Page 17 of Ellen Found
“My shoulder?” she asked, not sure who would answer and not wanting to think that Mr. Penrose had to get her out of the tattered dress. Her back felt on fire.
“There was one deep scratch.”
“Who fixed my shoulder?”
“The one-eyed man, name of Fred Wilson, and Mrs. Quincy helped. He’s a good carpenter and maybe a better taxidermist. Miss Found, you have a neat row of stitches as nice as anything I’ve ever seen. He does good work.”
She shook her head at that and felt an absurd urge to smile, maybe even laugh. Charles watched her. “Ellen, he said it was the best row of stiches he ever put in anything.” He patted her hand, and she realized he was holding it. “He said you were museum quality.”
She laughed, just a small laugh, a tentativeone, the sort of laugh that maybe a person tries out who is wondering why she is even alive. She looked at the sleeping child in her father’s arms. “You hold her tight tonight,” she said, not meaning to sound so adamant. “For as long as she needs you.”Who will hold me?remained unspoken. Her only friend was gone.
“I had better leave,” Charles said.
“Where is ...” She couldn’t even say his name.
“Plato’s in the room where we hang meat,” Mrs. Quincy said.
“I’ll do what you want and bury him tomorrow,” Charles told her. “I know a good place.” He walked to the door, his arms tight around Gwen, and stood there a long moment. “I am truly in your debt.” He tried to say more but shook his head instead and left.
Mrs. Quincy stood by her bed, the torn dress over her arm. “Mrs. Child is going to be so disappointed in me,” Ellen said. “I wish I had been wearing my old dress.”
Her eyes intense, her boss plumped down on the bed. “Ellen Found, Mrs. Child is going to be so relieved—as we are—that you had a champion defending you!Don’t you dare worry about your dress. I can sew the tear, and you’ll wear it again.”
And not think about Plato?she asked herself. She nodded, feeling the tug of gravity on her eyelids. Was it even possible to sleep after the terror of this evening? She knew when she closed her eyes, maybe every time she closed her eyes, she would see that enormous bear rising on its hind legs. Maybe she would feel its hot breath on her neck as she struggled to make herself small under the stairs and keep Gwen covered with her body. Or maybe she would just sleep, which was what happened.
More than once, though, she woke in tears during the night, feeling for Plato, who liked to migrate north from her feet to curl up next to her shoulder in cold weather. She thought she heard him purr, which sent her back to tears and then to sleep.
Through it all, she was aware that Mrs. Quincy never left her, but sat on the floor beside her bed, her hand on Ellen’s good arm. She even hummed once, a tune Ellen had heard one night passing a honky-tonk on Mercury Street. “Sweetest little fella,everybody knows ...” She wiped Ellen’s eyes when she cried and said, “Shh, shh, shh,” softly.
Morning came as it always did. Ellen was aware that Mrs. Quincy had left, and she heard low voices, then the rattling of wood into the Majestics. Breakfast was going to come as it always did, no matter how dead Plato was or how her shoulder ached. She reminded herself that she was earning thirty dollars a month and sat up.
Her entire body ached, from the tousled hair on her head to her toenails. She moved her arm tentatively, pleased to discover that she could even move it. It pained her greatly, so what did a little more exertion matter? There was a table to set and biscuits to mix, and no one else was earning thirty dollars a month to do her chores.
She decided not to look at the foot of her bed, because it was empty. She didn’t know Charles Penrose well, but she was certain he would do what he said for Plato, then search every inch of those half-finished rooms down each hall on the first floor with extra-strong boards and longer nails to keep out bears seeking warmth for the winter ahead.
Ellen groaned and slid out of bed, going to her knees because she had no strength. This would never do. She hauled herself up and sat on her bed until the room stopped whirling. Through grit she didn’t know she possessed, she pulled on a petticoat and her best old dress, not wishing to wear the remaining checked shirtwaist and brown skirt and stain it with her blood.
Reaching up to brush her hair was more than she could manage, so she smoothed the ends down with her fingers and tied a shoestring around it. She opened the door and stared into the kitchen, where Mrs. Quincy was making biscuits. A glance beyond into the dining room showed the usual tablecloths on two tables and bowls and spoons, everything in place.
Charles Penrose brought out the coffee mugs and set them around as she watched. He smiled at her. “Mrs. Quincy doesn’t trust me with biscuits, and she figured I wouldn’t harm anything if I set the tables.” He nodded toward two other men. “I have help.”
As she leaned against the kitchen door, he came around the table and put an arm aroundher waist, guiding her to a table. “Mrs. Quincy told me that you wouldn’t lie still. I didn’t think you would either, but you can sit down and watch us this morning.”
Knowing better than to spar with someone whom she didn’t think would appreciate an argument, Ellen did as he said. She gasped when she heard a scraping sound from the lobby, and his hand went to her good shoulder. “No fears! They’re setting up the hydraulic lift closer to the fireplace to finish the roof.” His voice turned serious, hard, even. “Right now we’re going through all the rooms. When we find where this bear came in, we’ll batten it down and nail the door shut until spring.”
“Where ...” She couldn’t say his name.
“You know that little overhang of windows by the kitchen’s back door? It was a great place, secluded too, because we know Plato. He won’t be crowded there.”
She nodded.
“I put Gwen’s wool square in my box like you wanted, and I wrapped him in another towel.” He took a deep breath. “I did one thing more. I wanted to pet him just once, and I did.”
He seemed to gather himself together,doing his own reliving of last night’s terror. “Gwen told me to tell you not to worry. He’ll be warm.”
Ellen covered her face with her hands until the moment passed. “Where is Gwen? You shouldn’t leave her alone.”
“I didn’t. Corporal Reeves is in my room. I’ll bring Gwen here when she wakes up.” He gave her that appraising look she was already familiar with. “We would all feel better if you would lie down.”
