A whiff of smoke caused her nose to wrinkle.
Something was burning.
Margaret laid the torch down and pulled the ear protection off.
A woman was screaming.
It was coming from the back.
The dark corner was unusually lit and as Margaret approached, the screams intensified.
Fire!
Panic rose in her throat, tasting of blood and metal, and she swallowed it down. She had to keep her head about her. She looked around for anything that could help, but there was nothing—how the hell did they not have a fire extinguisher on every wall?
“I’m here!” she shouted over the screams.
She saw a coat draped over a chair at another station and grabbed it, nearly tripping over a table leg. She steadied herself and ran back to the woman, who was now bent over on the floor.
Smoke was rising from the woman’s hair and she was trying to cover it with her hands. Margaret threw the coat over her and started hitting all around it, trying to smother the flames.
The woman collapsed and her body stilled. Margaret checked her pulse on her wrists but found nothing. Then, her neck—ah! There it was. A faint thump, thump, thump. Slow but present.
She raced to the foreman’s office to look for a phone. The door was locked, so she took a nearby torch and broke through the glass. She cut her arm trying to find the latch, but it was nothing. She had to call someone.
She picked up the receiver. “There’s an emergency in the welding department! Send someone quickly!”
She slammed it down and hurried back to the woman, whose listless body frightened her. Margaret fell to the floor and scooped the woman into her lap, trying not to inhale the awful smell coming from her. As she waited for aid, she smoothed the woman’s hair, noticing that the ends were now crisp and crumbled to the touch. Her hands were burned, but it looked like they might be no more than superficial.
She rocked her as a mother might do.
“Help is coming,” she promised. “Help is coming.”
* * *
The next morning, Margaret was exhausted. She opened her eyes after too few hours of sleep. There were voices downstairs.
Her mother. Gladys.
What was Gladys doing here?
Margaret squeezed her eyes and rubbed her temples. Lord, she had an awful headache.
She remembered now. The woman had not woken up by the time the ambulance arrived, but they’d assured Margaret that she was alive and whisked her off on a stretcher.
Maybe Gladys had news.
Margaret’s feet found the slippers by the bedpost and she pulled her robe from its hook and put her arms into it. She felt like she was in a dream. That someone else was doing the actions.
Gladys was having a cup of coffee at their kitchen table. She stood up and walked a circle around Margaret.
“I don’t see it. It must be invisible.”
“What is?” Margaret asked. Exhaustion weighed on her like the heavy wool blankets that lay across her bed. She wasn’t in the mood for games.
“Your cape. Superwoman has one. I thought you might too.”
Margaret rolled her eyes and slumped into a chair. Her mother put a steaming cup of coffee in front of her and it was the best thing she’d ever smelled.
“Gladys is right, dear. You saved that woman’s life.”
Margaret perked up. “She’s alive?”
Gladys nodded. “George called, but you were still sleeping. So he called me. You’re a hero, my friend. And it gets better. She’s a widow with four small children. Ironically, her husband was a firefighter, but he lost his life in the line of duty. That job is all she has to support them.”
“Will she still be able to work?”
“Yep. Her hands will recover. She’ll have to bob her hair, but no damage beyond that.”
“I can’t believe there wasn’t a fire extinguisher or something.”
“There was. George went and checked. There are two. In a janitor’s closet. The foreman never pointed them out.”
Margaret sipped the coffee as she processed the new information. Absolute heaven.
“I have a proposition for you, doll.” Gladys scooted a chair out and sat down next to her.
“What’s that?”
“I know this isn’t as exciting as a job in welding. But—hear me out—I have something that might do some good on a bigger scale.”
Mrs. Beck leaned against the counter. “More good than saving a woman’s life?”
Gladys nodded. “Saving more women’s lives. Margaret, I’ve been pushing for the Navy Yard to start an office that is specifically for women and I’ve won. I’ll be making sure new hires are well trained. And that they learn the ropes. After last night, I’ll inspect anywhere they are working to ensure that the safety standards are every bit as good as the departments where the men are working. You brought to light a real issue, Margaret. And I could use you by my side not just in that department but all over the Navy Yard making sure that it is a safe and welcoming place for all the women who keep coming to work here.”
Margaret leaned back. Wow. It did seem like important work. But she had come to enjoy what she was doing so much. At the end of the day, the results of her work were tangible in a way that desk work couldn’t hold a candle to. She’d always enjoyed the satisfaction of a vigorous morning of housecleaning, the sparkling results a monument to her efforts. In the welding department, the stakes were higher. The ships she was working on would carry troops across oceans, heading for victory.
Gladys must have seen the hesitation on her face.
“How about this. Give me three days a week in the office. Two days a week welding. Would that make you happy?”
The caffeine was bringing her to life, enough to consider what Gladys was saying.
“Yes. Yes, I think I’d like that.”
Gladys pulled a cigarette from her purse and lit it. She inhaled deeply and then let it out. The smoke tickled Margaret’s nose.
“Good. That’s what I hoped you’d say. I’ll tell George. He wants to scout for a space soon and get a budget approved for it.”
“Well, it sounds like something you’ll be good at.”
“We’ll be good at it.” Gladys pulled the cigarette from her mouth. “Hey, watch this. I’ve been working on it.”
She took a deep inhalation and then formed an O with her lips. She blew it out slowly, and marvelously, a ring of smoke emerged. Well, it was more of an oblong shape, but still quite impressive. Margaret smiled. Now that Gladys had gotten what she came for, she was on to the next thing.
“Damn. I almost had it.”
“Looked good from here,” encouraged Margaret.
Gladys grimaced. “You and Dottie don’t have critical bones in your body, do you?”
“But I meant it. What do you want me to tell you? That it was a little misshapen?”
“Yes, blast it all! I want you to tell me that it still needs work. I want you to tell the welding foreman that if he gives you any more lip, from now on you’ll send him where the sun don’t shine. I want you to tell your precious pen pal that he’d better damn well tell you which one he is in the photograph or you’re not going to write to him anymore.”
Margaret flushed. She’d never heard Gladys rant quite like that. At least not to her.