“They did. They were wonderful people. I enjoyed working for them. And the girls I live with are good too. We are all kind of shy. None of us go out at night, nor have boyfriends.”
“Why did you leave your father and brothers?” Bertha asked.
Mary’s expression saddened. “Papa died last year, and my brothers went to live with our uncle and aunt, while I went to work. I see them once in a while, but not nearly enough, so the girls at the house have become my family.”
“It’s really wonderful that you have a place like that to live and to be a family for one another.” Addie turned to Bertha. “And you live with your family, don’t you, Bertha?”
“Yes.” She was fidgeting with her hair, as the bun seemed to have come loose. “We live not far from here, so when there were jobs to be had with the fair, I decided to find one. Taking pictures was of such interest to me. I had always loved watching photographers work, and now to be able to take pictures myself suits me very well.”
“And you have quite an eye for it.” Addie looked from Bertha to Mary. “You both do. You have an artistic eye. I think you’re the best of all our girls when it comes to posing your subjects and arranging them in good lighting. You’ve paid attention to what Mr. Fisher taught you, and the photographs are quite amazing.”
“I just hope that after the fair is done, I can find work with photography,” Bertha declared. “I’m in no hurry to marry. Owning my own little shop would be perfect.”
“I wouldn’t want the responsibility of ownership,” Mary said, shaking her head. “When I think of all that I would have to do, it terrifies me.”
“Yes, there is an awful lot of business that goes on behind closed doors,” Addie admitted. “A lot of paperwork and keeping track of inventory and customers. I’m more inclined to be like Mary and avoid the extra responsibility.”
“I like being in charge,” Bertha interjected. “I like the challenge of doing several things at one time. That’s why I like photography. You have to pay attention to the lighting and the camera’s abilities. You have to keep an eye on what you’re photographing, be it land or people. There’s just a lot happening at one time.”
“Well, as I said, you two are the best of our Camera Girls, and I think you are both quite gifted. You have true artist’s eyes.”
Mary blushed and Bertha smiled. They were very different girls, but such good company, and Addie couldn’t help but laugh. “I think there’s some lemonade and cake left if you’d like some before you head off.”
“No, I need to get home,” Bertha said, looking at her pocket watch. “I didn’t realize it was getting so late.”
“I should go too,” Mary said, getting to her feet. “I want to get home before dark.”
Later, after the girls had gone home, Addie curled up in the chair near her bed. She was dressed in her nightgown and robe and sat looking at the tintype Isaac had given her so long ago.
“Remember me,” she read from the back. How could she not remember him? He had been her whole world back then. And even now, he was the first person she thought of when she awakened and the last person on her mind when she went to sleep at night.
“But I’m no longer worthy of his love.” She bit her lower lip and tucked the tintype under the doily on the little table beside her chair.
Sam had made her his mistress, and while he had married her, Addie was forever tainted. She had pledged herself to Isaac. But thanks to her brothers and their desire for money, she had broken that pledge. Or rather it had been broken for her. She had no say in the matter.
She had to admit that Sam had been kind to her. He wouldn’t let anyone else handle her and never considered making her a part of the brothel. Addie had been grateful for that.
Cooking had also been her saving grace. Addie was a great cook. She learned quite by accident, watching this person and that one, and then experimenting with whatever was at hand. She’d found a cookbook in the rubbish after one of the families left Dawson City for the States. Addie had hidden the book away, and whenever possible, she snuck it out and read it from cover to cover. She’d learned how to measure ingredients and substitute one thing for another. She remembered the first time she made cinnamon rolls. Her father and brothers had brought home friends to play cards, and Addie served up the rolls with coffee. The men devoured them and begged for more. She explained that the baking process took all day, since the dough had to rise a couple of times. They were disappointed, but not mean and ugly like usual. From then on out, she tried to always make cinnamon rolls whenever she had extra time. It was the one thing that usually saved her from a beating.
After a while, she made extra and took them to Isaac and his father’s store. Isaac’s father insisted on giving her store credit, and Addie was sometimes able to get herself little things she needed. Then other places heard about her rolls, and they wanted to buy some as well. She told her father about the requests. He took care of the details, and after that, Addie was allowed to spend most of her time baking. When Isaac and his father left the Yukon, Addie was glad for the task. It hurt so much to lose Isaac, and keeping busy was the only thing that helped. It still was.
She yawned and stretched. It was time to go to bed. She had to be up early tomorrow. She’d go to work first at the camera shop helping Otis with whatever he needed and then run over to the Yukon exhibit and teach her classes. Howironic it was to take on this task. She’d spent the last seven years trying to forget the Yukon.
Addie crawled into bed and turned out the light. She snuggled down under the covers, but thoughts of her conversation with Mary and Bertha returned. There was always that one question that came to haunt her: If God controlled her fate, why hadn’t He kept her safe from the horrible things she had endured?
“Where are you, God?” she murmured in the dark. “Where were you when my father beat me? Where were you when my brothers sold me to Sam?”
She thought of Joseph with his coat of many colors in the Bible. Millie had told her the story when Addie learned that her brothers had sold her.
“Joseph’s brothers sold him, too.” Millie had done her best to comfort Addie, who was on the verge of hysterics, convinced she was going to have to work in the brothel.
“His brothers were jealous of him,” Millie explained. “And they just weren’t very nice fellas. They sold him, then took his coat home and told their father Joseph was dead.”
“I wish I were dead,” Addie had declared.
“Addie Bryant, you take that back. You have no idea of what the future holds for you, but God has it. He does, and He will protect you and see you through. Even if bad things happen, God will keep you in His care.”
But why not just keep the bad things from happening? Addie could never get a good response to that question. She’d asked the pastor here in Seattle once and got the answer that the world had fallen from grace and that sin abounded.
