Free The Charm Bracelet by Viola Shipman Page A

hundreds of other steerage passengers to the Great Hall Registry, where they waited to undergo medical and legal inspections.
    Mary watched as doctors scanned patient after patient, listening to their hearts, looking into their mouths and eyes, studying their skin.
    Each time a doctor would state, “Quarantine,” and mark a patient with an X , Mary would struggle to hold back tears.
    After hours of waiting, she heard: “Mary O’Connell?”
    As a doctor began to look over Mary, her heart raced.
    â€œYou are nervous,” he said. “Just take a deep breath…”
    Mary inhaled, shut her eyes, and said a prayer.
    â€œNext,” the doctor said, pointing toward another man sitting at a desk, who then checked Mary’s identity against the ship’s manifest.
    â€œWelcome to the United States,” he said.
    Mary didn’t move. Tears came.
    â€œWelcome to the United States,” he repeated.
    â€œWhat do I do now?” Mary asked.
    â€œAnything you want,” he said, smiling. “This is the land of opportunity.”
    â€œMary,” the girl heard a woman call. “Mary, this way!”
    The older woman who had calmed Mary on the ship was motioning for her.
    â€œMy family is headed to a boardinghouse in New York City,” she said. “You can come with us where you will be safe.”
    When they arrived, Mary was immediately overwhelmed by New York: It was loud and crowded. People moved at a pace Mary had never experienced.
    The family set up a cot at the boardinghouse and Mary slept in a room with eight others. Between the snoring and the noise of the city, Mary was unable to sleep, so she arose and went to the living room of the boardinghouse where she sat in front of a fire.
    Mary began to cry, as she thought of home, of her mother, of that sewing machine in front of the fireplace. And—just like the man at Ellis Island had promised—opportunity came to Mary.
    â€œI heard you crying,” the older woman from the ship said to Mary.
    â€œI miss my family,” she said.
    â€œDo you have any skills?” the woman asked.
    â€œI can sew,” Mary replied.
    â€œThen you will find work,” she said. “Now, let’s get some rest.”
    Mary rose at dawn and began blindly meandering from tailor shop to seamstress shop in New York, inquiring if they had any jobs available.
    â€œWe don’t hire immigrants,” they replied.
    â€œHow old are you?” others asked. “You’re just a child.”
    By late afternoon, Mary was exhausted and hungry. She felt as if the pace and hubris of New York were eating her alive. As she stood outside a dressmakers shop, rejected again, a well-dressed woman emerged from a carriage carrying a sack. Mary watched as the woman entered the shop and began gesturing excitedly to the owner behind the counter, her giant, feathered hat and long, ruffled skirt moving in concert with her motions. She pulled beautiful white fabric that looked like clouds from the sack.
    Mary walked to the shop door and cracked it slightly.
    â€œWe cannot do that,” the man with the moustache said. “I’m sorry.”
    â€œPlease,” the woman asked.
    The man continued to shake his head.
    The woman exited and whisked by Mary, a look of disappointment etched on her pretty face.
    â€œMadam?” Mary asked.
    â€œI have no money for beggars,” the woman said, brushing off Mary.
    â€œI can make that dress for you!” Mary stated proudly.
    â€œYou can?”
    The woman stopped before Mary, considering her, as her carriage driver opened the carriage door. “My baby will be baptized next Sunday, and I need a dress for myself that is as sacred as the occasion. The man said his shop didn’t make communion dresses, and he knew no one that could.”
    â€œI can!” Mary said, lifting her head.
    â€œYou can?” the woman asked warily.
    â€œYes!” Mary said. “Except