Waiting for Christmas

Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 8

Howard gazed into space as he rode the trolley with Addy and Jack to his father’s church on Sunday morning. He couldn’t stop thinking about yesterday’s futile search for Jack’s father. The days were flying past, and Christmas would be here soon. Today was the second Sunday in Advent already. This morning they would light the second candle in the wreath, the candle of love. He thought of his love for Addy, and of Jack’s love for his family, and would have missed their trolley stop if Addy hadn’t nudged him.

“You’re in a daze this morning,” she said as they walked the rest of the way to church, accompanied by the familiar peal of steeple bells.

“Sorry. I guess I was woolgathering.”

Howard’s mind wandered again during his father’s sermon as he thought about the events of the past week. The longer it took to find Jack’s family, the harder it was for Howard to hang on to hope. The city was so big, Jack’s sister so small, and the ocean Jack’s father sailed so vast. It might have been easier to explain these facts to Jack, and for the boy to relinquish hope, if his father had been a brute who had terrorized and then abandoned his family. But judging by Jack’s memories, his family had been a loving one. And that made everything worse. Love never fails, the Scripture said. So far, Howard’s schemes had all failed. He hated to disappoint Jack. Or Addy, who believed in him.

The candles were extinguished at the end of the service. The other parishioners filed from the sanctuary, greeting one another. Addy chatted with Howard’s mother, but once again, Jack insisted on going forward and relighting the candle of hope and now the candle of love. Then he wandered over to the creche with wooden figures of the holy family that had been set up near the altar. One of Howard’s fondest memories was helping his father and brothers assemble the manger scene each Christmas. Howard still recalled how the carved wooden pieces felt in his hands, how familiar each of the colorful figurines had been to him. The shaggy shepherds and wooly sheep. The elegantly robed kings with their gifts. The angel with feathery wings. The serene Madonna gazing down at the manger. The swaddled baby Jesus asleep on the hay. And with those memories came ones of warm, family Christmases in his home—reading the familiar Christmas story, decorating the tree, exchanging presents—memories that Addy and Jack never had.

“Where’s baby Jesus?” Jack asked, interrupting his thoughts. “He isn’t in the manger, and I need to ask Him to help me find Polly and Papa.”

“Well, since Jesus was born on Christmas Day,” Howard explained, “it’s a tradition to leave the manger empty until Christmas morning when baby Jesus will arrive.”

“That’s when Papa is coming, too.”

Maybe. Hopefully, Howard wanted to say. “You can still pray, Jack, even if the figure isn’t there. Jesus is listening. He always hears our prayers.” He wanted to add but He doesn’t always answer them the way we want , then decided not to. The boy knelt and folded his hands and closed his eyes. Howard offered his own silent pleas for help along with Jack’s. He felt the pressure of Addy’s and Jack’s hopes and expectations like a dull ache in the center of his chest. He would return to work on Monday, and Addy would visit some more orphanages this week, but if she didn’t find Polly, Howard would have to come up with another plan of action before next Saturday.

Jack finished his prayer and they walked up the aisle together. Howard’s father stood near the door, speaking with the last few people to leave. Howard waited a moment to talk with him alone. “I’m worried, Dad. Jack has been praying so hard to be reunited with his family, but it looks like it might take a miracle for his prayers to be answered. We’ll continue searching for his sister, but I think I’m starting to lose hope of finding her.”

“And Jack’s father?”

“I don’t think he abandoned his family. I think it’s exactly as Jack says—that he left home to work on a ship and hopes to return by Christmas. But I’m worried that Mr. Thomas won’t be able to find his family when he does return. I left word at the tenement and the church and the shipyard—if it’s even the right shipyard. But who knows if he’ll get my messages?”

“What will happen to Jack if you don’t find his sister or his father? Will he go back to the orphanage?”

The ache in Howard’s chest moved to his stomach. “I honestly don’t know. Addy and I are fond of him, but I can’t ask her to take on the responsibility of an eight-year-old boy. She was raised by nannies and nursemaids. Neither one of us is ready to start a family.”

“If there’s an answer to all of this, God surely knows what it is. Your mother and I will be praying, son.”

Adelaide held Howard’s arm and Jack took his hand as they walked to the trolley stop. They would ride it back to the town house and eat the meal Mrs. Gleason had left for them. We must look like a perfect family, Howard thought as they walked. Lord, help us.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 9

The weather was so foul on Monday, the ice and sleet so formidable, that Adelaide surrendered her plans to visit the next orphanage on her list. “We’ll go tomorrow, first thing,” she promised Jack. “Hopefully, the weather will improve by then.” She spent the morning addressing invitations to the tea she and Mrs. Gleason were planning, but each address she penned brought second thoughts. These were addresses of mansions. Part of her felt embarrassed to be hosting her wealthy friends in her humble home. And yet Mrs. Gleason had assured her that she’d sensed warmth and love in this house. Addy hoped her friends would, too. And that they wouldn’t pity her. In fact, she felt happier than she’d ever felt in her life.

She finished addressing twelve of them. All twelve of these guests would very likely come, if for no other reason than that they’d be curious about her new life with her new husband. She was about to put the paper and envelopes away when she recalled how young so many of the orphans had been—mere babies! Like Susannah, Addy thought she also could hear their mothers’ cries of grief. She uncapped her fountain pen and addressed three more invitations. Her modest parlor and dining room would feel crowded with fifteen women, but Addy decided to think of the spaces as cozy, not cramped. She told Howard about her plans that evening at dinner.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve invited some of my friends and social acquaintances to tea next week. Mrs. Gleason gave me the idea.”

He looked at her blankly, as if trying to figure out who Mrs. Gleason was. “Our new cook?” he finally asked in surprise.

“Yes. I was telling her how difficult it is to raise the issue of suffrage when I’m a guest in someone else’s house, and she suggested I invite my friends to come here.” Howard had speared a forkful of salmon, but his hand halted halfway to his mouth.

“They’re coming here?”

“Yes.” She tried to read his expression and thought she saw several emotions flicker across his handsome face. Surprise certainly, obvious from his raised eyebrows. A small, brief smile of happiness that she would like to think was because she was working for a cause she believed in. But she saw anxiety as well in his wrinkled brow, and in the fact that his smile wavered. Was he worried about the cost of entertaining such wealthy guests? Or was he embarrassed for her sake by their humble home? He’d said repeatedly when they’d purchased the town house that he wished he could buy her a mansion.

“Mrs. Gleason has promised to dazzle them with a sumptuous tea,” Addy said, when Howard didn’t reply. “I’ll take money from my inheritance to pay the extra costs—”

“You don’t need to touch that money. We’ve discussed this before, Addy.” Now his expression showed irritation, which he was battling to contain. He set down his fork and reached for her hand. “That money is to be set aside for your future. It’s your security in case anything happens to me. We can afford to host your friends, even if Mrs. Gleason prepares a banquet fit for a king.”

“Thank you.” She would say no more about it. They ate in silence for a moment before Addy spoke again. “I can’t stop thinking about Jack’s description of his father as a man who played with his children and sang to them. I’ve never known a father like that. Mine was a good man, but... distant. It makes me wonder which of us, Jack or I, was the rich one and which of us was poor?” Howard rose from his seat and went to her, bending to silently embrace her.

The weather cleared by Wednesday, so Addy set out in the hired carriage with Susannah and Jack to visit two more orphanages. The first was the New York Foundling Hospital on East Sixty-eighth Street. According to Mother’s description, two nuns founded it after the Civil War as a place where desperate mothers could leave their babies.

“You must promise not to let go of Susannah’s hand this time,” Addy told Jack before they went inside.

“I promise.” He squeezed out the words grudgingly.

Addy explained to the nun in charge why they had come, and she was eager to help. She asked her assistant to pore over the records while she escorted the three of them on a tour.

“Sister Irene founded our institution in a modest home in the Greenwich Village neighborhood,” she explained. “She placed a wicker cradle on her doorstep, and that very first night, a newborn baby was placed inside it. The need has only multiplied in the years since. It would break your heart to read the notes mothers sometimes leave with their babies.”

“Do you think I might have a copy of one of them?” Addy asked. “The suffrage group I work with is trying to raise awareness of the need to help desperate women like these mothers. I think it would open many eyes if I shared one mother’s own words.”

“That would be wonderful, Mrs. Forsythe. I thank you for anything you can do to help.”

The nun led them to a large room with a row of cots and cribs lining one wall. More than a dozen toddlers had been playing on the wooden floor, but they grew quiet when they saw the strangers. The hopeful, expectant looks on their faces touched Addy’s heart. She saw Susannah searching her pockets for a handkerchief. She had let go of Jack’s hand for a moment, and he moved into the room, laying his hand on each child’s head as if in silent comfort.

They didn’t find Polly. The record books showed no little girls matching her description. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t help,” the sister said. “But maybe this letter will.” She gave Addy a copy of a note from an abandoned child’s mother.

The disappointment and overwhelming need she’d witnessed sapped Addy’s strength. Seeing Jack’s forlorn face made her glad they were going to try one more orphans’ home before returning to the town house. This home was affiliated with The Five Points Mission. Addy had been avoiding the Five Points neighborhood because of its violent reputation, but their driver had promised Howard that he would watch over them. Mother’s description of the mission noted the fine work it had accomplished in an area known for its utter destitution and hopelessness. But after a search of their records, Addy was disappointed to learn that Polly hadn’t been brought there, either.

They had visited all the orphanages nearest to Jack’s tenement, the easiest and most convenient places to have taken Polly—without luck. Now they would have to expand the radius of their search and visit some of the smaller, lesser-known institutions. But not today. Addy could see the toll it was taking on Jack and Susannah, indeed, on herself. She would talk with Howard tonight and figure out another way to continue their search.

Jack retreated to the kitchen and Mrs. Gleason’s waiting arms when they arrived home. Adelaide sadly crossed off two more orphanages from her list and changed out of her traveling clothes. Afterward, she joined the others in the kitchen for lunch. “If you don’t mind, Mrs. Gleason, I would rather eat my noon meal down here with you every day instead of all by myself in the lonely dining room.”

“We would love it if you ate with us, dear,” Mrs. Gleason said. “Although Jack will be disappointed that he can’t crank the dumbwaiter up and down every day.” She winked.

When Susannah joined them, dressed in her apron and cap, she seemed very reluctant to sit down and eat at the same table as Addy, as if Addy were royalty and Susannah a mere servant. The maid nervously twisted her hands and kept looking to Mrs. Gleason for reassurance before finally taking a seat. Did she fear her manners weren’t good enough? The distinction between servant and employer had been very sharp in Addy’s household when she was growing up, and even now, Mother wouldn’t dream of sitting down at the table with her maids. But Addy’s life was going in a new, more modern direction, and if she wanted to help women from all classes and situations, she needed to befriend them, listen to them. She remembered Susannah’s wish to be a salesclerk in a fabulous store like Dixon’s and decided to do something about it.

“We won’t be visiting any orphans’ homes tomorrow, Susannah, but I need to do a little Christmas shopping, and I would like you to come with me.” Once again, the girl looked to her great-aunt, her blue eyes wide with alarm.

“If that’s what Mrs. Forsythe wants, of course you should go with her, dear,” Mrs. Gleason said.

“You’re a very hard worker, Susannah, and you’re doing a fine job. You keep our town house sparkling clean. It won’t hurt if we spend an hour or two shopping tomorrow.”

They left Jack at home with Mrs. Gleason the next day, and took the trolley to the shopping district. Addy hadn’t anticipated how busy it would be, the stores crowded with holiday shoppers. It had never been a tradition in Addy’s family to exchange Christmas presents. What do you buy someone who has everything? She remembered the holidays as a season of fancy balls and parties with her parents and sisters, dressed in their finest clothes and jewels. Her grandmother had rarely attended any of these events. Instead, Addy remembered Mimi Junie collecting clothing and toys and extra treats like oranges to deliver to the orphanages that her charity supported. She had often asked Addy and her sisters to join her, and Addy now regretted that she hadn’t done so, too enamored with her gilded life to go. But her life was different, now. She would give her time to helping others, starting with helping Susannah dream of a better future.

Once again, the young maid seemed dazzled by everything she saw, her steps slowing as she gazed at the beautiful window displays. Addy didn’t hurry her along, allowing her to set the pace until they finally reached Dixon’s Department store.

“There are so many beautiful things here,” she murmured as she gazed all around the huge store. “We used to order everything from the Sears, Roebuck catalogue.”

Addy knew the catalogue existed but had never seen one. “Well, we’re here to shop for new leather gloves for my husband. But I want you to watch the salesclerk, Susannah, and listen carefully to everything she says. You’ll see that it isn’t a difficult job. You could easily do it.”

“Me?” Her voice came out in a squeak. “I could never work in a place like this!”

“Of course, you could. And I’m going to teach you how. Come, follow me.” She strode to the display case with Susannah trailing behind. Addy was wearing her fine cashmere coat and a fashionable hat. The clerk behind the glass counter hurried to greet her.

“Good morning, ma’am. How may I help you today?”

Addy took her time, asking to see several different styles and sizes of leather gloves, putting the clerk through her paces as she waited on her. The well-trained clerk was helpful, cheerful, and efficient, setting a good example for Susannah, who seemed to be paying close attention. Eventually, Addy chose a pair of black leather gloves in Howard’s size and paid for them with her own spending money. The clerk boxed and gift wrapped them while a metal cylinder, with the money inside, traveled through the pneumatic tubes and returned with the receipt. Addy couldn’t have asked for a more perfect transaction for Susannah’s first lesson.

The maid was quiet on the way home. Addy hoped she was remembering what she’d just seen and was imagining herself in that role. “Come upstairs to my bedroom with me,” she told Susannah when they returned to the town house.

“What about my work? Don’t I have floors to scrub?”

“They can wait for another day. This is more important.” Once upstairs, Addy laid out several pairs of her own gloves on the bed. “Now, we’re going to pretend that you’re the salesclerk and I’ve come to shop. Can you remember what she said and did? Start by greeting me: ‘Good morning. May I help you ma’am?’”

“G-good morning. May I help you m-ma’am?” Susannah was nervous, at first, but Addy tried to keep this first lesson light-hearted as they acted out the scene, going through the transaction until they made the final sale.

“That wasn’t hard, was it?”

Susannah gave a wavering smile. “No, ma’am. But in a real store...”

Addy realized that it would be one thing to teach Susannah to do all the things a salesclerk did, but another thing entirely to teach her poise and self-confidence. She thought for a moment before forming a plan. “We’ll keep practicing and visiting real stores until you’re ready, but in the meantime, I want you to learn good posture and how to walk gracefully. I’ll show you what they taught us to do at the female academy I attended.” Addy picked up a book from Howard’s side of the bed and balanced it on her head. “In order to keep it from falling off, you must keep your shoulders and spine straight and your chin level. See?” She crossed the room while balancing the book on her head, then returned to Susannah’s side. “Now you try it.”

Susannah giggled and her cheeks turned pink when her first few attempts made the book slide off her head. Addy laughed with her, coaxing her to try again until Susannah finally was able to walk the length of the room with the book in place. “Perfect, Susannah! Now, I want you to practice every day until it comes naturally. You can show me the results in a few days.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am. Should I go help Mrs. Gleason now?”

“No, wait. One more thing. Did you notice how the salesclerk always wore a pleasant expression on her face? Come here for a minute and look in the mirror with me. See how worried you look, Susannah? Show me your nicest smile. That’s better. You look so pretty when you smile. Now when you’re at home, after you’ve practiced walking with the book on your head, I want you to stand in front of a mirror and practice what it feels like to wear a pleasant expression. Practice until you can do it without looking—and without blushing so much. Do you think you can try that?”

Susannah’s cheeks turned an even brighter shade of pink, but she nodded and said, “Yes, ma’am. I’ll practice, ma’am.”

“Good.”

The following day, the weather again proved dismal, forcing Addy to remain at home with nothing to do. It occurred to her that she had promised the orphanage director that she would help Jack with his schoolwork, and hadn’t done it. She went downstairs to the kitchen to find him. He and Mrs. Gleason were in the middle of baking something, and Jack seemed focused on the array of measuring cups and spoons that Mrs. Gleason had laid out. Cannisters of flour and sugar littered the table, along with jars of spices and other mysterious ingredients. The fire in the range made the kitchen cozy and warm, and the room smelled wonderfully of cinnamon and cloves. “May I watch you?” Addy asked.

“Your company is always welcome, Mrs. Forsythe.” She smiled and gestured to a chair with her flour-covered hand. “Did you find the cup with a one and a four on it, Jackie? Right, then. That’s one-fourth of a cup. It takes four of those to make one full cup.”

“Four of them?” He looked skeptical.

“See for yourself. Fill it with flour four times and dump it into the bigger cup.” Jack’s tongue stuck out with concentration, as seemed to be his habit. Flour coated his fingers and dusted the table.

“It works!” he said.

“Now find the cup with a one and a three. How many of those do you think it will take to fill the big cup?”

“Three?”

“Give it a try.”

Jack measured and filled the cups, spilling more flour. “Look! It works.”

“Right you are. That cup measures one-third. And the last cup is one-half. You’ll fill it twice. It works the same way with the measuring spoons.” Addy realized that while Mrs. Gleason could probably bake anything she wanted without bothering to measure, she was teaching Jack about fractions, and doing a much better job of it than she could have.

“You’re a wonder, Mrs. Gleason. I can’t thank you enough for helping me teach him.”

“He’s a lamb. We like to learn about a lot of different things, don’t we, Jackie-boy?”

“Uh-huh.” He didn’t look up from his experimentation.

Mrs. Gleason cracked four eggs into a bowl. “Jackie has been telling me about the candles he lights in church. We don’t have anything like that in my church. He says the first candle stands for hope—and I know how very much he is hoping to find his sister.”

Addy didn’t want to say that her own hope of finding his family was beginning to wane. She watched Mrs. Gleason beat the eggs into a froth with a whisk, her hand whirling like a machine.

“He tells me that last Sunday’s candle stood for love. And love is all over the Bible, isn’t it, Mrs. Forsythe? We’re told to love God and to love our neighbor. Yet I can’t help thinking of all those little babies Susannah told me about, with no one to love them.”

“It’s heartbreaking. That’s what I want to talk to my friends about at my tea next week. Hopefully, they’ll help me try to do something about it.”

Mrs. Gleason stopped whisking and looked up at Addy. “Love is a funny thing, isn’t it? It seems clear what loving our neighbor should look like, even though we neglect doing it.But when it comes to love between a man and a woman, well, we don’t always know what’s real and what isn’t, do we?”

“Have you ever been in love, Mrs. Gleason? I assume there was a Mr. Gleason.”

“Oh, yes,” she said, chuckling. “Wayne Gleason. I fell in love with handsome, charming Wayne Gleason when I was all of sixteen years old. My parents tried to warn me about him, but would I listen?” She smiled, shaking her head. “We want what we want when we think we’re in love instead of what’s best for us.”

She beat the eggs for another moment, then said, “Find the one-half cup, Jackie-boy, and measure some sugar for me. That’s it. Good job. Pour it in here with the eggs.” She gave the mixture a few more vigorous stirs, then leaned close to Addy, lowering her voice. “That’s one of the reasons why Susannah was sent here to live with my sister and me. The wrong sort of fellow was giving her the wrong sort of attention.”

“I see.” The news made Addy more determined than ever to help Susannah, who was upstairs dusting the parlor, to dream of better things.

“Now the flour. Two cups of it, Jack, if you please.” She continued talking while she worked. “I didn’t listen to my parents, of course. I married Wayne Gleason and quickly learned that he spent a lot of his wages on drink instead of on coal to heat our apartment. When our little daughter, Flossie, died of pneumonia, Wayne blamed himself and couldn’t face me. And so, he left.”

She got out a baking pan and a brick of lard. “Grease up this pan for me, Jack. You know how to do it. Are your hands clean?”

He quickly swiped them on a towel, then dug his fingers into the lard, smearing it on the pan as if he enjoyed the greasy mess.

“What did you do then, Mrs. Gleason?” Addy asked, intrigued by her sad story.

“I went to work in the Halls’ mansion as a cook’s assistant. As the years passed and I learned more and more, I became their head cook. The other servants became my family, and when the Halls had children, I loved them as if they were my own. But time changes everything, doesn’t it? The children grew up, the other servants moved on or retired, and my family broke apart once again.”

“Is this good enough, Mrs. Gleason?” Jack asked.

“It’s perfect. Let’s pour the batter in it, shall we? And get it into the oven. Then you can lick the bowl.”

Addy saw the love shining from Mrs. Gleason’s eyes as she gazed at Jack. She remembered her grandmother looking at her the same way, as if she were the most important person in the world. Mimi Junie was gone now, but Addy was grateful for the love they had shared.

“In case you can’t tell, Mrs. Forsythe, I love to cook. I feel like it’s what God meant for me to do. When I heard about this position, I thought I heard Him whisper that He wanted me to serve Him here, for some reason. Maybe it’s for little Jackie-boy’s sake.”

Addy nodded and swallowed a knot of emotion, knowing Mrs. Gleason had been sent here for her sake, as well.

The cook slid the pan into the oven and wiped her hands on her apron. “Now, we’d better get this mess cleaned up. Mr. Forsythe will be coming home soon, and I’m guessing he’ll be hungry.”

“He usually is,” Addy said, smiling. “You’re spoiling him. He never came home to a nice, warm dinner before you started working here.”

Mrs. Gleason went to the kitchen stairs and called up to Susannah. “It’s time to set the table for dinner, dear.”

“Right away, Auntie.”

With nothing else to do, Addy went upstairs to wait for Howard.