by Regina Scott
“Good. Sure-n it won’t be a soft bed, but I’ve had worse.”
Had she? He knew she and the children had lived in the tenements of Five Points, most of which were furnished with beds. It was the number of people sharing those beds, as entire families crowded into a single room, that made life difficult.
“After I’ve finished the morning baking,” she continued, “I’ll show you the doing of the laundry.”
That ought to be less than amusing. Him, Irishtown’s finest, doing laundry. But he was determined to pay her back, so he merely nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
She made a face, nose scrunching and mouth tightening into a bow. “And you can stop calling me ‘ma’am,’” she told him. “You make me feel as old as a granny.”
He couldn’t help his grin at that. No granny he’d ever known had looked half so fetching with her eyes snapping fire.
“Yes, Miss O’Rourke,” he agreed.
She blew out a breath. “Would it be killing you to call me Maddie?”
“No trouble at all, Maddie,” he assured her, liking the feel of the name on his tongue. “And you might try calling me Michael. It’s a mite easier to say than Mr. Haggerty.”
She gave him a nod, but didn’t come out and say his first name. “Very well. Then there’s the matter of the rules.”
“I heard them,” Michael said. “And I’ll honor them. Since I don’t know the area, I won’t be taking the children on any outings among the trees.”
“You’ll not be taking the children on outings anywhere,” she informed him. “I told you—you may sleep here and eat here, and it goes without saying that you’ll be doing the laundry here until you find a job. I can see the effort you’re making not to come between me and Ciara and Aiden, and I thank you for it. But the sooner you find work and a place of your own, the better it will be for all of us.”
He knew she was right, yet still a part of him balked. He’d spent nearly three months watching over Ciara and Aiden, rejoicing with them when they excelled, encouraging them when they feared, admonishing them when they strayed. She couldn’t ask him to simply turn off those feelings, leave the children behind like unwanted baggage.
But tonight might not be the best moment to argue his case. The better approach would be to bide his time, show her how helpful he could be. Then maybe she’d let him remain a part of Ciara’s and Aiden’s lives. He’d had to leave everyone else he loved back in New York. They were his last ties to his old life.
“I’ll start looking for work tomorrow,” he promised. “As soon as I finish the little tasks you have for me.”
Her smile curved up. “You might not be calling my laundry little once you’ve seen the piles awaiting you, Michael Haggerty. Finish the dishes if you’ve the will. I’ll be back shortly.” She turned and swept toward Aiden’s room.
She was going to make him earn every penny of that ticket money. He found he didn’t mind. His gaze followed her into the bedchamber, where Aiden knelt beside his bed with bowed head. Maddie gathered up her skirts and knelt beside him, listening as the boy murmured prayers for friends and family.
Michael rubbed at the plates in the cooling water, his own mind turning upward. Prayer comes easily for him, Father. There have been times it didn’t come so easily for me. Thank You for new opportunities. Help me to make the most of them.
Aiden climbed into bed, and Maddie pulled the covers up around him. As if granting Aiden’s earlier request, Amelia Batterby leaped up and curled onto the foot. Bending, Maddie pressed a kiss against her brother’s forehead. Michael felt as if her lips touched his skin instead, gentle, sweet.
What was wrong with him? So what if she was as pretty as Katie? He wasn’t going to let a woman, particularly one he wasn’t so sure about, into his confidence again.
He still remembered the first time he’d seen Katie, the way she’d smiled, the sunlight on her golden hair. He’d felt top of the world when she’d singled him out of all her suitors. He’d thought them both in love, but she’d had her eyes on a brighter future, one that involved fame won at the misfortune of others. He couldn’t be that man.
He tried to focus on his work, rinsing off the dishes in a bowl of water one at a time, then drying them, but the simple task could not take his mind off what was happening in the other room. Now Ciara was saying her prayers with Maddie, hands clasped and face lifted up. Sylvie used to kneel at his side when he was Ciara’s age, encouraging him, guiding him. Good for Maddie for wanting to take that role with her siblings.
“And bless the Dead Rabbits and all those who work to protect us,” Ciara said.
Michael stiffened. He could see Maddie raise her head as well. The gang had cost more than one of Sylvie’s children a parent, forced Michael out of his home and job. Why would Ciara want to bless them?
“Sure-n it’s a fine thing to bless your enemies,” he heard Maddie say. “Perhaps we should ask the Lord to change their hearts instead, help them use their influence to the good.”
“They already do,” Ciara protested, but Maddie must have given her a look, for she humphed and raised her eyes again. “And help the Dead Rabbits do more good things. And make Katie O’Doul sorry she ever hurt Michael.”
Michael nearly dropped the plate. He shouldn’t be surprised Ciara knew about Katie’s defection. He and his aunt had talked about the matter often enough in the evenings when they thought the children were asleep. But Sylvie’s flat was small and cramped; nothing remained a secret for long. And much as a part of him would once have considered asking the Lord for vengeance, he knew it was wrong. Katie had made her choice just as he had, and they each must live with the consequences.
“Are you sure that’s how you want to be ending your prayers?” Maddie prompted her sister.
Ciara humphed again. “Fine.” She cleared her throat. “And I suppose You should help Katie O’Doul do Your will as well. Amen.” She dropped her hands. “Now will you leave me be?”
Maddie leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Only after I’ve wished you sweet dreams, me darling girl. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Well, of course,” Ciara said, but her cheeks were a pleased pink as Maddie took the lamp and left the room.
He thought she might turn in for the night as well, but she joined him at the sideboard and plucked the towel from his shoulder as if intending to help him finish his task. Her sigh told him she was none too sure about her siblings.
“They’re settling in already,” he told her. “It will only get easier from here.”
“I hope you’re right,” Maddie said, taking the dishes he’d already dried and stacking them on the shelves above the sideboard. “It would be nice if something was easy.”
“That was a long boat ride coming out here,” he said, offering her a smile.
She chuckled. “Try it with sixty-odd females all determined to find a mate before they even reach shore.”
He decided not to tell her about the stories in the newspaper. “You arrived unscathed.”
“Unscathed and unwed and thankful for both,” she assured him. She accepted the last plate from him, and their fingers brushed. Her touch was warmer than the water.
He shook the suds off his hands, feeling as if he needed to shake off the feelings she raised in him as well. “I thought Asa Mercer brought all you ladies just to wed.”
Her face was reddening. “Sure-n and he didn’t tell us that he had the husbands all picked out until we were almost here! He even accepted bride prices for us. Well, I wanted no part of that. I came here for one reason—to make a home for Ciara and Aiden, and forget all about New York.”
They had that in common, the need to start over. “Sylvie said you lost your father and stepmother in the tenement fire last year,” Michael murmured. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“’Twas a sad, sad tim
e,” she answered, setting the plate on the shelf. “I just wanted to hold Ciara and Aiden close, never let go. Leaving them behind was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, for all I knew it was the only way. I had to go somewhere I could be more, so I could be enough for them.” She glanced toward him. “I suppose that makes no sense to you.”
“More than you might think,” he said, remembering his reasons for leaving New York. “What should I do with this water?”
“Leave it by the door to the stairs. I’ll take it down with me in the morning and use it to scrub the floors.”
She stepped away from the shelf with a nod as if satisfied with their work and turned for her room. Though she left the lamp on the table, he felt as if some of the light went with her.
She’d taken only a couple of steps, however, before she turned to face him. “Thank you for your help, Michael Haggerty. Now if you’ll be so good as to answer a question or two for me.”
Michael toweled off his hands. “What do you want to know?”
She gazed up at him, the light shining in her dark brown eyes. “Are you involved with the Dead Rabbits?”
Had Sylvie written to her? But no, Maddie had been surprised to see him on the pier. It must have been Ciara’s prayer that had raised the question in Maddie’s mind.
“I’ll have no truck with gangs,” Michael promised her.
She seemed to accept that, and he relaxed.
Her next question, however, drove all thought from his mind.
“So, who is Katie O’Doul?” Maddie asked, watching him. “And why would Ciara wish her to regret how she hurt you?”
Chapter Five
Maddie watched as Michael’s eyes dilated until the blue seemed as vast as the sky. Did he know that his face gave him away? She could see every thought, every hope on those firm features.
He set down the cloth he’d been using on the dishes and stepped away from the bucket. He must have splashed water on himself at some point, because she could see darker spots on his shirt. He took a deep breath as if determined to give her a good answer. She found herself holding her own breath, waiting.
“I courted Miss O’Doul for a time,” he said slowly, as if measuring each word as she might have measured an ingredient for her baking. “She decided we would not suit.”
As simple as that. She wasn’t sure why she was certain there was more to the story. Perhaps it was the tense line of his body, poised as if ready to escape. It was none of her affair, yet she felt as miffed as Ciara had been about Miss O’Doul’s decision.
“Well, then,” she told him. “I’ll know how to help Ciara pray in the future. Sure-n but it’s intelligence and wisdom Miss O’Doul must be lacking to refuse a fine upstanding gentleman like yourself.”
She’d hoped for a smile, but he turned away from her. The hurt went deeper than she’d thought, or perhaps it was merely too soon for him to feel comfortable joking about it.
“If there’s nothing else you need from me tonight, Maddie,” he said, “I’ll be turning in.”
All at once she wanted more. There was nothing wrong with two people from common backgrounds sitting at a table, swapping tales, perhaps sharing a chuckle. She’d seen her friend Allegra and her husband, Clay, behave that way aboard ship, and Maddie had thought it a shame her father and stepmother hadn’t managed that kind of relationship. They’d each put so much time and energy into keeping the family fed and housed that they’d nothing left for companionship. It must be her own hard work that had her thinking about a quiet cup of tea with a friend just then.
Besides, why be companionable with a man who would be in her life less than a month if she had her preferences?
“I need nothing from you, Mr. Haggerty,” she said, turning for her room. “I’ll wish you good-night and see you in the morning.”
* * *
A distant thunk woke Michael from a deep sleep. He shifted on the hard planks of the floor, listening. It couldn’t be morning. Not a ray of light came through the curtains, and the room was as dark as it had been when he’d blown out the lamp and gone to sleep, bundled in front of the stove.
He’d thought between his sparse bedding and his busy mind he would have difficulty sleeping. Lord knew Katie’s betrayal had kept him up more than one night. He still remembered the cold glitter of her green eyes when she’d informed him she wanted nothing more to do with him.
“As if anyone could ask me to be marrying a coward,” she’d flung at him from the doorway of her father’s flat.
Michael had fisted his hands at his sides, knowing that half the tenement was listening to their argument. “I’m no coward. But a woman who claims to love me wouldn’t ask me to make myself a liar and a thief.”
“You think only of yourself,” she’d complained, delicate chin high with righteousness. “I’ll be having nothing more to do with you, Michael Haggerty, until you’ve begged the pardon of those fine men who asked you for a paltry favor you cannot be bringing yourself to grant.” And she’d slammed the door in his face.
Paltry favor. Michael wrapped the blanket closer now. The coals had cooled, leaving the room as chilly as Katie’s parting look. Katie’s father had asked Michael to lie to the man who’d hired him to keep watch on the ships at shore. Michael was to betray his employer’s trust and look the other way while the Dead Rabbits pillaged what they liked from those they found beneath them. Nothing about that was paltry.
How could I ever have looked at myself in the mirror again, Lord? How would I have explained myself to You when I see You face-to-face one day?
He knew he’d made the right choice. But the gang’s reaction had put his life in danger and threatened Sylvie and her children as well. He could only hope the gang’s tentacles didn’t reach across the nation to the frontier.
Another thump had him stiffening on the floor. Turning his head, he could just make out the three doors across from him that led to Maddie’s, Ciara’s and Aiden’s rooms. No one seemed to be stirring, not even the little gray cat. What had caused that sound?
As he eased up on one elbow, he heard more noises—a thud, a creak, a murmur of a voice, all coming from below. Had someone broken into the bakery?
He climbed to his feet, thankful he’d worn his shirt and trousers to bed for added warmth. He had no weapon, but he seized the broom and took it with him as he crossed to the stairs in his stockinged feet.
Whoever was below was making enough noise that the sounds of Michael’s footsteps on the stairs went unnoticed. The shop stood empty, waiting for the morning’s customers. He crept to the curtain, then whipped it aside with his free hand and sprang into the kitchen with a yell, broom handle raised above his head.
Maddie dropped the pot she’d been holding with a clang. “What!”
She was alone in the room, crouching by the firebox, her black-and-white-striped cotton gown swathed in an apron and pooled about her. Her red hair wilted around her face, like steamed cabbage, and the warmth of the room struck him for the first time. He could hear the heat crackling in the firebox, and the scent of something moist and tangy hung in the air.
Michael lowered the broom. “What are you doing so early?”
She threw up her hands, sending flour puffing in all directions. “My job, if you’ll let me.”
She pushed off from the floor and swept up to the worktable, which was draped in checkered cloth. Whipping off the material, she nodded to the two dozen mounds of dough, white and puffy, and pans of rolls, cinnamon showing in each swirl. He set the broom in the corner and ventured closer, mouth starting to water.
“Forgive me,” he told her. “I heard a noise, and I thought we were being robbed.”
She chuckled as she shook out the cloth. “No robbers,” she said, folding it up and tucking it under the worktable. “If one stuck his head in the door right now, I’d pu
t him to work.”
Doing what? By the dirty bowls and pans stacked on the sideboard and the speckles on her apron, she’d already finished for the morning. How early had she risen?
“What else do you need done?” he asked.
She eyed him a moment as if trying to decide whether he was teasing. Then she raised her flour-dusted hand and began counting off the remaining tasks on her fingers.
“I have to finish preparing the oven, put in the bread and rolls, gather the eggs, brush and turn the bread and make icing for the cinnamon rolls, all before my customers arrive on their way to work.”
That didn’t sound so daunting. “Then you might as well put me to work,” Michael said. “I’m up anyway.”
She pointed to a door at the back of the kitchen. “There’s a rake and a pail in the shed. Bring them in and muck out the firebox.”
Michael frowned. “You want to clear out the fire before you start baking?”
“’Tis the hot bricks that bake the bread, Mr. Haggerty,” she informed him. “And don’t you be questioning my work like you question the raising of Ciara and Aiden.”
Michael held up his hands in surrender and went to do as she asked.
Sylvie had baked from time to time, when she could use a neighbor’s oven. He’d never realized there was so much to be done, and all at a rhythm only Maddie seemed to understand. Under her direction, he raked the hot coals into the pail and closed the lid, then swept out the ashes. Taking a long-handled wooden paddle from where it hung on the wall and resting it on the table, she dusted it with flour and then began shifting the rounded loaves onto it.
As she grabbed the handle, Michael stepped forward. “Let me.”
Brow raised, she moved aside. “Just you be careful with my peel, Mr. Haggerty.”
He had a feeling he was going to hear the name Michael from those pink lips only when he’d done something magnificent. He lifted the paddle and was surprised by the weight. With the oven set above her waist, how did she manage?
As if she saw his surprise, she smiled and reached for the peel. “Here, let me. Watch now. There’s a trick to putting them in so you can bake the most.” She nodded toward the oven, and Michael hurried to open the iron door for her. Heat blasted him, raising sweat on his forehead and neck. With a deft movement, she stuck in the paddle, lifted the end and slid the loaves onto the brick. It took her three trips to transfer everything into the oven. Michael shut the door for the last time, and she closed the damper.
