by Debby Lee
“Such a tragedy.” Nathan’s father kissed her cheek.
Nathan patted her arm. “She was a lovely woman, Millie.”
“Yes. She was.”
“Did you confirm your father will be discharged next Saturday?” Nathan asked.
“Yes.”
“Then I will be there to drive him home.” He pursed his lips and dropped his arms to his sides. “I have something I want to discuss with him.”
Nathan walked away and slid into the driver’s seat of his family’s new Stanley touring car, the vehicle her father had deemed an unnecessary extravagance. Would Father agree to ride in it? What choice did he have? No one could expect her to push a wheelchair more than two miles over the uneven stones of the sidewalks.
The twins tugged at her skirt. Paul whimpered. “Is Father in the ground with Mother?”
Millie smoothed his unruly hair away from his face. “No, Father is in the hospital, remember? He hurt his legs, but he will come home soon.”
“Today?” Paul asked.
“No, not today. In one week. His legs need to feel better before he can come home.”
Celia whined she was hungry. Millie gathered the twins in her arms and kissed the tops of their tow-haired heads.
“Rose, please take Paul and Celia home.” She reached into her pocket where the coins rattled against one another and retrieved two. “Take the bus. The twins are too tired to walk.”
With her siblings on their way home, Millie turned her attention to Babi. She had said little since the day of the fire except that a mother should never have to bury her child. Millie scanned the graveyard. Only a dozen funeral guests still lingered, most of them visiting the other freshly mounded gravesites. Babi knelt at the foot of her daughter’s grave, the loose earth heaped on top and dust swirling up with each breath of wind.
Millie knelt by her grandmother and wrapped her in her arms. “Let me take you home, Babi.”
“She was such a good daughter.” Babi covered her face with her shawl and wept. “Such a good daughter.”
“And a good mother,” Millie acknowledged. She rose and took Babi’s elbow to help her stand.
“I keep asking God why He didn’t take me instead.”
Millie’s muscles tensed. “I could ask the same thing. Somehow, I survived, while Mother—” Her voice betrayed her. “While Mother was not so fortunate.”
“I cannot imagine life without her.” Babi bit at the edge of her thumb.
Millie wrapped her arms around her grandmother again. “Babi, I need you to stay strong for the children. Can you do that for me? Be strong around them? Especially with Father injured, we need to show them that you and I can take care of them, at least until I marry and we have Nathan’s family to assist us.”
“I’m an old woman, Millie, and the emptiness I feel is vast, but I will do my best to help you with the children.” She ground her teeth together. “You are all I have left.”
Millie’s heart wrenched in her chest. “That’s all I ask.”
Abe Skala stood at a distance from the grieving family. The acrid taste of bile collected in the back of his throat every time the fire victims came to mind. Would they still be alive if the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory had been a union shop and adhered to basic safety regulations? But what good was wondering? He couldn’t undo the past.
Two years before, he’d failed to convince the Triangle Factory workers to stay on strike until the factory bosses met their demands. After five months on the picket line, they agreed to return to work in exchange for better hours and slightly increased wages with no union representation and no changes in safety regulations.
Failure was tiresome. With these survivors, he vowed he’d be of use to someone. This was his fifth funeral today, all victims from the church both he and the Pulnik family attended. And the Catholic and Jewish deaths far outnumbered those from their congregation. Funerals would go on for several days until all 146 victims were buried.
He cleared his throat, and Miss Pulnik turned toward him. He froze in place with just one glance from this tawny-haired beauty. He’d been this close to her only one other time and that was in the company of the whole congregation. But he knew her features, had studied them from afar—her serious, golden-brown eyes, her heart-shaped face, and splendidly high cheekbones. He’d kept his distance and would continue to keep his distance because she was betrothed to that fellow named Nathan—a conceited dandy as far as Abe was concerned, if he had any right to be concerned.
“My sincere condolences for your loss. Your family is in my prayers.”
“Thank you, Mr. Skala.”
“I understand your father is confined in Bellevue Hospital. How does he fare?”
“He broke both legs when the fire escape collapsed, but he managed to survive. He’ll be released soon.”
Abe nodded. “As you know, I represent the International Ladies Garment Workers Union, and I’ve been working closely with the families of the fire victims.” He thrust his hands in his pockets. Why was he talking so fast?
Miss Pulnik’s grandmother shook her head. “Mr. Skala, I hardly think this is the time to talk politics. My daughter has been in the cold ground for less than an hour.”
“I meant no disrespect, ma’am.” He fumbled with his pocket watch. “I just wanted to inform you that assistance is available for families of the fire victims—rent relief, food baskets, assistance finding jobs. Things of that nature.”
Miss Pulnik straightened her shoulders. “We appreciate your offer, but I doubt my family will require assistance.”
“Then you’re one of the fortunate families. Most don’t know where their next meal will come from.” He offered her a nickel for a pay phone and a business card with his name and union office telephone number printed on it. “If you need anything, please call.”
She smiled. “How very kind of you, but as I explained, my family and I will be fine.”
Miss Pulnik’s grandmother stretched out her palm. “As optimistic as my granddaughter is, I prefer to have an alternate plan in case the need arises.”
Abe gave her the coin and the business card. “Well then, I’ll take my leave. Will I see you both in church on Sunday?”
The older woman nodded, while Miss Pulnik avoided eye contact with him and drew in a slow, steady breath.
He walked toward his car. How could Miss Pulnik think her family did not need assistance? He knew they lived in a run-down tenement in Greenwich Village and she and her parents had worked at the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory. If it was necessary for a young woman to work in the factory before the fire, and her father was severely injured and her mother dead, how was it that things could be easier now? Was it pride that kept her from accepting his help? Abe would continue to offer his assistance, in case the need arose, as her grandmother had suggested.
The following morning Millie served bowls of porridge to the twins while Babi and Rose spread lard on toasted bread.
“We have no more flour,” Rose announced.
“There’s money from our church friends as well as what Mother left in the tea tin,” Millie reminded her.
Babi looked up, her expression wary. “That money was meant for you and Rose to buy materials to start your millinery business.”
“Yes.” Millie removed her apron. “But we can use it now, and once Nathan and I are married, we can replace it quickly enough.”
Babi let out a doubtful harrumph.
Millie ignored her grandmother and counted out enough coins to buy food supplies. She gave the money to Rose. “After school, please go to the grocer and buy flour, sugar, and tea. I would go, but I have an appointment with Father’s doctor this morning.”
Celia jumped up from the table and hugged Millie’s knees. “I want to go too.”
Bending to lift her youngest sister to her chest, Millie swayed and whispered that everything would be okay. She’d be away for a few hours, and Babi would stay with her and tell her a story.
Babi sa
t in a chair and opened her arms to Celia. Paul finished his last spoonful and joined his sister on their grandmother’s lap. Sadness swam in Babi’s gray eyes as she told a story about their mother and how she loved to fashion hats and hoped to one day open a millinery shop with her daughters.
“Me?” Celia asked.
“Yes, darling. You and Rose and Millie. Your mother taught your sisters how to make hats when they were just a bit older than you are now. She was fond of saying, ‘One day we will make the finest hats in all of New York.’”
The finest hats, indeed. Millie strode into the bedroom she shared with Babi, Rose, and Celia and stood before the cheval mirror. What would they do without Mother? The fire had been a senseless event caused by senseless bosses who ignored safety guidelines that would have protected their workers. No family should have to endure this kind of pain ever again.
She slammed her hairbrush against the vanity just as her sister entered the room. Rose took their mother’s blue satin hat off the dresser, placed it atop Millie’s head, and wrapped her arms around Millie’s waist. Millie leaned on Rose for a few brief seconds.
“Mother loved this hat,” Rose said. “It becomes you.”
“I feel closer to her when I wear it.” Millie closed her eyes and inhaled. “It still carries her scent.”
“Lavender,” Rose whispered, her voice catching.
Millie wiped her tears, squared her shoulders, and pasted on a much-practiced smile. Considering all her new responsibilities, there simply was not time to mourn.
There were no available seats in the enclosed seating on the double-decker bus from Greenwich Village to Bellevue Hospital. Millie forced herself up the metal stairs to the upper level and withstood forty minutes of sputtering rain that gathered on her best linen dress and Mother’s satin hat. She steeled herself for the visit with Father. It was no secret he was angry over his injury.
At the hospital, the receptionist directed Millie down a long corridor to Dr. Herman’s office. Her barrel-chested father sat in a wheelchair near the doctor’s immaculate desk.
“Good morning, Father.” Millie leaned to kiss his balding head, then greeted his physician.
“Thank you for coming,” Dr. Herman said. “I will make this brief. As you know, your father’s legs sustained multiple breaks in the fall.”
Millie nodded.
“We have done what we can for now. Over time, we will see how well his bones mend.”
Father’s eyes narrowed and a flicker of fear darted across his face. “Will I walk again?”
Dr. Herman shifted in his seat. “It is too soon to know.”
“When might you know?” Millie pressed.
“Five to six months. In the meantime, your father can convalesce at home. As planned, I will release him on Saturday. He will need a wheelchair. The hospital does not provide them.” Dr. Herman scribbled a number on a piece of paper and slid it across the desk to her. “The Red Cross may be of some help.”
She took the paper and thanked the doctor.
“Push me back to my room, Mildred. And for heaven’s sake, take off that ridiculous piece of satin finery atop your head. This is no time to be puttin’ on airs.”
“I’m sorry, Father. I wanted to look nice for our meeting.”
He scoffed. “I don’t see why.”
Millie blinked back tears as she pushed his wheelchair. She grasped the hat between her thumb and forefinger, all the while wondering why she’d never been able to please him.
She made her excuses to leave as soon as the nurse delivered her father’s lunch tray. The spring air soothed her as she walked to the phone booth just outside the lobby. She dropped a nickel into the slot and dialed the number for the Red Cross. The representative apologized but said they didn’t have any available wheelchairs as the need was so great after the fire.
Her father had to have a wheelchair. He wouldn’t be able to move about the tenement without it. Perhaps Nathan would help her secure one. She called the import business Nathan’s father owned and asked the secretary whether Nathan was available. Confident he’d help her, Millie leaned against the side of the booth and relaxed her weary muscles.
“Hello, Millie.”
“Hello, Nathan. Thank you for taking my call.”
“What is it? Is this an emergency?”
The last time Millie interrupted him at work, she’d told him about her mother’s death and her father’s injuries. “No, it’s not an emergency. I have a request. Father will need a wheelchair to come home, and the hospital and the Red Cross have none to lend. Do you have any suggestions?”
“Why would you assume I’d know where to acquire a wheelchair? I have more important things to do with my time.”
Words scrambled together in her mouth. Why indeed? “I wasn’t thinking,” she murmured.
“I have work to do. I’ll meet you at the hospital on Saturday and bring the car around to drive your father home as we agreed.”
“Thank you, Nathan.” The click on the other end of the line reverberated through her bones. What had she been thinking to interrupt Nathan at his place of business?
Nonetheless, she still needed to locate a wheelchair.
She could call Mr. Skala. Millie cringed and shook herself. She shouldn’t have been so quick to decline his help when they talked at Mother’s funeral. He did seem like a nice man. She had liked the sound of his voice when he offered his condolences—a smooth baritone she’d heard above all other voices when the church choir led the congregation in song. And his expression of sincere concern had warmed her.
She’d give Mr. Skala a call and resist being so arrogant with him this time. Millie hoped she was not too late. If he couldn’t locate a wheelchair, she didn’t know how she’d get her father home.
Chapter 2
Abe barely stepped inside the office of the International Ladies Garment Workers Union before Sam Jensen, his best friend and colleague, raised the telephone handset in the air and announced, “It’s a woman. A Miss Pulnik.”
Sam waggled his eyebrows and passed the phone to him.
Abe swallowed hard before he found his voice. “Hello.”
At the sound of Miss Pulnik’s voice, the edges of his lips curled into a grin. Despite turning his back to Sam, he could feel his friend’s questioning gape throughout the short phone call.
As he hung up he wished the conversation had been longer, but her purpose for the call was to ask for assistance in locating and delivering a wheelchair to Bellevue Hospital. She needed it by Saturday. He had no idea where to find such a thing, but he intended to make good on the promise he’d just given her.
Sam slapped him on the back. “Who’s the lady? You look like a miner who just struck gold.”
“Miss Pulnik needs a wheelchair for her father, who was injured in the fire.”
“How about the Red Cross?”
“She tried. None available.”
Sam checked his pocket watch. “C’mon. I know a place that might have one. It’s on the way to the opera house. We’re due to meet with the Committee on Safety in about an hour.” Sam produced a comb from his pants pocket and raked his long brown bangs off his brow, then clicked his tongue. “I’ll drive. I’m not sure you can see straight.”
Abe’s mouth went dry. “She’s engaged.”
Sam nodded. “Well then. That’s another story, isn’t it?”
On Saturday, Millie entered the formidable Bellevue Hospital. Holding a handkerchief to her nose to ward off the pungent smell of disinfectant, she signed her name on the visitors’ log at the front desk before she chose a seat on a faded couch beneath a smudged bay window. She’d just sat down to wait for Mr. Skala when he entered the lobby.
“Good morning, Miss Pulnik. I hope this will do.” He removed his hat and tilted his head toward the steel-spoked conveyance he was pushing.
She nodded. “I’m grateful. Thank you.”
“You are most welcome. Have you arranged transport to drive your father hom
e?”
“Yes. My fiancé is coming with a car.”
“Good. Well, let me know if your family needs anything else.”
She stood and looked into his eyes. “We’ll be fine once I get Father back home.”
“I hope so.” Concern creased his brow.
Millie dipped her chin and chastised herself for admiring his gleaming turquoise eyes. She would soon be married.
“All my best to you and your family.”
Her gaze followed Mr. Skala while he signed in at the visitors’ desk then walked toward the burn unit. No doubt he aimed to visit survivors of the fire.
Millie gripped the wheelchair and pushed it across the lobby. The poorly lit corridor leading to the postoperative ward was a cacophony of misery—gurneys in need of oiling screeched in protest and men cried out in pain. Even the priests’ mumbling of prayers took on the sound of hopelessness, but nothing could dampen her spirits today. Nathan was meeting her here to drive her father home. And he had something to discuss with Father. Millie could imagine only one topic of discussion. Nathan intended to marry her right away. With the support of Nathan’s family, the financial burden for her own family wouldn’t rest solely on her shoulders. Then perhaps she’d be able to sleep at night instead of worrying until the wee hours of morning.
Millie heard Father’s gruff voice from behind the privacy curtain at the far end of the long room. “Go away,” he shouted. “My daughter will bathe me.”
Millie’s body tensed and her feet refused to move. Bathe Father?
The nurse’s aide attempted to soothe him. “Let me finish your feet and back, Mr. Pulnik. Your daughter will have plenty of work ahead of her after she takes you home.”
What other nursing duties are in store for me? Millie shuddered, then remembered Rose’s advice to treat their father with compassion.
She slipped behind the curtain. “Good morning, Father.”