Page 98 of The Missing Pages
Ada opened the door a crack, revealing her red streaked face. “I’m just a little homesick,” she lied. “I’ll be fine.”
Fanny’s eyes looked straight into hers. “Please, Ada. Let me be a friend to you.”
“You don’t need to say anything,” Fanny said as she walked a few steps across the room and sat on Ada’s bed. “I know it’s a hard thing to discuss with anyone.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ada said as she blotted her eyes with her handkerchief.
“I’m a seamstress. Most people wouldn’t notice when a woman uses a wider sash to distract from her middle, or suddenly starts wearing a wrapper underneath her dress. But I do.”
Ada still didn’t admit a single thing.
“I’m not judging you, it’s the opposite actually. I found myself in the same situation last year. I fell in love with someone who didn’t love me back.” Fanny turned away, her eyes settling on the patch of peeling paint on the wall.
“Giving up my baby was the hardest thing I ever did in my life.” Her voice broke. “And I really yearned for a friend to talk to when I was at my lowest,” she said, now turning to Ada. “I promised myself if I ever saw another woman in the same predicament, I’d show her the kindness I wished someone had given me back then.”
Ada’s fingers twisted in her lap. “Thank you.”
“Don’t worry about your clothing for the next few weeks. I can adjust anything if I have a needle and some thread.” She patted Ada’s hand.
“But what about the bigger problem?” she whispered. “Has your beau any intentions to do the right thing? Or did he react just like mine did, leaving you up the pole?” Fanny clicked her tongue.
Ada eyes wettened. “He never knew. He died.”
“Oh my.” Fanny’s eyes widened. “I’m so very sorry. That’s horrible.”
“‘Yes,” Ada said. She did not want to reveal the circumstances. Mentioning theTitanicnow would only breed unwanted gossip.
“How far along are you? Five months?”
“In a week or so, yes.”
“Depending on how you start to carry over the next month, you might be able to delay going to the unwed mother’s home until your seventh or eighth month. But you must be extra cautious. Our landlady won’t let you stay here if she suspects anything.”
Ada’s eyes fell to her lap. She couldn’t imagine giving up her child.
“I’ll help you,” Fanny promised. “I can give you the name of the place I went to. They will find a good home for your baby. It’s really the only option; the hospital won’t admit unwed girls.” Her voice trembled. “No sympathy care, they told me.”
Ada winced. She knew that just speaking about her own experience must have made Fanny’s heartache feel fresh all over again.
Still, her hand remained firmly gripped with Ada’s. “But St. Anne’s Home for Unwed Mothers promised me they’d find a good family for my girl. And really, what other choice do we have? We have to believe them.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
LETTERS CONTINUED TO ARRIVE FROMLYNNEWOODHALL.As the architect strove to perfect the plans and the materials of marble, brick, and limestone were being sourced throughout Europe and the United States, Ada learned from Rosenbach about Mrs. Widener’s plans to re-create Harry’s study as the central Memorial Room in the building.
“Such a poignant tribute,” Rosenbach informed her when he read of Eleanor’s plans.
“Yes,” she agreed as she brought him some folders he had requested.
“Her resilience is impressive,” he said as he took the files from Ada’s hand. “As is her conviction to see Harry’s library built.”
“Indeed,” Ada said softly. “She is a formidable woman.”
Rosenbach looked up and surveyed Ada’s expression. “Please don’t hold a grudge against her. Her grief is immense, and she needs to shield herself from as many upsetting thoughts as possible.”
A small kick fluttered through Ada’s abdomen. She’d recently noticed these tiny, almost imperceptible movements over the past few days.
“Of course.” She forced a smile. “It is all quite understandable.”
