Awake Unto Me (13 page)

“Echgh.” Beth choked slightly and pulled a small piece of paper out of her mouth.

“What is this?” she asked, uncrumpling and reading it.

“Don’t bite into your cookie, break it,” she advised Kerry, reading the tiny paper.

“What does it say?” Kerry asked.

Beth looked up then, puzzled. “It says, ‘Don’t let opportunity pass you by.’”

“Good advice,” Kerry said, and again, it seemed to Beth, some other meaning lurked behind her words.

“What does yours say?” Beth asked, allowing a hint of a challenge in her voice.

Kerry smiled as she broke the cookie and read the paper. “‘You have what you’re longing for, if only you recognize it.’”

They looked at each other without speaking, then sat in the pavilion, sipping their tea until it got too cold.

“I’d best get back to the hospital,” Beth said. “It’s getting late.” She shivered. The evening breeze was chilly and she hadn’t expected to be out so late.

Kerry settled her in the seat and put a carriage blanket around her legs. Beth was again struck by the sense that she was being cared for in an unusual way.
It’s almost as if a young man is courting me. An odd feeling, but I like it.
They drove slowly out of the park and back on Fulton Avenue to the county hospital. They pulled up outside the entrance. Their outing had ended.

Kerry took a deep breath and said, “May I call for you next Sunday?”

Beth turned and looked at her steadily for a moment. She started to say no, but instead she surprised herself. “Yes, please. I’d like that very much.”

*

Kerry returned home to have dinner with the Grants. She was always quiet, but she was even more so that evening. She helped Laura with the cleaning and then excused herself. She wanted to be alone with her thoughts.

Beth’s face swam into focus behind her eyes. She saw her soft, pretty face, her dark blond hair tied back, and her slightly aquiline nose. In the boat in the park, when she took off her straw hat, the sunlight behind had filtered through stray tendrils of that light hair. Kerry shuddered.
I do want to be a friend but I’m sure I already feel more. I can’t let this happen. I’m respectable now—Dr. Grant’s ward. That’s who I am. What would Beth think of me if she knew the truth?
She fell into a restless sleep, replaying the afternoon with Beth.

The next week, as soon as they were settled into the carriage and on their way to the park, Beth took a deep breath. She had turned it over in her mind many times and finally decided that the best way was to just ask. “Why do you wear men’s clothes?”

Kerry turned sharply and looked at Beth for a long moment. She was silent for so long, Beth feared she wouldn’t answer.

“I always have, since I was small.”

“I see. Why is that?”

“It’s handy when I’m at work in the Palace Hotel kitchen.”

“You work in a kitchen?” Beth was very surprised. That news distracted her from probing Kerry more thoroughly. Kerry went on to describe her employment as a dishwasher and her aspirations to be a cook, leaving Beth still uninformed as to the “why” of the men’s clothes.

They again took out a rowboat on the lake. Beth’s thoughts traveled back and forth between watching and admiring Kerry and feeling slightly self-conscious. She made the decision to let Kerry tell her in her own time why she flouted convention so completely.

For the next three weeks, they went to Golden Gate Park every Sunday afternoon. Sometimes they visited the children’s carousel; sometimes they watched the people drive by in their fine carriages. They liked to watch the people riding on the bicycle path glide past. They were mostly men, but a few women in skirts gamely navigated the unwieldy vehicles.

“Would you try that sometime?” Kerry asked, her eyes shining and eager.

“Oh, I couldn’t. I would fall.”

“But you could get right up and start again.”

“I suppose,” Beth said vaguely. “But what if I got hurt?”

“Well, if you did, I’d be there,” Kerry said, solemnly. “I’d put you in the carriage and take you to Addison right away.”

“You’re very gallant. Why is that?” Beth asked, startling Kerry and rendering her momentarily speechless.

“I, I—er…wouldn’t like to see you hurt.”

“Well, that’s clear, but I’ve never had a friend quite like you.”

“Well, you told me that you don’t have many friends.”

“I don’t.”

“You haven’t told me
anything
about your childhood.”

“There isn’t much to tell. And you have told me nothing of yours,” Beth retorted.

“So we’re even. Shall I l take you back to the hospital?”

“Please don’t be angry. I’ll tell you next week. Are we coming to the park next week?” The plea in Beth’s voice caught Kerry’s attention.

“Yes, of course we will.” The thought of not seeing Beth again made her feel ill.

*

The next time they went to the park, Kerry took them to a quiet area with a few benches. They could see the ocean in the distance since the fledgling trees were not well grown. The western breeze felt fresh and kind on their faces. Beth looked in the distance for a while, thinking back to the past and how much she wanted to share.

“I had a very simple childhood,” Beth said, breaking the silence. “My parents owned a store in the district by the old Catholic mission.”

“I don’t know where that is.”

“You’ve lived in San Francisco all your life, haven’t you?”

“Well, yes, but…”

“Well, then, you know the Spaniards founded their missions everywhere and one of the oldest was here.”

“Huh.”

“Where I grew up was named for the Mission Dolores. It’s a lovely district, truly. Quiet and sunny.”

“Quiet and sunny,” Kerry repeated, looking into the distance, and Beth could tell she was thinking.

“So,” Beth shoved Kerry lightly with her shoulder and caused her to jump from the touch. She smiled into her eyes. “Tell me something of yourself.”

“My mother died when she had me. My father died when I was fifteen and I came to live with Addison and Laura.” She stopped. Beth waited and it became clear that was all Kerry was going to say. Beth, used to silence as she was to anything, decided not to press her, although her curiosity was immense. She concluded it would just take time and decided not to examine why it was so important for her to find out about Kerry. Beth had been supremely content with the most superficial of friendships during her high-school years and at nursing school. At the hospital, work consumed her. She couldn’t quite escape the gossip and chatter and intrigue of the other students, but she didn’t participate, and after a while they stopped trying to draw her in.

Being with Kerry was different in so many ways. They talked and laughed, but she’d never felt so comfortable and secure in the silence as she did with Kerry. Some days they could just sit and enjoy the scenery, and the quiet never felt awkward. Kerry was kind and always attentive. She was comfortable in silence but would also chatter happily about all sorts of things—except her past. If it came up, she would always change the subject. Beth couldn’t quite let it go, though she stopped asking. She was content that they were together every week and didn’t question why she felt the way she did. She simply felt good having a friend.

The park’s main road had a train stop near the entrance where a good many people dressed in their Sunday finest congregated to see and be seen. Beth and Kerry happened to walk by during one of their regular Sunday visits. The trains came out from downtown and went back and, in that democratic way of trains, brought all sorts of folk. There was always a good-sized crowd at the train station.

It seemed natural to Beth that she keep her hand on Kerry’s arm during their walks. Kerry would glance down at Beth’s hand every so often, and every once in a while, she would catch Beth watching her. Beth would smile but say nothing.

A well-dressed young couple stood on the train platform. The young lady carried a parasol and her beau was soberly dressed. The jarring element in the picture was the presence of a dirty and disreputable-looking man who was either entreating or menacing them; it was hard to tell. As Kerry and Beth approached, they could hear the man babbling.

“Ah now, pardner. This is a fine day to be in the park and with a pretty girl. Doesn’t it just put you in a good-enough mood to give me a nickel?”

The young man was trying to ignore the drunken oaf, but he was clearly nervous. The girl with the parasol stared into space with a perfectly blank expression, as though not acknowledging him would make him disappear.

The dirty drunk staggered and nearly ran into the girl. That roused the young man, who turned and, with a burst of hostility, said, “What do you think you’re doing? Get away from us, you, or I shall call the police!”

“Aahhhh. The hell with you then.” The drunk staggered back a bit, then he unsteadily turned and said, “How about the young lady? Give a poor man a nickel for a drink?” He swayed so close to her he nearly fell into her.

Kerry dropped Beth’s hand and strode over to them in a flash. She placed herself between the drunk and the young couple. Beth followed her and was close enough to hear what she said. It was the tone and cadence Kerry adopted that startled her the most. Her even, unaccented voice took on a lilt Beth recognized as Irish.

Kerry spoke in a low, insinuating growl with an unmistakable hardness, as though she was speaking through gritted teeth.

“Off with you, Bob. Now, or there’ll be hell to pay, y’know? Not from the police but from me, and I can get some others, remember? Now git and stop pesterin’ these two.”

Surprised, the drunk had to focus on Kerry. He backed up and she took a step toward him.

“I’m a-goin, I’m a-goin. I don’t want no trouble with no hoodlums.” He staggered off. He had clearly not realized that Kerry was a woman.

The couple stared at Kerry for a long moment before the man said, “Thank you. That was very helpful.” He was clearly embarrassed, and the young woman nodded. It was clear to Beth that they didn’t know if they were addressing a man or woman. They left as soon as possible, evidently mystified.

Beth and Kerry walked on. Beth waited but Kerry didn’t say anything.

“You spoke to him in such an odd way. But he seemed to understand you.”

“It’s nothing.”

“You’re a surprising person. I wouldn’t have recognized you when you spoke if I didn’t know what you look like and how you sound most of the time. There’s a story here.” Beth was challenging Kerry again.

“No, Beth. There’s no story.”

“Why do you wear men’s clothes? Why do you work in a kitchen? Why aren’t you married?”

Kerry kept her eyes ahead but colored slightly. “Because I’m more comfortable this way.”

Beth persisted. “But why?”

“It’s who I’ve always been.”

“You won’t say more than that?”

“There’s nothing more to say.” Kerry sounded defensive, and Beth decided to let her questions go unanswered, yet again.

“I believe there is,” Beth said at length, sighing in frustration, “and I hope someday to hear it from you.”

“I am happy you and Miss Hammond have become such great friends. I’d be pleased if you would attend the nursing-school graduation with us next week, and I know she would be pleased as well.”

Kerry grinned. “Beth asked me already and I hoped to go with you.”

Addison grinned back and patted her on the shoulder.

Laura was nonplussed when she heard the news. It was, of course, Addison’s way to include Kerry in their social life. But it was one thing when they were entertaining at home. No one of special consequence came to visit, mostly just Addison’s colleagues, who were all earnest doctors or sometimes nurses who didn’t care about Addison’s odd charge. Addison didn’t pay attention to the tradition of social separation of doctors and nurses.

The women he worked with set Laura’s teeth on edge. Many were the type Laura’s mother would have called “strong-minded women” and “not content with their places.” She had warned Laura not to become one of this sort if she knew what was good for her. It seemed to Laura that Kerry was a younger version of this type of woman. She showed no interest in a female profession of any kind but was independent and masculine nonetheless, and Laura despaired of ever getting her married off. How the hospital’s graduation ceremony was of interest to Kerry was simply beyond her.
She must have asked Addison, and of course he said yes.

On the morning of the graduation, as Laura and Addison were having breakfast, Kerry entered the kitchen. She had bought a nice wool coat and vest and sparkling white shirt. She didn’t feel like going quite as far as wearing a tie, but she felt clean and dressed up and very pleased with herself. As she poured herself a cup of coffee, she heard Laura’s voice behind her.

“Good gracious, you cannot seriously be thinking of going to this event dressed like that?” Kerry turned around, and Laura was no longer looking at her but at Addison.