Sew in Love

by Debby Lee

  Millie thanked the girl and introduced herself.

  “Yuri,” the girl whispered before turning her attention back to her work.

  Millie laced gray thread through the industrial sewing machine and followed Yuri’s directions to produce men’s dress trousers. She kept her head down and focused on the task. She couldn’t afford to make mistakes; mistakes meant less take-home pay for her family and a greater chance of dismissal. If she was to collect information for Abe, she needed to keep this job.

  She had already noted Mr. Berg seemed oblivious to the fire hazard of flicking his cigar ashes wherever he pleased, despite the mounds of flammable fabric on the sewing tables and copious scraps on the floor.

  At midday, the blare of a horn announced the one sanctioned break. Millie followed the other workers to the benches that lined the exterior wall and sat next to Yuri. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the handkerchief wrapped around her meager meal—one piece of bread with a minuscule layer of lard—and laid it on her lap.

  Before she took her first bite, Millie noticed many of the girls had nothing. She turned to Yuri. “Do you have food?”

  Yuri shook her head. Without another word, Millie tore her bread in half and offered the girl a piece. Yuri took the bread and shoved it into her mouth, then stared at her ragged boots while she chewed.

  Millie listened to the grumbling of the workers closest to her. Several whispered complaints about the lack of breaks, the locked doors that made them feel like prisoners, the expected daily quotas, and the lack of ventilation that made the stale air difficult to breathe.

  One of the women reminded the others they were fortunate to have jobs at all.

  A man who worked at the cutting tables leaned toward Millie. “This boss may not be the best, but he’s a far cry better than my last boss.” When others nodded their agreement, the man continued, “I’ll never vote to strike again.”

  That was exactly why workers needed to have people like Abe making sure bosses followed their contracts. Did they not understand that their united voices against unsafe conditions provided the only protection they had? If people at this factory wouldn’t stand up for their rights, then Millie resolved to do it on their behalf.

  A woman across from her declared her cousin worked as a snitch for the union and was sent to a garment factory to check on safety issues. Within days, he mysteriously disappeared. No one, not even his own mother, had seen or heard from him in several weeks.

  Gooseflesh rose the length of Millie’s arms. What did the woman mean, disappeared? Had the snitch been murdered?

  Mr. Berg stepped off the elevator and shouted, “Back to your stations.”

  The workers scrambled. Millie inserted herself into the throng and headed toward the fire escape door. She had to know if it was locked.

  A few workers still provided concealment. She grasped the handle.

  It did not turn.

  Millie stared at the door, stomach churning, feet anchored to the floor, then glanced over her shoulder. Mr. Berg stood not three feet away. Where had the others gone? His scrutiny rattled her nerves. As he approached, she fabricated an excuse.

  “Sorry, sir,” Millie said. She lowered her chin. “I know the break is over, but I felt a tad faint and wanted a bit of fresh air.”

  “If you’re not fit for work—”

  “I’m recovered now, thank you, and will return to my station.”

  Her anger mounted with each hurried step back to her sewing machine. Mr. Berg was no better than the Triangle Factory bosses. How dare he lock the fire escape door! Surely he was aware that the district attorney’s office sought indictments against the Triangle Factory bosses because they had kept the doors locked. Was he so arrogant he thought himself above the law?

  Millie pursed her lips and resumed sewing, but after sewing crooked seams and removing the thread to start again, she questioned whether she’d complete any trousers that afternoon.

  Yuri had her own difficulties. She wept when the thread broke on her machine for the third time. Millie reached out and patted her shoulder. Like so many others in the factory, Yuri was too young to be working.

  Halfway through the afternoon, the nauseating smell of cigar smoke caught Millie’s attention. Mr. Berg stood over the meager pile of completed trousers, rapped his burly knuckles against the tabletop, then took his gold watch from his vest pocket.

  “You and you.” He pointed at her and Yuri then tipped his head toward the completion pile. “If you can’t keep up, I’ll replace the both of you.”

  Millie’s nostrils flared. How dare he threaten them! She couldn’t wait until his employees testified against him for violating safety regulations.

  Yuri’s whimpering intensified. This was precisely the reason Millie did not want Rose in the factories. Bosses like Berg thought they were above the law and treated everyone beneath them with contempt. Millie winced. She wouldn’t subject Rose to this kind of verbal degradation.

  She patted Yuri’s forearm. The girl lifted her chin long enough to nod.

  Millie fumbled with the coarse linen, too upset to concentrate on her work. She had done exactly the opposite of what she set out to do. She didn’t intend to bring attention to herself, yet she’d already had two disagreeable interactions with Mr. Berg on her first day at work. Millie had no doubt that if Mr. Berg suspected her of snitching, he’d do more than fire her.

  He’d make sure she was never seen again.

  Abe parked his car near the factory entrance as workers poured from the building. He strained his neck to identify Millie in the mass of people but didn’t see her.

  Had she changed her mind and not reported to work? He pulled his jacket lapel tighter around his neck. Should he go to her tenement? He didn’t want to appear forward, but he hoped to spend some time with her and confess his feelings.

  The wumpth of the factory door drew him from his reverie. His pulse quickened. Millie stood on the sidewalk arm in arm with a young girl. Millie removed her shawl and wrapped it around the girl’s shoulders, then crossed her arms in front of her chest and bounded up the cobblestone sidewalk.

  She has little and yet she gives away her shawl.

  “Millie, I came to drive you home,” he called from the car.

  She glanced around. “I can take the bus. Thank you.”

  “You can, but I’m on my way to your building to deliver food. I’d like to hear about your day.”

  She jerked her head one way, then the other, and jumped into the car. She covered her face and lowered her body in the seat. “Drive, please.”

  Her voice was riddled with trepidation.

  Abe pulled from the curb and drove in the direction of Millie’s tenement. “Difficult day?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want to tell me?”

  “I want to ask you a question, and I need you to tell me the truth.”

  Does she think I don’t tell her the truth?

  “I heard a tale during break about someone’s cousin at another factory who worked for the union. When they identified him as a union snitch, he disappeared. No one has seen him. Do you have knowledge of that?”

  “Yes, but there’s more to the tale. The snitch, as you call him, is safe. The union relocated him and his wife.”

  She inhaled and exhaled slowly. “I’m worried about my own family if I’m discovered.”

  Oh Lord, am I no better than my father? Have I conned Millie into collecting information for the union as my own avenue for recognition?

  “I don’t believe you’re in danger, Millie, but there are risks. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. Allow me to find you a position somewhere else.”

  “No. I want to stay. If you say I’m not in danger, then I believe you.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “I am, but I’ve already received a scolding from Mr. Berg, and he saw me near the fire escape door, which is locked, just like at the shirtwaist factory.”

  “
Locked? We expected as much.”

  “He caught me checking the latch.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I made an excuse about feeling faint and needing fresh air. Later, he admonished me because I didn’t sew enough trousers.” She lamented, “I’ve sewn on a machine since I was twelve years old, yet today, it was as if I had no knowledge of how to do it.”

  Abe cleared his throat. “You don’t have to work there.”

  She hesitated for a few seconds. “Yes, I do. What if there’s no one else willing to report unsafe conditions? If I can help stop Mr. Berg from causing harm, then I’ll stay at his factory and give him reason to form a higher opinion of me.” A slight grin formed. “He won’t suspect a model worker to snitch on him.”

  “I admire your resolve, Millie.”

  “I believe in our cause.”

  He liked the sound of “our cause” rolling off Millie’s lips. “Nevertheless, it was wrong of me to meet you near the factory. From now on, we’ll meet away from the peering eyes of your boss.”

  “Agreed.”

  He gripped the steering wheel. They were mere blocks from her home. If he intended to tell Millie about his affection for her, he needed to say it soon.

  “Millie?”

  “Yes?”

  “I have a confession.” He couldn’t look at her. “I used the food delivery as an excuse to spend time with you.”

  There was so much more he wanted to say, like how he admired her determination to care for her family, her commitment to the labor union’s goals, and her display of Christian kindness when she gave her shawl to the young woman, but words failed him.

  As pink rose on Millie’s cheeks, an unfamiliar warmth spread through Abe’s body.

  In the last few minutes of the drive, silence lingered between them. When Abe admitted he wanted to spend time with her, the day’s strife melted away and left only pleasant thoughts running through her head.

  Abe was such a good man. Why didn’t Father recognize, as she did, how kind Abe was, how dedicated he was to improving conditions for factory workers? If he’d give Abe a chance, she was certain Father would look at him in a different light.

  She grasped the coin in her pocket. “Abe?”

  “Yes?”

  “Would you kindly stop at the tobacconist’s? I’d like to buy Father some pipe tobacco.”

  “Of course.”

  Even though the union provided food for her family, Millie worried that if Abe delivered the food, her father would treat him as disrespectfully as he had on Saturday. Father had not enjoyed his pipe since before the fire, and it was something that relaxed him. If Father relaxed, he might realize he had misjudged Abe.

  Abe parked the car in front of the tobacconist’s. When Millie reached for the door handle, Abe called out, “Wait.”

  He sprang from the car, hurried to the passenger side, opened the door, and offered his hand.

  Millie glowed. Never had a man showered her with such attention. She savored the strength of Abe’s grasp and held on longer than decorum permitted.

  His grin made her cheeks burn anew.

  When they got to her building, Millie followed Abe up the stairs to her family’s tenement, the familiar odor of onions and baking-powder biscuits blending with the fragrant tobacco she had tucked in her skirt pocket. She imagined Father’s delight at her gift and pictured him smiling at her as the sweet aroma of tobacco filled the room. How long had it been since he’d smiled at her?

  She unlocked the entrance door, and Abe motioned her over the threshold ahead of him. Even in the hazy light from one kerosene lantern, Babi’s face showed her gratitude as she accepted the box of food.

  Millie kissed Babi’s cheek and opened her arms to Celia. Her little sister jumped into her arms and buried her face in Millie’s hair.

  “I want Mother,” Celia whined. “I want her home.”

  Millie rocked the child in her arms and explained for the hundredth time that Mother was in heaven and watched over them.

  Father looked up from the history book he was reading to Paul. “Stop your sniveling, child,” he demanded. “Go to your bed.”

  Millie shushed her. “But she hasn’t eaten, Father. Perhaps when—”

  “Don’t argue with me, Mildred.”

  Celia clutched Millie’s neck and Millie rubbed her back. “I’ll help her into her nightclothes.”

  “Stay here. You shouldn’t fuss over her all the time.” Suddenly, Father pointed at Abe. “What are you doing here?”

  “Look, Henryk, Mr. Skala brought us a box of food.” Babi tipped the box to show him the contents.

  Father ignored Babi and kept a sharp eye on Abe. “Why are you consorting with my daughter? She doesn’t need your outrageous union ideas. Remember the strike of 1909? Lot of good that did us.” He slapped his legs. “Weeks without pay. Used up all our savings. We never recovered. And for what?”

  Abe clutched his hat between his fingers. “I’m here to assist your family, sir, the same as the other Triangle Factory families.”

  “If you’re intent on helping our family, then find a factory job for this one.” Father pointed at Rose.

  “No!” Millie shrieked. “Mother promised Rose she’d finish school. I’ll not allow her to work in a filthy factory.”

  “You won’t allow?” Father erupted. “Since when do you make the decisions in this family?”

  Millie bit her lower lip. Since I became the breadwinner, that’s when.

  “Henryk, please. We have a guest,” Babi urged.

  “Just because Millie drags a young man in here does not make him a guest in my home.”

  Tears gathered in the corners of Millie’s eyes as Abe retreated into the hallway with Babi at his heels, calling out an apology. Millie wouldn’t blame Abe if he never spoke to her again. Given all he’d done for their family, how dare Father treat him so rudely!

  “Well, Mildred?” Father yelled. “I asked when you became so high and mighty that you assumed the position of head of this household?”

  Her chin trembled as she struggled to make her voice audible. “I’m trying to honor Mother’s plan for Rose.”

  “Your mother’s plan? Things have changed, haven’t they? I’ll not tolerate your insolence.”

  “Father is right,” Rose countered. “I should help earn money.”

  Millie spun around to face her sister. “What about school? Your education?”

  “You were in the factory when you were younger than I am now. Do you think I’m not capable?” Rose challenged. “I know how to sew a seam, same as you.”

  “I know you can, Rose. If you realized the horrid conditions, you’d understand I’m trying to protect you.”

  “She thinks she’s better than you, Rosie,” Father bellowed. “Thinks she’s better than all of us put together.”

  Millie fled to the bedroom and curled up next to Celia. She held the crying child while tears seared her own face.

  She fingered the pouch of tobacco in her pocket. Father’s stubborn attitude toward Abe had not been quelled.

  If Father was in the ground instead of Mother, we’d all be happier.

  Millie clamped her fist over her mouth. When had she become so wicked even to think such a thing? Evil thoughts were just as sinful as evil deeds.

  She was no better than her father.

  Chapter 4

  The next morning Abe stared out his window in Mrs. Dunn’s boardinghouse and decided he’d had no other choice last evening than to leave the Pulnik household before he bid Millie good night. Was her father always so ill-tempered?

  He must see Millie again soon, for both personal and business reasons. Last night, when her grandmother followed him into the hallway and agreed their church would be the best place to meet with Millie, she reminded him that Millie had not stepped into the church since the funeral. Nevertheless, she promised to do her best to convince Millie to meet him.

  A soft knock announced Mrs. Dunn’s daily delivery of
a kettle of hot water for washing. Abe pulled on the same gray dress pants he had worn the day before and opened the door.

  He bid his landlady good morning. Bless Mrs. Dunn. If she had not offered Mother a housekeeping job and a place to stay after she lost her job at Stark’s Bakery, he wouldn’t have completed high school.

  Abe poured hot water into his china shaving mug, a gift from his mother, and wondered whether she would’ve liked Millie as much as he did. If she had only lived long enough to meet her.

  He lathered his face, scraped the safety razor upward, and the scent of sandalwood shaving soap filled his nostrils. He wiped the remaining lather from his face and neck with a towel then dressed in a white cotton shirt. He retrieved the removable collar from the makeshift clothesline and buttoned it in place.

  The salty, oily aroma of bacon frying pleased his senses. Like most men his age, he’d never learned his way around the kitchen and was grateful for the food Mrs. Dunn prepared for him and the other boarders. He could afford a larger place, but he was content here, and the difference in housing fees allowed him to tuck away money for emergencies. Ever since he and Mother had been penniless, he vowed always to have reserve cash stashed away.

  Abe pulled out his pocket watch. He was due at the union hall in less than an hour. Today he’d meet the last family on his list of those affected by the fire. To date, he and Sam had been able to contact and offer support to over fifty families. It gave him such joy to help people in need. He sighed. If only he could find a way to demonstrate to Millie’s father how supportive he could be.

  Before he left his room, he studied the sepia wedding photo of his mother and considered the missing portion he’d torn away. His jaw tightened. How could he love one and resent the other?

  Mother would still be alive if his father hadn’t deserted them and sent her spiraling into a chasm of despair.

  Thirty minutes later, Abe went to visit Mr. and Mrs. Addario, a couple who had lost two daughters to the inferno at the Triangle Factory. He straightened his collar, buttoned the jacket of his sack suit, and prepared to assess the needs of the family. He’d offer his assistance and assure the Addarios that he and the union were committed to helping them.