Northern Star

Chapter 21

Perry tried to stand still as Molly pinned the hem of a newly made-over dress for her. This was the third one in a week that Molly had insisted she have from the seemingly endless supply in the attic. She giggled at her reflection in the mirror. The collar was high and the long double row of ivory buttons made her look very straitlaced and proper. The long sleeves hid her healing bruises. If it were not for the fear that the men who were trying to kill Molly might return, Perry would say she was happy for the first time in months.

"Hold still, child," Molly mumbled through a mouthful of pins.

Before Perry could comply, Abram's familiar full-fisted knock rattled across the kitchen.

"I'll let him in." Perry whirled across the large kitchen, ignoring the pins sticking out of her dress.

"I'll put a kettle on and see if the pie is done." Molly shoved her sewing basket aside.

As usual, Abram was not empty-handed as he stumbled into the kitchen like a heavily laden street peddler. With a racket that surely alerted every mouse in the wall, he dropped his burdens on the table.

Looking over all the items, Perry announced, "If you keep bringing us food, we'll have to open a dining house."

"I just picked some things up on the way over." He set a basket of apples down. "I was hoping Miss Molly would make some of her delicious apple butter."

All three laughed. Perry couldn't tell whether Molly loved cooking or Abram loved eating more, but his visits were welcome and probably the reason they hadn't heard from Henry's nephews.

The teakettle whistled and the smell of fresh peach pie filled the room. Abram relaxed with an at-home sigh and pulled a small box from his pocket. "Miss Perry, I checked on this pendant you gave me." He unfolded the small ornament from its wrappings. The gold-and-pearl jewelry looked tiny and fragile in his huge black hand.

Forcing her hands still in her lap, she waited with her hopes resting on the tiny piece of jewelry. She'd found the pendant in her mother's packet, along with a few rings and several legal papers. The pendant might bring several dollars to help Molly. The old woman's hospitality might be boundless, but her funds were not.

Abram leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knee. "It seems this piece is quite valuable. I talked to a man who would buy it and pay nicely."

Perry's eyes widened in hope. "Would its sale be enough to fix up the big house?"

"Oh, I think so. With a little left over to see you through a year's supply of food," Abram answered.

"Wonderful." Perry made up her mind. "We'll have the house fixed up." This was her chance to help Molly.

Molly's head was shaking so fast, her double chins couldn't decide which direction to follow. "No, child, you keep your money. Even if we fixed the house up, how could we live? We won't always have Abram here bringing us food in exchange for my cookin', and just cleaning a place like this would take several days a week."

Perry wanted to argue, but Molly was right. Opening the house would cost money, but keeping it up would be a constant drain. It had been a foolish idea. The sale of her mother's pendant would bring money for now, but what about later?

She'd racked her brain trying to think of some kind of employment she could seek. She always reached the same conclusions. With jobs hard to come by after the war, no one would hire a young woman without any references or experience. Though she had a good head for figures and had run a large plantation after her father's death, work for a Southern woman in the North might be impossible to find.

Sinking into silent depression, she stared at the fresh pie Molly set in front of her. There must be some way to make an honest living. She hadn't escaped Wade just to starve on the streets of Philadelphia. Of course, eating the best pie north of the Mason-Dixon line wasn't exactly starving.

An idea rang out in her mind like a bell. She almost choked on her pie in her sudden excitement. "I've got it. We really will open a dining house!" She fought to keep her voice calm while her mind picked up speed. "Molly, I've heard you say often enough you wanted to cook, and I'd be able to keep books."

Perry burst into laughter at Abram and Molly's worried faces. They looked like two grown-ups who were afraid to shatter a tiny child's dream.

"Oh, don't you see? It's perfect. The house is huge, and most of the furniture is fine. The neighborhood is full of businesses, anyway. A nice dining house will be quite the thing."

"But, Perry," Abram said slowly, "you'll need help."

"Yes, lots," Perry answered. "With all the people out of work, that should be no problem."

Abram and Molly looked at each other for a moment, then nodded in unison. They'd help in Perry's plan, not because they thought it such a great idea but because it brought back the sparkle in her beautiful brown eyes. They were both too old and wise to believe in dreams, but they believed in her. In minutes all three had their heads together, planning Philadelphia's newest dining club.

Abram soon decided Perry's plan had promise. He'd exaggerated the value of the pendant several fold, knowing Hunter's accounts would meet the difference. Now, if Perry could make the dining house a success, the profits would provide her with an income for as long as she needed it. Abram knew Molly's cooking would be a welcome change to most roadhouse food.

At the end of the night's discussion each of the three was forced into a promise. Molly would make sure the house was respectable, with no business upstairs. She agreed to convert four of the bedrooms into small private dining rooms. The other two bedrooms on the second floor would be Perry's and Molly's. The small sun room separating the two bedrooms would serve as the office.

Abram promised Perry to say nothing about where she was to anyone, including Hunter. In turn, Perry agreed to stay in the background so no guest would see her. As far as everyone would know, Molly would be the sole owner and resident of the house. Molly was salty enough to handle both thieving tradesmen and drunken guests.

For the next three days Molly and Perry were caught in a whirlwind of excitement. Molly found a mourning veil for Perry to wear so they could go about town without people staring at her blackened eye. The list of supplies seemed endless. After several trips they realized they would have to hire a man to help them right away. Cooks and waitresses could wait until later, but strong arms were needed now. It wouldn't be easy finding just the right man to hire. He had to be someone they could trust to live under the same roof with them.

The sun hadn't cleared the rooftops when the women set out to find just such a handyman. As they neared a factory only a few blocks away from home, they saw a long line of men waiting outside the gates. The posture of many already reflected the defeat most would receive as soon as the doors of the factory were open. One, maybe two, would be hired. The rest would wander off to stand in another line, hoping that next time would be the lucky one.

"How we ever gonna find a good one among all these?" Molly worried aloud. "If we yell job for hire, we'll be trampled right here in the street."

Perry was too busy watching the men to answer. Most were dressed in ragged army uniforms. Many bore the scars of war and were missing arms and legs. These men seemed to be outcasts of society… men no one wanted or needed. Many looked as though they'd slept in the streets ever since the war. The long, depressing line stretched on and on.

As the women turned the corner Perry recognized a man's broad shoulders and thick-legged stance. A dirty blue uniform jacket covered a mass of muscles far wider than that of the skeletons on either side of him… muscles strong enough to carry a wounded man miles without complaint. She remembered his stocky stance even before she saw his face.

"Luke!" Perry shouted as she ran toward the dusty soldier.

The giant turned a blank face toward her. He stood rigid as she neared, like a man singled out for the firing squad. The wrinkles across his forehead told Perry he didn't know her and feared she'd mistaken him for someone else. He pulled off his cap and began mutilating it in his huge hands. "I'm sorry, miss. I don't know how a lady like you'self knows my name. But I've never met you."

"Luke…" Perry lifted her thin veil and stared up into confused eyes.

"Y-yes, ma'am," Luke said, stuttering. His head seemed to draw farther into his neckless body, reminding her of a huge turtle frightened by the unknown.

"Luke, don't be afraid," Perry said impulsively, regretting having done so immediately. Every muscle in the man's body seemed to tighten at once.

"Ain't afraid, ma'am." Luke squared his shoulders, trying desperately to hold on to his pride.

Perry tried again. "Luke, may I speak to you for a moment?" She waited for his slight nod before whispering, "You don't remember me, but we met a long time ago. You were kind to me once, and now I need your help again."

Perry couldn't have said the words any better. Though Luke hadn't been eating regularly for days, he might have hesitated working for a woman. But helping a lady, well, that was a different situation altogether.

"What can I do for you, ma'am?" He made a small bow.

"This is Molly, my friend." Perry stepped aside to allow Luke a clear view of the older woman. "We're opening a dining house and we desperately need a man to help us. Once we're open, there will be plenty of work for you." She hesitated, aware of others around them watching. "I should also tell you before you start that we can't pay much. You'd have a room and meals, but the pay will be poor at first."

Luke's full laughter made her jump. "A meal and a bed! That sounds mighty good. Lead the way, ladies. You got you'self a hired hand."

Molly didn't budge but puffed up like a large horned toad in an ant bed. "One thing first, Mr. Luke." Her pointed finger looked as deadly as any bayonet. "There'll be no drinking or womenin' while you're workin'."

Perry almost exploded into giggles. Molly stood beside her, a pillar of respectability. Even her dress had changed over the past few days. She now looked more like an old maiden aunt than a retired lady of the streets.

Luke addressed Molly with his hands in front of him and his head lowered in respect. "I'd not do that, ma'am. I drinks a few now and then, but there be no drunkard in me."

"Good." Molly deflated somewhat before adding, "If Miss Perry says you're a honest sort, then Lord knows we can use your help." Without another word she turned and marched back toward home.

Perry and Luke followed. They were at work within minutes. Luke had only enough time to remove his coat before both women began calling for his help. For the next two hours he moved furniture, lifted rugs, nailed boards, and hauled wood. Though mumbling some-times about being caught in a tornado, he continued to work, the smile on his sweaty face genuine. He enjoyed a job that taxed his strength and not his soul. It felt good to be doing a man's work again and not a soldier's killing.

Finally Molly ordered him to rest and have lunch. After only a few bites of her cooking he announced that he was sure he'd died and gone to heaven.

As the three made afternoon plans over dessert, Abram strolled through the open kitchen door without knocking. His arms were loaded down with samples of fabric and wallpaper. Perry jumped up to help him.

"I hired three carpenters to knock those walls out and build the counters you need," Abram said before he saw Luke sitting at the table.

Luke stood silently, waiting for Abram to make the first move.

Perry hurried to introduce them, forgetting she'd stood between them once before. Only then they had been soldiers. "Abram, I'd like you to meet Luke. We just hired him this morning,'' she said, then moved from between the two giants.

Abram slowly offered his hand. "I know Luke."

Luke shook hands in silence. His gaze never left the black man's face.

Abram was quiet a moment before making up his mind about Luke. "I'm glad to know you're here with the women. Miss Perry and Miss Molly are very special, and I wouldn't want any harm coming to them."

Luke nodded his head in understanding. Both men knew Abram now held Luke responsible for the women's safety.

As Luke looked first to Abram, then to Perry, he raised one eyebrow in thought. "I remember where I saw those huge brown eyes before." His lopsided smile wrinkled his stubbly cheek. "So you weren't a boy? I'll ask no questions about something that's only in the past." He glanced back to Abram. "Hope you have none for me."

"Just one." Abram's eyes were as hard as coal. "I've heard tell you've killed men in fights that had nothing to do with the war.''

"Only two." Luke straightened and added, "And them two needed killin'."

Abram studied him a moment, then nodded. "I understand. I've met a few men in this life who needed to meet their maker.''

Perry interrupted, not wanting to think of the one man she knew who needed killing. "Abram has been searching for carpenters." She turned to Abram, intentionally steering the conversation to safer shores. "How long will they take to build what we need?"

"Ten days to two weeks," Abram answered.

"Great!" Molly shouted. "If we can get the help hired, we can open by the twenty-third."

Abram nodded as he thought out loud. "Two days before Hunter's wedding." He turned to Perry, sorry he had said anything about Hunter.

She glanced quickly away from the others so no one would see the sadness in her eyes. Everything had been so hectic, she'd had little time to dream of Hunter. Yet he still held her in the shadows of her dreams and the corners of every day's reality.

"Two weeks. Two weeks," she whispered. Somehow she had to find a way to see him one last time before she said good-bye forever. She would wear her black veil and watch him from far away. One more memory to help her mourn a dream that would never be.