Silent Echoes Page 20

  She quickly peeled her clothes off her sticky body and stepped into the shower. She didn’t have any soap or shampoo, but just rinsing off felt amazing. After a few minutes she actually managed to relax a little.

  She used Tanya’s sweatshirt to dry off and put her clothes back on, realizing she’d feel even better if she did laundry. Shopping for towels and soap. Laundry. All things that took up time. And if Lucy finally showed up…

  Getting back to her room with her chair and backpack, she tried calling again. This time it worked.

  “I’m glad you’re there,” Lucy said. “I’m sorry I was delayed. This day has been…” She trailed off.

  “Mine too.”

  “I can’t stay,” Lucy said. “I just wanted to let you know that everything went brilliantly with Mr. Smithton. And,” she added, and Lindsay could hear the glint in the invisible girl’s eyes, “I’ve convinced him to not only pay me the extraordinary fee, but now I get a percentage of all he earns with my financial tips!”

  “My tips,” Lindsay corrected.

  “So I’ll need a few more suggestions,” Lucy continued. “Oh—he asked about hiring this fellow Caleb Alonso. Whether or not he’s trustworthy. Also about some stock investment. I believe it’s called the Carmichael Enterprises.”

  “I’ll check.”

  “Perfect. I must dash. I have an appointment. Can I get the answers to these questions tomorrow morning?”

  “Sure. I don’t have anything else to do.”

  “Oh, you’re a love. Tomorrow, then. Around eleven?”

  “I’ll be here.” Lindsay sighed. “Where else would I go?”

  The smell hit Lucy first: rotting garbage, sweat, filth. Next was the crush of objects, people, and animals in cramped, dark quarters. After that was the confidence with which Alan Wordsworth and Harriet Embers entered the dilapidated tenement and spoke with the inhabitants while she hung back, ill at ease.

  It wasn’t that she’d never seen such conditions—she had seen many such sights while traipsing about the Northeast with her father. It was a splash of cold water on this bright, chill Tuesday morning, a reminder of what could be that sent quivers along her spine, that this was a fate still looming before her.

  No, she told herself as she stepped over a heap of rags on the stoop. Not with Mr. Smithton.

  This was the third building she, Alan, and Harriet had visited this morning. In each, Harriet had spoken only with women and girls, often asking Alan to step outside. Lucy learned far more about the workings of the female body, relations between men and women, the ways conception might be prevented and health preserved than she had ever known. The responses Harriet got ranged from shock, revulsion, and outrage to gratitude, interest, and even some dialogue debating the merits of various devices, methods, and compounds. All of these reactions mirrored Lucy’s own constantly changing feelings.

  Harriet Embers seemed to be the least likely person to have knowledge of such things. She was nothing like Lucy had imagined. She had pictured Harriet as someone Alan might be courting, but the woman was old enough to be Alan’s mother and was, in fact, a friend of his parents.

  Her willowy form was unadorned by fashionable tight lacing or pads; her light brown hair was streaked with gray and worn in a simple twist, and stray hairs often fell into her face. She was friendly but brusque, and although she could be reassuring and motherly, she clearly had no patience for squeamishness and even less for the men who tried to throw her out and keep her from speaking with their wives, daughters, and mistresses. Lucy knew that many of these girls were probably selling themselves, but in this environment she was uncertain who was who.

  They entered the dimly lit hallway and headed toward the back of the narrow building. “Flora?” Harriet called. “It’s Harriet Embers to see you.”

  A skittering sound and a sudden movement around her ankle made Lucy clutch Alan’s arm. He looked down and patted her hand. “I don’t like rats either,” he said.

  A door up ahead opened a sliver. “Can’t see you, Harriet,” a hoarse voice whispered.

  “And why’s that, Flora?” Harriet demanded.

  “Ill.”

  Alan stepped forward. “I’m a doctor. I’d be happy to examine you.”

  The door suddenly closed, then reopened. A thick, broad-shouldered tough in a stained shirt and tattered pants stood there. “Get out of here,” he shouted. “We don’t need the likes of you coming round, putting ideas into Flora’s head.”

  Lucy was surprised to see Alan step forward. The glowering man in the doorway could smash him easily.

  “I’m a doctor,” Alan said. “If Flora is sick, perhaps I can help her.”

  “Don’t need your help.” The door slammed shut.

  Alan and Harriet exchanged a look, and Harriet shrugged.

  “Aren’t we going in?” Lucy asked.

  “It could do more harm than good if we persisted,” Harriet said. “We’ll try again another day.”

  Alan crouched down and slipped a card under the door. “You never know,” he said as he stood back up. “At least they’ll have the hospital address if they need it.”

  “They probably can’t read it,” Harriet pointed out.

  That reminded Lucy—her father hadn’t been by to see her. She wondered if he had picked up the papers to use in the next batch of predictions at the Lyceum.

  They returned to the street, which wasn’t much cleaner than the tenement but wasn’t as suffocating. “I’m feeling peckish,” Harriet said. “Let’s have tea and a bite.”

  They walked several blocks to Harriet’s office. The room was small but very tidy—everything had a place. It was so well organized Lucy wasn’t sure where to put her hat and coat. Nor did she know where to look—everywhere she turned, her eyes landed on some pamphlet, object, or diagram that made her horribly aware that she was a female and that Alan, as a doctor and as someone who worked with Harriet, had at least a general knowledge of every inch of her.

  Alan seemed to feel no such awkwardness. She saw an entirely different side of him with Harriet. He was relaxed and even witty.

  He tossed his gloves into his hat and placed it on the windowsill. He turned and stretched a hand toward Lucy. She took it and squeezed lightly. His hand was strong and much larger than hers. Larger than Bryce’s too. Bryce had slim, elegant fingers; Alan’s hand felt as if it belonged to a man who had known work.

  He looked surprised, then said, “Would you like me to take your hat and coat?”

  Lucy dropped Alan’s hand as if it had burned her. What is wrong with me? Lucy blushed far redder than Alan ever had. “Thank you,” she said in a strangled whisper.

  Graciously ignoring her discomfort, he took her things and hung them on the corner of the crammed bookcase.

  “What did you think of your first day in the trenches, Lucy?” Harriet asked as she tended to the tea.

  “It was most interesting,” Lucy said.

  “You handled it well,” Alan said. “Other girls might not have lasted after that first building.”

  “Or my first lecture!” Harriet laughed and handed Lucy a cup of tea. “Lucy, why don’t you take the chair?” she added, gesturing to the worn chair behind the desk.

  “Are you sure?” Lucy asked gratefully. Her boots pinched after all the walking they’d done today. If she continued working with Harriet, she’d have to find more-comfortable shoes.

  “Of course, dear,” Harriet said, giving Alan his tea. “Alan and I are old soldiers, used to the conditions out there.”

  “Thank you.” Lucy sat in the chair, relishing the moment she took the pressure off her feet and looking forward to taking off her corset and stays. She glanced enviously at Harriet’s unencumbered figure. Of course, Bryce would never approve. Going without a corset would really be too much.

  Harriet perched on the edge of the desk while Alan sat on the windowsill.

  “I’m going to need some more supplies,” Harriet mused.

  “I’ll see
what I can do,” Alan promised.

  Harriet shook her head. “No. You can’t keep purchasing these things for me through the hospital.” She laughed. “I know how meager a student doctor’s salary is. At this rate, you’ll never be able to buy your own place and support a wife, much less a family.”

  “She’s worse than my own mother,” Alan said to Lucy.

  “Your mother trusts me to keep an eye on you,” Harriet scolded.

  Alan shook his head, smiling. “Why is it that two women who reject the notion of marriage, who believe laws surrounding matrimony are terrible, antiquated, and nearly the worst evil ever perpetrated, are intent on marrying me off?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” Harriet protested. Then she smiled wickedly. “Well, perhaps I would.”

  Lucy’s eyes widened. Did this mean Alan’s mother and father weren’t married?

  “I’m not the only one in need of funds,” Alan reminded her. “The income from your father’s trust can’t last forever, no matter how much you water down the tea.”

  “Don’t insult my tea, young man,” Harriet scolded. “Or I won’t give you a slice of cake.”

  Lucy sipped her tea, enjoying the banter between them.

  Harriet sighed and frowned. “But you’re right. The Women’s Help Committee could use some help of its own.”

  “I may be coming into some funds soon,” Alan said.

  Harriet’s eyebrows raised. “Alan, are you planning to inherit from some newly discovered relatives?”

  “Nothing like that. Bryce Cavanagh has a line on an investment that should pay off handsomely.”

  “Bryce?” Lucy asked.

  “Of the Cavanaghs?” Harriet asked. “The boy you were at school with?”

  Alan nodded and put his teacup down beside him on the windowsill. “He’s been learning the ins and outs of Wall Street.” He gave Lucy a glance, then looked away. “His father insisted he do some kind of work, and I guess this stock trading suits him.”

  “Stocks are just another form of gambling,” Harriet warned.

  “Not with someone like Bryce.” Alan sighed. “Golden boys tend to stay golden—and turn dross into gold. Besides, this way my money can work in the stock market while I’m working all those long hours at the hospital.”

  Lucy tried to remember whether Bryce had ever mentioned this Wall Street pursuit. He didn’t really talk to her about work. In fact, much of his life was a mystery to her.

  She made a note to ask him more about himself, the way she did with Alan. Take more of an interest in his activities and routines. She lifted her teacup to her lips to blow on it, but the contents had already grown cold.

  Twenty-four

  Lindsay walked out of a movie theater, blinking in the strange twilight. Everything looked surreal after being in the dark, underground cave of the theater. Unable to take another day alone, with no one to talk to, she’d withdrawn cash out of the ATM and gone to the first showing. She discovered no one noticed if she slipped from one movie to the other. Three movies for the price of one—and she’d filled up nearly six hours.

  The sun was pinking and purpling; the library wouldn’t stay open much longer, and she had to make photocopies for Lucy’s dad. She climbed the shallow stairs slowly, her feet weighing more with each step she took. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been hoping to see Tanya standing there, waiting for her.

  Pushing aside the disappointment before it could overwhelm her, she sat down at a computer. She’d become adept at doing keyword searches in newspaper databases, and she quickly found the answers to Lucy’s questions. This experience could turn her into a history major after all.

  She dropped off the papers at McSorley’s and headed to Tompkins Square Park. She just wasn’t ready to go back to her room, and Lucy had warned her she’d be late this evening.

  She spotted Flip balancing on one leg on a bench, Haley sitting, shoulders slumped, beside him.

  “Hello, beautiful bird,” Flip called as Lindsay approached. “I’m a flamingo; what are you?”

  “Shut up, Flip,” Haley said. Her makeup was caked, and her hair was so greasy it didn’t even move when she tossed her head. “So where have you been?”

  “I’ve been by a few times, but you guys have never been around.”

  Flip leapt off the bench and flopped beside Haley. He leaned into her, nearly knocking her over. “I’m always around,” he said, giggling. “And Haley sure gets around.”

  Haley shoved him away from her and he rolled onto the pavement, still laughing. “You’re just mad because I didn’t share,” he said.

  Haley rolled her eyes. “He’s so stupid when he’s stoned.” She crossed her legs, her top foot fidgeting. She bit her nails, finger by finger.

  Letting out a frustrated breath, she stood and stepped over Flip, who lay on his back on the pavement, staring up at the sky. “Get up,” she hissed. “You’re going to get hauled off.”

  “It’s so sweet how she worries about me.” Flip pulled himself up onto the bench.

  “Come on,” Haley ordered Lindsay, and without even thinking, Lindsay fell into step beside the tall girl.

  “Are you still in that hotel?” Haley asked.

  “Yeah,” Lindsay said.

  Haley glanced back over her shoulder at Flip, then slipped her arm through Lindsay’s.

  “Listen,” Haley said. “I didn’t want to ask you in front of Flip, but can I come up to your room? I just want to take a shower. I totally stink. I can’t stand it.”

  “I don’t know….”

  “Please? I’m so rank I can’t even believe you’re willing to stand this close to me.” She smiled. “I mean, I’m glad you are, but…”

  Lindsay remembered how incredible showering had felt, how much it changed everything. “Okay,” she relented.

  Haley grinned. “I’d hug you, but I’ll spare you the smell!”

  Up at her room Lindsay pulled out the brand-new towels, soap, and shampoo she bought last night.

  “Is that for me?” Haley asked.

  “Yeah.” Lindsay handed her one of the towels, then the soap and shampoo. “Just don’t leave them in there.”

  “You are awesome,” Haley said. “Totally five-star treatment.”

  “There’s no lock,” Lindsay warned her.

  “As long as there’s water, I don’t care.”

  When Haley returned, Lindsay barely recognized the girl standing in front of her. Gone were the raccoon eyes, the streaks of bronzer and blush, the dark lipstick. Just out of the shower, Haley could be one of Lindsay’s classmates. A basically pretty girl with not-great skin; just another kid.

  “What?” Haley demanded, handing Lindsay the soap and shampoo. She strode into the room and picked up her bag. Still wearing the towel wrapped around her head, she crouched, pulled out her makeup, and started lining her eyes with black pencil.

  ‘Nothing,” Lindsay said. “Hey, I’m going to take a shower too.” She picked up the other towel and the chair, struggling to not drop the soap and shampoo.

  Haley glanced up at her, her penciled eyebrows raised. “You gonna shower sitting down?”

  Lindsay laughed. “No,” she said. “This is how I lock the door.”

  Haley shrugged. “Whatever.” She went back to her tiny mirror.

  In the bathroom, Lindsay shoved the chair under the doorknob, wondering how old Haley really was. All this time, Lindsay had assumed Haley was at least eighteen, maybe older. But now…

  She turned on the shower, thrilled beyond belief that it was still steamy hot. She soaped up luxuriously, reveling in the bubbles, the fresh scent, the lather. She made ridiculous styles with her shampooed hair the way her mother used to for her when she was little.

  All too soon, someone pounded on the door. “Someone in there?” a gruff male voice demanded. “I really gotta go.”

  “Sorry!” she called. “I’ll be out in a sec.”

  She shut off the water, toweled off quickly, and stepped into her c
lean clothes. It was time to get out anyway, and Haley was waiting for her back in her room.

  “You know, I think cleanliness really is next to godliness,” Lindsay declared as she opened the door.

  But the room was empty.

  “Haley?” she called stupidly. The room was tiny, and there was no closet. If Haley wasn’t instantly visible, she wasn’t there.

  Lindsay pulled the chair into the room, letting the door slam behind her. I guess she had someplace to be.

  Disappointed that she had to kill time alone, Lindsay rubbed her head with the towel, then draped it over the back of the chair to dry. She picked up the towel Haley had dropped on the floor and laid it over the chair seat. It was still damp, and there was smeared makeup all over it. Lindsay would have to do laundry again.

  It was still another hour before Lucy was due to arrive, and despite all the popcorn she’d eaten at the movies, Lindsay was hungry. She went to get her wallet out of her backpack, and that was when she realized—her pack was in a different place. She had shoved it in the corner. Now it lay on her bed. Her heart pounded; nerves made her ears burn. She can’t—She didn’t—Lindsay couldn’t even complete the thought.

  Frantically she tugged, pulled, yanked, threw everything out of her backpack. She sank to the floor, staring into space.

  The wallet was gone. Her money, her cash card, school ID. Everything.

  “I’m so stupid,” she whispered. She slapped the floor, stomped her feet. “I don’t believe it!”

  She pushed herself up off the floor and grabbed her coat, vibrating with rage, her stomach sour, her face hot with shame that she had trusted Haley.

  She strode into Tompkins Square Park, shouting as soon as she spotted Haley.

  “Where’s my wallet?” Lindsay shrieked. “My money?”

  Haley tottered on high heels.

  “Hey, Lindsay Lou,” Haley drawled. “My shower superhero.”

  “I want my money. Now.” Lindsay shook she was so angry. And Haley was smiling all sweet and vague.

  “What money?” Haley licked her lips, and her eyes rolled a bit.