35

THE TRIANGLE SHIRTWAIST Factory Building didn’t appear quite as grim this morning, the press of workers just a bit more tolerable, the stack of material by Ginny’s machine slightly less intimidating. She’d walked all the way from her apartment, which she began to realize toward the end had been a mistake. But it seemed such an auspicious day, a flower bud of a day, ready to burst open with possibilities that she really had no choice. Mike was sure to come, and even if he didn’t, she was determined to leave another note and another again until he did. She would see him. She couldn’t be more sure of it.

She supposed that she had Carl to thank for the way she felt. Their walk home the night before had had an effect, though surely not the one he’d intended. It wasn’t that she hadn’t found him interesting. She supposed he was, on some less polished level than Mike. He was funny and attentive and comfortably fixed, if his expensive clothes were any indication. But it was just being with him, walking with an attractive man and enjoying his company that had stirred her yearning for Mike. She had to make that yearning stop. It was not a thing that could be lived with. It was a flame that had to either be fed or extinguished, not left to smolder. She would see Mike and tell him the things she needed to and then it would be his choice.

She’d survived so much already, risen above obstacle, hurt, and hardship. Surely if it came to that, she could endure Mike’s loss, too. It wasn’t something that she liked to think about. Even thinking it caused an ache to grow in her middle and a weakness to run through her limbs. But she would live. This was a new notion for her, the idea that she could go on, take the blows, and move forward.

She hadn’t realized that her fear of fending for herself had kept her at Miss Gertie’s. It seemed the simplest of things now and obvious. But it had not been obvious then. The change amazed her. Her confidence amazed her. The winds that had tossed her about, buffeted the breath from her body, and the strength from her bones had deposited her on another shore.

The day, all twelve hours of it, passed in a blur. The elevator opened countless times, but she wasn’t disappointed when Mike didn’t emerge. She was determined not to be and after a while didn’t even look up when the gates clanged open. If he didn’t come that day, it was of no real consequence. She’d planned on going to headquarters tonight and had already written another note, a message she felt sure he’d respond to. It had been written last night by candlelight and was now tucked in her purse, a sprig of lavender pressed in its folds. Day passed into evening and for the first time, Ginny left the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Building feeling that the day had just begun.

Carl was waiting for her. He’d asked the night before if she’d mind seeing him again. She’d liked that he asked and said she wouldn’t mind the company. Tonight he was as dapper as before, but with a bit more flash and color than appropriate for a true gentleman. Ginny had known a number of those. The best of them were always understated in their dress and accessories, more elegant and confident of their position in life. Carl seemed a paste diamond by comparison.

He had brought her a gardenia for her hair and helped her clip it so it stayed just above her left ear. He said it made her look Hawaiian, especially when she smiled. Ginny tried not to smile too much. She liked Carl and didn’t want to hurt him if her designs on Mike came to pass. At the same time, she was beginning to realize that if Mike was not to be in her future, then Carl was not an altogether unattractive alternative.

*   *   *

As they walked south, Ginny began to comprehend the delicacy of the situation and quickly tried to think of some plausible excuse for going to police headquarters. They turned onto Broadway when they got to Houston and angled over to Crosby then Mulberry, with Ginny increasingly distracted.

“You awright, Ginny? Somethin’ on yer mind?” Carl finally asked. “You ain’t laughin’ at my jokes like last night. An’ where we goin’ if ya don mind me askin’? Not that I mind da walk wit’ a pretty girl like you.”

Ginny smiled an apology. “No, no, Carl. It’s just that I’m a little distracted. There’s something I have to see to.” Her mind whirred about like a carousel, stopping at what she thought was a suitable story. “You see I got a letter from my mother yesterday. My brother’s gone. He came to the city a week ago, they live on Long Island you see, and she hasn’t heard from him since, so I’m going to have to stop at police headquarters down here and tell them he’s missing.”

Carl stiffened. “Whoa! Dat’s no good. Disappeared you say?”

“Well, that’s what my mother says, but I don’t know whether to believe it or not. Knowing my brother, he’s off on a bender somewhere,” Ginny said, realizing that she hadn’t been acting quite as upset for her dear lost brother as she might have. Carl stopped walking though and she wasn’t sure if he was more upset about the prospects for her brother or of having to go to the police. They were within sight of the building and Carl was looking at it as if it were an oncoming train. He must have realized it because he gave a thin smile and said, “I don’ like da cops so much. Had my disagreements over da years.”

Ginny nodded as if she understood. “You don’t have to go, silly. Besides, they don’t bite.”

Carl gave her a frown in return. “Youse don’ know da cops I know.”

*   *   *

Ginny went in, feeling a little guilty for lying to Carl. But if she’d told him the truth about Mike, she’d probably never see him again. She realized then that she really had been thinking of Carl as a replacement for Mike, a fish she might throw back if a bigger one came along. She climbed the steps of headquarters feeling confused. She didn’t like to think of herself as a liar. But then, despite her efforts to get Mike back, the truth was she couldn’t be sure it would ever happen. She sighed as she fished for the note.

There was a different desk sergeant that night, a man not so inclined toward uncomfortable questions. She handed him the note and asked that it be left for Detective Braddock. An unusual look crossed the man’s face, a look that Ginny couldn’t exactly identify, something between sorrow and pride she might have said.

“Sure, ma’am, lots of messages for Braddock this evening.” He said it as if she would know why. She left, feeling puzzled and uneasy. She didn’t see Carl at first when she came out and thought with a sinking feeling that he’d gone, that he’d seen through her story. But Carl was just up the block, his face buried in a newspaper, his lips moving slightly as he read. “That was fast,” he said with a quizzical frown. “What happened?”

“Oh, they, ah, said I should come back tomorrow. The detective who handles missing persons has gone home for the night.”

Carl nodded as if that made sense. Ginny was about to embellish the lie when she noticed the headline on the newspaper. HERO COP LIES NEAR DEATH, the headline read, then in smaller type beneath GUNS DOWN TWO GANGSTERS IN DEADLY SHOOT-OUT. But what caught Ginny’s eye was a photograph of Mike just below, a picture of him as a patrolman, a helmet on his head that he seemed uncomfortable in. Ginny grabbed the paper from Carl’s hands.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Ginny didn’t answer. She had to know what hospital he was in and scanned the article twice before she found it. “Carl, I have to go. I’m sorry, so sorry. I … I just have to go.”

“Ginny?” Carl started after her as she practically ran down the street. “Ginny!”