Spindle(52)

By the end of the day, another girl on Briar’s floor complained she wasn’t feeling well. The operatives cast worried glances around, and encouraged her to quit early and go home.

Briar couldn’t help but note that all the girls who were falling ill were the girls who had come over to poke around her frame. But if the spindle were the source of the illness, Briar should have been the first to fall sick, since she’d been around it the longest. Although she’d never actually touched it, since she’d always kept it covered with the blue silk.

In the fairy tale, Aurora pricked her finger and fell asleep. None of the girls had pricked a finger, and they were all very much awake. No, the source of the illness had to be from somewhere else. Especially since it wasn’t only the mill girls who were coming down with polio symptoms. Briar was just overly sensitive about the spindle, and she was reading into things that weren’t there.





Chapter Twenty-Seven



When Briar walked down the stairwell, she saw Wheeler standing at the bottom, waiting for her like he used to. She drew in a breath. Met his eyes. Smiled.

“Hi,” he said when she reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Hi,” she said shyly. She remembered the first time he’d waited for her there. That was the day she knew he was interested in her, when he braved all the female operatives pouring out of the building. Why was he here waiting for her again? Had things changed that much with Sadie?

“I hear you’re the top producer in the spinning room now.”

She nodded.

“They need someone to move to Burlington to teach the new girls to spin.” He smiled at her and her heart skipped a beat. Oh, that grin. It used to be just for her. She pulled up the memory of him and Sadie trying to find her pond, and she could almost hear Henry whisper in her ear to be careful, don’t get hurt again.

“Will you be stopping by tonight to see Sadie?” she asked, putting up a wall that needed to stay between them.

“Will Miss Olive let me past the parlor?”

“I don’t know. She might.”

“I’ll come anyway. To check up on Sadie.” He held Briar’s gaze a little too long and Briar felt her face grow warm. She looked away, hoping he didn’t notice the effect he still had on her. He needed to figure out his intentions toward Sadie before renewing any plans with Briar. She refused to be a stopgap until Sadie got better.

“No visitors yet.” Miss Olive blocked Briar from entering the room. The diagnosis was in. Polio. Everyone was to stay away. “Get yourself ready for supper.”

Lost in thought, Briar climbed the stairs to her room and bumped into Ethel, who was carrying up a big box of leaflets and white ribbons. The box tipped and fell, scattering temperance material about the stairwell.

“Briar!” Ethel set down the box and started gathering the papers.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I was distracted and didn’t see you.” Briar started to help stack the leaflets but paused to skim one. A WCTU meeting. It was hard to keep track of all Ethel’s meetings. “What’s this one about?”

With mounting enthusiasm, Ethel filled Briar in on the latest news in women’s suffrage. “If women have the vote, we can change the laws, so we are taken care of instead of taken advantage of. We can vote the saloons away and have our husbands back.”

“Are you already planning on having a husband who frequents the saloons?” Briar teased.

Ethel scowled and snatched the leaflet from Briar. “The WCTU, the Woman’s Christian Temperance Union, is sending a representative to speak to us this week. You should come and learn about how unfair the laws are for us women and what we can do to change that. Mrs. Tuttle’s speech helped you, didn’t it?”

“Yes, her speech encouraged me to fight harder, and not let myself get swept away.” But Briar pushed back a little. “The laws are already in place for our vote. When we marry, we are supposed to work as a unit. My vote will be cast through my husband.”

Ethel scoffed. “Weren’t you listening the other night? Where are all these good husbands we keep hearing about?” She opened her arms wide, indicating all the single women in the house. “You’re the youngest here, Briar. The rest of us are over eighteen. And even if we do marry, what of the bad husbands? What recourse do we have when the one we marry turns out not to be a good man?”

Mim came up the stairs in time to catch the end of the conversation. “I plan to marry a good man. I’m very thorough with my process. That’s why I haven’t settled down yet.”

“You have to be asked, first,” Ethel said, irritated.

“Maybe I have been asked, but I turned him down.” Mim leaned against the wall.

This is news. “Who asked you?”

Mim waved her hand like it was of little consequence. “There was this boy back home. It was a setup really between our parents, but I didn’t like him. He wasn’t the sort for me, so that’s when I left and came here.”

“You ran away from home?” asked Briar.

Mim chortled. “I suppose I did. And I’m not going back in defeat. Not until I’ve found a man on my own.” She scooped up a bunch of white ribbons and piled them into the box. “What about you, Briar? I heard you were outside with Wheeler, on the courting bench no less.”