Loving Annie

  Loving

  Annie

  Anna Huckabee

  © 2019 Anna Huckabee

  cover design by germancreative; artwork courtesy depositphotos.com

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing by the copyright owner except for brief quotes in critical reviews or articles.

  ISBN: 9781698849751

  To my sisters and brothers.

  I would not be the person I am today without you.

  For better or worse, you helped mold my

  character in ways no one else could have done.

  I love you and I’m proud of you.

  Chapter One

  Fall 1933

  This certifies that

  Annalise Petit

  has completed a course of study and has been awarded a

  Teaching Certificate.

  Annie stared at the words on the paper, unable to believe what she read though she was looking right at them. Had she really finished her teaching certificate after all this time? She’d begun to wonder if it would ever happen.

  Two years. Two long years. Two years longer than it should have taken. She’d had one semester of study left to finish when she’d been forced to leave teaching school. It had taken her two years to accomplish it.

  Annie propped the certificate on her desk where she could see it. Emily’s letter laid unopened on the desk. The only reason she’d even finished her certificate was because she’d promised Emily she would. Now, after years of financial struggle all over the nation, Annie doubted she’d find a job in her field of study. She rubbed her hands over her face. The familiar despondency that had been her ever present companion the last few months threatened to overwhelm her.

  She took a deep breath and swiped away a tear from the corner of her eye. No sense complaining over something outside her control. She picked up Emily’s letter and tore it open. Emily was a constant source of encouragement to Annie, even though she was teaching in Oklahoma, one of the hardest hit places in America. Annie read her friend’s encouraging words.

  Dear Annie,

  Congratulations! You have no idea how excited I was to hear you’d finished your teacher’s course, as you’d determined you would. I jumped up and down with joy. There might have been tears involved. You’ve had a difficult time but have persevered. I’m so proud of you and happy for you. I wish I could hug you right now! I wish we could celebrate together somehow.

  Carl sends his love. Well, he looked like he wanted to send it. You know him. He smiled when I told him you’d finished and said “Very good!” so I think it’s the same thing. He was probably jumping up and down with me on the inside. Eric laughed when I twirled him around the room and told him the news, so I think he’s excited for you, too. I couldn’t tell if he was more excited about the news or the twirling.

  Eric is growing like a weed. He’s walking around the furniture. His favorite food (aside from Mommy’s milk) is dirt. Thankfully, I can oblige him there. The dirt is everywhere, even inside the house despite my best efforts to keep it out. He’s got to eat a peck before he dies, right? I’m hoping he doesn’t eat the entire peck before his first birthday.

  I like to put a brave face on it, but things out here are only getting worse. The dust storms come one after another, unrelenting, and so bad we often have to cancel classes. Many in the community have moved west to find better farmland. The Brooks left last week. I’m heartbroken at losing my friend. Any government assistance has been too little, too late. Not to mention the fact that the farmers here are too proud to take it. They don’t want some big city bureaucrat coming here and telling them what to do. I guess I can’t blame them.

  My class this fall is down to ten students. I told the board they didn’t need to pay me, the house would count as my salary. Now and then, one of the children will bring foodstuffs or some knick-knack for the house. I think it’s their way of giving me something so they don’t feel like they’re receiving charity. Poor Carl is teaching two grades in the high school and they may combine a third before the end of the year. We’re thankful he, at least, has an income.

  Of course Eric doesn’t know the difference. He loves playing in the dirt and beats on the windows from the inside when the wind rattles them from the outside. I’ve given up keeping him clean. I endeavor to make him less dirty sometimes than he is at others.

  I must close. I promised my mother-in-law I’d help get the last of the pecans off their tree. They were shriveled, sad looking nuts this year. I think the tree produced them more out of a sense of duty than anything else. But pecans are pecans and should not be begrudged, no matter how ill favored they are.

  I look forward to hearing what you do with that teaching certificate of yours. Don’t be stingy with the letters now that you aren’t studying every moment you aren’t working.

  Love,

  Emily

  Annie folded the letter back into the envelope. Leave it to Emily to put a comical spin on the dire situation where she lived.

  Annie pulled a paper out of her desk drawer and began her return letter. She had these few minutes before Mama came home and needed her help with the laundry. Then they’d have to prepare dinner, then ironing until she was too tired to stand. Annie examined her rough, red, cracked hands. No amount of lotion could help them when they spent day after day immersed in the soapy wash water. Besides, lotion was a luxury she couldn’t afford.

  Her pen hovered over the paper. She couldn’t make their situation sound like a romp like Emily could. The more she thought about her news, the less she wanted to share it. Finally, she forced herself to start before her few stolen minutes of quiet were gone.

  Dear Emily,

  You have no idea what an encouragement your letters are to me. I look forward to them. I’m sorry to hear about Molly moving. You two have helped each other through so much the last several years. And Eric has lost his little friend, too. I’m sure he’s young enough he won’t even remember Gerard. All the same, I’m sure your days feel very empty without Molly Brooks to help fill them.

  I have to admit a bit of jealousy as I contemplate your long empty days. I’m sure they are no where near as empty as they seem to be in my imagination. I’m only writing now because I’ve managed to steal a few minutes between Mama dropping off one bunch of laundry and picking up another. Papa has managed to keep his job as a shop clerk. He works long hours to make up for the fact they don’t earn enough to hire anyone else to help him.

  You asked what I might do with my teaching certificate. I honestly don’t know. I’ve asked at some of the local schools but none of them are hiring or they’re choosing men for the jobs so they can support their families. I don’t even know where to begin looking for something else. So, it seems this paper now gracing my desk is completely useless.

  Never fear, dear Emily. I haven’t given up. The dream doesn’t seem as rosy as it did when we were in teaching school together so long ago.

  I hear Mama at the back door. My stolen moments are gone. To the work! I’ll write again as soon as I’m able to steal another minute or two. Until then, keep well. I look forward to hearing from you.

  Love,

  Annie

  Annie’s mother called from the kitchen. Annie put the pen away and left the letter on the desk. She’d have to steal another minute before bed to put it in an envelope and address it. She’d drop it at the post office tomorrow — if she could convince her mother to let her deliver the clean laundry.

  Chapter Two

  Annie lugged the heavy laundry bag through the streets. Despite hours spent washing and wringing it out and pressing it on the ironing board, her arms stil
l ached with the effort of carrying the bag. She didn’t dare stop for a rest. Mama would already be wondering what took her so long.

  Annie followed the alley behind the big hotel to the service entrance. The line for the soup kitchen at the end of the block stretched past the alleyway. A woman watched Annie’s progress. Annie thought she could see longing in the woman’s eye. The woman gathered her children close and focused her gaze on the man in front of her. Annie continued to the small, black door set into the hotel wall and knocked.

  A plump woman with cherry red cheeks opened it. She looked like she ought to be jolly and kind. She wasn’t. “You’re late.”

  “I was delayed leaving. The last of the table cloths had to be ironed this morning.”

  “I don’t care for your excuses. If you can’t do the work, there’re hundreds more who’d be happy for it.”

  Annie flicked her gaze up the alleyway. She couldn’t see the woman and her children anymore. “We can do the work. We’ve been doing the work for a long time.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t let yourself get lax.” The woman waved Annie into the kitchen. She exchanged the bag of clean clothes with another, bigger bag of dirty ones. Annie’s arms ached as she lifted it and slung it over her shoulder. At least now she didn’t have to worry about wrinkling it.

  A pile of newspapers next to the door caught her eye. The top paper had the previous day’s date on it. Annie knew they wouldn’t be burning them or throwing them out. Someone would come to collect them any time. Her father had reluctantly given up his daily paper months ago in an effort to cut costs. Annie couldn’t spare the pennies it would cost to buy one, which meant she’d never find a job making better money. It seemed a ruthless cycle she was bound never to break.

  She screwed up her courage and faced the matron. “Could I have one of these papers? We haven’t seen a paper at our house for a while.”

  The woman scowled at Annie. Then her face softened. Annie saw the jolly woman hiding behind the hardship that had overtaken them all. “Sure and we’ve a pile of them. What’ll it hurt if you take one? They’re from yesterday, you know.”

  “I wouldn’t ask if they were today’s.”

  The woman’s face softened further, until her lips parted in a smile. “Put it in the top of the bag and be off with you. Can’t have you late again tomorrow. A couple pieces of the linen were bad soiled so they’ll take extra care.”

  Annie beamed at the woman. “Thank you so much.” She hefted the bag back over her shoulder and left for home.

  She slipped into a quiet kitchen. Normally, Mama would be waiting, eager to start the day’s work. Annie opened the bag to begin and pulled the paper from the opening. She laid it on the table where her father would see it when he got home.

  “We don’t have money for a paper,” said Mama when she entered the kitchen. Annie stared at her mother’s face. Her eyes were rimmed with red. She sniffed loudly. “What are you looking at?”

  “Is everything okay, Mama?” asked Annie.

  “It’s nothing. We need to get this bunch done. I’ll need to go find some extra wash for the next few days.”

  “What happened, Mama?” Fear gripped Annie. They’d lived on the knife’s edge of destitution for so long.

  “The landlord wants the rent early this month and we don’t have it. Not yet anyway. It’ll be fine. We’ll get extra work and make up the difference in time.”

  “Why?” Annie could barely choke out the word.

  “He probably needs the money as much as we do. No sense crying over it. We’ll have to put our backs into it and get this done.” Her eyes settled on the paper once more. “Did you spend money on a paper?”

  “No, Mama. You know I’d never do that. The matron at the hotel gave me one from yesterday.”

  “It doesn’t seem fair that those posh people at the hotel don’t have to think about whether they get a paper or not.” She wiped her face on her handkerchief and led the way into the back room they used for laundry.

  The women worked in silence until early afternoon. When the last table cloth was folded and tucked into the laundry bag, Mama gathered everything together and left to return it and collect their afternoon wash.

  For the first time all day, Annie had a minute to open the paper to the classified ads. She skimmed over the lines of tiny type. Most were advertisements for products or services offered. Nothing caught her eye. She reached the bottom of the last column as Mama entered the back door.

  A sense of hopelessness engulfed Annie, the same hopelessness that had been a part of her ever since she’d had to leave teaching school so her family could survive. She tried to paste on a smile before her mother entered the room.

  “Mrs. Monroe at the hotel sent one of today’s papers for you. She said she could let us have one every day if we want. You know that would boost your father’s morale more than anything. I wouldn’t mind seeing the funny papers now and then myself. Bless you for getting up the nerve to ask, girlie.” Mama patted Annie’s cheek. “We better get on with this. I stopped at the cafe to see if we could do some spot work for them the next couple weeks, table cloths, aprons, cleaning rags and the like. They said they have a woman who does it but they’d see if there was anything extra we could do. I’ve got another place to check before we give up.”

  ∞

  Late that evening, Annie grabbed the classifieds from today’s paper and closed herself in her room. The teaching certificate on her desk mocked her. She threw it into the desk drawer before she spread the pages open on top of the desk and read the listings. An ad near the bottom of the page jumped out at her.

  In search of qualified woman to be governess for five children. Contact Mrs. Gwenneg.

  The ad gave an address only a few blocks from Annie’s house. Excitement gripped Annie, followed by an emotion she hadn’t felt in a while — hope. She wrote the address on a slip of paper and put it in her handbag. If she hurried, she could contact Mrs. Gwenneg tomorrow while Mama was delivering the morning wash.

  Chapter Three

  Annie smoothed imaginary wrinkles out of her best dress. She knew she looked shabby, but it couldn’t be helped. Everyone looked shabby these days. She stared up the walk at the house attached to the address in the advertisement, amazed at what a difference a few blocks made.

  The house before her was two stories tall with a wrap around porch, a balcony, and a cupola. Children’s toys littered the yard. Yes, the house could have stood with a coat of paint. The windows needed a good scrubbing. A slat or two was loose on the porch rail. The yard needed to be clipped, but cold weather would arrive in a couple weeks and the grass would die.

  Annie approached the front door and knocked. She could hear footsteps approaching inside the house, heels clicking on a wood floor. A middled aged woman opened the door.

  “Can I help you?” the woman asked.

  Annie forced a smile past her nerves. “I’m looking for Mrs. Gwenneg. My name is Annalise Petit. I’m here to respond to her advertisement for a governess.”

  The woman’s face lit up with a smile of her own. “Yes, of course! Come in, Miss Petit. I’m Mrs. Gwenneg.” She led the way to a side room and waved her hand at a chair.

  Annie took the offered seat. She opened her handbag and removed the certificate she’d rolled and placed there. “I finished my teaching certificate earlier this year. I’m qualified to teach children up to sixth grade. Your advertisement wasn’t very specific as to ages.”

  Mrs. Gwenneg examined the certificate before handing it back. She folded her hands in her lap. “It seems you have the necessary qualifications. I’d appreciate references if you have any.”

  “Of course,” said Annie. She mentally scrambled to think of anyone she could offer as a reference. A teaching school professor? Emily or Carl? It would take time to get their responses, time she didn’t feel she had.

  “Let me give you some background so you can decide if you even want the position,” Mrs. Gwenneg continued. “My broth
er, Coren Winslow, has five children ranging in age from ten years down to a few months old. He’s a doctor in this area. His wife died leaving him with all the children. I’ve been living with him for the last few months and caring for the children but I’m not qualified to teach them and he refuses to send them to school. We decided a compromise was necessary so their education wouldn’t be neglected. Thus the advertisement in the paper.

  “You should be able to live at home while teaching here. Your responsibilities will include caring for the children during the day. I will provide meals for them. There may be the occasional overnight stay, but we’ll try to keep those few and far between. What do you think?”

  Annie considered the information given her. She could do everything asked of her. The only issue in her mind was pay. “I hate to be crass but I really need to know. How much would I earn in this position?”

  “Of course, my dear. Leave it to me to forget one of the most important details.” Mrs. Gwenneg named a salary almost double what Annie earned helping her mother with the laundry.

  Annie coughed into her handkerchief to cover a gasp of surprise. Her mother wouldn’t be able to do as much every day, but Annie knew her earnings would more than make up for it. This might be the very thing they needed to get by.

  “I know my brother would love to offer more. In these times, I’m afraid that’s all he can spare.”

  “Oh! I didn’t mean to imply it wasn’t enough,” Annie hurried to assure her. “You’re being more than generous. In fact, your generosity surprised me. That’s all.”

  Relieved, Mrs. Gwenneg beamed at Annie and leaned back into her chair. “Good. So you’ll consider it?”

  “I’d say yes right now if I didn’t need to find out if my mother can spare me. She takes in laundry and I’ve been helping her for the last couple years. If she can get by without me, I’ll take this job. Can I inform you of my decision tomorrow?”