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It was a sunny day at the factory, chatter and noise the background for the conversation. Kathryn sighed, putting a hand over her heart. A tad dramatically, Grace thought affectionately.
“And can you imagine? Can you imagine? If he loved her, and he never told her, never could bring himself to say! Because… ‘cause she was so beautiful… and… and he was so shy.”
Grace could tell Irene was rolling her eyes behind her back, probably with a lighthearted barb on the tip of her tongue. “Honestly, the way you talk sometimes! Like one of those romance books Mama used to read!”
Grace watched Kathryn’s eyes shine as she spun her tale, the dial and paint almost forgotten in her hands. Irene always grumbled that she should be a writer, maybe then she’ll stop filling our heads with these stories! But Grace secretly loved them. She loved how Kathryn could find the everyday romance in things, loved how she seemed to wear rose coloured glasses everywhere. It was nice, to have a friend so in love with everything.
Except with her, Grace’s mind whispered. She frowned a bit, trying to banish the thought from her mind. She had a fiancé , thank you very much.
“... and now it's too late, their love is forever thwarted. He didn't tell her, and he’ll never get the chance ever again.”
They paused, sombre. The fact that they were talking about Amelia seemed to suddenly be thrown in sharp relief.
“Poor Amelia...”
“Poor Amelia!”
“Poor kid.”
-------
Kathryn was pretty. That was just an objective fact, in Grace’s opinion. Doesn't mean she liked her as anything more than a friend, it was just something she noticed. Objectively. And, plenty of fellows at the factory thought so too, so that wasn't just Grace saying things. Kathryn had turned them all down, much to the chagrin of Irene.
“Oh, Kathryn! You can't be picky your whole life! What about that fellow down at the grocer? Or that apprentice downstairs, Billy? I've seen them looking at ya, they clearly fancy you!”
Kathryn always rolled her eyes, saying she wanted to find someone who actually loved her, “not just some fellow who thinks I'm good-looking!”
The other girls whispered about it, though never within earshot of Irene.
“I heard that she snuck off to Harlem, saw one of them pansy performers!”
“Harlem’s where all of those folk go, dontcha know? ‘S full of poets, all those theatre types. Those… friends o’ dorothy.”
“Oh, shush, Eleanor! Stop gossiping about Kathryn, it's rude!”
“‘S not my fault that's what she is!”
“Alice says she snuck off there one night, while her family was visiting over across the river. Says she came home next mornin’ with her dress on backwards and stars in her eyes!”
“Bet her mama had a fit about that.”
“Be quiet, the both of you! Kathryn is a lovely girl, and she don't deserve to have such rumours spread about her.”
Grace supposed it was nice that some of the girls were sticking up for Kathryn, even if the rumours were true. The ones about her going to Harlem, not any of the… other ones.
Kathryn had told Grace all about it after she came home, chattering on and on about the singer she had gone to see, about how pretty the performers were.
“Her names’ Bessie Smith, Grace, and she was so beautiful! And her voice, oh Grace, she was like a choir all on her own! Hearin’ her, it was almost like hearin’ an angel! Oh, and after she was done, Grace, the prettiest ladies came and performed! ‘Cept, well, they weren’t actually ladies, they were all men in dresses. Drag, they call it down there. But they was twirling and singin’ like any girl I've ever seen.”
“Sounds like a fun time.”
“Oh Grace, it was amazing! You should come next time, you’d love it there, I know it.”
Grace had smiled, wincing a little when her mouth protested. Maybe it would be nice, going across the river with Kathryn…
-------
Sitting in the waiting room of the health department, Grace watched Kathryn pace, back and forth across the small room, biting her nail agitatedly. Tom’s leg bounced, up, down, up, down.
It had been almost five months since Irene died. Eight since Grace left, though Kathryn was still working at the factory. She said there were rumours, whispers among the girls about the factory, sayin’ it was cursed. It paid too well to be cursed, their families would say.
Kathryn was grieving. They all were, but where Grace grieved quietly, Kathryn grieved with energy, with anger.
The clerk comes, Kathryn demands, the clerk leaves. Grace feels a bit sorry for them, upset customers are never fun. She knows, the bank’s full of them.
Kathryn turns, pacing back in front of where Grace and Tom are sitting. As she does, Grace stops her, grabbing her hand.
“Kathryn… it coulda been a blood infection, like your doctor said.”
Kathryn shakes her head. “It wasn't. I've been lookin’ into it, and besides, what woulda given it to her?”
“Dirt?” Tom says. “Y’ can get infections from dirt.”
Kathryn turns to glare at him. “So you’re sayin’ Irene ate dirt?”
“Well, no-”
“And it wasn't even a blood infection! I told ya, I've been lookin’ into it, and Grace, you saw her. Her jaw, the smell… the way it looked… you don't get somethin’ like that from dirt.”
Grace squeezes Kathryn’s hand lightly, brushing her thumb over her knuckles. “What do ya get it from, then?”
Kathryn sighs. “From phosphorus, ‘s what makes the paint glow up at the plant.”
Grace and Tom exchange a look.
“No, stop that.” Kathryn says, glaring at them both.
“Stop what?”
“You’re doin’ that thing you both do, like you’re tryna figure out how to tell a kid their dog died.”
“Well, Kathryn…”
“They’d never let ya work up there if there was phosphorus in the paint!”
Kathryn huffs, untangling her hand from Grace’s to cross her arms. “They would if they didn’t know about it, which they don’t. ” She shoots an angry glance at the empty clerk’s counter.
“How d’ya know that though?”
Kathryn hesitates, opening her mouth. She doesn’t seem to know what to say to that. The clerk reappears at that moment though, reading the name on the file out loud.
“Irene Rudolph?”
“That's it, yes-” Kathryn says, dashing over to the counter.
Grace stands, moving to follow her up, but Tom stays sitting, still holding her hand.
“She’s gone ‘round the bend, Grace. Next she’ll be sayin’ they’re puttin’ arsenic in the drinkin’ water-”
“THEY MIGHT BE! YOU NEVER KNOW!” Kathryn shouts over her shoulder, still talking to the clerk. The other patrons in the waiting room jump.
“-or that they’re kidnappin’ babies to stoke the furnace!” Tom finishes, casting a concerned glance at Kathryn’s back, wondering how she managed to hear him from across the crowded room.
Grace sighs, affectionate with a touch of annoyance at her friend. Tom gives her hand a gentle squeeze before letting go, and Grace makes her way to the front counter.
She steps up behind Kathryn, placing a gentle hand on her waist as she leans over her shoulder to read the file.
“...paint is a harmless compound of radium and zinc?” Kathryn mutters, barely noticing Grace’s arrival.
The clerk snatches the file back, barely resisting rolling their eyes in exasperation.
“Yes, Mrs Young toured the plant herself and found nothing amiss.” They leave to return the file to its proper place in the back room.
“There, see, Kathryn?” Grace smiles, relieved. She would never say it, but secretly she’d been worried that Kathryn’s crazy theories had some truth to them. If the company really had been using phosphorus…
Tom approaches, hands in his pockets. “Guess we can get some lunch now, yeah?”
Grace turns slightly to look at him, hand still on Kathryn’s waist. “Yes, maybe the place down by Center Street, the one on the corner-”
“I’m gonna file another complaint.”
Kathryn’s voice is low, and she grips the edge of the counter with white knuckles.
Grace and Tom exchange another glance.
“Kathryn…”
“They already did an investigation!”
Kathryn whips around. “I WANNA FILE ANOTHER COMPLAINT!” she yells, voice breaking.
Tom sighs quietly, muttering something under his breath.
Grace shifts to stand in front of her, putting her hands on her arms. “Kathryn- I understand, you wanna feel like you’re doing somethin’ for Irene, but I just don't see what good this’ll do! They’re awful busy here, and-”
“ Grace . You don’t- you don’t know what it was like , watchin’ her die like that. Her jaw… she couldn’t eat nothin’, it was so swollen, an’ she could barely talk… oh, Grace, and the worst part was, I couldn't even look at her. It was so horrible… and I left her. She was so scared… and I couldn’t-”
She cuts herself off with a choked sob, burying her head into Grace’s shoulder.
“Oh, Kathryn…” Grace murmurs, hugging her.
They stay like that for a moment, everything seeming to fade away. The hum of the waiting room, the lingering worry, the grief. For a moment, they’re just Grace and Kathryn.
Tom places a careful hand on Grace’s other shoulder, alerting her to the return of the clerk.
“Hi, we’re sorry, but could we please have another form? My Kath- my friend, would like to file another complaint.
“Another one?” The clerk questions, a hint of annoyance in their voice. “Is the girl still sick?”
“No.” Kathryn whispers, face still hidden. “She died.”
“Oh.”
-------
Kathryn watches Grace read the letters, chuckling quietly at some, rolling her eyes at most. It’s nice, these moments. When Grace comes to visit her, sometimes with Tom in tow, but usually alone. It's nice. Easy. If Kathryn tries, she could almost believe that things are normal, like they aren't dying, like Grace just stopped by on a day off, just to chat.
“Kathryn?”
“Hm?”
“You all right? Looked like you were dozin’ off a bit there.”
Kathryn opens her eyes, smiling weakly at Grace. “Yeah. Why wouldn't I be all right?”
Grace gives her a look, like she’s trying to make Kathyrn understand something with her eyes, before sighing a bit and going back to reading the letter out loud. Kathryn closes her eyes again, letting Grace’s voice relax her.
“Dear Girl. I read about you in the Billings Gazette-”
“Hang on,” Kathryn says, opening her eyes and smiling slyly. “I think this one calls for a voice.”
Grace glares at her, although there's no real heat behind it. “No.”
“Pretty please?” Kathryn says, batting her eyelashes.
“Oh for- fine!” Grace says, laughing. “Ahem. Dear Girl. I read about you in the Billings Gazette-” She says in a creaking southern accent. “-I run a hundred head of cattle up here and do very well by myself-” she says, louder over the sound of Kathryn’s laughter. “-I have always longed for a companion, and- oh, Kath, you’re bleedin’ again…”
“It's fine.” Kathryn says sullenly, dabbing at her mouth with a handkerchief. “It did this before, it’ll stop.”
“Shall I get the nurse?”
“They won't be able to do anything, you know that, Grace.”
A pause.
“Maybe I should go.” Grace says abruptly, moving to stand.
“No, don’t go!” Kathryn cries, lunging forward. She can feel it now, the fear Irene must’ve felt, the terror of being left alone.
Grace looks forlornly at Kathryn. “Don’t ya need to rest? To sleep?” She says, a tad desperately.
Kathryn snorts. “Sleep? Who could sleep?” She says, bitterness thick on her tongue. “I hate this, Grace. I hate this whole thing! It's just-”
“It's not fair.” Grace finishes quietly. “I know, Kath.”
They share a look, one full of pain and sadness and desperation. It isn't fair. For a moment, a minute, a lifetime, it's just them, suspended in grief for lives lost and lives they’ll never have. More than anything, Kathryn wishes she could just tell her. Tell her everything she feels, everything she wants . She couldn’t do that to Grace though, couldn't lose her like that. She would hate her, leave her, cut her off. Kathryn doesn't think she could survive that.
“Grace?”
“Yeah, Kath?” She says softly.
“What if we don’t win?” Kathryn whispers, looking away.
“‘Course we’ll win!” Grace says sharply, stepping closer. “‘Course we’ll win.” She says, softer. “The judge’ll take one look at us, and he’ll rule in our favour! It’ll be over in a day.” She says, trying to smile reassuringly.
“You really think so?”
“Sure! We’re awful hard to ignore, especially with Miss Wiley on our side.”
Kathryn nods, fidgeting with her shawl. “... Grace, I-”
“They didn't have no vanilla, so I got some chocolate.” Tom says, poking his head through the door with a grin. He holds a brown paper bag proudly, before blinking. “Uh. Hope I'm not interruptin’ anything.”
Grace turns, smiling. She walks over to him, “Took ya long enough.” She says, giving him a kiss on his cheek. Kathryn watches, feeling the familiar flash of jealousy.
He smiles at her, lovestruck as always, and hands her the bag. “Don’t get on my case about it!” He says, slouching into the chair next to Grace’s vacated one. “All these folks kept stopping me, asking-” He clears his throat, before continuing in an objectively terrible New York accent, “Mista Kreider! Mista Kreider, whaddya know of the girls’ conditions? Are theayre any ‘veloppments in Miss Schaub’s ‘ealth?” he says, rolling his eyes. “Nightmare, I tell ya.”
Kathryn laughs darkly. “Like vultures. Waitin’ for me to die.”
Grace gives her a look. “No one is waitin’ for you to die.” she says firmly.
“It’s sweet you think that, Grace, but it's true.” she says bitterly. “One of ‘em, those reporters, he called my mother. Asked if I had died yet.”
“That’s one person Kathryn, you can’t let him get to ya!”
“I’m not. Doesn’t change the fact that I'm dyin’, and the whole world’s waitin’ for when I do.”
Grace sighs. It isn't a sigh of exasperation or annoyance, but one of deep sadness, of helplessness. She’s always been an optimist, but Kathryn can see in her eyes that she knows there's nothing they can do.
-------
They are sitting in a field of flowers, lilies and carnations and orchids, pink and yellow and purple. Side by side, looking out at the world. It looks like a painting, vivid and bleeding like watercolours.
“I love you.” She whispers, tenderly brushing hair from her face.
Grace smiles, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. She blushes, laughing.
“I mean it.”
“I know you do.”
They smile at each other, simply soaking in the moment. It's peaceful, here. There is no pain, no worry, nothing to fear. Just the sun, the breeze, the flowers, the two of them. She closes her eyes.
“I love you, Grace…. Grace, Grace….. Grace? Grace!”
For a moment, for a single sweet, blessed moment, she can almost pretend that the dream was real, before reality comes crashing in, like waves on the seashore.
“Grace! Wake up, Mr. Markley will be here any minute!”
She only groans in response, the pain in her jaw rushing back. It hurts, made all the worse by the ghostly touch of Kathryn at her temple. Grace inhales, clenching her fists against the fear and the worry and the pain, and sits up. It won’t do to dwell on things like this.
-------
“Hi, Kathryn.”
It's a warm day at the end of summer. The breeze blows gently, rustling the leaves of the willow perched at the top of the small hill. It's a beautiful place. Kathryn’s family had used part of her settlement money to buy the best plot they could.
“Y’know, I might bring my paints up here sometime. Work on my landscapes…”
Grace looks out across the cemetery, leaning heavily on her cane. The skyline of buildings beyond rise in multilayered brick, blue sky splashed behind them. It's beautiful. Nothing will ever be beautiful again.
“Tom’s got a new girl, did ya hear? He hasn’t told me yet. I know you’dve hated him for cancelling the engagement, no matter how I would’ve tried to tell you it was my choice. He… deserves better than to be a widow so young.”
Grace swallows down her thoughts on what she deserves. She doesn’t have time to dwell.
“I hope he’s happy, is all.”
She talks to her for a while, carefully keeping her eyes on the horizon. If she only looks at the sky, then Kathryn is still here. She's standing right beside her, dark hair waving in the wind.
Finally, she sighs, looking down at the headstone. In loving memory, Kathryn Schaub .
“Oh, Kath.” she whispers, “I’m sorry.”
The roses she left last week are brown and wilted. Tomorrow she’ll bring more, as long as the weather holds. Lilies and carnations and orchids.
Slowly, Grace raises a hand to her lips, blowing a gentle kiss to the grave of her Kathryn.