Unending Devotion (Michigan Brides #1)(84)
The baby reached sticky fingers for the wide velvet laces of Lily’s bonnet—one Mrs. McCormick had loaned her. Trimmed with ostrich feathers, it was far too extravagant for Lily and out of place in the boardinghouse. But Mrs. McCormick had encouraged Lily to wear it.
Lily repositioned the baby on her hip and pressed a kiss absently against the child’s grainy hair. The sourness of the baby’s soiled diaper and clothes had seeped into her smooth deerskin gloves and the fashionable but heavy tweed jacket Mrs. McCormick had insisted she don to match another of the lovely skirts she’d loaned her.
But she didn’t mind—not when she could help alleviate the widow’s suffering—even if just for a few minutes.
“I wish we could do more for her,” Lily said as they closed the door behind them and began descending the narrow stairwell.
“I wish we could do more too,” Mrs. McCormick said wistfully, pausing to retie the big lacy ribbon under her chin.
The putridness of rotting garbage that littered the floor underneath the rickety stairs rose to gag them. Lily tried to breathe through her mouth and made an effort to hide the disgust that swirled through her stomach—especially because several small urchins at the bottom of the steps had turned wide eyes upon them and were watching every move they made.
Except for the click of their boots on the steps and the faint wail of a baby in one of the apartments, the tenement was mostly deserted and quiet.
The boardinghouses near the sawmills were common two-or three-story establishments that charged five dollars a week for room and board. But from what she’d seen, they weren’t worthy of five cents. They were poorly built, run down, and rat infested. She’d killed at least a dozen cockroaches in the widow’s sparsely furnished room. And no doubt there were hoards of bedbugs and lice as well.
The orphanages she’d grown up in had been cleaner and safer.
When Lily pushed through the front door and stepped onto the muddy street, a burst of bitter air slapped her cheek, as if reminding her that but for the kindness of Mrs. McCormick, such a building—or worse—might become home for her and Daisy.
She’d promised Daisy that she would take care of her and make things better for them. But where else would they be able to afford to go, besides a boardinghouse like one of the many along the river?
With a determined set of her shoulders, she climbed into the waiting carriage and refused to look at the dilapidated building again. She had to keep believing she could provide Daisy with a better life now. She couldn’t allow herself to think they would end up like the widow.
Mrs. McCormick followed her into the carriage and sat across from her, her eyes never once leaving the apartment complex, not even after their conveyance began rolling away. Only when they’d turned the corner and begun the short ride back to the McCormick mansion did the older woman tear her gaze away with a sigh.
“Someday I would like to have a home of refuge to help young women like her.” She smiled faintly.
Lily reached for one of the woman’s hands and squeezed it. “You’re wonderful and kind, Mrs. McCormick.”
The woman pressed her hand in return. “Thank you, my dear.”
“Someday I’d like to have a safe place for young women too,” Lily admitted. And once the words were out, she wished she could take them back. Who was she to think she’d ever have the means to provide such a place for scared and helpless women?
Mrs. McCormick didn’t scoff at her. Instead she wrapped both her hands around Lily’s. “All God needs is a willing heart. If we desire to serve Him, He can take care of the rest of the details.”
Lily was half tempted to argue with Mrs. McCormick. Surely they had to do more than have a willing heart. They had to work hard to make things happen. At least that had always been her philosophy. But something in the wise depths of Mrs. McCormick’s eyes stopped her response.
The ride home was over in a matter of minutes, and as Lily walked into the lavish home, she shrank back, overwhelmed with guilt. How could she live in this comfort and splendor—even if only for a short time—knowing that four blocks away families lived in squalor and filth?
“How can we live like this”—Lily waved her hand at the entryway into which the widow’s apartment could have easily fit—“when there are so many people who have so little?”
As the words left her lips, Lily cringed at the brashness of them. Mrs. McCormick was one of the most generous people Lily had ever met. And she certainly didn’t want to lose the woman’s favor. Even though Connell had walked out of her life, there was still part of her that clung to the hope he would see the error of his ways, change his mind, and come back to her.
The woman laid her gloves on the tall polished side table and glanced into the oval mirror that hung above it. She began unbuttoning the tight-fitting jacket that matched her striped silk visiting dress. A crease formed in the gentle contours of her forehead.
“I’m sorry,” Lily said. “It’s just that all winter long as I’ve traveled through the lumber camps, I’ve witnessed mile after mile of ruined forestland. And even worse, I’ve seen lives ruined by the evil and greed that the industry fosters.”
Mrs. McCormick nodded.
“I’ve seen young girls lured into prostitution. Some are even forced into it against their will.” Lily pushed aside the twinge of guilt she felt every time she thought about Frankie and the fact that she still hadn’t done anything to rescue the girl.