Annie's Stories (28 page)

41

S
TEPHEN HAD MUCH
to say to Annie. He hoped he would soon be able, but with his companion along, the conversation would lead to other places.

He rang the bell and waited, the other man standing behind him.

When Annie opened the door, he noticed the gold-foil box in her hands. “Mr. Adams, I . . . I believe you have made a mistake giving this to me.”

“No mistake, Miss Gallagher. I meant it.” He cleared his throat. “At the moment I need to speak to Miss Wagner. I have brought news. I believe this can all be worked out.”

She swallowed hard. “I don’t know.”

“Please trust me. There is a solution.”

She frowned.

“I never meant any harm. When you saw me in the alley, I was . . . Well, I spoke out of uncertainty about the situation. But the truth is, the postal inspectors
are
very interested in that ledger. Not so much Mr. Wagner himself, although they would like to speak to him.”

“Come in, love.” Mrs. Hawkins opened the door wide,
causing Annie to step to one side. That enabled them to see who stood behind him.

The man bowed. “William Sturgis, ladies. Postmaster.”

“How do you do?” Mrs. Hawkins furrowed her brow and leaned toward Stephen. “What is this all about?”

“Compromise. May we come in?”

The woman agreed, and Annie took their coats.

Stephen stepped into the parlor and then turned to Mrs. Hawkins. “Are the Wagners here? We must speak to them as soon as possible.”

The woman crossed her arms against her bosom. “I insist on knowing why.”

Sturgis interrupted. “I would like to inform you, Mrs. Hawkins, that Clayton Cooper, the Pinkerton agent who troubled you earlier, has dropped this case and moved on. The Post Office Department has convinced the Pinkerton Detective Agency that working for criminals is not in their best interest. They are smart enough to know when the game is up.”

Mrs. Hawkins smiled. “I am happy to hear that. And our house? Has he filed a petition with the police, do you know?”

“No, madam, he has not. I regret that he attempted to use the kind of persuasion that his kind have found so helpful in western cities. He forgot where he was, in New York City at a fine lady’s place of business. I do hope you can dismiss that disturbing episode.”

Stephen spoke up. “The postal inspectors explained to Cooper that he was pursuing a case contrary to our investigation, and he could be considered an accessory to this crime and be arrested. You see, even the Pinkertons understand it’s not wise to interfere with the United States Post Office Department.” He felt gratified just saying that.

She huffed. “All that disturbance he caused for naught.
Those Pinkertons,” she mumbled. “Sit down, gentlemen. Kirsten is upstairs. Her brother is not here.”

Stephen saw Annie place the box in her apron pocket before she headed back to the kitchen.

A few moments later Kirsten came down the stairs. He and Sturgis stood as she stepped into the room as though there were needles on the floor. “The . . . uh . . . ledger is not in my possession.”

“Where is it?” Sturgis bellowed, seeming also to have forgotten he was in a fine lady’s parlor.

“Now, now,” Mrs. Hawkins said. “The ledger is safe.”

Stephen would wait for the women to give it up rather than tell his boss where it was. “You can trust her, Mr. Sturgis, as I said.”

Mrs. Hawkins folded her hands. “We must discuss the consequences of Jonas Wagner handing this ledger over to . . . well, to whomever we decide must have it. I have sent my housekeeper next door to telephone the police.”

“We have already spoken to a detective,” Stephen said. “You must allow me to explain.”

She lowered herself onto the sofa. Sturgis had taken her chair. Stephen should have warned him he was in her place. That would win no favor for him in her eyes, and thus they were off to a bad start. Stephen turned to the German girl. “If you will allow Mr. Sturgis to simply look at the ledger, he will determine if it is what we think it is. He is fluent in German.”

The postmaster tapped his long fingers together. “Indeed. Our investigation has led to one of the investors, and a cursory glance will tell me if his name is in the ledger. Even if I’m wrong, we will track down the true culprits eventually. We always do.”

Kirsten stood just as Annie returned to the room and whispered something into Mrs. Hawkins’s ear. Kirsten joined their huddle and then Annie went to the breakfront cabinet and took
down her writing desk. She retrieved the ledger and handed it to the postmaster.

He thumbed through it, stopping halfway. He licked his thumb and turned a few more pages. Then he tapped his finger on one of the pages. He drew a small notebook from his vest pocket and held it against the ledger page, studying them both. Then he abruptly slammed the book shut. “Thank you.” He stood and glanced at Annie. “My coat, if you please.” He turned back to the room. “This is so much more than I had thought, Adams. Addresses and even a draft of what they were sending out. This was a mail scam.” He still had the ledger in his hand.

“I think it’s best if he takes it,” Stephen said, noting the worry on Mrs. Hawkins’s face.

“We would not think of it,” she said.

Kirsten burst into tears. “My brother. He should have the freedom he seeks. Go west and find work. He means no one harm.”

“Of course he doesn’t,” Stephen said.

Annie had not moved to fetch Sturgis’s coat.

“A compromise, remember?” Stephen seemed to be losing this battle.

The postmaster handed the black book to Kirsten. “I daresay your brother is in more peril if you keep it. But if that’s what you want.”

She shook her head and dropped the book to the floor. Annie picked it up. Stephen glanced out the window, and just like he hoped, the man he’d been waiting for was standing on the sidewalk, his coat collar pulled up to his ears. Annie had mentioned she’d asked him to come. “One moment, please.” He waved his arm at the furniture. “All of you sit. There is more to talk about. I will return shortly.”

“I’ll make tea,” Annie offered.

“Yes, yes, tea.” He put a hand on Sturgis’s chest. “Go sit. It will all become clear in a moment.”

“It had better. I have work to do, Adams.”

Stephen stepped outside to speak to the man he had seen in the alley. Kirsten’s brother bore just as imposing a posture as he had then. Stephen drew in a calming breath.
Help me trust you, Lord.

When he was done explaining that inside Hawkins House they would all sit down and work things out, thankfully Jonas was cooperative. Stephen motioned for the man to follow him inside.

When Jonas entered, his sister sprang to her feet.

“Kirstie!” He embraced her, then kissed her, then hugged her again.

She was so small, especially next to him, she seemed to disappear in his arms. When they finally sat down, Kirsten’s face was streaked with tears. “Do not do it, Jonas. Please, I beg of you. Do not confront those men.”

“Indeed do not,” Sturgis said.

Jonas turned to Stephen. “Mr. Postman? Why are you here? I came not at your invitation.” Jonas motioned toward Annie. “You, Irish lass, you betrayed me?”

“No, no.” Stephen waved both arms as though he held a flag at a finish line. “Hear me out. I think you will consider my plan advantageous.”

The man put an arm around his sister. “Speak it.”

Stephen tugged at his coat collar. “Uh, yes.” He cleared his throat. “Mr. Sturgis, the postmaster here, asks that you come to the office with the ledger and give him your testimony about these phony investors. Some of the scheme has been carried out through the US mail, perhaps all of it, so he believes he has the authority to see those men prosecuted.”

“That is correct,” Sturgis said. “And soon. These things can’t wait.”

Jonas closed his eyes. “You are asking me to turn myself in.” He squeezed Kirsten’s hand. “I will do it if you tell me my sister will be safe.”

Now the postmaster stood. “No, Mr. Wagner. What I’m asking you to do is go with me to meet with the postal inspectors, and after you tell them what you know and turn over the ledger, you can collect your immunity papers and go on your way.”

Kirsten hugged Jonas. “He will be free?”

“Indeed. Adams here has worked this out in advance.”

Stephen noted Annie smiling at him.

An hour after the men had left, Kirsten paced the room. “He should have let me go too.”

Mrs. Hawkins clicked her tongue. “You can trust Stephen, love. He has bargained in order to free your brother, and the bad men will be punished in the end.”

Annie gazed again at the heart brooch, then put it back in her pocket.

“Annie, whom did you speak with on the telephone over at Mrs. Jenkins’s house?”

“A police detective. I thought it was odd at the time. They knew the postmaster was here, and he told me to hear the postman out. I was doubtful, but it seems it had been all arranged.”

“We will have to bring Mrs. Jenkins some cake for allowing us to use her telephone so often.”

“Mrs. Hawkins, she knew the postmaster was here as well. She seems to know a lot. I think she had been informing the Pinkerton of our comings and goings.”

“Oh, dear. Grace thought she was a busybody too. I try to
always assume the best of people, but I think we will call a meeting of the Benevolents and discuss putting in our own telephone line at Hawkins House.”

Kirsten settled down on the sofa to examine Annie’s copy of
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
.

“I will be in the kitchen, Mrs. Hawkins, if you need me.”

“Very well, love. I will be in the garden. Got to prepare to put the plants to bed for the season.”

Kirsten would be fine now. Grace was happy. Even Aileen seemed delighted to have found a position with the Parkers. Annie should be satisfied too. She had Mrs. Hawkins and employment there. She was even trusted to become a Benevolent member. But none of that filled the hole that seemed to sink deeper inside with every passing day.

When she finished her work in the kitchen, she joined Kirsten on the sofa with the book.

“Can you read this part, Annie? The monkeys with wings.”

“Sure. There is nothing like the power of story to calm one’s worries.” She smoothed her hand over the page and began.

Annie set the book down on her lap. “This is a truth I seem to have forgotten in my own life.”

“
Ja
, me too.”

“My father used symbolism in his stories, but in the form of the earth
 
—the soil that nourished. That was good, and there is nothing good apart from God. That is what Mrs. Hawkins says.”

“No wonder people enjoy your father’s stories.”

“Excuse me a moment.” Annie went to her room and picked
up her father’s Bible. Searching the book of Psalms, she finally found it
 
—the message she somehow felt her father wanted her to embrace.

“There be many that sa
y
, Who will shew us any good? Lord, lift thou up the light of thy countenance upon us.”

When she placed the Bible back down on her desk, a sunbeam filtered through her curtains and bathed her face in warm light, just like it had before, but this time she did not cover her head and shut it out. Annie let the sunshine cover her for a moment and then returned to the parlor where Kirsten waited.

“It is raining,” Kirsten said, parting the curtains.

Mrs. Hawkins came down the hall, sputtering about how muddy her wee garden out back was becoming.

“But the sun was just shining,” Annie said.

“Oh yes, in another part of the world. I have not seen such a dreary October since I came to New York, love.”

Annie turned her face heavenward. The things she’d been seeing, hearing, remembering that no one else experienced . . . Those things were not her mind playing games with her after all. They were messages, like a story behind the story. Just as the author of the
Wizard
book had noted that Dorothy had the power to get back home all along in the form of the magical silver slippers on her feet. That had been a message for children: they had all they needed if they had the will to try, and no adventure in Oz could give them what they didn’t already possess. The Scarecrow just had to learn how to use his brain, and it had been the same for all the characters. Her father had been speaking to her through his stories as well, and now she knew. Those odd occurrences weren’t odd at all. God had not abandoned her. He’d been speaking to her, and she had needed to learn how to listen.

It seemed Annie heard messages in duplicate, perhaps because
she had been stubborn, stubborn the way Grace had admitted she’d been before allowing Owen into her life. God was good. God was light, the light she’d asked for. God really was speaking to her!

She retrieved her writing box and took out her father’s stories. She was not supposed to forget the Power of Good
 
—the hope that was always rewarded. That was the message her father left for her and what she had considered the last time she looked at these stories.