Hannah's Dream Read online

  After they ate, Marian asked Edward to take them to Cooper and Sneden's Pharmacy where she purchased a newspaper. She and Hannah sat at the soda fountain and Hannah had an Orange Breeze while Marian looked at the advertisements. When Hannah had finished her soda, Marian asked Edward to take them to White and Knapp for shoes. Hannah didn't like getting new shoes. It always took so long to break them in, and she had to wear them every day until school began.

  As they entered the shoe store, Marian went to look at the sturdy button shoes, while Hannah was drawn to the high heeled shoes with straps. Today, however, she saw a display with shoes that didn't have buttons or straps -- they were slippers. The slippers she was attracted to first were pretty colors with bows and ornate stitches depicting flowers with green tendrils wrapping around the front of the shoe. She looked over at her mother, who was conversing with a salesman while holding a pair of brown button shoes. Hannah winced. She wouldn't mind an ugly pair of shoes if she could lace them, but Marian was a bit old-fashioned and always chose a well-made button shoe.

  Hannah walked past a row of laced shoes and found a pair in red. While not as pretty as the slippers, at least they were a color, and she picked them up and walked over to Marian and the salesman.

  "May I try these on?" she asked, holding up the shoes so Marian could see them.

  Marian narrowed her eyes and pretended to examine the shoes, but Hannah could see she had already decided on the buttoned pair. Then Hannah had a thought.

  "I could try on both pairs."

  The salesman's eyes lit up at the thought of selling two pairs of shoes, and he began to plead Hannah's case for her.

  "Why don't we measure the young lady's foot," he said.

  Hannah sat on the hard wooden bench and took off her shoes. The salesman held a demarcated size-stick near her foot and measured.

  "Size two," he said.

  As he walked away in search of the shoes, Marian looked down at Hannah.

  "You need sturdy shoes," she said.

  "The lace shoes are sturdy, Mama. And I like them so much."

  "You only like them because they're red."

  "What's wrong with that?"

  Marian was unsure how to answer, and when the man returned with the shoes and placed the red-laced pair on Hannah's foot, Marian had to admit they were quite stylish and did look sturdy.

  "Do I have to try on the buttons?" Hannah asked. "These are very comfortable."

  They were, in fact, very uncomfortable, and would be for several days until they conformed to Hannah's feet.

  "How much are they?" Marian asked.

  "Two dollars," the man said.

  "My, that's dear. Are they all so expensive?"

  "These are good quality shoes, ma'am. You won't find a better pair of shoes in all of Red Bank. Besides, the young miss will be wearing them for a long time. Does she walk to school?"

  "Of course she walks to school," Marian said.

  She thought it was a foolish question.

  "Then she'll need shoes that last with good thick soles."

  Marian looked at Hannah's face. It was obvious how much the girl wanted the shoes, and Marian was seldom able to deny Hannah what she truly wanted.

  "We'll take them. But you won't wear them until we get home."

  Hannah grinned and jumped up. She put her arms around Marian's neck and squeezed her tightly.

  "Oh, thank you, Mama, thank you," she cried.

  "You're welcome," Marian said. "I just hope they last."

  "Oh, they will, they will, I promise."

  After the salesman, whose disappointment over selling only one pair of shoes was evident on his face, rang them up, they went to the carriage and Marian told Edward to take them to the Temple of Fashion. Now it was Marian's turn to get excited as she would see the brand new building she'd read so much about.

  Chapter 10

  The driver stopped in front of Hannah's house, then he helped Marian down the step to the street. Hannah jumped out of the carriage unassisted and began to gather the art supplies her mother had bought her. The easel was a little big, but she managed to get it out of the carriage and was trying to carry it when Edward took it out of her hands.

  "I'll take that, little lady," he said.

  Hannah smiled and let go of the easel, but she kept her eyes on Edward, making sure he got it safely into the house. She then gathered the rest of the bags and went inside.

  "She's been here since early this afternoon," Becky said.

  She and Marian were standing in the hallway in front of the parlor door, which was closed.

  "She wouldn't tell me her business. She just sashayed in with the boy and wouldn't budge. She said she had business with Mrs. Dawes."

  "Well, then I'll have to speak with her. Bring us some tea, Becky."

  "Tea for the likes of her!"

  "She's a guest in my home."

  Becky knew from Marian's tone that she was serious and went to the kitchen to make some tea. Marian looked at Hannah and smiled.

  "Edward took your easel upstairs. Why don't you see if he needs some help."

  She then opened the parlor door and went inside. Hannah stood at the door and tried to hear the conversation from within, and noticed that Marian had left the door slightly ajar. She peeked inside the room and saw a boy sitting on the settee. She saw the skirt of a woman, but couldn't see what she looked like. The boy looked sad and there were dark circles under his large brown eyes. He had long brown hair that looked as though it had not been cut in a long time. He reminded Hannah of a Jenny Frye's Bassett hound.

  "Becky tells me you've come to see me on some business," Marian said.

  The woman was young, but a hard life had left her looking ten years older than her chronological age of twenty-five. Her bleached blond hair was pulled up towards the top of her head and wrapped into a bun that was loosely pinned. Her blue eyes bore the same dark circles as the boy's, and the lids were darkened with charcoal. The straw hat she wore was from several seasons ago, the edges were frayed, and some of the straw had come apart and stuck out. The style of her dress was also out of fashion and the fabric threadbare. She clutched a small handbag as she spoke.

  "I didn't know what else to do," she began.

  "What's your name, Miss?" Marian asked.

  "Agnes. Agnes Welsh."

  "So, what can I do for you, Agnes?"

  "It's the boy. He needs things I can't give him."

  "Have you asked your church for help?"

  Agnes sniggered. "What church would have me?"

  Marian was at a loss. She had never seen this woman before and had no idea why she'd come to see her.

  "I'm still not sure why you wanted to see me."

  "Because it's Randy's boy. I can't take care of him no more. He's Randy's son and since you had his girl, I figured you could keep him."

  Suddenly Marian understood what Agnes was saying. The boy was Randall's son.

  "You mean to tell me that this boy is Randall's son?"

  "Yeah, Randy's son. He told me he'd take care of me, that I had nothing to worry about. Then he goes and gets killed, leaving me with him."

  Agnes pointed to the boy with her thumb.

  "I can barely keep body and soul together as it is. I can't feed him, too. Since this was Randy's house then he should be able to live here."

  "You mean to just leave him here with total strangers?"

  Marian was flabbergasted. What kind of mother abandoned her child, and to strangers no less?

  Becky, walking to the parlor and holding the tea tray, found Hannah at the door and shooed her away. Edward was descending the stairs and smiled at Hannah.

  "That easel took some doing to get set up, but I think I got it right."

  "Thank you," Hannah said.

  She didn't want to leave the parlor door, but the look on Becky's face drove her up the stairs to her room. Edward had indeed set up the easel -- right in front of her dresser. She'd have to find a place near the window
where the light was brighter. She went to the top of the stairs and looked down. Becky wasn't there, so she crept down the stairs and looked around.

  "What right have you to come to this fine lady's house and bring your...boy with you?"

  "Becky, that's enough," Marian said. "Take the boy to the kitchen and give him something to eat."

  Becky was about to protest but the look on Marian's face stopped her.

  "Come, boy," she said.

  The boy hesitated, but his mother pushed him off the settee and swatted his bottom.

  "You mind," she said.

  He reluctantly walked to the door where Becky waited, and followed her. His pants were far above his knees and his shirt too short to tuck into his pants. His shoes were torn and his toes stuck out of the end where they had been cut so he could wear them longer. Hannah followed them to the kitchen.

  Marian's heart went out to the boy and when she saw Agnes hit him, she decided to take him in no matter what, anything to get him away from her.

  "If I agree to take him, you have to promise never to show your face here again. You're a disgraceful mother. Look at that boy. When was the last time he ate?"

  "I told you I can't keep body and soul..."

  "But you've managed to feed yourself, haven't you? Your face is round, and your figure full. You should be ashamed."

  "You have no right to insult me. I've taken care of Randy's boy all these years by myself. He made promises. You have no right."

  "I have the right of decency. Now, get out of my house before I call the police."

  "Not so fast, lady. I ain't leaving here without some money. Randy made promises."

  "I don't care what Randy promised. He's dead, and you weren't mentioned in the will."

  "Then I'll stay around town and tell everyone about me and Randy. How would that set with you, missus?"

  New Beach was a very small town, and Randall had been a prominent citizen. Hannah still went to the public school, and if word got out that her father had sired an illegitimate child, her reputation would be sullied.

  "I don't have much money. Randall left me a small allowance."

  "I'll take a hundred dollars and go."

  Marian would have to contact the attorney handling Randall's estate. It would take a few days, and she didn't want Agnes in town longer than necessary.

  "Wait here," she said.

  She went upstairs to her bedroom. Inside the jewelry box on her dresser was her diamond wedding band. The gaudy piece of jewelry had belonged to Randall's grandmother, and Marian had always hated it. She plucked it out of the box and took it downstairs.

  "Here," she said. "Take it to Atlantic City and pawn it. I'm sure you'll get what you want from the sale."

  Agnes's eyes lit up at the sight of all those diamonds.

  "I'm sure I will," she said.

  Marian then sat down at the small desk in the corner of the parlor. She took out a piece of her ivory colored stationery and wrote something.

  "Can you read?" she asked Agnes.

  "I can sign my name."

  "I'm writing that you have received a ring from me in return for some work you did in my home. You will need to show this to the pawnbroker. I'm making two copies, one for each of us."

  Marian got up and went to the door.

  "Becky," she called.

  Becky appeared at the kitchen door.

  "Would you please come here?"

  Becky wiped her hands on her apron and came to the parlor.

  "I want you to witness our signatures."

  "How do I know what it says?" Agnes asked.

  "Becky, would you read this?" Marian asked as she handed the paper to Becky.

  "It says 'I, Marian Dawes of New Beach, New Jersey, give this ring, a gold and diamond wedding band, to Agnes Welsh, in exchange for services rendered.' "

  "I'll sign it," Agnes said.

  Marian put the paper down on the desk and sat to write another as Agnes signed her name. When Marian had finished the second sheet, they both signed and Marian handed one to Agnes.

  "Keep it safe. If the police see that ring, they may question where you got it. You'll need this paper to prove you didn't steal it."

  Agnes glowered at Marian.

  "You think you're so high and mighty, don't you, Mrs. Randall Dawes. You're no better than me. We both spread our legs for him."

  "You get out of here, you trollop, before I forget I'm a lady," Becky said.

  "I'm leaving. Thanks for the tea."

  "Don't you want to say goodbye to your son?" Marian said.

  "It's better if I don't. He'll be upset if he sees me leave."

  Agnes went out the front door, and Marian, who had grabbed her handbag, followed her. She saw Edward waiting with the carriage. He would have to take it back to the livery in Long Branch, and Marian had an idea.

  "Edward," she said. "Will you come here?"

  Edward walked to the porch and Marian met him on the walk.

  "Yes, ma'am?" he said.

  "I'm sorry I've taken so long."

  She handed him a ten dollar bill. Edward's eyes widened at the sight of it.

  "Would you please take Miss Welsh to Long Branch where she can catch a train to Atlantic City?"

  She handed him a five dollar bill.

  "Buy the ticket yourself," she said.

  Edward tipped his hat. His eyes implied that he understood, and he took the money and put it in his pocket.

  "I'll do just that, ma'am, and I'll send you a receipt."

  "Thank you, Edward, for everything. You were a great help to us today."

  He again tipped his hat and returned to the carriage.

  "Miss Welsh," he called.

  Agnes had begun to walk down the street. She turned when she heard her name.

  "The missus has asked me to take you to Long Branch so you can catch the train."

  Agnes hadn't gone very far and it only took her a minute to walk to the carriage.

  "I'll bet she has," Agnes said.

  She looked knowingly at Marian and when Edward offered his hand, she waved it away.

  "I can get in by myself," she said.

  Marian watched the carriage pull away and waited until it was out of sight before going back inside the house. She could hear Hannah talking in the kitchen and went to see how the boy was getting along. He and Hannah were sitting at the kitchen table while the boy ate some soup.

  "His name is Jimmy," Hannah said. "He doesn't know how old he is."

  "I would imagine he's at least nine," Marian said, calculating the years since Randall had died.

  "Then he can go to school," Hannah said.

  The boy was quiet as he ate. He was eating so fast that most of the food fell on the front of his shirt, but he didn't seem to notice. Marian sat at the table and looked up at Becky. She had a sad look on her face.

  "We'll have to go to the dry goods tomorrow and see if we can get some fabric for curtains," Marian said.

  "Why do you need new curtains?" Becky asked.

  "He'll need a room of his own. The only one we have is the one I use at the end of the hall. He needs a boy's room, not a frilly lady's room."

  "So, you're giving up your sanctuary for him," Becky said.

  "I don't mind," Marian said. "I don't use it much anymore."

  That night, Jimmy and Becky fought as she tried to put him into the bathtub. Becky won, and Jimmy was washed from head to toe. When Becky put one of Hannah's old nightgowns on him, he spoke the first words they had heard him say.

  "I'm not a girl," he said.

  "We're all aware of that, but we've nothing else to put on you until I wash those clothes. Now hush up and get into bed."

  They had fashioned a bed for Jimmy out of any old mattress that had been stored in the attic. Becky and Marian managed to pull it down and dragged it to the little room. They placed it in the middle of the floor and covered it in clean sheets.

  Jimmy's belly was full for the first time since he could
remember, and he felt safe. Within five minutes of lying down, he fell fast asleep.

  Chapter 11

  Autumn, 1896

  Pierre walked through the classroom. He stopped now and then to offer guidance to a student but he didn't linger. When he stood next to Hannah, however, he found it hard to move on. He loved to watch her hands mold the clay. She had such small, soft hands. Her intense love of art was attractive to him. He wanted to take her to the finest museums in Philadelphia and New York where French paintings hung amidst crude American drawings. He longed to hold her hand and show her the finer things in life.

  "Mr. Rousseau," Hannah said.

  Pierre snapped out of his daydream. "Yes, Hannah."

  "Am I using this chisel correctly?"

  He hadn't noticed. "Yes, you are doing fine."

  He forced himself to move to the next student, a fat, mousy girl named Louise. He didn't care for Louise. She smelled bad and didn't have any friends. But her paintings took his breath away. Hannah was a good sculptress -- Louise was a great artist.

  Pierre thought this unfair. How could such a lovely girl as Hannah be a mediocre artist and this pumpkin of a girl, well, be so gifted? He would contemplate this injustice daily as he watched Louise create painting after painting with ease. They were truly amazing works of art. He had tried to discourage her from entering the school art contest without success. His only hope was Margaret Mason. She was judging the contest. Surely she would favor a member of her social class over Louise, and Hannah would win.

  "Is this okay?" Louise asked.

  "Yes, it's fine, Louise."

  He hurried past her. Her cheeks reddened as they always did when he spoke to her. She looked at her painting, a seagull in flight over the ocean, and sighed.

  He doesn't like me, she thought.

  Hannah's sculpture of a seagull perched on a piece of driftwood was giving her problems. The delicate feathers were always hard to emulate. She had spent hours at the beach watching the birds. They were hard to get close to, unless you had a large bag of breadcrumbs. The contest was in one week and she wanted this bird to look real. She sat back and looked at it. She would have to smooth the bird's form and start again.

  "It looks good," Louise said.

  Hannah smiled. She always tried to be nice to Louise.