As she entered the corridor leading to the matron’s room, she thought only of going home and hiding under her bedcovers with a book.
As she reached for the door, she heard her name and turned.
“Miss Brauer!” Commissioner Williams said from the end of the hallway. “Can you follow me to my office? I’d like to speak with you. It’ll only take a moment.”
Her stomach twisted into a knot. Was he going to back her into a corner, force her to tell him the things she’d seen? Hiding her fear, she said, “Of course, sir. I was just on my way to the ferry.”
“This won’t take long.”
She followed him to his office, mind racing with the rumors she’d heard about him firing employees out of hand.
“Have a seat.” He gestured to a chair in front of his desk.
She sat quickly, twining her fingers together in her lap. “How can I help you, sir?”
“That’s precisely the right question.” He slipped into his chair. “Some of the staff see fit to not only break the rules and bully the immigrants but to break the law. I’m finding it extraordinarily difficult to track down the offenders, since my staff sees me as the enemy. I need someone I can depend on to be my right-hand man, so to speak.” He steepled his fingers, leaning back in his chair. “Miss Brauer, you’ve come highly recommended.”
“Oh?” She shifted in her chair.
“Mrs. Keller said you’d be happy to work with me.”
Mrs. Keller would throw her to the wolves. Of course. She consistently assigned Alma to the most odious of tasks, and then there was the matter of what Alma knew about Amy Terrine. Now Mrs. Keller was either teaching her a lesson or ridding herself of any responsibility to report the misdeed. And all of this time, Alma had worried about following her supervisor’s orders and protecting her and the staff from Williams’s scrutiny.
Biting back her annoyance, she said, “I… Yes, sir, of course.”
“Have you seen anything untoward happen? Anything you’d like to report?”
“No, sir.” The lie sprang to her lips more easily than she’d expected.
He leaned over the desk. “Miss Brauer, if you see anything at all, you need to report it to me immediately. We may not like the deplorable masses that come through these halls, but they are people just the same, and we have a set of laws by which we must abide. Is that clear?”
She frowned. “Of course, Mr. Williams. I’ve never treated an immigrant with anything less than respect. I—”
He held up his hand. “Might I remind you omission is the same as lying. As a former lawyer, this is something with which I’m quite familiar. If you care about your reputation, and your position here, Miss Brauer, you will remember that.”
She nodded, the memories of all she’d seen flitting through her mind. This was definitely Mrs. Keller’s doing. She didn’t want to take the blame for not properly reprimanding Amy, or deal with Mr. Williams, so she’d placed the burden on Alma’s shoulders.
“Would that be all, sir?” she managed to say over her mounting irritation. Why must she always be the one to do as she was told?
“For now, Miss Brauer. You may go.”
She did want to make a difference in the operations at Ellis Island and, most importantly, to protect the immigrants from being harassed. Perhaps this was her chance to do that. Perhaps. She wasn’t yet certain Mr. Williams would keep her report between them. Should he choose not to protect her confidence, the rest of the staff could make her time at work miserable.
He could also choose to fire her.
She closed Williams’s door behind her, exasperated by the position in which both he and Mrs. Keller had placed her. As she walked, her irritation mounted. She didn’t have to do as she was told—not unless she got something in return. If she helped the commissioner, she would do it on her own terms. She only needed to decide what those terms were.
And from now on, she wouldn’t tell Mrs. Keller a single blasted thing.
40
Francesca finished preparations for both the evening meal and breakfast the next morning. She had plans to slip away for a few hours, to join Fritz, Alma, and Helene at a popular bierhalle in the Bowery for libations and dancing. Francesca had thrilled at the thought of a night of fun—a welcome reprieve from the worry plaguing her. Mrs. Cheedle hadn’t hesitated to make it known how generous she was by caving to Francesca’s request. But Francesca had prepped almost everything for the meals that day, leaving Claire virtually nothing to do, and Mrs. Cheedle couldn’t refuse.
Francesca pinned on her modest boater hat with green ribbon and checked her appearance one last time in the tiny looking glass above the bed. Her hair was curlier than usual in the humidity, and her cheeks were already tinged pink from the heat. After a hasty goodbye to Claire, she bounded down the street, turning southbound onto Fifth Avenue.
The oppressive heat rose from the streets and the concrete sidewalk beneath her feet. Moisture gathered on her skin, soaking through her clothes. Early September in New York City seemed far hotter than Capo Mulini. Hardly a day went by on her island without a cool ocean breeze whisking over the rocky hills. Any moisture that might hang in the air blew out to sea and eventually disappeared in the dry mountains of Africa.
In the city, she wiped her face and neck constantly and washed her clothes out at night. She spent her free moments lying on the roof under the shade of a tarp, hoping for a breeze. Her ever-growing belly made her that much more uncomfortable. Thankfully, she could still hide her swelling middle between wraps, an apron, and her skirts, even at five months gone, but she was running out of time. Should she wait another week or two, her swelling form would become too obvious.
Tomorrow. She’d tell Alma and Fritz tomorrow after she’d had this last night of fun with them.
When she reached their meeting place in the Bowery, she spotted a familiar form heading toward her.
“Francesca!” Fritz called, moving faster now with a spring in his step.
Mio Dio, but she loved his spirit. Fritz Brauer pulsed like the brightest star in a sea of darkness. She needed his vitality—his warmth and optimism—the way she needed air. And she’d stopped lying to herself about it. Was there anything so wrong about needing someone?
When they caught up to each other, he was breathing heavily and perspiration speckled his forehead. She smiled widely, her cheeks aching with happiness.
“Francesca, I… Hello.” He gathered her hand in his and brought it to his lips. “I’ve missed you these last few days.”
She tossed her cares on the hot summer breeze and stood on her toes, planting a kiss squarely on his lips. He smiled against her mouth and softly kissed her back. Sighing with pleasure, she lay her head against his chest.
“Beautiful Francesca,” he murmured, burying his face in her hair.