by Debby Lee
When the doctor reported no change, a tear slipped down Father’s face. The doctor shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I will talk with you after I do rounds in the morning.”
He exited, leaving uncertainty in his place.
“Rose?” Millie asked. “I wonder if you’d accompany me to the chapel?”
The sisters set out along the gas-lit walkway. Millie glanced at Rose. “I must apologize for treating you like a child. It was mature of you to want to alleviate the financial burden we face.”
Her sister dipped her chin. “I wanted to make it easier on you.”
“I appreciate that.”
Rose faced her, brows creased. “It was also Abe’s intention to ease your burden. He wants the best for you.”
“Yes. I see that now.”
“And I don’t want you to worry about my education, Millie,” Rose continued. “I trust that between you and Father, I will learn what I must.”
Upon entering the chapel, a stillness settled in Millie’s chest. The rose-colored walls and pale blue ceiling calmed her as she knelt beside Rose at the chancel rail and looked above the marble altar to the stained-glass window depicting Christ healing the sick. She prayed God would spare Paul and that Abe would forgive her.
Abe entered Bellevue Hospital at a quarter to seven. Millie’s grandmother, Celia, and Mr. Pulnik were in the same area where Millie had waited for him to deliver the wheelchair, but Millie was nowhere in sight. Disappointment and relief washed over him at the same time. He wanted to see her, but he didn’t know whether she’d even speak to him.
Celia waved, ran across the room, and hugged his leg.
“Millie and Rose went to the chapel,” Millie’s grandmother informed him. “They should return shortly.”
He glanced from her to Millie’s father. “May I wait with you?”
Mr. Pulnik nodded.
“How is your son?” Abe asked.
“Struggling,” Mr. Pulnik answered.
“Henryk and I will see him at seven and should know more then,” Millie’s grandmother added.
Celia tugged at him. “Are we going to ride in the bread truck again? It smells like cimanim.”
“Cinnamon,” her grandmother corrected.
The child ignored her elder and begged, “Can I please have another ride?”
“I returned the truck this morning, but you can ride in it again when your father is ready to go home.”
She jumped up and down and waved her arms.
Millie and Rose came through the door, arms linked and faces serene. Millie offered Abe a shy smile.
His heart thudded against his chest. Had she forgiven him? Did he dare think reconciliation was possible?
When Millie’s father and grandmother went to see Paul, Rose took Celia to count the windows on the other side of the waiting room. Abe and Millie were alone.
Millie looked at the floor. “Thank you for transporting Father.”
“Always happy to oblige.” Abe’s fingers rubbed the edges of his hat. “It was never my intention to upset you.”
“I know that now. Rose explained.”
“Forgive me?”
She raised her face to his. “If you forgive me as well.”
“Of course I do.” He stepped closer. “I didn’t know what I would do if you refused to speak to me. I really care for you, Millie.”
“I care for you too, Abe.”
Millie touched his cheek and all his worries dissipated. His future looked promising once more.
After a nerve-racking weekend, Paul’s doctor met Millie and her father on Monday morning before Babi and Celia arrived. “Your boy’s fever broke,” the doctor told Father. “He opened his eyes and asked for you. I’ll allow a short visit this morning.”
While Father went to see Paul, Millie paced the floor near the hospital entrance and awaited the arrival of Babi, Celia, and Abe. As soon as they arrived, she ran outside to share the good news.
“Thank the Lord,” Babi said.
“Yes,” Abe agreed.
Celia tugged on Millie’s arm. “Can I see him?”
“Perhaps later.” Millie bent to pick up her little sister. “The doctor says we should be able to take Paul home in a couple of days.”
“I have work to do, but I’ll return as soon as possible,” Abe promised.
Millie wanted to stand closer, to give him reason to touch her, to brush his fingers across her cheek, but she controlled the urge. “Thank you.”
Once inside, Babi set a food basket and a fabric-wrapped bundle on the couch and patted the seat next to her.
“Did Rose go to her job?” Millie asked.
“Yes. She’ll join us later.”
Celia blurted, “We’re going to make a hat.”
“We need to keep our hands busy.” Babi winked. “And it’s high time for Celia to learn how to sew.”
Millie peeked inside the package. Babi had remembered everything including the three pieces of satin from Abe. “Shall we take our supplies to the table on the far side of the room and get started?”
Millie threaded a needle for Celia and showed her how to make a straight line of small, even stitches on the muslin scraps. She drew a pencil mark across the fabric and instructed Celia to practice. Babi sat close by and offered encouragement.
Mother would be pleased. Her reverie dissolved when Father rolled into the room, concern stamped on his forehead.
“What is it?” Millie asked. “Did you see Paul?”
“I did.” His voice cracked. “He begged me not to leave. The nurse pushed me right out of the ward.”
Millie cringed. “How awful for you both.”
“We’re going to make a hat,” Celia said.
“Here?” Father glowered at the materials spread before them. “While my son struggles to breathe?”
Millie tipped her head toward Celia. “We need to keep busy, Father.”
“I’m going to make a hat for our hat shop, right, Millie?” Celia asked.
“Again with the hat shop?” Father shook his head. “Stop filling the child’s head with nonsense. Sewing hats does not mean any of you can run a business. Waste of time, if you ask me.”
He spun his chair around and called over his shoulder, “I’m going outside.”
Little Celia scampered to the door to hold it open for him.
Just before the afternoon visiting hours, the lobby filled with people. Father and Babi went to see Paul while the two sisters continued to sew. Celia graduated from sewing scraps to hemming a square of cotton she called a handkerchief. Millie cut the green satin from self-made pattern pieces and pinned them around the milliner’s block.
“Excuse me,” a woman interrupted.
Millie looked up from her creation. A well-dressed woman stood over them.
“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Hazel Wellington. May I take a closer look?” She touched the fabric lightly. “This design is stunning. Where did you study millinery?”
“My mother taught me.”
“You do lovely work. Would you consider selling me this hat and one just like it?”
Millie gulped. “Sell it?”
“This weekend, my sister Violet and I will host an annual soiree and we always dress exactly alike. The hats my sister chose are dreadful.” Miss Wellington gave a sheepish grin. “I’d need both hats in four days, but I will pay top dollar.”
Millie’s stomach flip-flopped, but she remained calm and professional on the outside as she and Miss Wellington agreed on the terms of the transaction.
Miss Wellington clapped her gloved hands. “I almost forgot. What is your name?”
“Millie Pulnik.”
“I’m so pleased to meet you, Millie. Violet and I will eagerly await your delivery.”
Millie was bursting to share the good news with her family. She’d made her first sale—and not just one, but two hats.
Chapter 8
By evening, Paul’s condition showed marked improv
ement and his doctor recommended the family go home for the night. Abe borrowed the bread truck to transport them. Celia sat on Father’s lap in the front seat while Rose, Babi, and Millie sat on upturned crates in the back of the panel truck. Rose bounced her legs as the women discussed how to budget the money needed to complete the hat order.
Millie took Rose’s hand and teased, “If we plan well, we may be able to open a small millinery shop before you are of marriageable age.”
Rose blushed, and Babi laughed for the first time in months.
“Stop chattering about hats,” Father demanded. “Selling hats won’t put food on the table. I expect Paul to have meat every day to help him regain his strength.”
Silence blanketed the women. Just like Father to quell their enthusiasm. Millie did have the business skills to sell hats. All they needed were more hat orders and the willingness to sacrifice where they could. It was unreasonable to demand that Paul have meat every day. What about Celia? When did Father ever consider her needs? Millie rubbed her temples. She’d prove to Father she could run a business.
That evening, after Father and Celia were asleep, the women counted the remaining money from Rose’s first paycheck and decided she’d go to the yard goods store after work tomorrow and purchase the needed materials to make the second hat. Millie would return to work, and Babi would accompany Father and Celia to the hospital.
While they talked, Rose and Millie stitched until the first green hat was complete, satin rosettes and all.
Early Wednesday morning Millie and Rose helped Babi plan a special meal in celebration of Paul’s homecoming. Babi suggested they buy a few potatoes and carrots and use the last tin of beef to make a stew. Millie figured that should be hearty enough to satisfy Father’s expectation that Paul would have meat every day while he recovered. Babi offered to bake a loaf of bread and a small cake with the last of the flour.
That settled, Millie hugged Rose and Babi and set off to work. The sun’s rays had already found their way between the buildings and warmed her shoulders as she waited for the double-decker bus. She’d gladly sit on the upper deck today.
Even before the driver stopped the bus, Millie’s vantage point afforded her a glimpse of the area outside the factory. As many as a hundred people were milling about. Were they her coworkers? Why were they not inside the building?
She stepped off the bus and hurried toward the factory.
“There she is!” A gruff voice shouted and pointed at her. “There’s the snitch.”
Millie dropped her chin to her chest and scrambled up the cobblestones. Would they continue badgering her once she was inside?
As soon as she saw the glint of metal, she understood why so many people were outside the factory. Heavy steel chains hung from the closed doors.
The jeers grew louder. “Look what you’ve done.” Men and women alike shook their fists at her. “How do I feed my family now?”
Her head throbbed and her stomach tightened. Was she to blame for the factory closing?
The pregnant woman Millie had talked to days ago bowed her head as her husband joined those yelling at her. Why had she trusted this woman? After their conversation that day at the factory, the woman had run right to her husband to expose Millie as a snitch. He must have told everyone she was in partnership with the union. And now, because of the union, the factory was closed.
That meant what they said was true. It was her fault chains hung from the doors. Had Abe known this would be the outcome? Had that been his plan all along? To find a way to shut down the factory without regard for the workers? Why hadn’t he warned her instead of setting her up to be the scapegoat?
She pushed her palms over her ears and ran through the contemptuous crowd, not stopping until her lungs burned in her chest. What was she to do? After she and Rose and Babi made the perfect plan to improve their family’s condition and realize their dream of a hat shop, she’d misjudged Abe’s intentions and lost her job. She’d trusted him the same way she’d trusted Nathan. What was wrong with her? Why was she incapable of judging a man’s character?
Millie straightened her shoulders. She’d show them all. She’d go directly to St. Paul’s and ask for more hours in the laundry.
Millie smoothed her skirt and pinned a few loose strands of hair back into her chignon before she entered her boss’s office suite. His secretary opened his door and announced Millie would like to speak to him.
“Isn’t that fortuitous? I hoped to speak with her today.”
Millie entered, curious why he’d want to speak to her. “Good morning, sir. Thank you for seeing me.”
He looked different from when she had first met him. She remembered him to be amiable, but now he leaned across his desk and cast a derisive grin her way. “Did you know my brother-in-law works over at Berg’s? Maybe you’ve met him. He’s the foreman on the second floor.”
She stuffed her fists in her skirt pockets. “I don’t believe I have, sir.”
“He saw you snooping around the other day. Checked with some others from the third floor and discovered you’re conspiring with the union.”
Beads of sweat dampened her upper lip. “I believe in the union, yes, sir.”
“Well, I straight up do not condone unions, or anyone else, telling me how to run my business. And I absolutely cannot have a union informant working for me.”
“But sir—”
“Collect your time card and take it to my secretary. She’ll pay you for the days you worked. I’d prefer not to give you any money, but I don’t want it said I cheated you either. Who knows how you’d report that to your union friends.”
Millie’s mouth fell open, but no words formed. She lost two jobs in one day because of her affiliation with Abe and the union. She’d trusted Abe, relied on his guidance and protection, and been played for a fool again. One would think, after she misjudged Nathan, she would’ve learned a man’s word was not to be trusted.
Abe arrived at the office later than expected after he’d transported Paul home. He rummaged through the files for the list of those hired through the union to work at Berg’s Emporium. Of those, he identified six terminations. Yuri’s name was absent from the list of those terminated. If Berg fired without the union’s knowledge, did he also hire without their knowledge? At any rate, for the rest of the day he’d focus his attention on contacting those on the termination list to see whether any of them would be willing to testify.
He knocked on four doors before he found someone at home. “Good afternoon. I’m Abraham Skala. I represent the International Ladies Garment Workers Union.”
“The union was s’posed to protect us,” a middle-aged woman spat out. “I made one little mistake and Berg fired me.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Would you like the union to assist you in finding a new position?”
“No. You can leave me alone. Empty promises. That’s all. I got myself a nighttime job rolling tobacco into cigars. Don’t need anybody to find me a job.”
“The union needs people like you who were fired unfairly. You can help make conditions better for everyone by testifying against Mr. Berg.”
“Why would I help the union? Get goin’ now and don’t come back.” With a scowl, she slammed the door in his face.
It was nearing the end of the workday for Berg’s employees, and despite Abe’s agreement with Millie to stay clear of the place, he had to go there if he had any chance of talking with the employees.
No workers waited at the bus stop. Something was wrong. Abe rounded the corner and recognized the chains on Berg’s factory doors as those of the fire marshal. The property had been deemed unsafe. Had Mr. Crane changed his mind and reported the fire safety violations earlier than he’d indicated at their meeting? Those chains meant all the factory workers, including Millie, were without jobs until the building passed inspection. There was no telling how long that might take. Abe may not be able to assist all of them in finding replacement jobs, but he had to help Millie. Even with her se
cond job and Rose bringing home wages, the family still suffered financially with all the added medical bills. Just this morning when he transported Millie’s grandmother to the hospital to pick up Paul, she’d mentioned the rising debt from the hospital as late fees and interest compounded the initial debt. Her voice wavered when she confided that her son-in-law suggested she go to the poorhouse.
He had to help Millie find an alternative position. Millie was not Job. She couldn’t be expected to suffer one more setback. She’d be on her way to her laundress position by now. Abe had ample time to go home, freshen up, and have his supper at Mrs. Dunn’s before he drove to Millie’s tenement and waited for her to come home from the laundry.
Evening shadows fell over Mrs. Dunn’s front yard flower garden as Abe walked through the gate. The porch swing creaked against the weight of a man, his silhouette familiar and his presence as repugnant as a sewer rat.
“Abraham?”
“I don’t believe it.” Abe crossed his arms over his chest as a chill settled deep in his gut. “You are not welcome here, Tymon.”
His father stood and stepped toward him. “Come now, Son. After all these years, give your old man a bite to eat and a place to stay until I get back on my feet.”
“Why should I help you get back on your feet? I owe you nothing.” Abe turned to enter the house.
“Your mother would want you to help me—”
Abe whipped around and poked his finger in his father’s chest. “Don’t speak to me about what Mother would want. Because of you, we were destitute. If not for Mrs. Dunn’s kindness, we would’ve been out in the street.”
“Don’t make me beg,” he whispered. “I’m asking for a few days. Some food and a place to sleep. I’m a little down on my luck.”
“Is that what they call it when you’re released from prison?” Abe scoffed. “Down on your luck?”
His father hung his head. “So you know about that.”
“You let us believe you were dead.”
“Ah, I asked a friend to tell that story. Seemed like it’d be easier on your mother and my sister.”