Chapter 2 #2
It was clear from the clipped, irritated way Albert Woods treated them later that day that Della Spargo's presence had ruined his anticipated fun.
But he made no real objection and stayed only twenty minutes past closing time.
Perhaps, Lyla thought wryly, he realized that his wife would ask him questions about his whereabouts that he had no interest in answering.
She doubted that he would be paid for his time, either.
In the end, tormenting her was simply not worth the effort.
“What a ridiculous man,” she observed lightly, setting aside one garment and reaching for the next.
Her co-workers were very good, she thought, and had done their best to ensure there was little for her to do.
Still, there were at least five pieces left to go.
At her own station, Della kept her head lowered, working on her own garment, but her hands were not as deft as Lyla’s. She had only completed the one.
“Come now,” Della said, glancing up briefly. “That’s not at all what you want to say, is it?”
“No,” Lyla admitted frankly. “But I don’t want to shock you—and if I said what I was thinking, you would be shocked. Perhaps you wouldn’t be friends with me anymore.”
“Nothing could convince me not to be friends with you anymore, Lyla. You’re far too sweet.”
Lyla laughed. “And you’re a terrible liar, Della.”
“Oh, you know I’m not lying—I’d never do such a thing,” Della said, chastising. “It’s only that you won’t let people see that side of you—but I’ve seen it, so I know it’s there.”
“Well, don’t tell Woods, whatever you do. I don’t want him thinking he can get the better of me if he tries a little harder.”
“I think he is trying quite hard enough.”
“Indeed,” said Lyla fervently. “If he makes another insinuation, I’m afraid I’ll leap to my feet and hit him!”
“Goodness, Lyla!”
“Now I have shocked you,” said the redhead, with some satisfaction. “Well, it won’t be the first time that I’ve struck a man, Della. I’ve never backed down from a fight.”
Della’s hands stilled, and she watched her friend for a moment.
The younger girl’s shoulders were hunched, as though protecting herself from an invisible assailant; she looked for all the world as though she were devoting every bit of her attention to the work at hand, but as the silence stretched on, her composure cracked, and she sat up straight, head raised, her brown eyes blazing.
“I wish I could just hit him and be done with it!”
“They’d fire you on the spot.”
“I wouldn’t mind! I’m desperate to be away from the factory, Della—desperate to be away from New York.” She plunged both hands into her loosened hair in despair; a few hairpins broke free and scattered across the floor. “It’s only that I’ve nowhere else to go!”
She buried her head in her hands. Della got up from her sewing machine and came around to put an arm around her shaking shoulders. The tears Lyla had been fighting off all day finally got the better of her.
“Dear Lyla,” Della said softly, stroking her hair. “I think it would be better for you if you were well away from New York—you’ve been miserable this whole year, and I feel as though I haven’t seen you smile since your mother took ill. Don’t you have any family to go to?”
“No—my mother’s only family is her mother, still in England. And Father’s family… well, I never knew much about them. He died when I was so very young.”
“Yes, of course,” Della said soothingly.
“So many tragedies, poor girl! Well, there must be another way. A girl with a strong mind, like yours, will find it.” She paused for a moment, then offered her next suggestion hesitantly.
“Lyla, perhaps if you found a husband—not here in New York. Somewhere else, somewhere you could start over.”
Lyla dropped her hands back to her lap and sighed.
“I know what you mean,” she said. “Those matrimonial agencies—just like Katie and Evie.” The two young women had both employed an agency in the past few months.
Lyla thought of the glow of happiness on their faces as they announced that they had been matched with men in Texas and Oregon, respectively, and were leaving at once, never to return.
Oh, it was a powerfully appealing thought!
“But do I dare? They could match me with anyone!”
“Could it be any worse than staying here?” Della asked softly.
Lyla took a deep breath.
“All right,” she said. “You’re right, my only friend—and I’ve been fighting against the knowledge for far too long.” She took Della’s hand in hers and managed a smile. “I will become a mail-order bride and be shipped off to the unknown for a future I cannot fathom.”
“Oh, it won’t be as bad as that,” Della assured her, giving her a quick embrace.
“I only hope that my husband won’t be too particular.”
“Goodness, the things you say!” Della laughed. “What would that matter? You’re strong, courageous, and pretty as a picture to boot. What else could a fellow want?”
“He might want a more…traditional girl for a wife,” Lyla said wryly. “Someone who is meek and doesn’t get into fights.”
“Oh, dear girl.” Another embrace, and Della was smiling knowingly. “If you find yourself matched with a man who doesn’t appreciate your strength of character, Lyla Partridge, then you just get back on the train, come straight back to New York, and try again. Promise me.”
Lyla smiled at her friend. Already, she felt just the faintest hint of homesickness for her, knowing that her life was about to change—and that Della would be left behind. She would write to her, she resolved, and perhaps once she was established, she could send for Della to come and stay with her.
Wherever she ended up…
And whoever she might be married to…
There were just too many unknowns. And the only thing to do about it was to immediately set her mind to making the change.
With a prayer on her lips and hope in her heart, that was precisely what she did.