“That child is not mine!” Lambert shouted. “God only knows how many men she has slept with since she arrived.”
“It is his,” Fran confirmed, turning her beautiful brown eyes on the commissioner, imploring him to believe her. “I work in a respectable home as a cook. For the Lancasters on Park Avenue. There is no chance for…for encounters there, sir. I could have my boss sign a statement for you.”
“Young lady, what you say about Inspector Lambert is a very serious charge,” the commissioner said. “We’ll have to look into the matter, you understand, and we may need to call you in for further questioning. For now, leave the address where you’re living, and then you may leave. Alma will see you home.”
Alma’s stomach turned. Why hadn’t the commissioner told her there might be an investigation before she’d asked Fran to speak up? An investigation might still mean deportation. Sex exchanged for entry into the country—or any sort of perceived prostitution—was illegal. Alma said a silent prayer the commissioner would show mercy. And yet, Fran showed no inkling of regret or shame, and her fear had all but drained away.
“As for you, Mr. Lambert, I’ll see you in my office at two o’clock. Is that clear?”
Lambert didn’t answer and stormed into the corridor.
“Thank you for your report, Miss Brauer,” the commissioner continued. “You may go for now. We’ll discuss this more tomorrow.” He dropped into his chair, his face marked by exhaustion. “Next!”
As Alma and Fran left, they spotted Lambert in the hall, waiting for them.
He stood over Alma and leaned in until his hot breath blew against her cheek. “If I’m investigated because of you, I’ll see to it that you never set foot in this place again.” He slammed his shoulder into hers as he passed.
Alma clutched her throbbing shoulder, shuddering as she imagined living with such a man. But she didn’t have to. And despite the uncertainty ahead, she was relieved and, above all, proud of how far she’d come.
“Are you ready?” she asked Fran.
“I can’t leave fast enough.”
A little lighter, she followed Fran to the matron’s room to gather their things.
Female Inspectors to be hired at Ellis Island
James Mackle reports. Manhattan Chronicle.
Oct 5, 1902—Commissioner William Williams is set to hire five female inspectors at Ellis Island after abusive behaviors toward female immigrants have come to light. Williams has been conducting a months-long investigation into the employees at the immigration center as well as the contracted companies who provide services at Ellis Island. The investigation revealed forty employees who took advantage of the system, or of the immigrants, in ways ranging from physical abuse to collusion.
Mrs. Margaret Ellis of the Woman’s Christian Temperance Union is thrilled by the victory. Ellis has pressured Commissioner Williams to hire female inspectors during the entirety of his short term at Ellis Island. The union president plans to follow up in the coming months to ensure the new hires’ success. “One of the primary goals for the WCTU,” Ellis states, “is to advocate for women as well as to better our country based on Christian moral values.”
Commissioner Williams reiterated that the female inspectors will be a part of the staff for a trial period only. Decisions regarding permanent positions will be made at a future date.
48
As Francesca stepped onto the ferry, the panic that had held her in its grip began to dissipate. She chose a seat beside Alma on the ferry, hand on her belly. There was no sense in pretending she wasn’t pregnant. Everyone knew, and oddly, she was no longer afraid to face the Lancasters. She’d already made her decision. She would purchase a ticket west, to Chicago. Join the large community of Italians who thrived there. She’d start again, far from John Lambert and Commissioner Williams, and the inquiry that would threaten her citizenship. Ultimately, there was no concrete proof she was telling the truth about Lambert—they could choose to believe her pregnancy was from another man—and she was nothing but a female immigrant from a country they despised. She was unwanted. The commissioner was not unkind, but he cared more for upholding the law than for meting out justice, and she knew very well how different the two things were. He might see fit to find her guilty in the end.
Though she’d have to leave Claire, the comfort of the Lancasters’ home and her beloved Brauers behind, she had no regrets. She’d confronted the man who deserved far worse than her swift kick, and some deep wound inside her had eased a little. Perhaps in time, it might heal, become nothing but a forgotten scar.
“Thank you,” Alma said quietly. “I know you don’t want to go back, and I understand, but this would exonerate you, Fran.”
She shook her head. “No, Alma. I can’t risk it.” She looked down at her hands in her lap. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning on the early train.”
“What do you mean?” Alma said, taken aback.
“I won’t have a job very soon, maybe not even by tonight. And I’m not staying to be investigated. It’s too uncertain. I’m not like you. For you, there might be real justice. For me, there’s only a chance, and a slim one at that.”
“But where will you go?” Alma’s voice caught.
She covered Alma’s hands with hers. “Chicago. But that is between us. Please, tell no one else.”
Alma’s eyes filled with tears. “You’re my dearest friend.”
She wrapped Alma in an embrace. “And you are mine, cara mia.” She wiped at the tears sliding down her face. “This is a good thing, you’ll see. Maybe I’ll even open my own restaurant one day. It’s something I’ve been dreaming about lately.”
Alma smiled through the tears. “You’re always so optimistic.”
“Optimistic?” She still had much English to learn, and now a whole new city to learn—another new life. She put away the thought for now, trying not to let the enormity of another long, unknown journey frighten her. This was what was best. It would protect her, and free Fritz from any sense of obligation. It would be a fresh start.
“Optimism is your positive view of things,” Alma said. “Your hopefulness.”
Hope. Yes, she carried it with her, let it nourish her and feed her longing. Hope seeped into the secret spaces in her heart. It had given her the strength to carry on in her darkest moments. She hoped because there was no other choice.
Voice thick, she said, “Hope. Yes, I have hope, or I do not go on.”
Alma wiped her eyes with her handkerchief, but another rush of tears tumbled down her cheeks. “But I won’t get to meet the baby.”
“This isn’t goodbye forever, amica. It’s goodbye for now. I’ll write to you, in English. I am American now.”
They both smiled through the tears, and Francesca hugged her friend again with all her might.