“Why hasn’t your husband’s family helped you?” she asked.
Her gold-red braids shone in the light from the gas lamp behind her, and her manner was so endowed with sympathy that I couldn’t lie. I told her he hadn’t been my husband and apologized for my dishonesty. I recounted the rudiments of my story, concluding with the Pittsburgh solicitor’s findings in the letter I’d fetched from Pine Street hours earlier. I told her that Johan had married in Pittsburgh before coming to Philadelphia, taken a lark with me, and constructed a ruse to get himself home. What had become of Peter, I had no guess.
“You’ve got to go to Pittsburgh and show Johan your baby,” she told me. “Maybe he was married all along. But maybe he found himself a woman there and told lies to the solicitor at his door. You have to find out for yourself. Maybe he’ll change his mind when he sees you both.”
This was similar to what Frau V. had told me—advice I had avoided heeding. But finally I was freed of useless pride. Vera convinced me to call on Johan at the address the solicitor had sent and to demand restitution and support.
She even gave me twenty-five cents to help with my train fare.
As I write, Charlotte and I are resting on Vera’s back porch. Darkness surrounds us, save for a candle’s flickering beam. I’ve taken my locket from my purse and am rubbing its smooth gold surface.
Mother, can thee see us now? See the kindness, so like thine, that flows from human hearts?
I don’t know where we’ll sleep in Pittsburgh. I don’t know how long we’ll stay. But the only way to get us off the street is Johan.
Sixth Month 19
Excited birds woke me in the gray. Through the window shone a lantern from Vera’s room. I dressed us in damp and wrinkled clothes; then Vera came out with a burlap bag and opened the porch curtain, as was apparently her daily habit. A hundred birds swooped in by air, and squirrels and chipmunks drew close. As she poured seeds and grains onto the ground, this winged and furred menagerie hopped and pranced, releasing a cacophony of cries. When she withdrew to the porch, they set upon her offerings, pecking and nibbling and competing.
“I’ll have to leave soon to get fish at the dock,” she said. But she invited me first to sit on her chair and eat a full bowl of porridge with milk and molasses. She served me coffee, too. Then she washed the cup, spoon, and bowl and served herself.
While Vera ate, I packed our things. Beside me Charlotte kicked her legs and worked to clasp her little hands above, then pulled to pry them apart. She even rocked over to one side, crowing with exultation. Amid all this mad achievement, I counted my begged-for coins and what was left of the money I’d been spared from paying at Blockley. Adding in the quarter dollar from Vera, with its image of Lady Liberty, I counted seven dollars and thirty-two cents—more than I’d expected, and probably enough to get us to Pittsburgh and lodge us there a night or two, if I found a place that would admit us.
Vera came out then. “I need to fetch the horse and wagon and buy my fish,” she said. “I wish I could offer you another night, but the walls have eyes.” When her landlord learned of my presence, she explained, he might request more rent. “I know you’ll have good luck in Pittsburgh,” she told me.
I gave profuse thanks for her shelter, food, counsel, and coin. We walked to the cobblestone street, bowed, and parted ways.
I decided as I headed toward Broad Street Station that if Johan won’t give aid when faced directly by his impoverished lover and baby, then I won’t hesitate to visit the Pittsburgh solicitor and initiate a suit. With the money I win, I’ll consign a sewing machine and rent a room in Pittsburgh. Perhaps I’ll even hire the solicitor to locate Peter. It isn’t possible that Peter is with Johan anymore, since Johan’s deceit would have been all too clear.
After consulting tomorrow’s train schedule, I bought a ticket for the first leg of our journey. Charlotte, being in arms, will ride for free. To build strength, I bought a small serving of pepper pot from a cart and savored its tripe and meat and vegetables. At a fruit cart I traded a precious coin for a pint of overripe raspberries from the damaged-fruit pile, which quelled my remaining hunger and my thirst.
All that’s left is to spend one more night on the station floor. The carved horse from Margaret is tucked into my pocket. Charlotte rests in my lap, growing ever stronger. A thrill runs through me to think of facing Johan with his crimes.
Sixth Month 20
Perhaps by now thee expects the unexpected.
I woke again to the policeman’s boot, but on this morning I had the right to take the wide marble staircase to the second-story lobby. I showed my ticket and was admitted. A uniformed man at the door to the ladies’ waiting room allowed us into the nearly empty, elegant space; we passed through and entered the ladies’ toilet. I drank from a faucet, then washed all that I could reach and dried myself with a towel handed to me by a soft-spoken young attendant. Next I washed Charlotte’s hands and face; she gurgled happily; the attendant smiled. Apparently our use of the place was not so unorthodox, and I figured that our baths and clothes-washing and one full night’s rest at Vera’s had rendered us less objectionable.
My clean face in the mirror looked swollen from the heat, however, and pasty with exhaustion. With my tortoise-shell comb I sorted out my hair and combed Charlotte’s red-gold curls, which now rise an inch above her scalp. As I was admiring her, three women wearing lace gloves, feathered hats, and dresses with protruding bustles walked in. They stared with disgust—revealing the incompleteness of our transformation. The attendant told us gently to move along; I gave her a penny with my thanks.
Soon a loud voice announced our train’s arrival. We were pulled in an excited horde to a train shed as the long black creature approached. In a deep baritone the conductor called out, “All abooooard!”
The train was filling quickly. I settled next to a man who’d nodded to sleep over his newspaper, tucking the valise beneath my feet. Charlotte sucked her fingers in my shawl and pressed her bare toes into me. I placed my lips on her forehead and felt the thrumming thrust of life inside. It seemed as if a fresh wind blew through my mind, clearing it of heavy clouds and making the air brighter, the contours of every object more delineated.