Chapter XVIII
MAE JERKED AWAKE as the soft dawn stretched through the window and bathed her face in its warmth.
Her eyes strained to focus on the face of the clock.
The hands’ multiple personas melded into one as they each came into focus.
She shot upright. It was already past the eight o’clock hour.
She shuffled to her feet. As she stood groggily, the previous night’s events drifted back to her.
The knife lay innocuously enough on the table, but its implication lay heavy on her mind.
Her packed valise stared up at her from its two buckled eyes.
She scurried up the stairs to Simon's bedroom and examined the alley across the street.
Men scuttled up and down the road, presumably to their work, but there was no sign of a man in a felt hat.
She scanned up and down the street several times to reassure herself of his absence before returning to the parlor and stowing the knife away in its drawer.
Quickly pulling on her coat and shoes, she turned once more and let her eyes wander around the room.
Its silence and unlit lamps brought a feeling of anxiety to her heart.
She filled her nose with its comforting scent and then made off to rescue her boy.
At the thought of Simon, her heart tightened a bit more.
A stale stench once again pervaded her senses as she reentered Grand Central Depot.
This time, she knew where she was going and headed directly for the staircase.
Once she reached the platform with the swinging eight, she deposited herself on a bench tucked away to the side to await the train’s arrival.
As she sat, she soothed her nerves by imagining the destinations of the various people within her purview.
A young man in a dapper chocolate-colored suit stood leaning against the arches, reaching out their steely arms high overhead.
His fawn-colored overcoat hung open as she watched his eyes trace a young lady walking up the stairs.
Pigeons squabbling over a forgotten bread crust drew her attention.
The bigger bird won out in the end and flapped maniacally toward an uninhabited part of the towering structure.
The shrill squawk sent up by the smaller bird brought back the sound of Simon's panicked screams to her that had echoed there just yesterday. Her head slumped down as she stared into her folded hands. Where was he now? Was he being fed? If there weren’t enough to go around, would he be the small bird or the big bird?
She shuddered as her stomach clenched the bile in her empty stomach.
She had armed herself with Judge Matthews’s order, and as soon as she met up with Simon in Topeka, she would fight to be reunited with him. Her hand reached down to caress the old leather of her valise. The touch reassured her of its solidity and settled her heart into a more reasonable rhythm.
The loud rumblings of trains droned on as she sat waiting for her train to come in.
Thousands of people shuffled in and out of these iron railway cars daily, their schedules and destinations forming a web of intricate design.
A person could get lost within this network and never be found again.
The thought sent gooseflesh along her arms and legs.
To pass the time, she went back to studying the various people around her.
She had always loved to people-watch. Letting her imagination run wild with the made-up backstories of the unknown people had been her version of a childhood toy.
She’d never had a doll to play make-believe with, so she had improvised.
From her window, she had imagined the men and women who walked in and out of their neighborhood going on adventures that they weren’t even aware of.
It had been her escape from the monotony of being an only child.
An unwanted only child at that. Apart from Mrs. Pinder, the old woman next door, she had received little attention from adults.
She’d been a latchkey child. In retrospect, she was grateful that responsibility had come to her naturally.
Now it seemed the ultimate irony that she was never taken from her parents for neglect, yet her own well-looked-after child had suffered instead.
At the far end of the track, a young girl dressed immaculately in a pink overcoat and bow was throwing a fit. As she stomped, her little gold ringlets bounced up and down to mimic her feet. A screech resonated through the arched building and bounced off the metal panels overhead.
After several more minutes, a train rumbled far off in the distance along her platform.
The slow chug and sharp whistle alerted the passengers to be at the ready.
Mae watched the side rods circle around the wheels again and again as they slowed to a full stop, and a loud burst of steam was released to announce its final resting place.
Mae stood and lifted her valise as the current passengers descended the steps onto the platform.
She had taken only one step toward the train when she saw him.
The man in the felt hat was having a close conversation with one of the railway workers—an older man with close-cropped gray hair, a beard, and a mustache.
She froze. Her eyes traveled to his hand.
He was holding a black cane. Men, women, and children wove around her, streaming to and from the open doors of the train.
At one point, her view of the man was interrupted, and she panicked slightly that he might enter the train as well.
But when he came back into view, she witnessed the exchange of a folded slip, passed with the same absent efficiency as the tickets and parcels moving through the station.
“Mrs. Turner! Mae!” Her name rang out and was perceptible even through the loud din of the moving people.
Mae turned to see Winona waving wildly at her from thirty yards away, carrying a dilapidated suitcase at her side.
Her eyes widened as realization dawned on her.
Her head swung back in the direction of the man in the felt hat, and momentarily their eyes met across the station.
He was still talking to the man when the railway worker turned his attention to her as well.
Her breath caught, and a sudden weight descended upon her feet as she stood transfixed in place.
She witnessed the man slap the other man on the shoulder and board the train.
The worker glanced once more at her and climbed the stairs to the train’s interior, his glance lingering half a second too long to be idle.
Winona was now prattling on in her face, her hot breath assaulting her.
She felt a sudden shake which jarred her attention back to the woman talking excitedly at her from what seemed like a tunnel miles away.
“…comin’ too.” Mae's attention coalesced on the words pummeling her ears.
“The other women in the buildin’ thought it right I should follow me Lily as well.
They pooled their money and with what they ‘ad plus me few dollars me Markus had saved fer us, I bought meself a ticket to come along wit ye.”
Mae's eyes shifted slowly to focus on Winona’s pink and ruddy complexion.
As they reached her eyes, a sudden concern formed in her green eyes.
“Are ye alright, Mae? Ye look like ye haven’t slept since Christ was a boy…
” Her green eyes skittered around Mae's pallid face and scanned her crumpled clothing.
The crowd was thinning now as most people had either embarked or disembarked from the train.
“All aboard for Chicago,” a man in uniform yelled from the train car. Mae snapped back to life and hitched up her valise.
“We must get on. Quick!” She instinctively moved to the next train car to board, trying to avoid the men she had just seen.
Winona clambered after her. Families were still hugging, blocking the way to the train doors.
She could see the porter hanging out of the door, scanning the platform for more passengers.
Mae waved frantically at him as she dodged a throng of businessmen grouped together awaiting their luggage, but the porter’s eyes were cast away from her.
As her footsteps increased in speed, the sweat that had begun as panicked perspiration had now blossomed into full-blown wetness, soaking her blouse and the waistband of her skirt.
Stepping up onto the first wrought-iron step, Mae lugged her case up after her and breathed a deep sigh of relief. Winona did the same, shadowing Mae's every move. Once inside, a different mass of people was like a tidal wave, pushing them toward the emptier end of the car.
Mae looked for a porter. Finally, she showed her Pullman ticket to the gentleman, and he directed her to the correct car.
Winona was right on her heels as she followed the porter through the bustle of the initial car.
As they entered the Pullman car, the porter waved to the man stationed in the sleeper car.
He pointed out Mae and Winona and then, after a quick nod from the stationed worker, the porter disappeared back through the vestibule to resume his duties.
Plunking herself into the upholstered seat, she exhaled a sigh of relief that she had made it onto the train.
She felt Winona plop down next to her. She had taken the first step in her arduous journey toward recovering Simon.
Her mind vacillated between relief and annoyance at the woman’s presence next to her.
Her body was exhausted due to the lack of sleep the prior night, and the compaction of bodies within the train car had infringed upon her need for solitary space.
At least she was in the Pullman car. She was amazed at how tightly packed the passengers were in the other car.
Most sat shoulder to shoulder, some with children squeezed in between.
It was warmer in the car than she had expected, and she wished that she’d removed her coat prior to sitting.
She didn’t want to do so now until people became more settled.
Having never been on a train before, the difference in amenities available between her compartment and the day coach surprised her.
She had always thought of trains as luxurious.
The thought had been somewhat reinforced by the steep price of the ticket.
Looking around, she was shocked at the disparity.
In the day coach, the wooden seats were supported by wrought-iron poles running from floor to ceiling, with a slatted overhead rack available for luggage.
The worn wooden floors had darkened due to constant foot traffic.
In the Pullman, the worn seats were softer, and more space was allocated per person.
Mae was happy to have the large window next to her, although at the moment the cool air of the train shed met the warm, sticky indoor air of the train car, causing the window to fog.
She leaned her head against the window, and the cooler temperature of the icy glass emanated toward her.
Turning toward the pane, she breathed in deeply, trying to cool herself from the inside with this small, invisible lifeline of air.
Using her peripheral vision, she tried to scan the car for signs of the man in the felt hat.
She hadn’t seen either him or the train attendant yet.
Was he trying to stop her? He hadn’t intercepted her at the platform.
If she confronted him, would he deny having followed her?
The last time she’d bumped into him, he hadn’t acted rashly or threatened her.
Be careful. Judge Matthews’s strained voice resounded in her ears.
“Do ye think they’d have water for us yet?” Winona wondered aloud. “I’m parched.”
Mae turned from the window just in time to see Winona flag down an attendant. As he turned, she recognized him—the older, gray-haired attendant who had stood with the felt-hat man on the platform. She gripped the windowsill, and her heart began to race.