She seemed taken with her small cousins and had decided to teach little Jennie how to knit a scarf. She also could not say enough good things about Caroline, the sweetness of her face and the way it would light up in a smile whenever Olga came in.
She told me that Mads was rarely there anymore, that he had taken to his bed again, suffering as bad as before. This was indeed worrisome news, and I went to Elizabeth Street a few times to check on him myself. It was as my daughter had said; he was back in bed with an ashen pallor, suffering from vomiting and cramps. Bella had told me that his heart was poor, but I could not see how that would cause such an upset. He said he was seeing a doctor, though, Dr. Miller who had lodged with them before, and so there was very little I could do but offer him broth and cream puddings.
It worried me, though, the poor color of him.
Yet my daughter’s latest news worried me even more.
She came home one night in her red-striped shop girl dress and apron, took off her coat, and slumped down in a chair by the table, where I was peeling potatoes for dinner.
“You are early,” I remarked.
“Aunt Bella said that I could go,” she said, chewing her lip a little, as she did when lost in thought.
“Did she close the store early?”
“No, I just—I don’t think she wanted me there.” Her gaze danced around the room, taking in everything but me.
“What is it?” I put down the knife. “What is it you’re not telling me?”
“Ah, it’s nothing.” The girl seemed sullen. Her hair bun had come a little undone, and strands of blond hair danced around her face. “Is Nora still at school?”
“No, she is playing with the neighbor’s girls—now tell me what is wrong.”
“It is—” She paused to chew her lip a little more. “I just promised Aunt Bella not to tell.”
“Really?” My heart instantly set up the pace. “Then I certainly think that you should.” Though I was not entirely sure if I wanted to know what had left my daughter in such a state.
“Perhaps it is nothing,” she said without conviction. “Perhaps I am making it out to be more than it is.”
“I think you should tell me and let me be the judge of that.” I had given up on the potatoes and wiped my hands on the apron in my lap.
“There is a man there sometimes.” She chewed her lip again. “I don’t think he is very kind.”
“How so?” My heart was still racing.
“Oh, it’s just the way he looks at you.” She shrugged.
“What is he doing there? Is he buying candy?”
“No! He is visiting Aunt Bella. She seems to know him well, though she has never properly introduced him to me. She sends me out in the back when he’s there, tells me to look after the children . . . I don’t like it, the way she acts around him, whispering over the counter, and how she wants me not to tell . . .” My daughter looked utterly miserable, sitting there before me with her hands in her lap; her fingers were restless, rubbing against one another.
I put my hand on hers to stop their nervous movements. “Was he there today?”
“He was, and when I came out from the back to ask for more milk for the bottle, they were standing with their faces so very close. Oh, I wish you could have seen him, Mama; he is all dapper and fine-looking with fur on his coat, but he does not seem like an honest man to me. If he were, Aunt Bella would not send me out and ask me not to tell you about him.”
“You are a clever girl.” I squeezed her hand. “You did right in telling me. When does this man come about? Is there any special day?”
“No, but he is never there before noon.”
“I will look in on the store more often,” I promised. “Perhaps I’ll catch a glimpse of him. What did your aunt say when she asked you not to tell?”
“That you would only worry, and it was better that you didn’t know.”
“That I didn’t know what?”
She shrugged again. “That she did not say—but surely it must be wrong, her seeing him like that, with Uncle Mads being so ill and all.”
“We’ll figure it out.” I gave her hands a squeeze. “Don’t mention to your aunt that you told me.”
* * *
—
It took a few tries before I came upon a stranger in Bella’s store, and when I finally did, it was not who I expected.
In the weeks that had passed since Olga confided in me, I had had time to spin the most wondrous stories in my head, even thinking that Bella’s barrenness perhaps had been Mads’s fault, and that she had found herself another man to perform that particular service. What other reason would she have to nurture an illicit—perhaps even dangerous—relationship? If word got out, wagging tongues would rip her to shreds, and she knew that.
The man I found in the confectionery store, however, did not look like the one Olga had described, though he certainly looked comfortable, sitting behind the counter, eating sugared nuts from a tray. Strong fumes rose from the glass in his hand, and from the matching one held by my sister. The latter had taken great care with her appearance: she wore a frilly blue dress underneath the apron and had put up her hair with tortoiseshell combs. I could see Olga through the open door to the back, where she sat with Caroline in her lap. She sent me a worried glance through the gap.
“Nellie.” Bella beamed as I came in, seemingly very much at ease with the situation, which puzzled me some. “How fortunate that you came in just now. This is Mr. Gunness.” She motioned to the blond man at her side. “He will be lodging with us for a while, in Dr. Miller’s old room.”
“Is that so.” I heard my own voice sounding brittle and unsure. The man rose to his feet, and I could tell that he was unusually tall.
“Mr. Gunness works at the stockyards,” Bella prattled on. “He is a butcher by trade.”
I remembered it all then, what Clara had told me about their meeting in the beer garden. “This is my sister,” Bella said. “Olga’s mother, of course.”
“Of course.” The man seemed polite enough and his beard was neatly trimmed. Now that I looked closer, I could see some silver among the blond strands. “Happy to make your acquaintance,” he said.
“Likewise.” I felt faint. “But what with—isn’t Mads terribly ill?” This was hardly the time to bring a stranger into the house.
“Oh, but Mr. Gunness and I have known each other for a long time, and he knows all about Mads’s condition. It’s such a comfort to me to have another man in the house now that my husband is bedridden.” She smiled sweetly but not to me.
“How long will you stay for, Mr. Gunness?” I made no secret of my distaste.
“Oh, another four weeks at least. Then I will go home. I have a sick wife and a young daughter.” He said it as if to appease me. It was hard not to believe in his good intentions as he had such an honest look upon his face. His eyes were very bright and very blue.
“A butcher, huh?” I could not help but send my sister a look—even if the man was honest, it did not mean that she was.