her sincerity. “My dear husband started the mission more than seven years ago. It was his dream and his calling. He’d worked in this part of the city for a long time, preaching on street comers and ministering to the poor wherever he could find a place, before he was finally able to purchase this house.” She turned her gaze to Dennis. “He was only able to do so because of the generosity of a wealthy benefactor.”
“How… how fortunate,” Dennis managed, somewhat nonplussed at what might have been a very broad hint that his generosity would also be appreciated.
“Fortune had nothing to do with it, Mr. Dennis. The Lord provided,” she corrected him gently.
“Of course,” Dennis murmured, properly rebuked.
“Is your husband busy?” Sarah asked to save him from more embarrassment. “I would love to meet him.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, not in this world, at least,” she said with another of her gentle smiles. “My husband passed away less than a year after we opened the mission.”
“I’m sorry,” Sarah said, responding as good manners dictated she should, even though she hadn’t known the man.
“No need to be sorry,” Mrs. Wells informed her. “Although I miss him dreadfully, he’s in a much better place now. If the Lord took him, He must have thought his work here was done, and that we would be able to continue without him.”
“So you took over the work here after he passed away?” Sarah asked, amazed that so unassuming a woman would have been able to make a success of a ministry in one of the worst neighborhoods in the city.
“I did what I could,” Mrs. Wells clarified. “My talents are very different from his, of course. He was a gifted and dynamic preacher. I am merely God’s handmaiden, and I can only do what a woman can do.”
“And what is that?” Sarah asked, genuinely curious now.
“Here we offer young girls a safe place to stay, if they need one. Many of them had been living on the streets or worse. Others lived with their families, but they still need to learn the skills that will make them productive wives and mothers, things like cooking and sewing and simple hygiene. You would be amazed at the squalor in which they live.”
Sarah thought of the tenements where a single outside spigot or pump served a dozen families and no one had a bathtub. She thought of streets clogged with garbage and horse droppings because the city workers didn’t want to go into that neighborhood to pick it up. If cleanliness was next to Godliness, for some it was nothing short of a miracle. “I’m a midwife, Mrs. Wells,” Sarah explained. “I know it only too well. For most of them, it’s not a choice, however. It’s a matter of not having any means of keeping clean.”
“You’re right, of course,” Mrs. Wells said. “But things will never change unless people know that they should. We simply try to educate the young women who come to us about what kind of change is necessary – and how to accomplish it.”
Certainly a worthy goal, Sarah thought, admiring the woman even more. “I know many of the settlement houses teach young women the skills you mentioned, in addition to helping them learn to read and write,” she offered. The ones she’d seen in New York had been modeled after Hull House in Chicago, founded by Jane Addams.
“The settlement houses do emphasize education. You would expect nothing less, since they are run by college women.” Mrs. Wells said the phrase “college women” with just a hint of disdain.
“Don’t you approve of the settlement houses?” Sarah asked in amazement.
“I’m sure they mean well, Mrs. Brandt,” Mrs. Wells allowed, “but they emphasize the physical and ignore the spiritual. Saving someone’s body is useless unless you save the soul as well.”
Sarah certainly believed many of the souls in the Lower East Side – and in all parts of the city, for that matter – needed saving, but she knew that wasn’t nearly enough. “Don’t you teach your girls to read?”
“Of course we do.” Mrs. Wells seemed surprised at the question. “They read the Bible and other uplifting literature. While we prepare them for heaven, we also teach them how to have a better life here on earth.”
“My wife never…” Dennis began, then stopped when the women looked at him in surprise. Sarah had almost forgotten he was there, and Mrs. Wells seemed to have, also.
“Yes, Mr. Dennis?” Mrs. Wells prodded gently.
“I never knew my wife to be interested in… in religious things. I mean, she attended church regularly, of course. One does, but she never seemed overly concerned about…” He gestured vaguely, unable to find the correct word.
“I gathered as much,” Mrs. Wells said. “When she first came here, she was a seeker. That’s what I call them. People who have an emptiness inside and are looking for a way to fill it. As I remember, Mrs. Dennis seemed very unhappy when we first met.”
Sarah could have groaned. This wasn’t what Richard needed to hear. He already felt guilty enough over his wife’s death. “I believe Mrs. Dennis was looking for something meaningful to do with her time,” Sarah tried in Hazel Dennis’s defense. “Women in her position in life sometimes grow bored with society.”
“She was also unhappy because she didn’t have a child,” Richard offered.
“I don’t have a child either, Mr. Dennis,” Mrs. Wells said, her tone still gentle and reasonable. “My daughter was taken from me when she was only three. At first I was angry and grief-stricken, but eventually, I came to understand and accept. God needed me for other work, so He freed me of the responsibility of my child. She’s in heaven, with her father, and I’m not selfish enough to wish her back here in this veil of tears. She’s happier there than she could ever be here, and I, in turn, found fulfillment in the work God gave me. Your wife did, too.”
“She did?” he asked, leaning forward in his eagerness to hear something that would give him peace.
“She found her true calling, Mr. Dennis. She did work she loved, she found God’s peace, and she died in a state of grace. We cannot ask for more in this life.”
Obviously, these answers more than satisfied Mrs. Wells, but Sarah wasn’t sure how much comfort they would give Richard. “Perhaps you could show us around the mission so Mr. Dennis can see what his wife did here,” she suggested.
Once again Mrs. Wells studied Sarah in that odd way of hers. “Forgive me, Mrs. Brandt, but were you a friend of Mrs. Dennis?”
So that was it! Mrs. Wells was simply trying to figure out what Sarah’s role was in all of this. “No, I regret to say I never knew Mrs. Dennis.”
“Mrs. Brandt is a friend of
Mrs. Wells hadn’t taken her gaze from Sarah. “Oh, yes, you said you were a midwife, I believe.”
Sarah heard the unspoken questions that Mrs. Wells was too well bred to ask. She would naturally think it odd a man in Richard’s position would be well acquainted with a midwife. “My family and Mr. Dennis’s have been friends for many years. After my husband’s death, I chose to make my own living doing what I love. Much as you did, Mrs. Wells,” she added.
Mrs. Wells nodded, silently acknowledging the bond between them. “I hope your work affords you as much satisfaction as mine does to me, Mrs. Brandt,” she said. Then she turned to Richard. “I believe you wanted to see what we do here at the mission.”
“Yes, if you wouldn’t mind showing us around,” he said, giving her one of his charming smiles. Sarah wouldn’t have thought charm could influence Mrs. Wells, but she allowed herself to return his smile.
“I would be happy to, Mr. Dennis. I consider it my Christian duty to help you find the peace you’re seeking.” She turned to Sarah with an unasked question in her dark eyes. “And to help you find whatever it is you are seeking, Mrs. Brandt.”
3
SARAH HARDLY HAD A MOMENT TO REGISTER THE implication before Mrs. Wells rose to lead them out into the hall. She hadn’t been aware of any needs of her own in making this visit, but she couldn’t help admiring the fulfillment Mrs. Wells seemed to feel. Perhaps Mrs. Wells had sensed something of which Sarah herself had been unaware.
“We don’t work on Sunday, of course,” Mrs. Wells was saying, “but I can let you see where we do our other
