Two Sisters and the Christmas Groom (

by Zina Abbott

  Garland snorted at the thought. Living in a cramped, run-down cabin with three slovenly men who expected him to cook for them after working a full day as a ticket agent was not his lifetime ambition. Being a ticket agent and part-time freight handler was all right. If he continued to work for the railroad, he would rather it be in a larger town than Jubilee Springs.

  However, that was not his greatest ambition. If he were to ever indulge himself by sharing with others his true goal in life, it would be to own a restaurant—to be a chef. There, in between seeing to customer meals, he could prepare food and experiment with new recipes to his heart’s content. His dream kept him in his current living situation while he banked his savings against the time he could afford to open his own business.

  Unfortunately, to run a restaurant he needed someone to handle the front—to take orders and serve his food to the customers. Someone who did not have a problem with stuttering. He needed someone to help with the cleaning and decorating to make the dining area a pleasant place in which the public could enjoy the meal. He needed a wife—the right woman who shared his vision. Only, he had yet to meet any young women in town who appealed to him.

  The previous summer, he had considered contacting the woman from the bridal agency responsible for finding the wives for the miners. After the scene at the recent harvest dance, he decided to wait until all the miners had wives. If she matched him up with a woman who also wrote to one of the miners, how could she be the right wife for someone like him? In order to end up with a bride to suit him, he chose to be patient.

  Garland’s thoughts wandered to his encounter with the red-haired woman he met in the mercantile. He frowned with annoyance recalling how his tendency to stutter and trip over his own tongue when he felt nervous had revealed itself while speaking with her—another reason he would need someone else to deal with customers. Annie Flanagan seemed nice enough, but he had felt no attraction to her whatsoever. Too snippy for him. Too outspoken. Unable to read or write, so she could not help with orders or correspondence. As much as he enjoyed reading and discussing what he read, being with a woman who could barely recognize her name on paper would be like spending his live with those uneducated oafs that now shared his cabin. No, she may be a good maid, but, as a wife, she was not a good choice for him.

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  Chapter 5

  ~o0o~

  Lower Manhattan, New York ~ End of October, 1881

  H eaving a sigh of exhaustion, Kate Flanagan entered the depressing third-floor apartment her family, plus two single men who worked with her brother, called home. She hung her cape and neck muffler over the hook by the door and joined her mother, Fiona, next to the cookstove to enjoy the warmth. After Fiona peered around her towards the door, Kate ignored the glare her mother directed her way.

  “And where would your brother, Patrick, be? I was expecting him to be walking in with you.”

  Kate shook her head, a frustrated snap to her voice. “If he had shown up at the trolley stop, I’d have been walking home with him, now wouldn’t I?” She closed her eyes and huffed out a breath. “Sorry, Ma. I’m not meaning to be backtalking you. It’s just—I must have been waiting ten minutes or longer for Patrick. Then, I got to thinking, it wasn’t getting any earlier, and the sky wasn’t getting any lighter. If he was coming, I would be meeting him on the way. Only, there was no Patrick coming to walk with me, and…” Kate stopped and looked across the room to check that her three youngest siblings—Molly, Bridgette, and young Danny—were sitting on the floor on the other side of the table playing a game and were not listening to her. She watched her mother turn her head and gaze in the same direction.

  Fiona kept her voice low as she stirred their supper. “They’re paying us no mind, Katie. What were you wanting to tell me?”

  Once Kate felt she could speak without being overheard, she continued. “Two men were following me, Ma, almost as soon as I started walking away from the trolley stop. They had been standing across the street, and soon they were walking behind me. I could feel their eyes burning holes in my back. They were catching up to me. The way they were talking and joking, they were sounding like they were up to no good. Only after I was walking well inside the Irish section, did they break off.” Kate turned to stare at the wall behind the stove as she fought back a bout of nervousness. “I hate working service, Ma. Wouldn’t be so bad if the trolley stop was closer, now would it? I’d not be walking so far.” She glanced at her siblings to be sure they still paid them no attention, and then she lowered her voice. “If I weren’t writing to two men out West, hoping to be leaving soon, I’d be looking for a live-in position.”

  As Kate turned to the cabinet and reached for a stack of bowls, she watched her mother turn her head and check to make sure the younger children continue to ignore them. When next her mother leaned toward her, she stepped closer to hear the whispered message.

  “It’s another letter I have for you. Only, make sure none of the others are finding out what you’re up to, or they’ll be tattling to your da, sure. Unlike Annie, you’re not of age yet, and he’ll not be wanting you to go. He’ll be wanting you to stay here, working and bringing your wages home to him.”

  Kate grimaced and shook her head as she stepped to the table and placed the bowls on the side closest to the stove. “Certain he will, so he can be drinking it up while the rest of us be starving.” In an effort to drive away her bitter feelings towards her father, Kate squeezed her eyes shut. When she joined her mother by the stove and spoke again, her voice held a neutral tone. “The letter, Ma—who’s it from? Michael in Jubilee Springs or Will in Central City?”

  “The Irish boy. He’s the one you need to be choosing, Katie. He’s living in the same town as your sister.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Kate watched as her mother pulled an envelope out of her pocket and slipped it into Kate’s hand. Kate immediately stuffed it deep inside her own pocket.

  She shook her head. Michael O’Hare. His letters were pleasant enough, and he seemed like a decent sort. However, he was Irish. Most Irish men seemed to have the curse. Like her da, it did not always show itself at first. A couple pints while gathered around the bar with the fellows on payday as a reward for a week’s worth of hard work seemed a harmless habit. However, as they aged, and the grueling physical labor wore on them, the number of pints seemed to increase along with the evenings spent in the tavern.

  Kate swallowed her harrumph of disgust at the thought. Hers was not the only family in the same straits. Once the children were old enough, they were put out to work. However, since the father was the head of the household, all the earnings went to him. The more Kate and her siblings brought home, the more their father spent time at the tavern, and the less money there was for food for her mother and siblings who stayed at home.

  Kate knew she would find drunkards across all classes and nationalities of people. However, it seemed to hit the Irish worse than most. Dare she marry an Irishman, no matter how good a prospect he seemed, only to find herself twenty years from now in the same position as her ma? She hated seeing how her da had loaded her down with children, the last few conceived because of his demands while intoxicated. Instead of seeing to his family, he left it to her while he spent most of his evening out with his cronies.

  Kate knew, when it came to being forced into service while still more child than adult, she had been more fortunate than Annie. At least her ma had insisted she go to school along with Patrick when he was of age. Even though, at first, she had been older than some of the students at her level, she soon caught up. That did not mean she had been able to complete school. Too soon, her da had pulled her out of school to work.

  Her mother’s question brought her thoughts back into the present.

  “You’ll be writing to him soon, now won’t you? If he’s asking for your hand, I’d not be dillydallying around about answering him. I’m not knowing much about the mountains, but y
our letter from Annie was saying it’s already snowing there. You’ll be needing to go while the trains can still be getting through.”

  “I’ll be writing to him as soon as I can, Ma, but I’m not knowing which man I’ll be choosing yet. I’m being honest with you when I’m saying—by his letters alone, I’m favoring Will.”

  “Katie, please, not Will. With him not being Catholic, how will he be marrying you in the church? Unless he’s willing to convert…”

  “Ma, I’m not as devout as you and Annie.” Kate struggled to get her words out as she watched her mother’s eyes widen with dismay.

  Fiona shook her head while her lips formed the word no.

  Kate hurried to express her thoughts before her mother exploded in denial. “When it comes to choosing a husband, religion’s not that important to me as him being a good man who’ll come home at nights without stopping at the pub first. As long as he’s willing to allow me to go to mass on occasion and have our children baptized, I’ll not be minding him not being Catholic. With so many Irish men ending up like Da, being fonder of their drink than their families, I’m not favoring marrying an Irishman.”

  An expression of horror on her face, Fiona dropped her spoon, turned toward Kate, and grabbed her shoulders. “Katie, no! You can’t be thinking all Irish will be ending up like your da.”

  “Most of them do, now don’t they? Irish men are the first to be thinking it’s a God-given right to be spending their evenings in the local pub and drinking themselves under the table.”

  “And you’re thinking the English and Scots aren’t ones to be drinking? Many of them will be putting the biggest Irish drunkard to shame, now won’t they?”

  “We’re living in America, Ma.”

  “And where are you thinking most of these Americans with their Protestant religions be coming from? The Irish have been fighting the British too many years over keeping our Catholic religion. You can’t be casting it aside for fear you’ll be marrying someone like your da.”

  “I’m not giving up our religion, Ma. I’m just not wanting a husband who’ll be leaving his children starving while he’s spending his time and his wages in the local tavern.”

  The loud whoosh of the front door suddenly being pushed open cut off Katie’s words. Along with the others in the room, she turned to see Patrick and his two friends who roomed with them boldly enter the room. She jerked her head as she caught sight of her mother, the meat fork in her hand, jam her fists to the sides of her waist.

  “Good of you to be finding your way home, Patrick. A word with you while your friends be washing up and our Katie is setting the table.”

  Kate gathered spoons to put on the table. She acted like she ignored the scene between her mother and Patrick, but, in truth, she listened to every word.

  “Where have you been keeping yourself, Patrick? Weren’t you knowing I was expecting you to be walking our Katie home?”

  Patrick shrugged. “I was meaning to, Ma, but lost track of time. Besides, Katie is old enough to be walking home from the trolley by herself, now isn’t she?”

  “She’s also old enough to be attracting the wrong kind of attention from two men seeing a young woman walking by herself because her brother was not there to be walking with her. She’s old enough for men to be figuring she might be having loose morals, walking alone like she was. They were coming up on her, Patrick. How would you be feeling if they attacked her because you were forgetting to be with her?”

  Kate pressed her hand down on the spoon she just placed on the table as the room grew still.

  Everyone gave up the pretext of giving Fiona and Patrick some privacy. Even the three younger ones stopped their play to watch the scene.

  To distract them, Kate hurried over to them. “Time to be washing up for supper, now isn’t it? With Patrick and the others home, we’ll be eating soon. In the girls’ bedroom now, where you’ll be finding clean water. And don’t be splashing all over, or you’ll be mopping the floor before you eat.”

  Even while she stood in the doorway and supervised the hand-washing procedure, she heard her brother and mother continue talking. It embarrassed her that Sean and Thomas, Patrick’s two friends who roomed with them, could also hear, even though they kept themselves busy washing up by the dry sink. She knew they carefully absorbed every word. She felt her heart sink as she listened to the frustration in her brother’s voice.

  “What are you expecting me to do, Ma? If they’re intent on having her, I’m not sure I could be putting a stop to them. One, maybe, but not two. It’s not like I was hoping something would happen to her.” Patrick hesitated, then shrugged. “Got to talking and lost track of time, is all.”

  “You’re missing the point, Patrick. They see her walking with her brother, there’s a better chance of them getting the message she’s not the kind of woman to be welcoming their attention. For your sister’s sake, we can’t afford for you to be losing track of time.” Fiona lowered her voice even further. “Right now, it’s her wages putting food on the table. I’ve not seen a penny from you or your friends this week, yet I’m noticing you all are showing up for breakfast and supper on time.”

  Kate watched as Sean and Thomas, both of them with hands washed and dried, walked over to join her mother and brother.

  Just then, the children in the bedroom started towards the door.

  Kate stepped into the room and, using one hand, closed the door to a crack. With her other hand, she shooed all her siblings to the other side of the room, next to the door that led to their parents’ room. “You’ll be waiting in here, now. Ma and Patrick are talking business.” Kate turned and peeked through the door to see and hear what took place in the front of the apartment.

  Patrick slouched and grunted his disgust. “It’s not like we weren’t putting in our share. Da met us at the gate after work on payday. He told Sean and Thomas he was collecting their room and board for the week. Like usual, he took all my pay.”

  Thomas stepped forward. “We haven’t been dodging you, Mrs. Flanagan. It’s like Patrick was saying. We paid our room and board for the week. When Mr. Flanagan came for it, with him being the head of the family…”

  Fiona sighed and held up her hand to stop him. “No need for you to be apologizing. You boys were doing nothing wrong. It’s between me and Mr. Flanagan, now isn’t it?”

  Patrick stepped over and smashed his fist against the wall next to the bricks behind the stove. “I hate this, Ma. I can’t wait to be getting away from here. Next year, I’ll be of age just before Easter. I’ll be moving out, then, and my wages will be my own.”

  “And leaving your family without the wherewithal to be putting food on the table, will you?”

  “And how be my wages putting food on the table now? Why should I be killing myself working only to be turning my wages over to Da and none of it going to food for us? How long before the landlord will be throwing us out in the street while Da’s spending it all at Micky’s Pub?”

  Kate felt her eyes fill with tears. She understood her brother’s frustrations, for they mirrored her own. The stoop of her mother’s shoulders and expression of futility on her face communicated more than her words that followed.

  “That I’ll not be knowing, Patrick. However, I’ll not be allowing you to be talking disrespectful about your da. No matter what he’s doing, he’s still your da.” Fiona turned to her two roomers. “Sorry I am, boys, but you’ll be needing to find a new place to live. I’m not minding you staying here, but without the money you’re paying for board reaching my hands so I can be buying food, I can’t afford to be feeding you. We’ll be making do this week, but after, with matters being how they are, it’s food out of my own children’s mouths, now isn’t it? Soon as Katie and the others come out, we’ll be eating supper.”

  A contrite Patrick sighed and stepped toward the end of the bench where he usually sat at the table. “Sorry, Ma. I’ll be waiting for Katie at the trolley when she’s getting off work. But I’m telling you right
now, Ma. On her payday, we’ll be taking her wages to a store where Da won’t know to be waiting for us. We’ll be getting food for the week and giving the landlord something towards rent. If Da starts getting after me for it, I’ll be dealing with him then, respectful or not.”

  In the girls’ bedroom, Kate turned to the others. “Ma will be serving supper now. We need to be getting to the table.”

  Kate focused on seventeen-year-old Molly, who folded her arms and glared at her with a surly expression.

  “And why is it you can be listening to all going on while telling us to stay away? You’re not that much older than me, Katie. What were they talking about?”

  Kate pulled the door shut. “Ma was talking business with Patrick and the others. Da’s been collecting the room and board from the three boys, but hasn’t been bringing the money to Ma. Not a word, now, or I’ll not be telling you grown-up business again.” As she opened the door, Kate ignored the grimace of the two older girls who understood the message behind what she said more than the youngest, Danny.

  Quietly, the three followed Kate into the main room and sat in their places at the table.

  Kate rushed to help set the bowls of food in front of everyone as her mother dished up their meal. She wrinkled her nose at the odor of boiled cabbage and potatoes that had been cooked with a ham hock. As she sat down, she turned in time to see Danny lean forward to inspect the bowls set before Sean and Thomas.

  “How come they’re getting ham bites in their bowls, and we’re not having any?”

  Fiona answered with enough annoyance in her voice that Kate knew even Danny realized she did not invite future comment.