Grace's Pictures (44 page)

Then Grace knew, without a doubt. Her earthly father’s criticisms did not matter any longer. Her abilities, whether lacking or not, did not determine her worth. Grace’s great Father wanted her, loved her, believed in her. Mr. Parker had experienced a transformation. So could she.

Grace lifted her face to the clouds, where the sun splintered through, and felt a warm glow bathe her despite spring’s chill. Yes, her mother was leaving, but she felt a contentment she could not explain.
Aye. Come, Lord Jesus, and dwell in me.

Epilogue

GRACE SAT IN THE PARLOR,
examining the photographs the police department had returned to her. She lifted the one that showed only half of Hazel’s face. “I’m so pleased you saw that boat, Owen. I meant to mention it, but once the children were taken, it left my mind.”

Owen, seated on the sofa next to her, clicked his tongue. “I was not completely surprised by it. Guess I patrol there so often, I knew something didn’t belong. Besides, as often as those Dusters moved from the docks to the park, they had to have a boat. Smart thinking on your part to get that in the shot. I’m just glad the children are safe.”

“Very fitting that they’ve promoted you to detective. If they had not, I would have had a word with that Captain Nicholson.”

“I don’t doubt that for a minute.”

Grace examined her photographs again. Then she caught Owen’s gaze and held it, losing herself in the warmth of his eyes, so happy she had let this policeman into her life. God knew. Now she did too.

Annie brought her a brown envelope.

“What’s this?”

“Don’t know. A messenger boy just brought it.”

Grace opened it and pulled out a note.

Dear Miss McCaffery,

I’ve been cleaning out my desk, preparing to take my things to a new office. I came across your photograph again, and I thought perhaps you’d like to have it.

Yours truly,

Augustus F. Sherman, Ellis Island Registry

She pulled out the photograph.

Owen took it from her hands. “Hey, I met that girl on a trolley once.”

Grace stared at the wee face, wrinkled and bearing a weight of worries. Her mother. S. P. Feeny. Men in uniform. A new job. A place to call home. Those had been the things frightening her back then. Those fears were gone now.

Owen tapped a finger on the image. “I haven’t seen her for a long time. Have you?”

She smiled. “I have not.” That Grace McCaffery had disappeared along with that tattered petticoat.

He leaned close to her, his sweet breath brushing her cheek. Her heart fell to her stomach as he lifted her chin with his index finger and brushed his lips across hers. Oh, what she would have missed if she hadn’t given up her distrust of the police.

He leaned back a bit when the sound of someone’s footsteps clattered in the hall. Hawkins House was a busy place, a happy and joyful lively place.

He glanced at her. “Where’s that camera?”

“Why?”

“We need a new picture of the Grace I see now. Let’s go out to the park.”

“Now?”

“Sure. It’s not far.”

Spring flowers had begun to pop through the earth, and the trees were a vivid green. Nothing like spring to renew your spirit.

He stood across the walk, the harbor at his back. “Think this will work?”

“Hold your breath, count to three, and then click the shutter.” She smiled.

Click.

He lowered the camera. “Beautiful.”

A Note from the Author

NOW THAT MOST EVERYONE
carries a camera-equipped smartphone, snapping a candid photo is commonplace. But at the turn of the twentieth century, amateur photographers taking pictures on the street was an alarming novelty. A comment in a contemporary newspaper opined about how this new invention might invade privacy. At the affordable price of only one dollar, soon everyone would have a box camera. So I wondered,
What if someone took a photograph of a person who did not want his picture made? What could happen, good or bad?
After I determined that I wanted to write about an Irish immigrant struggling to make her way in the huge city of New York, the germ of the idea about the Brownie box camera began to work on me.

The Brownie camera was a marvelous invention during a time when many of the modern conveniences we enjoy today were being created. What an exciting time it must have been. But for the streams of immigrants coming through Ellis Island (the ancestors of many of you reading this), it was also a scary time to be in New York—corrupt police, greedy tenement owners, various dangers from those preying on naive new arrivals. I’ve often asked myself how our ancestors survived at all.

I love research, and I value accuracy and honesty, so I must note here that I’ve taken a couple of liberties with the historical record. I hope readers will allow me these slight manipulations of the timeline. First, the John Ericsson statue in Battery Park was not erected until 1903. After spending some time in Battery Park, I admired the statue and imagined Grace pondering it, wondering why it was there. There are several statues and monuments in the park today, but at the turn of the century this one must have stood out. So I decided to include it, even though my story takes place in 1900–1901. Second, historians note that Ellis Island was closed after a fire in 1897 and did not reopen until December 17, 1900. I’ve stretched that a bit to allow Grace to arrive a couple of weeks earlier than that.

If you’ve never been to the Statue of Liberty or Ellis Island, I hope you’ll consider making the trip. You will come away, as I did, with a greater appreciation of the sacrifices scores of immigrants made to come to America. Work is still being done on Ellis Island to restore some of the buildings and to maintain the museum. To learn more and perhaps become a part of the effort, visit
www.ellisisland.org
.

When I imagined how difficult life was for my character Grace, I admired her for fighting against the negative voices from her past. I know there are many people today who struggle with the results of emotional abuse. My heart goes out to them. Overcoming such adversity requires a drive to grasp for an anchor. I can think of only one worthy anchor. At first Grace did not know it was Jesus Christ she was searching for, but she saw the light of Christ in others and reached for it. My hope is that you and I will continue to shine that very same light so people like Grace will find the anchor they seek.

About the Author

CINDY THOMSON
has been making up stories for as long as she can remember. Her first novel,
Brigid of Ireland
, was published by Monarch Books, and she is a coauthor of
Three Finger: The Mordecai Brown Story
, the only full-length biography of baseball Hall of Famer Mordecai “Three Finger” Brown.
Grace’s Pictures
is the first in a series set in New York City at the turn of the twentieth century, following the lives of new immigrants as they struggle to find their place in America. Along the way they will find friendship and love and renew their faith in God.

Cindy is a mentor in the Jerry B. Jenkins Christian Writers Guild. She and her husband have three grown sons and make their home in central Ohio, where they enjoy rooting for the Cincinnati Reds.

Her greatest wish is that her writing will encourage, enlighten, and entertain her readers.

Visit her online at
www.cindyswriting.com
.

Discussion Questions

1. What was Grace trying to capture in her drawings and later in her photographs?
   
2. What part did the streetcar accident play in Owen’s decision to become a police officer, and how did that help illustrate to him the difference in the classes?
   
3. Augustus Sherman, the Ellis Island photographer, said that he took photographs of immigrants at the immigration station because once they arrived at Battery Park, they shed their cultural garb. What is this symbolic of, and why do you think Grace did not do that with her tattered red petticoat?
   
4. What did Grace see in her Ellis Island photograph that she did not like?
   
5. While the Benevolents are a fictional group, this time in history gave birth to many real-life charities aimed at helping new immigrants. Why do you think groups like this often formed independently of larger institutions? What were they trying to accomplish that might have been unique?
   
6. The Hudson Dusters, a real historical gang, were viewed by the police at the time as relatively harmless. What peril did that gang represent that the police and the citizens of the time likely missed? And if they had taken the gang more seriously, what might have happened differently?
   
7. Why you think the Committee of Fifteen was formed? Did it have a chance to be effective? Why or why not?
   
8. How did the Brownie box camera change photography?
   
9. How did the voices in Grace’s head change once she started working for the Parker household?
   
10. How did Mr. Hawkins’s wise sayings influence Grace and eventually her perceptions of Owen?
    
11. What do you think was the purpose of the maid dances? Why do you think immigrants wanted to become Americans (and shed their old garments as soon as they arrived) and still hold on to their culture by holding dances like the Thursday night maids’ dance?
    
12. In the end, how was Grace able to find what she’d been looking for in the faces of the people she admired?