An Uncertain Dream (37 page)
Though Bill’s physical wounds had healed, leaving him without the use of his right hand, Fred worried his friend’s spiritual wounds might never heal. Each time something went amiss, Bill railed against God. He believed nothing in his life to be acceptable. He refrained from criticizing Fred but found fault with Ruth on a daily basis, and Fred wondered how much longer she would silently forbear her husband’s verbal assaults. On several occasions Fred had broached the subject, but Bill had made it abundantly clear he did not want Fred’s interference. If only he could think of some meaningful work that would permit Bill the opportunity to use the talents God had given him.
The house was dark when Fred arrived home. He entered quietly and slipped upstairs and into bed. Before he drifted off to sleep, he prayed for an answer to Bill’s dilemma, but mostly he prayed for Ruth and the children.
The following morning he hurried downstairs, and after a hearty breakfast with his mother, he strode toward the May-fields’ flat. His mother had assured him Olivia would be delighted by his unannounced visit. However, when he’d inquired about Olivia’s success with her search for a position in Chicago, his mother had been less forthcoming. He didn’t pursue the topic; he’d see Olivia soon enough.
He spotted Olivia on the front porch and quickened his gait. She turned and her face split in a smile when she saw him.
He panted for breath as he reached her side. ‘‘Did I manage to surprise you?’’
‘‘Yes. It’s wonderful to see you.’’
Fred touched his thumb to the hollow beneath her eye. ‘‘Are you not sleeping well?’’
‘‘I was with Martha and Albert most of the night. I’ve been home only long enough to change clothes.’’ She clutched his arm. ‘‘They have a wonderful baby boy. I couldn’t believe how big he is. They’ve named him Alexander; he is a handsome little man.’’ She babbled on and on, her excitement mounting as she told him about the child. ‘‘I do believe Albert is going to prove an excellent father. He couldn’t wait to hold his son.’’
‘‘I’m pleased all went well, and I’m glad Martha wanted you present for the birth. I know it’s been difficult not seeing much of her these past weeks.’’
‘‘I’ve missed both of them, but it was their desire that I stay away. And I don’t want Albert to think his association with either of us has harmed his future at the car works.’’
Fred grasped her elbow and escorted her down the front steps. ‘‘I’d like to see all of them, but it’s probably best I don’t.’’
Olivia nodded. ‘‘You’re likely correct. Besides, I doubt there will be time this afternoon, for I’ve invited Charlotte and Matthew to come for a visit. I’m not certain they’ll accept my invitation, but it would be great fun for all of us to enjoy a picnic and go boating, don’t you think?’’
He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. The softness of her skin never ceased to surprise him. ‘‘Yes, a picnic would be wonderful. You look especially lovely today. Is that a new dress?’’
She laughed and shook her head. ‘‘No. A very old dress that I’ve refurbished with a bit of ribbon and lace, but I’m pleased you like it.’’
A group of parishioners had gathered outside the church to visit prior to the service. Several greeted Fred as they approached and then told him the latest facts and figures: how many men had now returned to work and how many families had left in search of employment elsewhere. Those who had left the town had departed owing large sums of rent, but thus far the company had made no effort to collect from them. Fred imagined the effort to locate the former employees would prove difficult. At least those who moved on would begin their new lives afresh. Unless Fred missed his guess, those who remained would be paying off their rental debt for years to come.
Benjamin Guilfoyle clapped Fred on the shoulder. ‘‘I hope you don’t hold any ill will against those of us who have returned to work at the factory.’’
Fred extended his arm and shook hands with Benjamin. ‘‘Of course not. You have to do what’s best for you and your family. I can’t fault a man for wanting to put food on his table.’’
‘‘What about you, Fred? Olivia tells us you’re helping Bill Orland with his business. You thinking of throwing in with him on a permanent basis?’’
Fred motioned toward the church entrance. ‘‘Not sure what the future holds just yet, Benjamin. We best get inside before the services begin.’’ He grasped Olivia’s hand and escorted her up the steps before Benjamin could question him any further. Today he wanted to enjoy his time with Olivia and discover what progress she’d made with her job search.
Pullman, Illinois
Sunday, August 26, 1894
At the touch of his fingers on her elbow, Olivia looked at Fred as they descended the steps after church.
Fred nodded toward the grassy expanse down the street. ‘‘Why don’t we sit in the park for a few minutes before returning home? I want to talk to you in private, and if Charlotte and Matthew arrive, I doubt we’ll have much time to ourselves.’’ Lydia and Hannah Quinter raced down the church steps toward Olivia, their pigtails bouncing on their shoulders with each step. Fred grinned at the girls. ‘‘And there’s certainly no privacy at home.’’
After they explained their plans to Fred’s mother, the older woman and Chef René headed off in the opposite direction. Olivia marveled at the sight of the chef without his white jacket and toque. Seeing him in a dark suit with a crisp white shirt and perfectly knotted tie still seemed strange. He appeared a different man. And in some respects he was. The chef had always treated her with fairness and a greater kindness than she had, at times, deserved. But since he’d been courting Mrs. DeVault, Olivia had observed a more tender nature evolving. He no longer permitted his anger to boil over like a bubbling pot of water, even when the kitchen boys tried his patience. Mrs. DeVault’s character had influenced Olivia for the good; now it appeared she was doing the same for Chef René .
She truly wondered what the future held in store for the older couple. There had been several occasions when her curiosity had nearly bested her, but she’d withheld her questions.
‘‘Has your mother mentioned any plans for the future?’’ Olivia asked as she and Fred walked across the street.
He shook his head. ‘‘I’ve seen as little of her as I have of you. Right now I’m more interested in discussing your progress in locating a new job. That will affect my future much more than any plans of my mother’s making.’’
‘‘Searching for a position is very difficult. There is little time to do so.’’
‘‘Chef René refuses to assist you?’’
She didn’t want to cast blame on the chef, for her failure didn’t rest with him. He had permitted her time away from work for her venture into Chicago. But she worried that admitting her defeat would confirm Fred’s fears and seal her fate. Instead of recounting her failure at the hotels she’d visited, she told him about becoming ill in Chicago and the subsequent need to remain overnight.
‘‘I didn’t even have the opportunity to visit you. I had hoped to surprise you with a visit to Bill’s glass etching business.’’
He clasped her hand. ‘‘But you’re feeling better now?’’
‘‘Oh yes. I still don’t know what came over me. Charlotte thinks it was a case of nerves over the thought of losing you if I don’t find employment.’’
Fred’s upper body jerked as though she’d slapped him. ‘‘My intention is to create a solid marriage for us, not to cause distress.’’ He quickly clasped her hand in his. ‘‘You explained my reasoning to her, didn’t you?’’
‘‘Well yes, but I also told her I would happily marry you even if I couldn’t secure employment.’’
For a brief time Olivia successfully steered the conversation away from her failures in Chicago, but after Fred offered sympathy and expressed gratitude for Charlotte’s willingness to lend her assistance, he returned to the topic. ‘‘Did you have any time at all to place an application?’’
She bowed her head. ‘‘No, I haven’t filled out any applications.’’ That much was the truth.
Using a gentle touch, he lifted her chin. ‘‘Did you visit any hotels or restaurants?’’
‘‘Yes.’’ She decided a game of cat and mouse would prove dangerous, and she didn’t want Fred ever again to accuse her of lying to him. ‘‘They wouldn’t even look at my letter of recommendation or permit me to apply.’’
‘‘None of them?’’ He appeared even more surprised by the turn of events than she had been.
‘‘I had time enough to visit only three hotels. I hope to meet with more success on my next visit.’’
‘‘When do you plan to return?’’
‘‘The opportunity may present itself more quickly than I anticipated.’’ She twisted her handkerchief between her fingers while she described her unexpected encounter with Mr. Howard in Chicago. ‘‘I don’t know if he plans to discharge me or not. I know he was angry that Chef René permitted me time away from the hotel, but he’s said nothing more to either of us. My hope is that he’s forgotten the incident.’’
Fred shook his head. ‘‘He’s been busy with the commission meetings in Chicago, but when they’re completed on Wednesday, you can be certain he’ll return and address the matter.’’
Olivia gulped. ‘‘Do you think he will discharge me?’’
Fred raked his hand through his hair. ‘‘Who’s to say what that man will do? If he threatens your discharge, we can only hope that Chef René will come to your defense.’’
Her spirits plummeted. She had hoped Fred would say that none of it mattered and they would wed in spite of all that had occurred. But he didn’t. He remained steadfast in his conviction that she would become restless and unhappy in their marriage without suitable employment.
Before she could wage further argument, Fred spotted Matthew, Charlotte, and Morgan crossing the boulevard from the train depot. Olivia now wished she hadn’t invited them. She needed more time alone with Fred—time in which to change his mind about their future—but it didn’t appear that would happen this afternoon.
Fred jumped to his feet and waved at Matthew. ‘‘Come along, Olivia.’’
Olivia watched the approaching threesome. They appeared a perfect family. Once they came alongside, Olivia looped arms with Charlotte, and the group headed toward the DeVaults’ home. ‘‘It’s good to see the three of you.’’
They walked up the front steps, and Morgan waved at a butterfly that swooped on the breeze and came to rest on the porch railing. He giggled and leaned to the side, delight shining in his eyes.
‘‘Butterfly,’’ Charlotte explained as she followed Olivia into the house.
Olivia was happy to discover Mrs. DeVault had returned home with Chef René and they had prepared and packed the picnic lunch. Even Chef René had agreed to attend, but not without Mrs. DeVault’s urging. At first he’d declared that only those who wished to share their food with ants and bugs ate on the ground, but after a few whispered words and an enchanting smile from Mrs. DeVault, he agreed a picnic would prove a fine diversion for the afternoon.
When they arrived at a particularly picturesque spot near Lake Calumet, they spread their blankets beneath a canopy of tree branches, and the women unpacked the baskets. Morgan plopped down beside Chef René and promptly pulled a clump of grass and examined the thin green blades for a moment before rolling to his hands and knees and pushing himself back up to a standing position.
The child grinned and toddled toward a clump of nearby bushes. The chef watched and then saw what had attracted the boy. Two young girls were partially hidden behind the greenery. Ragged and thin, they watched every move with a longing that tugged at the man’s heart. Hunger was a terrible thing. He whispered to Hazel, who nodded. Then he beckoned to the little girls.
When they didn’t move, he called, ‘‘Do you want something to eat, girls?’’ One of them peeked through the branches and bobbed her head. ‘‘Then you must come here, and we will give you some food.’’
Mrs. DeVault held up a sandwich, and the girls edged toward them with outstretched hands. Their ragged dresses hung from their bony frames, and their hair hung limp around their shoulders. Like young animals fearful of taking food from a stronger creature, they approached with guarded caution, their eyes widening at the food spread on the cloth. They accepted the sandwiches Mrs. DeVault offered and stood by quietly, as if hoping for more.
‘‘Where did they come from?’’ Charlotte whispered.
‘‘They probably live in the shanties by the brickyards, but you can see children in the same condition living all over Pullman,’’ Fred replied. ‘‘Seeing them makes me feel guilty for enjoying a picnic lunch.’’
‘‘Oui. But we are doing our best to help as many as we can,’’ the chef said, handing each of the girls an apple. They turned and raced off as quickly as they’d appeared.
‘‘Since the letters the governor sent to Mr. Pullman didn’t have any effect, I wonder if seeing some of these children would turn his heart,’’ Matthew said while watching the girls disappear. ‘‘Perhaps I should write an article about the children and their desperate need for sustenance.’’
Fred lightly clapped Matthew on the shoulder. ‘‘I commend you for all you’ve attempted to do through your news reporting, but I don’t think there’s anything that will convince George Pullman he bears any responsibility.’’
‘‘Unfortunately, you’re probably correct. The men continue to resent him, but most were willing to give up their union affiliation and go back to work for him.’’
Fred shrugged. ‘‘If I had starving children, I’d likely do the same.’’
Morgan toddled toward the bushes where he’d seen the two girls, but his mother scooped him onto her lap to prevent his escape. With a boisterous yelp, he struggled to free himself.
‘‘I’ll take him for you,’’ Matthew offered, extending his arms to the child. ‘‘Look at the boats on the water. We’ll go watch them after you eat your lunch.’’
‘‘Eat!’’
‘‘In a minute, young man. You must learn a little patience.’’ Matthew lifted the boy onto his shoulders and pointed at a boat. While the child watched the water, Matthew inched closer to Fred. ‘‘How’s Bill been doing of late?’’
‘‘Yes, I’ve been wondering that myself,’’ Mrs. DeVault said.