A Proper Pursuit (14 page)

“I-I guess I could give it a try.” I was glad that at least one other thing I’d learned at Madame B.’s besides my enigmatic smile would be put to good use.

“I understand that your grandfather was an outstanding preacher—and that your father worked for Mr. Moody around the time of the Great Fire.”

“What? Not
my
father. You must be mistaken. He owns a bunch of grain elevators in Lockport.”

“I’m sorry. Perhaps I’m mistaken. I must have misunderstood what your grandmother told me.”

What had she told Louis? And what other secrets was my family keeping from me? Anger boiled up inside me the way it had the night I’d learned the truth about my mother. I was trying not to let it spew out when Louis spoke again.

“I would love to hear your testimony, Miss Hayes.”

“My what?”

“Your testimony—the story of your faith.”

I drew a deep breath, not sure of what he meant. “There isn’t much to tell. My father and I usually attend a small church in Lockport, but religion doesn’t seem to interest him very much— which is why I’m certain you’re mistaken about his working for Mr. Moody. When I went away to boarding school, the headmistress required all of us to attend church services on Sunday. It was our duty, Madame B. said. She called it our ‘weekly obligation.’ My grandmother is much more religious than Father and I are. She pours all of her energy into her causes, as I’m sure you know. My grandfather was a minister, as you also know, but my father seems rather indifferent when it comes to religion.”

“What about you, Violet? I’m not asking about your father’s faith or your grandmother’s. I want to know about yours.”

I had no idea what to say. Going to church was simply something everyone did on Sunday. The religious traditions were especially nice during the holidays. But Louis Decker seemed to imply that there should be more to it than that.

“I didn’t mean to put you on the spot,” he said when I didn’t reply. “I’d just like to get to know you a little better.” He removed his smudged spectacles and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to clean them. I saw no difference at all when he’d finished rubbing them and had put them on again.

“I would like to know you better too,” I said.

I longed to ask him one of my “If you could choose” questions, but I didn’t dare. I didn’t want him to know how frivolous and shallow I really was. My wild flights of imagination seemed immature compared to the serious work he did every day. For some reason I wanted Louis to like me, to approve of me—and I sensed that he would be shocked to learn that I enjoyed reading detective stories and dime novels. I had just met Louis Decker a few minutes ago, yet I cared very much about what he thought of me. Was it for my grandmother’s sake or for my own?

We found my grandmother again, and she looked so hopeful as she studied our faces that I was certain she was indeed playing matchmaker. I never would have expected it of her.

“I look forward to seeing you again, Miss Hayes,” Louis said as we parted.

“Yes. So do I.” I meant it too.

The Sunday worship service in my grandmother’s church was very different from the one back home in Lockport. The music was livelier, the preaching more passionate, and for once I had no trouble at all staying awake during the sermon.

“Is this where you come to do your charity work every day?” I asked her later as we rode the streetcar home.

“This is just one of the places where I’m needed.Why do you ask?”

“Mr. Decker asked me to come back with you some time and play the piano for the song services.”

“And are you going to?”

“I told him I would try. I’m not a very accomplished player. And I’m horribly out of practice.”

“Louis is a very fine young man. He works tirelessly for the Lord.”

“He asked if he could see me again. He wants to get to know me better.”

“I’m so glad.” Grandmother and I sat side by side on the wooden streetcar seat and she rested her hand on top of mine. “I realize that Louis Decker can’t compete with all of the wealthy suitors Agnes has lined up for you. But I think that in the long run you would find life with a man like Louis much more meaningful than a life of endless parties and teas.”

I suspected that she was right. And I was quite certain that a man like Louis Decker wouldn’t commit adultery.

“Can I ask you something?” I said after a moment. “Louis said that my father used to work with Mr. Moody. Is that true?” The streetcar rumbled down an entire city block before she replied.

“Your father was a volunteer with Mr. Moody’s Yokefellows.”

“What are Yokefellows?”

“It’s a group of layman he started. They go around to saloons and bars searching for converts.”

Now it was my turn to pause as I summoned the courage to ask my next question.

“Was that how he met my mother?”

“No,” she said quietly. “I don’t know all the details of the night they met, but I know that it wasn’t in a saloon.”

“Aunt Birdie said that my parents met during the Great Fire. Is that true?”

Again Grandmother hesitated for a long time, as if deciding whether or not to talk about my mother. I knew that she might not answer, but I also knew that she wouldn’t lie.

“Yes, it’s true,” she said quietly. “Your father rescued her.”

“Rescued her? How?”

“Your father had gone to the evening service at Mr. Moody’s Illinois Street church. It was a beautiful building with Sunday school classrooms, an office, a library … He told me that Mr. Moody preached a sermon on the life of Jesus. The service was still in progress, in fact, when they heard all the fire engines rushing past. Then the great courthouse bell began to toll in warning, and the congregation started to grow restless, concerned about all the noise and confusion in the streets outside. Mr. Moody ended the service so everyone could leave. The fire swept through the city that night, burning Mr. Moody’s church and his home to the ground.”

“Did my father—?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Violet Rose, but you need to ask him these questions, not me… .Now, you wanted to know what some of my other work projects are. I’m also involved with the Temperance Union. Our goal is to have all alcoholic beverages banned and all of the saloons closed for good. We want to put an end to drunkenness and to the lawlessness that goes hand in hand with it.We’re trying to have the alcohol removed from patent medicines as well—or else have them banned outright. Most people don’t even know that these so-called ‘medicines’ contain alcohol, but many of them do. They have caused untold sorrow when people unknowingly become addicted to them.”

I wondered if Dr. Dean’s Blood Builder contained alcohol. If so, Silas McClure better not try to peddle any of it to my grandmother.

“But I spend most of my time working at Jane Addams’ settlement house,” Grandmother continued. “Louis Decker works there too. He’s wonderful with the children and very handy at repairing things.”

“What’s a settlement house?”

“It’s not something I can explain easily—you should come down and see it for yourself. In fact, you’re welcome to come with me tomorrow, if you’d like. We can always use an extra pair of hands. And Louis will be there too,” she added with a smile.

I could hardly say no. I’d gone to the suffrage rally with Aunt Matt and to parties and social events with Aunt Agnes. How could I refuse my grandmother? And when I remembered the pitiful children I’d seen today, I knew I couldn’t turn my back on them.

“I would like that,” I replied.

I lay in bed that night, trying to imagine my father going into saloons and talking to drunken patrons about God. I couldn’t do it. I found it impossible to imagine that he’d ever been as intensely passionate about religion as Louis Decker was. In fact, it was hard to imagine my staid, unemotional father being passionate about anything. Had all of his feelings died when my mother left us?

My father rescued my mother from the fire
.

I imagined him running down the street, flames licking at his heels as he carried a load of Bibles in his arms.
Suddenly he heard
desperate cries. He looked up, and the most beautiful woman he had ever
seen stood before an open second-story window, trapped inside the burning
building, choking on thick clouds of smoke. He dropped the Bibles,
knowing that God would surely understand, and urged—no, begged—the
beautiful maiden to leap from the window, promising to catch her …

Or maybe my mother had been running in terror through the flaming, smoke-filled streets—barefooted, fear-crazed, as burning buildings fell into piles of rubble all around her.
Suddenly she twisted
her ankle and fell to the ground. No one would help her. People trampled
over her. And as the flames raced toward her along with billows of hot,
choking smoke, my father suddenly heard her desperate cries for help. He
dropped the Bibles he had been trying to save—certain that God valued
life more than mere paper, regardless of how holy it was. Giving no
thought to his own safety, he ran back through the flaming debris to rescue
her, heedless of the heat and smoke. He swooped her up into his arms and
carried her to safety, falling in love with her the moment he looked into
her fear-filled eyes. In fact, they both fell passionately in love… .

What would it feel like to fall passionately in love?

I fell asleep thinking about Louis Decker and Herman Beckett and Nelson Kent and wondering if I would ever know true love.

Chapter

10

Monday, June 12, 1893

I
hadn’t risen early enough to eat breakfast since coming to Chicago a week ago, but I crawled out of bed on Monday morning determined to work at the settlement house with my grandmother and Louis Decker. I staggered downstairs and found her and my two aunts seated at the table, feasting on bacon and eggs.

“Good morning, Violet,” Grandmother said. She was one of those perennially cheerful people who managed to rise from her bed with a smile on her face. I, on the other hand, was not one to rise early—and certainly not cheerfully. At school, I considered myself fortunate if I made it to my first class on time, let alone to the breakfast table.

“Morning,” I rasped. Grandmother sprang from her seat, bouncing around the kitchen like an overfilled tennis ball.

“Come in and sit down, Violet dear. I’ll fix you a plate.”

“I’m really not hungry. I don’t usually eat breakfast… .” She ignored my words and heaped a plate with scrambled eggs, several rashers of bacon, and two thick slices of toast.

My eyes weren’t quite open yet, and everything looked blurry, but I saw that my Aunt Matt was engrossed in reading a newspaper, her face hidden behind it. Madame Beauchamps would not have approved. In the first place, it was very rude to ignore the rest of us who were seated at the table with her, and in the second place, proper ladies weren’t supposed to take an interest in such a masculine thing as a newspaper.

“What’s the latest news on the war, Matilda?” Aunt Birdie asked her. “Has General McClellan conquered Richmond, yet?”

In the short time that I’d lived here, I’d changed my mind about telling poor Aunt Birdie the truth. She had such a gentle, loving heart that I could see how discovering the truth about her beloved Gilbert might cause her deep anguish. But I had also learned that Aunt Matt was very forthright and direct. I couldn’t imagine her lying to Birdie about the war, anymore than I could imagine my grandmother lying. I held my breath, wondering what Aunt Matt would say. She lowered the paper and faced her sister.

“I didn’t see any articles about General McClellan or Richmond, Bertha. But you’re welcome to read the paper for yourself when I’m finished with it.”

“The print is too small,” Birdie said. “It hurts my eyes to read it.”

“There is one article, however, that I think we all should pay attention to.” The pages rattled as Aunt Matt folded the paper into a smaller square. She cleared her throat as if about to make an important announcement. “From now on we need to be very cautious about opening the door to strangers. It says here in the paper that ever since the Exposition came to Chicago, thieves have been roaming around posing as traveling salesmen. The phony drummer comes to the door, selling all manner of things from household brushes to patent medicines. He is friendly and amusing as he charms his way into the house, but whether or not he makes a sale is immaterial… . Are you listening to this, Bertha?” She tapped her finger against the page for emphasis.

Aunt Birdie focused on Aunt Matt once again instead of gazing into the air above her head. She nodded solemnly. But in truth, not only would Birdie let a thief inside, she probably would give him a hug.

“If the drummer does make a sale,” Aunt Matt continued, “he uses the opportunity to make note of where the lady of the house keeps her cash. But the salesman’s real objective is to observe the home’s layout and the whereabouts of any valuables. He later relays the information to his partners, and they break into the house when no one is home and steal all of the family’s silver and other valuables.”