“Why, thank you,” she said with a flash of a perfect smile afforded by three years of braces at great expense to her mother. She felt almost giddy as she gave him a wink. “Not too shabby for somebody long on brains, short on beauty, eh?” And with a toss of her newly hennaed hair, she turned on her heel, the taste of vindication sweet solace, indeed.
14
Next stop, please!” Megan raised her voice over the clatter of the cable car rails. The gold lettering on the storefront window shaded by a tattered green awning tripped her pulse as much as her excitement over her very first cable car ride. Her gaze scanned up in awe at the three-story brick buildings that lined the narrow streets of Jackson Square. Here the charm of hodge-podge buildings with cast-iron shutters from the 1850s offered a glimpse into the California Gold Rush that gave San Francisco its start. Meg gripped the step pole, feet straddled, and her heart jolted along with her body as the car lurched to a stop, the clang-clang-clang of the bell announcing her arrival on what could be the threshold of her future.
The Barbary Volunteer Legal Services.
Cheeks flushed, she hopped off half a block from her destination, landing on the cracked sidewalk with a wobbly thump. Her eyes homed in on the green awning flapping in the breeze, the sagging material rippling as much as her stomach. Adrenaline coursed as she clutched the manila envelope to her chest, barely able to contain her excitement.
“I said get out and stay out—don’t need no soiled doves chasing business away.”
Soiled dove? Meg halted, the sight of a storekeeper shoving a young woman out of his drugstore stealing her air. The poor thing stumbled, falling headlong onto the sidewalk while the disgruntled store owner slammed the door behind her.
Meg rushed to help her up, pulse pounding over the cruel treatment this woman had just encountered. “Oh my goodness—are you all right?” she whispered, scanning the lady’s frayed shirtwaist and worn black skirt that appeared to have been washed till it faded to gray. Furrowed gaze flicking to the drugstore and back, Meg picked up the shabby cloth purse at her feet, looping the tattered strap over the young woman’s arm. “What an awful man—I’m so very sorry.”
Light brown eyes blinked back, so shadowed with fatigue that Meg’s stomach cramped. “Thank you for your kindness, miss,” the girl whispered, averting her eyes to the hem of Meg’s skirt as if too ashamed to meet her gaze, “but I can’t say I blame ’im.”
With a quick nod, she moved to pass, and Meg stayed her with a gentle hand. “Is there . . . something you needed in the store?” Her stomach constricted at the sudden gloss of tears in the woman’s eyes, the sag of bony shoulders appearing weighted with grief. “Something I can get for you, perhaps?”
“No, miss,” she said with a small shake of her head, her thin body trembling beneath the touch of Meg’s fingers. She nodded toward the drugstore window, the saddest of smiles tilting at the edge of full lips rouged with red. “Not unless you can rustle me a better job.”
Meg’s gaze followed hers to a help-wanted sign propped against the glass, and comprehension dawned, as cold and sharp as the icy pinpricks that skittered her skin.
Soiled dove.
“Where do you work now?” Meg asked, almost an ache in her tone.
The girl looked up, a world of sorrow in eyes that had seen far too much pain for one so young. “Six-twenty Jackson Street,” she whispered, her words barely audible and yet deafening with a shame that shivered Meg’s soul.
Six-twenty Jackson. The Standard Lodging House.
Meg’s eyelids flickered closed. Otherwise known as the Municipal Crib. The very building that her mother, Andrew Turner, and the Vigilance Committee labored to shut down. In a single stutter of her pulse, painful memories of the suffering souls of the Pigalle district invaded her mind. And, as always, they riveted her resolve to the steel of intent. She opened her eyes, her gaze moist with compassion. “And you want to move,” she said quietly, her tone a statement rather than a question as she clasped the girl’s hand.
Scarlet lips quivered closed, as if to stifle a sob that rose with the swell of tears in her eyes. She gave a jerky nod, gripping Meg’s hand so tightly, the ache in her fingers matched that of her heart. A heave broke from the woman’s mouth. “Y-yes, m-a’am, I surely d-do . . .”
Hope surged through Meg’s limbs as she squeezed her hand, her smile tender. “As so you shall. My name is Meg—what’s yours?”
“Ruby. Ruby Pearl,” she said with a swipe of her eyes, a watery giggle wobbling from her lips. “My mama told me she called me that ’cause I was her precious jewel and needed a name to show it.” Water slithered down her cheeks on another heave. “She died when I was eight. Been in the cow-yards ever since, but seems there’s no hope of gettin’ out.”
Pain constricted in Meg’s chest. Cow-yards. Brothels cramped with women and rats. She ducked her head, her own face damp with tears. “Ruby, you believe in God, don’t you?”
Ruby’s eyes reflected the same broken despair Meg had seen on the streets of Pigalle. “No, ma’am, I don’t ’cause I ain’t never seen no proof afore.”
“Well,” Meg said with a final press of her hand, “you’re about to see it now.” She rifled through her purse for her ink pen, quickly scratching her name and phone number on a scrap of paper she tore off the corner of Andrew’s envelope. Digging some more, she tugged a half dollar from her purse and tucked both into Ruby’s hand, ignoring the drop of the woman’s jaw. “I know this is not much help right now, but in about five months or so, my cousin and his mother and sister will be opening a boardinghouse, so here’s my phone number and money to stay in contact until then, all right?” Meg leaned to give her a hug before pulling back with a soggy smile, her hands still braced to the woman’s arms. “Because you see, Miss Ruby Pearl, your name will be at the very top of the list.”
Ruby’s face blanched white, making her rouged lips all the darker. “B-but I don’t have m-money for a boardinghouse, miss, and no one will give me a better job to earn it.”
Meg nodded toward the ragged green awning down the street. “Do you have time to accompany me to the Barbary Volunteer Legal Services? Because that’s where I’m headed, and I understand they have resources to help.”
Ruby glanced over her shoulder, calling Meg’s attention to a patched hole on the back of a collar that partially hid an ugly bruise. “I wish I did, ma’am, but I’ve already been gone so long I’m scared Molly might ditch my little Charlie.”
“Charlie?” Meg said, a slight pucker in her brow.
The brown of Ruby’s eyes softened to a lovely shade of hazel. “Charlie’s my boy, you know, just turned six on Tuesday, and Molly and I trade watchin’ babies while we work.”
Work. Meg fought the rise of a gulp.
Patches of pink stained Ruby’s pale face as her gaze dropped to her feet. “I know what you’re thinkin’, ma’am, but I’m one of the lucky ones who don’t have to do that a whole lot anymore unless some of the girls take sick. Mostly I just work in the office since I’m one of the few who can read and write.” Her gaze lifted to meet Meg’s, softening at the mention of her son. “And then, of course, there’s Charlie . . . which is why I cain’t go today, ma’am—”
“Meg. Call me Meg, Ruby, please.”
More tears pooled in Ruby’s eyes. “Meg, then,” she said softly, attempting to return Meg’s money. “You’re a kind woman, but I cain’t take your money neither.”
Meg pushed Ruby’s hand away. “Yes you can—you’ll need it to call me from a phone booth, remember? And you don’t need money to live in my cousin’s boardinghouse, at least not until you can afford to live on your own.” She clasped the girl’s hand with a gentle smile, money and all. “My cousin grew up in a cow-yard too, you see, so all he wants to do is help women like you escape the Barbary Coast.” With a light touch of her hand, she gave Ruby a misty smile. “Women like his mother used to be, Ruby—”
As if frozen to the sidewalk, Ruby stared for several cha
otic beats of Meg’s heart before she shot into Meg’s arms, and there was no stopping the stream of tears that flowed from both of their eyes. “Oh, Miss Meg—you’ve given me more hope than I’ve known in a lifetime.”
Meg’s joy bubbled up in a chuckle, her own hope soaring to the blue of the sky. “Not me, Ruby,” she said with a quick hug, “the God of Hope.” She pulled back to smile into Ruby’s red-rimmed eyes with an affection only God could supply. “Because you see, He is real and so is His love for you. In fact, this God of Hope promises to fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that your hope may abound.” She patted Ruby’s arms. “So you pray to Him, you hear? And be sure to stay in touch with me too. In the meanwhile, I’ll talk to the director of the Barbary Volunteer Legal Services today, to see what resources they might have for you. Then you check back with them as soon as you can, okay?”
Drawing in a deep breath, Ruby nodded, her hesitant gaze flicking toward the green awning and back. “Do you work there?”
“No, I work at the district attorney’s office, but I’m hoping to volunteer for the Barbary Legal Services soon, so if you come back on a Saturday, I might even see you.”
Ruby laughed and held out her hand. “It’s a deal, Miss Meg, and you’ll hear from me, I promise.” Her light brown eyes warmed like melted caramel while muscles wobbled in her throat. “Don’t know how I can ever repay your kindness, ma’am . . .”
Meg’s smile quivered. “That’s easy, Ruby—just seek the One who gave His to me.”
The young woman nodded, apparently unable to speak lest she unleash the pool of emotion in her eyes. With a final shaky smile, she continued on down the street, turning a quarter block away to offer a farewell wave.
“God bless you, Ruby Pearl,” Meg whispered, watching her fade from view. Turning on her heel, she made her way toward the green awning, noticing several unsavory men loitering in the doorway of a tavern nearby. Salacious whistles heated her cheeks, burning away some of the joy of her encounter with Ruby, but she kept her gaze straight ahead. She quickened her pace to the paned glass door, its chipped black paint and smudged glass a testimony to a lack of funds.
“Hey, girly, can I buy you a drink?”
Blood scorching her cheeks, she jerked the door so hard, swirls of dust and air whooshed in along with her trembling body. Her breathing was labored when she closed it again, pulse sprinting as she sagged against the glass with eyes closed.
“May I help you?”
Meg’s eyelids flipped open to yet another jolt of surprise, expanding the whites of her eyes. “Jess?”
The girl behind a battered oak desk blinked wide, golden brown eyes and ebony curls so like Jamie’s Meg had no doubt she was his sister. A faint haze of pink dotted creamy porcelain skin while dark brows knit in question. “Pardon me, miss, but do I know you?”
Meg laughed and strolled forward to extend her hand. “I’m Megan McClare, Cassie’s cousin. We met briefly at Jamie and Cassie’s wedding?”
Jess’s eyes flared in recognition, the pink in her cheeks engulfing her face. “Oh, forgive me, of course! I feel so silly not recognizing you . . .”
“Don’t,” Meg said with a chuckle. “Nobody recognizes me these days, not even my family. I studied in Paris for a year and underwent quite a transformation.”
A smile lifted Jess’s gaping mouth. “Good heavens, I’ll say—you look wonderful!”
“As do you,” Meg said softly, remembering all too well Jamie’s agony over his sister’s painful lot in life—being nearly housebound with a crippling condition he blamed on himself. The radiant glow in Jess’s face indicated a young woman who now enjoyed life to the fullest, no longer the “cripple” that children ridiculed, but a godly young woman who was as beautiful as she was bright. Blinking hard to deflect a sting of tears over the miraculous turnaround in Jess’s life, Meg offered a shy smile. “It would appear the hip operation brought about a wonderful transformation for you as well, if those papers in your hands indicate you work here.”
“Indeed!” Jess’s smile could have lit up the room, the only bright spot in a bedraggled waiting area boasting two rickety chairs and sallow walls. “In fact, I volunteer here because I hope to become a lawyer someday, and this seemed like a logical step.”
“Me, too!” It was Meg’s turn for a sagging jaw. “In fact, I’m working at the district attorney’s office this summer on an internship.”
“Really?” Jess’s eyes sparkled. “Mmm . . . seems we have more in common than our ties to my brother. Maybe we should chat about joining forces to take the legal field by storm.”
Meg chuckled, fingering the manila envelope in her hand. “I would love that, Jess. In fact . . .” She surveyed stacks of files lining the desk and floor, noting a battered steel filing cabinet whose drawers yawned wide. “The district attorney asked me to personally deliver this envelope to Mr. Marcus Wilson, but if you don’t mind, I’d love to stay and help in any way I can.”
Jess laughed and extended her hand with a throaty giggle. “Oh, go ahead—twist away!” She scooted around the desk to give Meg a hug. “Trust me—it will bless the socks off both Megan Joy and me.”
“Megan Joy?” Meg tilted her head in question.
“Yes, Megan Joy Burdzy—the full-time secretary here Monday through Friday and quite appropriately named, I assure you. I’m only filling in today because she’s sick, but that sweet girl is a pure joy to clients and employees alike. Unfortunately, she’s so inundated with filing and typing that she’d barter her firstborn for extra help.” She nodded to the mountains of papers that obviously needed to be filed. “Volunteers are scarce and I’m usually only here on Wednesdays and Saturdays, so trust me—we’ll have you chin-high in files, briefs, and legal paperwork so fast, you’ll think you’re in law school.”
Their laughter was disrupted by another swish of air when the front door flew open, admitting a young woman with a squalling baby.
“Abbi—right on time!” Jess bounded over to greet the woman with a warm hug. “Meg, this is Mrs. Abbi Hart, one of our very favorite clients, along with her absolutely adorable baby girl, Ellia Paige.”
“Not so adorable at the moment, I’m afraid,” Mrs. Hart said with a worrisome smile, jostling the crying baby to no avail.
Jess tugged the fussy infant from her mother’s arms. “Not to worry, Abbi—Mr. Sherman is waiting for you in his office, so you go on in, and I’ll take care of Ellia for you, all right?”
The woman clutched a ragged reticule, her dark eyes moist with gratitude. “Oh, thank you so much, Miss MacKenna—Ellia is not herself today because she’s teething, and I’m not either, I’m afraid, with the poor dear up half the night.”
Jess happily bundled the baby in her arms, patting her bottom while appearing quite unfazed by her cries. “Don’t you worry—my mother mixed cloves with olive oil for me after I told her how unhappy Ellia was on your last visit. Mama claims it’s just the thing for her sore gums, so I plan to give that a try, along with a piece of crusty bread she’ll love to gnaw, so you go.” She slipped the young mother a wink as she rounded her desk, her bouncy pats already working wonders on Ellia’s poor disposition. “I think Mr. Sherman just may have good news for you.”
“Goodness, you’re a natural with children,” Meg said with true admiration, the hurried click-click-click of Mrs. Hart’s shoes echoing down the long hallway. She snuck a peek at the little girl in Jess’s arms who now appeared ready to doze. “But I have to admit—I didn’t think watching babies would be part of the job.”
Jess pressed a soft kiss to little Ellia’s downy head. “Well, I’m afraid you’ll quickly learn this isn’t McClare, Rupert and Byington. The clients here have no money to pay legal fees much less hire someone to watch their children for an hour or two.” Settling in her chair with a contented smile, Jess nodded to the hallway. “Mr. Wilson’s office is at the end of the hall, so you can deliver your envelope, then come back and I’ll get you started with a brief orientat
ion.”
“Sounds good, thanks.” Several steps into the hall, Meg did a quick half pivot, her smile dimming when she remembered Ruby Pearl. “Oh, and Jess—can you tell me if you have resources here to help people get jobs? I met a young woman coming out of the drugstore who is in dire need of finding a new job to support her and her little boy.”
Jess smiled, her legs still bouncing along with the baby in her arms. “As a matter of fact we do, so tell her to come in, all right?”
Meg grinned, her gratitude channeling into another rush of adrenaline. “Oh, that’s wonderful! Her name is Ruby Pearl and she promised to come in when she had more time, so thank you.” Offering a shy smile, she hesitated with a nervous chew of her lip. “Jess?”
The bouncing stopped for a moment as Jess blinked, eyes wide in response. “Yes?”
Meg took a tentative step closer, hoping she wasn’t being too forward. “Ruby currently lives in a—” the muscles in her throat contracted—“brothel,” she whispered, the very sound causing her heart to cramp. “So I was hoping that maybe . . . well, maybe she could stay at—”
“Absolutely!” Jess’s tone rang with a certainty that caused Meg’s limbs to go weak with relief. Jess’s gentle gaze—so like her brother’s—softened in understanding rooted deeply in her own painful past. “That’s what MacKenna’s Boardinghouse is all about, Meg—Jamie’s dream to offer a way out of the Barbary Coast for women just like Ruby.” A sheen of moisture glistened in Jess’s eyes like a glimmer of hope while her voice tapered into a whisper. “Just like Jamie did for Mama and me.”
Meg nodded quickly, unable to speak for the emotion in her throat.
“We hope to open in five or six months, and I’ll tell Mama and Jamie to put Ruby at the top of the list, all right?”
Unable to stem the tears in her eyes, Meg shot back into the waiting room to swallow Jess and Ellia in a collective hug. “Oh, God bless you, Jess, for all that you’re doing.”
The warmth of Jess’s chuckle feathered Meg’s neck. “He already has, Meg,” she said softly, a reverence in her tone that echoed what Meg felt in her heart. With a firm pat of Meg’s arms, she pulled away, a twinkle glittering in her hazel eyes. “As He’s about to do through you, my friend . . .” She winked while she caressed little Ellia’s soft curls. “For a precious soul named Ruby.”