Earthly Astonishments (19 page)

Within seconds, swaddled in scratchy sacking, she was heaved from the ground and swung to and fro like an ordinary bundle of rags. She was helpless and gagging. One bare foot dangled free and began to kick with all its constricted might. She was dropped at once onto the sand, then felt hands fiercely shaking her.

“Do not think for a minute that you will escape me.” The whispered voice was all too recognizable. “You’re mine now, and I’ll sell you to the highest bidder!”

Miss MacLaren had reclaimed her prize.

What did she mean—sell? What bidders? Like a choice pig at auction! Was she really worth so much that grown-ups would behave this way?

Josephine was lifted again, her arms twisted and her legs crunched up tightly in a knot. Her cheek and brow
pressed against the web of the sacking. Her nose seemed full of tiny fibers. Trying to breathe through her mouth was like sucking cotton.

Miss MacLaren was already wheezing slightly, struggling with Josephine’s nineteen pounds. If she would only collapse with a heart attack! With that in mind, Josephine squirmed harder.

“Hey!” A distant call. “What have you got there?” It was Charley!

Miss MacLaren, grunting, tucked her parcel clumsily under one arm and tried to trot.

“Hey! I’ve found Jo’s shoes here! Hey! You! Come back here!”

Josephine’s stomach reeled with Miss MacLaren’s unsteady sway. The sand beneath city shoes seemed to be an obstacle. Charley would surely catch up. Where were they headed? Josephine was going to be sick, she knew it. Miss MacLaren’s body smelled of custard gone sour in the sun. Each lurch crushed Josephine’s nose closer to the source.

Suddenly the footing changed. They were clattering upward on something that chimed under shoes. It was the ramp to the New Iron Pier! Miss MacLaren meant to take her back to the city on the ferry!

Every step took her farther from Charley. Josephine tried to thrash and was promptly pinched. She could hear the lilting calls of boys selling ices and roasted potatoes. The pier must be more crowded than the beach; they seemed to be dodging people. Charley would lose
sight of them! Josephine strained to see through the weave of the sacking.

“Excuse me, young man!” Miss MacLaren was nearly breathless. Josephine felt blood rush to her face as her captor stumbled.

“Do you have a ticket, ma’am?” They were at the gangplank! The voice was so close it made Josephine twitch. Was this really the way things were going to end? Her mouth was dry and full of bits of hemp.

“Yes, yes, here it is. But sir, that frightening hooligan back there has been following me. Please be sure he does not board the ferry.”

“Yes’m. Join the line over there. Folks is boarding now.”

“Thank you. Watch that boy.”

Josephine listened with dread. What chance did she have? What could she do? Miss MacLaren was moving again, up the gangplank, onto the boat’s deck, taking short, wobbling steps. Her breaths were like little piggy grunts.

“Hey, you there!” the ticket taker was shouting at Charley. “Off the ramp, boy! You’re not wanted here!”

“Josephine!” She heard Charley’s voice ring out. “Jo! I’m coming right back! I’ll get the police! I’ll get Mr. Walters! We’ll be right back to save you!”

“Get off with you, you ugly ghoul!” The ticket man was not impressed.

Josephine managed to turn her neck enough to spit
out the rag. She ran her tongue back and forth across dry lips.

“Help!” she cried weakly. “Help me!”

Miss MacLaren came to an instant stop. Josephine was shifted and squeezed with vicious intent. Tears sprang to her eyes as she yelped in pain. Her curls were now tangled in the webbing of the bag and were yanked till her scalp burned.

“If you so much as breathe before this ferry leaves the slip,” Miss MacLaren’s threat was spoken in a strangled whisper, “I swear, I will shave your head and sell you as a bald monkey.”

Josephine was once again dropped to the ground. This time, she landed not on soft sand, but on the rigid boat deck. Her body bounced, and bruised, but she swallowed her cry. She stopped breathing, and felt the distant hum of the boat’s steam engine as it fired up to go. Ever so slightly, Josephine could feel the roll of the ocean far beneath her.

Miss MacLaren’s thick ankles stood like soldiers, pressing in on either side of her. Josephine knew that she lay in the shadow of the woman’s skirt. She could also tell, for the first time, that there was nothing tying the sack in place. It had been Miss MacLaren’s hands or arm alone that had restrained her.

Slowly Josephine inched her legs out of their curled position. When her toes felt air, she paused. Now what? Could she possibly get away?

“Jo!” She heard Charley call her name, just as the
boat’s whistle blew a tremendous, foggy blast. The deck under her shoulders seemed to shiver as the boat prepared to move.

Miss MacLaren turned quickly, shifting her feet away from their guard duty. This was Josephine’s chance. She scrambled out with a whoop and a growl. She tore the sack from her head, ripping out the few hairs still caught inside. Her eyes blazed. Her fingers clenched like talons as she faced Miss MacLaren. The row of ferry riders crackled with sudden interest.

Miss MacLaren lunged at her, cussing like a sailor. A murmur of dismay arose on all sides, and ladies turned discreetly aside. Josephine jumped back a pace, ready to dart away.

“Is this your child, Madam?”

From behind her, the well-meant question acted as a catapult for Josephine. In two seconds, she had climbed the iron railing and hesitated on the top rung, staring down into the water that foamed around the bow of the boat.

“You hideous, ungrateful freak!” Miss MacLaren hollered.

“Charley?” cried Josephine, searching the faces on the pier, only an arm’s length away.

“Jo? Where are you?” He had pushed through to the front row, but now was squinting in confusion.

“I’m here, Charley! I’m here!” Josephine saw his white hair shining. She saw his pale arms stretched toward her.

“Catch me, Charley!”

Josephine leaned out, and her fingers grazed Charley’s as the boat pulled away, propelling Josephine into the air. Her skirt ballooned around her as she pitched into the ocean.

he appalled wail of the onlookers was drowned out by the churning sound of surf under water. Josephine plunged below the waves, holding her breath without planning to, without even knowing she should. The cold, the wet, the surprise slapped away her desperation. Just when she needed air again, her tiny body was thrust to the surface and stayed there, bobbing like a seagull.

An excited clamor broke out on the pier.

“She’s up! She’s alive!”

“Jo!”

Someone threw a rope, but it hung short and didn’t quite reach her. Her dress floated on the surface around her, keeping her up instead of dragging her down. No one could reach her for some time. She knew they were calling to her, but she was enthralled with the salty, buoyant water and didn’t try to answer.

Josephine drifted under the pier, where she was in peril of collision with the pylons holding it up. She began to kick, but the motion tangled her dress and she lost her calm. As she tried to call out between mouthfuls, she was seized by the eager hands of a passing swimmer. He towed her to the beach, murmuring assurances in Italian the whole way.

Josephine was shivering, perhaps more from the shock than the cold. When she arrived on the sand, her legs wouldn’t hold her upright. Charley sprinted the length of the New Iron Pier, pausing to swipe a towel from the Ravenhall Bathing Palace. He wrapped her up like a baby and carried her home.

Hilda Viemeister collected every blanket in the house and piled them on top of Josephine, until nothing more could be seen than a pair of green eyes and a mop of damp hair. Hilda brewed beef tea and Charley fed it to Josephine by spoon.

“Uck! It’s poison! And I’m not sick! Just shivery, is all.”

Charley spied from the top of the stairs when Hilda answered a sharp knock at the door.

“Good afternoon, Ma’am. The name is Police Constable Vincent Beale, Ma’am. I’m inquiring after the health of the little lady?”

“She’s terrible poorly, Constable, she won’t be answering any questions today. Now, be off with you, please!”

It was several hours before Nelly got back from taking Emmy to the city. She had expected them all to be working, of course. She told Josephine that when she arrived at the museum, the earnest Officer Beale was soothing an irate Mr. Walters with facts of the incident as far as he knew them, which wasn’t very far.

Within minutes, Nelly was running full speed to the boarding house, causing quite a stir on the concourse as she picked up her skirts and revealed strong, galloping legs to the morning shoppers. Nelly sent Charley off to report to Mr. Walters, while she sat on Josephine’s bed, stroking the wee forehead and smoothing down her hair.

Josephine wondered how such a thing as fingers could feel so full of love, and she promptly burst into tears. Nelly lay down next to her and listened while she gulped and shook and sobbed.

Finally calm, Josephine told Nelly everything, from the moment onstage when she had first seen Miss MacLaren, to the dreadful hour in Marco’s cage, to the view from the railing of the steamer ferry.

“I thought Charley could see me, I thought we were closer. I’d jump, and he’d catch me. Then the boat moved, and I fell straight in.”

“You were brave,” said Nelly.

“No, I was desperate. Brave is when I go talk to Mr. Walters. I can’t work there anymore, Nelly. But what else can I do?”

“Folks like you and Charley aren’t welcome just anywhere, but I suppose we could find another place where the two of you can be who you are.”

The word “we” meant more to Josephine than she could say. She blinked hard to stop from crying again.

Nelly pulled the blankets straight. “You need to be sleeping now. Close your eyes and think of where you might like to be sailing to in your dreams.”

The following morning brought more visitors to Hilda Viemeister’s door.

Mr. R. J. Walters brought a jar of clam chowder from the chowder wagon, and bottles of root beer, but he was not permitted to see Josephine.

“She’s got plenty more resting to do before you’ll see her again,” Hilda Viemeister told him, while Josephine and Charley swallowed giggles upstairs.

After work, Charley brought home a nosegay of daisies from Filipe and a picture card bearing Best Wishes from Eddie and Rosie. Mr. Gideon Smyth delivered a box of chocolates tied with a velvet ribbon, with a letter requesting an interview at her convenience.

Josephine and Charley ate the chocolates all in one evening, after allowing Nelly and Hilda to make their selections. After the first day, Josephine was not poorly at all. She had never felt better.

The first news of Miss MacLaren’s fate came in a note from Emmy: