”

  “Right now. Anytime.”

  “I need help right now.”

  Erin got up and said, “Show me what to do.”

  The job was not difficult. The Elite Café served three meals a day and had a regular clientele, mostly clerks and secretaries and others who worked in the nearby office buildings. Erin proved to be very efficient and surprised Silas by helping with the cooking.

  Silas said later to his wife, “Mattie, that young woman is something. Why, she can cook as well as I can or better.”

  “She’s good at waiting tables, too. She remembers all the orders, and she’s pleasant with the customers. But I’m afraid we won’t keep her long.”

  “I expect not. A young lady like that, she wasn’t born to be a waitress.”

  “Well, I just thank God she showed up when she did. We’ll keep her as long as we can.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  A Thief in the Night

  A warming March wind swept over the city, melting much of the snow and carrying a promise of spring. The grass began to turn from brown to green, and the leaves of the trees showed their first traces of gold. The city itself seemed to come alive, digging itself out from under the phenomenal amount of snow that the winter had brought, and now Erin looked forward eagerly to the warmth of summer. She missed the hot days under the blazing African sun and had learned to dress as warmly as she could.

  As the weeks passed, Erin continued her weary round of chasing after bureaucrats, none of whom seemed terribly interested in validating her flying license. It was not that they were discourteous, but most of them seemed doubtful as to whether such a license would amount to anything. The unspoken criticism was always You’re a woman, and flying is a man’s world.

  More than once Erin was strongly tempted to go to her grandparents and ask for help, but her pride stopped her. She had thrown herself out into the world with a strong declaration of independence, and now to go asking for help would reveal a weakness she did not want to admit.

  Her job at the Elite Café was easy as far as the work was concerned. Silas Barnes suffered terribly with arthritis during the cold, damp weather, and as a result Erin had taken over most of the cooking. On those days when he was able, Silas was there doing all he could, but more often than not Erin would shoo him off, saying, “You go upstairs and rest. I’ll take care of this.”

  It was natural enough that Erin would become fond of both Silas and Mattie. They were a kind couple, but they were worn down by time and worried about their future. Erin had to work as both cook and waitress as waitresses came and went, and there were days when she practically ran the café.

  One of the things she discovered was that both Mattie and Silas yearned to leave New York. Their home had been in Arizona, and they had come to New York with a dream of making a great deal of money in a restaurant. The dream, of course, like many others, had faded, and now several times a day either Mattie or Silas would say, “Oh, if only we were back in Phoenix! Think about that warm weather there and that sunshine.”

  Mattie also would speak confidentially to Erin, saying, “We’ve got to do something about Silas. His arthritis has been getting worse for the past several years. This weather’s no good for him.”

  “Do you have relatives in Phoenix?”

  “Yes, what’s left of our family is there. I have two sisters, and Silas has a brother. They have large families, and besides, our daughter is there. She’s married and has four children, two of them married. We have four great-grandchildren now.”

  As winter turned to spring, Erin threw herself into the new life she had chosen. She wrote faithfully to her parents, downplaying her difficulties. She tried to sound lighthearted as she wrote about her quest to get a flying license and find employment as a pilot. But no matter how well she managed to disguise her real situation, when she lay down at night or walked in the parks for long hours, she grew discouraged, and to make matters worse, she was not able to pray.

  She loved her pastor, Harris Howell, and her new church, but her prayer life seemed to be bogged down, and her spiritual walk was not what it should be. Deep down she knew it was because of the bitterness and resentment she still carried against Stephen Charterhouse. Over and over again she had struggled to forgive the man, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not accomplish it. Perhaps it was because she had been so stirred by his ardor and declarations of love for her. She was ashamed of that now, and she had to push away the thoughts that came to her at night of how he had kissed her and held her and how she had responded to him. She was almost as angry with herself as she was with Stephen, for she felt she had betrayed herself. She did thank God that their physical relationship had gone no further than it did, but she knew that if she had not found out about his real nature when she did, she might have found herself getting into a bad situation.

  ****

  Silas came down from their apartment one afternoon after lying down for a long time. He had helped with breakfast and managed to make it until noon, but it was obvious to Erin that he was in considerable pain, so she had insisted he go lie down. Now he sat down at a table near Erin as she cleaned up the last of the dirty dishes from dinner.

  “I thought we ought to tell you this, Erin.”

  Erin stopped what she was doing and turned to look at him carefully.

  Mattie had come in as Silas was speaking, and she went over to the table where he was sitting and brushed a lock back from his forehead. She remained beside him, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Did you tell her yet?” she asked, looking at Erin.

  “I was just going to.” Silas cleared his throat and said, “You ought to know that we’re going to sell this place, Erin. We’ve got to get back to Arizona. I don’t think I could stand another winter here.”

  “Oh, I think it’s what you should do,” Erin said quickly. She had thought of this often but had not felt qualified to give such an opinion. “It would be good for both of you. You’d be with your family there and get ou
t of these awful winters. I hear the climate in Arizona is wonderful.”

  “It’s dry as a bone. Even when it gets hot you don’t notice it,” Silas said eagerly. “I grew up there—Mattie and I both. I don’t know why we left in the first place.”

  “I do,” Mattie said, shaking her head with a rather grim expression on her lips. “We wanted to make a lot of money. Well, that wasn’t in the Lord’s plan. We see that now. We’ll go home, and things will be better then.” She patted his shoulder affectionately and then looked at Erin. “We thought we’d better tell you. You might want to find another job.”

  “I’ll stay with you as long as you’re here. It shouldn’t be hard to find another job after this place sells.”

  “Of course not. You’re the best cook I ever saw and strong and pretty, too.”

  “Pretty doesn’t help wash dishes and cook,” Erin smiled. “Do you think you’ll have trouble selling the place?”

  A worried look crossed Silas’s wrinkled face. “We might,” he admitted. “Times are bad. We’ve let the place here get run-down. Our regular customers, they don’t care, but a prospective buyer would be put off, I reckon. “

  “I’m sure the Lord will send just the right buyer along,” Erin smiled.

  Mattie laughed aloud. “You always have the most positive attitude, dearie. We’re going to miss you when we get back to Arizona.”

  ****

  The next phase of Erin Winslow’s life came in a manner she had never expected. The Barneses put a For Sale sign on the window of the café—but to no avail. Several prospective buyers came by, but none of them made an offer. Two weeks went by and then three. Finally April came and brought the spring with it, and Erin grew increasingly concerned about Mattie and Silas. They were terribly disappointed. Both of them were ready to leave, but they could not walk away until the place was sold.

  Erin’s concern for the Barneses helped get her thoughts off her own troubles, and she found herself able to pray again, this time for a buyer to come, but nothing happened. She could not understand why God would not answer prayers for this couple, who seemed so good to her and so in need of an answer. As her impatience grew, her prayers took the form of questioning God’s purposes: “Lord, why don’t you send a buyer? These are your people, and you know they need to get out of this cold weather back to their home and to their family. Just one buyer is all it would take. Why are you waiting, Lord?”