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“I’ll make everything ready. Just let me know when we should expect her.”

“I will.” Leah tucked the list into her pocket. “Are there any problems to address?”

“Not at the moment. I will say that I’ve been more than pleased with Vera’s work. She’s frankly worth two men when it comes to her performance of duties. She’s been meticulous in keeping the walkways free of ice and snow and has been faithful to provide enough cut wood to keep the fires going at any and all times. She’s even managed to learn the maintenance care on the furnace—watched the man who came last October and feels there’s no need to call for him anymore. She goes out of her way to find things that need her attention. I tell you this because I believe she deserves a raise in pay.”

Leah knew Vera to be quite a hard worker, but for the very particular Mrs. Astor to say as much was impressive. “I’ll consider that immediately. Thank you for letting me know.”

Mrs. Astor nodded. “Will there be anything else, Miss Leah?”

“No. I believe we have everything covered. I’ll be leaving at ten with my mother and am not certain when I’ll be back. Nurse Foster will be here with the girls, of course.”

“Very good, miss.” With that Mrs. Astor departed, and Leah noted the time. It was nearly nine thirty. She needed to hurry and finish so that she wouldn’t keep Mother waiting. She made notes in the ledger about the products she would be buying and those that she needed to get from the hospital for Nurse Foster. Lastly, she made herself a note to write to the family in Boston and give them the arrangements offered by Turner House as well as the cost. It was good to see that word was getting around but still heartbreaking that such a place was needed.

Leah put away her books and gazed around the office. It had once been her grandfather’s. She could remember coming here to see him. It had been quite frightening to think of him dying from pneumonia and such a relief when he’d rallied. Still, the man wouldn’t live forever. None of them would, and if war came to America, she might lose family members sooner rather than later.

“Please, God, don’t let us go to war. I can’t bear the idea of losing my brothers or cousins. Not to mention friends.” She fought back tears and stood. It was senseless to worry about something she had absolutely no control over. God was her only refuge in the matter. Thankfully, she was finally feeling that He truly was a comfort in times of trouble. How glad she was for that renewal.

That evening, Leah moved around the people gathered at the hotel reception room, trying to find a good place to stand and listen to Randolph’s speech. He’d gone to the front of the room to speak regarding the focus of the evening—raising money for Belgium’s relief. He had told her on their way there that tonight’s efforts would be the difference between hundreds of thousands of people living or dying. She prayed people would be generous with their donations, grateful that her parents had already given a substantial amount to the effort.

“Thank you to the Washburn family for arranging tonight’s gala and for all of you who braved the cold weather to come out,” Randolph began. “The situation in Belgium has reached a critical point, and things are quite dire. As you know, Germany continues to occupy the country. Not only that, but they are actively working to divide the Flemish people from the Belgians.

“The Germans remain ruthless in their treatment of the Belgian people, and they have continued removing men for forced labor projects in Germany. The starvation of the masses has reached outrageous proportions despite efforts to bring in food through relief organizations. Belgium is on the very edge of complete annihilation.”

Murmurs went throughout the crowd but were quickly stilled as Randolph continued. “Word has come that they are facing a severe winter like no other. There is very little fuel for heating. So many houses lie in ruins, mere skeletons of their former beauty, that people are forced to live together under one roof. I have a report that twenty to thirty people live together in one small house—a house not even the size of this room.”

Leah had heard all this before. Randolph was constantly telling her of Belgium’s plight. She pitied the people and contributed what she could to their relief but also feared that their downfall was causing Americans to feel increasingly motivated to join the fight.

“There are over one hundred thousand Americans stranded in Europe, many of them in Belgium. American money is no longer being received by European banks or businesses, and very few ship berths are available to bring them home because the ports are closed and all ships are directed to focal work for the war. I say this to point out that not only do your donations help the Belgians, but the money also helps some of our own countrymen in this grave situation.”

Leah knew a great deal of money was represented in this room tonight. If everyone gave generously, it was sure to be a successful evening for Randolph.

Randolph spoke on about the terrible conditions and battles being fought, but Leah found herself unable to listen anymore. She knew the situation was bad, but some of the stories Randolph insisted on sharing were not easy to bear and certainly questionable as to their appropriateness for a mixed audience. She slipped back into the crowd and made her way to the far end of the room, where several of the other women had gone. She joined them, giving each a smile and nod.

Randolph finished up with his speech and was immediately set upon with questions. The hired musicians began to play softly, and servants once again circulated with drinks and hors d’oeuvres.

“I wasn’t sure if we would see you at public affairs,” Mrs. Nickerson, an old family friend of her mother’s, began. “I had heard about your . . . well, Turner House. It seems you would be more inclined to remain out of the public eye.”

Leah could see the other women were of the same mind as they nodded and pressed closer to hear what she might reply.

“I personally see no reason to remain out of the public eye. My residents are the ones who desire privacy.”

“I can well imagine. The embarrassment and shame must be overwhelming,” one of the others commented.

“Shame and embarrassment that has been heaped upon them by those who are less than forgiving of the mistakes they’ve made or the problems foisted onto them, since many had no say in the matter.”

“It’s such a delicate situation,” Mrs. Nickerson continued. “I certainly would not want a daughter of mine involved in something that scandalous.”

“Why do you consider doing the Lord’s work to be scandalous?” Leah fixed each of them with a hard look. Three of the women looked immediately to the floor, but not Mrs. Nickerson.

“If it is the Lord’s work, then it would be better left attended by nuns. Your reputation is at stake here. You can hardly be around such situations and hope to remain untouched. Your exposure to the . . . shall we say sordid occurrences of life will have a grave effect on you. No one will want their son courting such a woman.”

“Then perhaps it’s a good thing I’m not looking to court anyone.” Leah couldn’t keep the anger from her voice. “Condemnation was something that Jesus addressed in the Bible. I recall that His solution was to have those without sin cast the first stone. Can you boast such a position?”

Mrs. Nickerson harrumphed and lifted her chin to look down her nose at Leah. “I pity your mother.”

“Why? She’s fully supportive of Turner House, as are my grandparents. In fact, the pastor and many other God-fearing men have given their approval. Frankly, I think they would question your judgmental attitude. I have desired only to take pitiable women in bad situations out of their hopelessness and give them comfort and love. Yes, some made poor choices and gave in to sinful temptations. Others had no choice and were forced to endure outrageous injustice. But those who find themselves in a compromised situation need to know that God’s love and forgiveness are available to them.”

Leah glanced at each of the women and shook her head. “You know how things are. You know the general lack of concern or cry for justice when a woman is molested or abused. Think of yourselves and your daughters. Would you really want there to be no help for them? No kindness and love offered in a desperate time of need? Charlotte Van Cleve did amazing work for the poor women and, dare I say the word, prostitutes in this town. I don’t recall hearing your outrage when she was heading up such works. In fact, I remember at least two of you attending the same meetings I did with my mother. Meetings to support and provide for Bethany Home.”