Page 18 of The Harvey Girls

Twelve

“Another letter from home?” Leif asked.

Billie had gone out the back door during her dinner break to read in peace…

but not too much peace. She’d been hoping Leif would follow her.

The revelations of the previous day—and the near kiss—had made them hesitant, and they’d barely exchanged a word, which for Billie was both a slight relief and a terrible agony.

She smiled and held up the letter. “Peigi got an honorable mention in the baby-drawing contest, and Maw told her she should be proud, but Peigi’s just mad she didn’t win.”

“There’ll be another contest. The magazines are always looking for the next great illustrator.”

“Yes, and besides, I bought her a charcoal pencil with some of my tip money, and she’s drawing on every scrap of paper she comes across. Maw says, ‘If I find one more doodle on my customer bills, she’s off to the convent.’?”

“What else?”

“One of Duncan’s lambs died.”

“You never told me you had sheep.”

“We don’t. He works on a farm. He hated school, so he went to work at the brick factory with Da, but he kept getting in fights, and Da said he’d lose his own job if Duncan didn’t quit.

He’s the family tough. He’d be leading up a gang if we had any in Table Rock.

But when he’s with the animals, he’s all kindness.

Maw said he didn’t come home after the lamb died.

Slept out in the woods so no one would see him cry. ”

“What number is he?”

“Four, after me, Angus, and Peigi.”

“How old?”

“Twelve.”

“And how old are you?”

Billie looked up at him, and he gazed steadily back at her. She couldn’t lie to him, but Lord, she didn’t want to say.

“How old are you ?” she asked.

“Nineteen. Your turn.”

“Why are you so keen to know?”

“Because Phyllis says you must have lied about your age. None of the girls think you’re eighteen yet.”

Damn that Phyllis! thought Billie. I knew she’d get back at me for the oyster shells!

But she couldn’t lie. Not to him. “I’ll be sixteen in June.”

His chin dropped. “You’re fifteen ?”

She could feel it all slipping away, any chance she had with him, the closeness of their conversations, the warmth of his hand wrapped around hers.

Rocks , she thought. That’s what’s going in her bed next. Rusty nails. Broken glass.

“You won’t tell,” she said.

“Of course not.” He leaned up against the brick wall behind them and let out a heavy breath.

“I can’t help how old I am,” she murmured.

“It’s my fault.”

“What?”

“I know better. I’ve seen people lose their jobs for… being too close. I got this job because the fellow before me was caught taking out one of the waitresses.”

“We’re just friends, Leif. We haven’t done anything wrong.”

“We don’t have to do anything wrong. Even if it just looks like we’re keeping company, we could get fired. And you’re fifteen, so for me it could be jail.”

Alone in her room that night, she didn’t indulge herself in a chest-heaving cry, as she’d fully intended to do.

She punched her pillow good and hard, but silently so no one else would know.

And when her arm got sore from pulverizing the poor feathers inside, she held it close and laid her cheek against it as if it were Leif’s chest. Then she tossed it across the room and went to sleep without it.

Work , she told herself in the morning.

And that’s what she did. She focused all her energy, like the mighty heat of a brick kiln, on being the perfect waitress.

And not just for her own customers, but for others’ as well.

She fetched replacements for dropped napkins and watered everyone’s glasses.

Awaiting Pablocito’s return, the girls had grudgingly divvied up his tasks of bussing tables, mopping floors, and hauling the huge coffee urns to the deep sink in the dishwashing area to rinse them out at night. Today, Billie did it all.

It wasn’t tips she was after, only the relief of having not one spare minute to think about anything else.

Nevertheless, her tips doubled. Customers couldn’t get enough of her efficient service and genuine charm.

And it was genuine—the men, women, and children at her tables afforded her the only affable chatter in her life now.

She missed Charlotte! Though the woman hadn’t exactly been the lighthearted pal Billie might have hoped for, now she understood why. Charlotte’s courage through everything—including the terrifying attack of those awful KKK people—revealed a surprising toughness that Billie admired.

You’re a smart girl , Charlotte had told her, and she’d meant it, Billie could tell. None of the other girls thought she was smart. They thought she was a baby.

She ate by herself. Tildie joined her for breakfast one morning, and Billie hoped her interest was sincere.

But soon enough she wanted to talk about Leif, how Billie had gotten so close to him when no one else had been able to.

Billie picked up her half-eaten bowl of oatmeal and dumped it in the trash.

She had wanted that oatmeal, but not at the cost of sitting next to nosy Tildie.

The one person whose appreciation for her grew beyond all bounds was Frances. “You’ve made remarkable progress—a true credit to the Fred Harvey standard!” she raved.

Cold comfort.

Billie sensed that Leif felt some regret over the course of events—maybe simply for befriending her in the first place, she didn’t know—but she couldn’t think about that. What was the point? She was pleasant when they had to interact, but otherwise she steered clear.

“Billie…,” he murmured when she brought the dirty dishes in from another girl’s table.

She looked him in the eye for the first time in three days. “Your bruise stopped spreading,” she said. “How’s your head?”

“Still hurts.”

Sympathy swelled in her. She couldn’t help it. Yes , she thought. Everything hurts.

“It can take a while.”

He nodded. “I know.”

And then the week was over. Saturday was her day off, so she slept in, washed her hair, rinsed her stockings, ate two pieces of apple pie for lunch because it was her favorite, wrote her mother a letter, and exchanged her tips for a ten-dollar bill to include in the envelope.

At quarter past three she dropped it into the box at the post office and made her way to Our Lady of Guadalupe Church.

She hadn’t been to confession since she’d left Table Rock, and she almost didn’t know where to begin.

Her monthlong absence from the confessional was an easy start, and the fact that she’d missed church several times.

Lying about her age. The oyster shell incident, even though Phyllis deserved it.

Her temporary hatred for Charlotte, and then helping her flee her legal husband.

Dumping out that half bowl of oatmeal, because that was a waste of perfectly good food.

The priest gave a little cough and told her to say the Act of Contrition and five Hail Marys and promise to mend her ways.

“Oh, and there’s something else,” she said.

“Perhaps it could wait until next Saturday. There’s quite a line forming out there.”

“I won’t be here next Saturday. Actually, I have no idea where I’ll be, and I’d really like to tell you now.”

“All right then, go on.”

“I love a boy I’m not supposed to love.”

“Is he not Catholic?”

“Oh, um… no, he’s not. But that’s not the reason I was thinking of.”

“Is that not reason enough?”

“I suppose it would be, but the other reason is what makes it really difficult, because I see him every day. We work together and it’s against the rules.”

“God’s rules are important, too.”

“Yes, of course. It’s all… hard. It’s just so hard, Father.”

“But you’re leaving soon, and you won’t see him anymore?”

Her throat tightened until it nearly strangled the word. “Yes.”

“It sounds like that might be for the best,” he said gently. “No Act of Contrition necessary.”

When she came out of the dark confessional into the stained-glass light of the church, a little voice yelled “Billie!” and was immediately shushed.

Guillermo, Pablocito’s son, came running toward her, took her hand, and led her to their pew, where she had to squish in awkwardly until Estephania crawled up onto her lap.

Pablocito’s bruises had faded to tea stains across his face. “You look wonderful!” Billie whispered.

He raised the arm still in its sling a few inches. “I will come back to work soon!”

Her smile dimmed. “I probably won’t be there. My month of training is up on Wednesday, and then I’ll be on to the next place. Hopefully not too far.”

Actually she was desperately hoping they’d send her back to Kansas City. Table Rock was only a few hours from there by train, and she’d be able to go home on her days off if she wanted.

“Wherever you go, they will love you.”

The warmth of the little family surrounded her, and she felt God’s love so keenly that, for the first time in over a month, since she’d gotten the letter from Miss Steele inviting her for an interview, she thought that everything might just work out okay.