As if feeling her gaze on him, he slowly turned his head and fixed her with a smile. He jumped to his feet as Camri approached and tipped his hat.
“Top of the day to ye, Miss Coulter.”
She nodded and returned the smile. “And to you. How is your sister?”
“That’s the reason I’ve come on this fine Sunday. Ophelia would like to see ye, if ye have the time.”
“Of course. I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”
“Your friends explained that ye were helpin’ the parson’s wife.”
“Yes. I wish you had just come to the church to find me instead of waiting for two hours. I wouldn’t have taken lunch with them had I known.”
“’Tis no problem. Ophelia’s no doubt still sleepin’. She does that more these days. I left her curled up by the stove, and my landlady promised to look in on her.”
Camri frowned. “Is Ophelia worse?”
His smile faded. “Aye. The doctor says she won’t make the new year.”
“But . . .” She had known things were bad, but to hear him say that his sweet sister only had a matter of days left was almost more than Camri could bear. Her emotions ran so high these days, and logic often failed her. “I . . . I’m sorry to hear that.”
His stoic expression never wavered. “Aye. ’Tis a sad bit of news, to be sure.”
Camri admired his strength. To be able to speak on the matter without giving in to emotion had to be difficult.
“I’ll need a moment to let Kenzie and Judith know where I’m going.” She started up the steps, then paused. “Have you had any lunch?”
“Aye. Your Mr. Wong brought me a bite.”
She nodded, then hurried up the steps. Once inside, she found Judith and Kenzie sitting in the front room, a warm fire blazing in the hearth.
“I’m going with Patrick to see his sister, Ophelia.”
“We invited him to come inside,” Judith said, looking up from her book, “but he declined. I’m sure I wouldn’t have wanted to sit in the damp cold for two hours.”
“Nor I,” Kenzie said with a shrug. “Are you sure it’s safe to go? I remember you talking about how downtrodden the neighborhood was, and Mr. Wong made it clear it wasn’t at all safe.”
Camri chuckled. “You’ve seen Patrick Murdock. Do you doubt his ability to keep me from harm?”
Kenzie shrugged again. “Yes, but who will protect you from Mr. Murdock?”
Judith giggled and defended him before Camri could. “Mr. Murdock is a good man. I can tell. Besides, he was friends with Caleb, so he must be trustworthy.”
“He was a client of Caleb’s,” Kenzie corrected. “If they became friends after that, it still wouldn’t be the same as, say, his friendship with Dr. Fisher. They’re hardly from the same social set.”
“Well, I’ve always considered myself a good judge of character,” Camri interjected. “I think, given the various men I’ve run across since beginning this search, that Patrick is the most trustworthy of the bunch. I haven’t any idea when I’ll return, but try not to worry. I’m confident that with Mr. Murdock at my side, I’ll be safe.” Camri headed for the front door.
“You should take your umbrella,” Judith called after her. “Mrs. Wong says it’s going to rain.”
Camri smiled and plucked her umbrella from the stand. Mrs. Wong had an uncanny ability to predict the weather, whether the skies were clear or overcast.
She rejoined Patrick, who waited patiently at the foot of the stairs. “I’m sorry for the delay.”
“Ye need not apologize.” He held out his arm for her to take. “I’m the one apologizin’ for havin’ no wagon. ’Tis a long walk.”
“Yes, but it’s a pleasant enough day.” She hooked her arm through his.
He laughed as they headed down the hill. “’Tis cold and threatenin’ rain.”
She smiled. “This weather is like Chicago in the spring. This time of year, however, San Francisco is far milder. My folks wrote me and said they have quite a bit of snow.”
“I loved the snow when I was a lad. That was before we moved to San Francisco, of course. The snow rarely falls on this city.”
“Where did you live before here?”
Patrick smiled. “Too many places to count. When me da came to America, he was determined to find a place that reminded him of home, but of course nothing ever suited. He told me that after a time, he realized he wouldn’t find his Irish home in America. Instead, he’d be needin’ to make a new home, and so he did. When we came here to San Francisco, Da said he felt a settlin’ inside that he’d never had before. That made it clear to him this was the place to call home.”
“What about you? Do you feel it’s home?”
Her question seemed to take him by surprise. “I feel at home wherever my family is. When Ophelia’s passed on, I’m not sure how this place will feel.”
Camri nodded. “I understand that. My folks are older than some. They had their children late in life, taking time to establish their education and careers first. Worrying over Caleb has sent them both to their beds.”
“So ye said they’d written. How are they bearin’ up?”
“Mother tries to sound strong. She tells me their health has improved, but I fear she’s merely trying to keep me from fretting. Father suffered a bad cold that turned into pneumonia, and he hasn’t regained his strength since. Mother, on the other hand, has been troubled by her stomach. She was always a robust, active woman, but over the summer, she began to fail. When Caleb disappeared, she wasn’t able to eat at all. The doctor ordered tests just before I came here. I wrote to ask her what the tests revealed, but she didn’t answer me.”
“And that worries ye?”
Camri looked up. His expression was pure compassion. “Yes,” she barely whispered. “I sometimes wonder if both of them are much worse than they’re telling me. I’m sure they mean to protect me, but I’ve written to Catherine for the truth.”
“And do ye suppose she’ll be givin’ it?”
“I sincerely hope so. Truth is important to me—I cannot abide someone keeping it from me, even when they hope to protect me.”
“Aye,” Patrick murmured.
“I don’t know what I’ll do once they’re gone. I suppose if Caleb remains here, I might join him. I’m not that close to my sister. She’s ten years my senior, and we had little in common.”
“So ye like city life then?” His tone lightened. “All the blather and ballyhoo?”
She glanced around. They had passed from Caleb’s rather refined neighborhood to one that was common—even a bit run-down. Someone who struggled to keep food on the table could hardly be faulted for having no money to spruce up the outside of their home.
“There are definitely aspects I enjoy. The theatre and attending concerts and lectures. Those are some of my favorite ways to pass an afternoon or evening. I suppose I could do without other things, like the crime and constant feeling of rush, and the noise.” She smiled.
“Aye, and this city has more than its fair share of all of that. My ma used to say there was no quiet to be had except in her soul.”
Camri smiled. There were times she felt the same way. “I’ve never really known anything else, growing up in Chicago. I suppose, above all, a city of this size offers almost anything a person could want or need. Good schools, doctors, and manufacturers.”
They turned a corner, and the gradual descent into poverty began to feel more like a plunge. All around them the signs were clear. Broken windows had been boarded, garbage cans were overflowing. An unpleasant odor from burning trash filled the air.
“Doctors and good schools can be had for sure, if ye have the coin and the right ancestry.” Patrick’s sober tone seemed prompted by their surroundings. “There’s limitations and prejudices aplenty if you’re Irish or Mexican. Even worse if you’re Chinese, Jewish, or Negro.”
Camri nodded. “Yes, unfortunately that is a universal problem.” She didn’t wish to dwell on that topic and hurri
edly moved on. “Where did you live before? I know your business was very successful.”
He gave her a smile, but there was a look of regret in his expression. “’Tis true enough. Da and I built a fine house some blocks to the south and west of where your brother’s house stands. I was only nineteen, and it pleased me greatly to be able to do such a thing. Our ma was so happy. She used to just walk through the rooms, smilin’ and talkin’ about how she wished she could show the place to her ma.” His voice softened. “The next year she passed on. Ophelia was but ten. Our da was never the same after that.”
“I’m so sorry.” She wanted to ask whether he had sold the house, or if it, like the business, was taken from them when he went to jail, but she didn’t want to further his sorrow.
A few sprinkles of rain fell, but Camri didn’t think it merited opening her umbrella. Most of the people on the street had nothing to shield them from the rain, and it felt almost pretentious that she did.
“Just a few more blocks,” Patrick offered. “We should pick up our feet.”
She smiled at his comment. Despite his being uneducated, she enjoyed his manner of speaking. She remembered her folks had once had an Irish cook. She created the most impressive meals, but she could curse like a sailor, and Camri’s mother finally felt it necessary to let her go. Until now, Camri had never wondered about her—where she went or if she found work. A twinge of guilt unsettled her thoughts. Perhaps the cook lived in a place similar to Patrick’s. A place like the sad, neglected buildings that lined these streets—tenements where the owners had little desire to make things nice. The people here had so little. No doubt the Jewish and Chinese neighborhoods were even worse.
She realized that they’d stopped talking. Glancing up, she found Patrick’s face fixed in a sober expression. It looked as if he too might be considering the plight of his neighbors. Camri chided herself for never having taken much interest in helping the poor. Her causes were always about benefiting women, which she hoped would in turn raise their status of living. However, she had never truly given thought to the impoverished conditions that a good portion of the population faced.
Patrick noticed her watching him. He shrugged and pointed ahead. “There, see now. We’re all but home,” he said as the rain began to fall more steadily.
Camri hurried to keep step with him. She was glad that current fashions allowed some skirts to be shortened. Her wool skirt was modern, so the hem was just a bit higher than that of her other gowns, allowing her to avoid dragging her skirts in the muck of the streets.
Patrick threw open the door to his ramshackle building and ushered her inside. “I’ll build up the fire and see that you dry off,” he said as they made their way to his apartment.
An older woman was sweeping the hall just beyond his door. When they arrived, Patrick gave her a wave and spoke in what Camri presumed was Gaelic. Then he smiled down at Camri and introduced the woman.
“This is Mrs. Ryan. She and her husband collect the rents and oversee the building for the owner.”
Camri smiled and gave a nod. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Mrs. Ryan returned the smile, showing she was missing a good number of teeth. “Ye’ve picked a day of it to come callin’, but welcome ye are.”
“Thank you.”
Patrick opened the door to his apartment and motioned Camri inside. Ophelia sat near the stove, bundled in blankets. She looked up when Camri entered.
“Oh, ’tis good to see ye’ve come.”
“I was happy to do so,” Camri said, taking the chair beside her. I apologize that it took so long. I stayed behind at church to help the pastor’s wife with some things and then joined them for lunch at their house.”
“’Tis no matter, ye’re here now.” Ophelia’s voice was weak, and her face held a grayish cast.
“How have you been feeling?” Camri regretted the question the minute it left her mouth, but she felt at a loss for words. Ophelia was clearly much worse off than she had been when Camri first met her.
“I’m doin’ just fine. Don’t fret about me.” Ophelia sat a little straighter. “Paddy, take Camri’s wet coat and hang it on the peg by the stove. Then put on the tea.”
Camri stood to put aside her umbrella, then pulled off her damp gloves. She placed her gloves on the small table by the door, then unfastened the buttons of her coat. “It only just now began to rain in earnest. I didn’t even have time to use my umbrella.”
Patrick helped her with her coat. “Aye, but it was already a chilly day, and the rain made it all the colder.” He hung her coat up as Ophelia had directed, then grabbed the kettle.
Camri turned her attention back to Ophelia. “I was glad for the invitation to come see you. I enjoyed our last visit and had hoped to come this afternoon anyway. I was going to see if Mr. Wong, my brother’s . . . gardener, could bring me.” She felt uncomfortable referencing servants when it was clear Ophelia and Patrick had to do everything for themselves.
“I told my brother that ye had the makings of a good friend.”
“I’m glad you think so. Sometimes I’m not so sure.” Camri glanced over to where Patrick was putting the kettle on the stove. “I’ve come to see that I can be quite overbearing and opinionated at times.”
“For sure, we can all be that way, but ye have a grace about ye and a sweet spirit,” Ophelia countered.
“If ye feel that ye can handle the tea,” Patrick said, turning to the ladies, “Mrs. Ryan asked if I might be able to lend a hand in repairin’ some steps on the third floor.”
“I’m happy to take care of things here,” Camri replied with a smile.
He gave her a nod, then went to Ophelia. “I’m thinkin’ ye might be more comfortable in bed.”
“In a while, perhaps. For now, I want to sit and have a good long visit with Camri.”
“Well, she could easily bring a chair to your bedside.”
Camri nodded. “Absolutely. I don’t want you wearing yourself out on my account.”
Ophelia shook her head. “I’ll be fine. Go on with ye.”
Patrick bent and kissed the top of her head. “I won’t be far, if ye need me.”
Camri waited until he’d gone before speaking again. “He seems quite attentive.”
“He is that. He’s a good brother and does far more than he ought to have to do.”
“My brother is the same way. He’s always looking out for others.” Camri didn’t add that it was probably the latter that had gotten him in trouble.
“I wanted ye to visit today because I have somethin’ to ask ye,” Ophelia said.
“I’ll do whatever I can.” Camri couldn’t imagine what the young woman needed from her.
“I know your brother is missin’, so I feel bad askin’ a favor of ye in regard to my brother.” Ophelia paused and drew a rather ragged breath. A shadow of pain darkened her face for a moment and then passed.
Camri was even more curious now that Ophelia had made it clear that her request involved Patrick. “As I said, I’ll do whatever I can.”
“Paddy is at odds with God. He blames God for the bad things that have happened to our family. At least, he did. I know he’s been wrestlin’ like Jacob did with God, to understand it all.”
“It’s hard to lose so much.” Camri’s murmured words seemed inadequate.
“Aye. ’Tis hard, to be sure. But Paddy knows the truth of things. He can be angry at the good Lord, but it doesn’t change the truth. He needs to come around right, and I fear he won’t. It frightens me, because I want to know that I’ll see him again one day.”
“I know nothing about your faith or Patrick’s, but I do know that God understands our doubt and fear. They don’t come from Him, but He does understand how weak we are. Patrick is angry and hurt because of his fear. After all, it’s troubling to realize that God allows Christian folk to face tragedy and injustice.”
The teakettle began to whistle, interrupting the conversation. Camri got to her feet and smiled at see
ing that Patrick had readied two mugs. The canister of tea and a small sugar bowl sat just beyond. “Do you want sugar in your tea?”
“I don’t want any tea, thank ye.”
Camri didn’t really feel like it either, so she put the kettle aside and reclaimed her seat beside Ophelia. She was surprised when Ophelia reached out to take her hand. The poor girl’s fingers were ice-cold despite her blankets and the warmth of the stove.
“I know ye love God and that ye have a strong faith. I felt the good Lord speak this to my heart. When I pass on, Paddy’s goin’ to need someone like yerself to help him through. If Caleb were here, I know he’d do the job, but until he returns, I’m hopin’ ye’ll agree to be there for Paddy.”
Camri didn’t know what to think, much less what to say. How could she be a spiritual encourager to this man she hardly knew? “I . . . well . . . to be honest, I don’t know if I can.” She looked at Ophelia’s hopeful expression. “You must understand, I don’t give my word without the full intention of seeing it through. I’m something of a stickler for that.”
“I know that honesty is important to ye.” Ophelia paused for a moment, and a pained expression replaced her hopeful look. “I want ye to know that I don’t ask this lightly. Folks here will do what they can to encourage Paddy, but I just have the feelin’ he’s goin’ to need ye.”
With a sigh, Camri resigned herself to doing whatever this dying woman asked of her. “I will endeavor to be there for him in any way I can.”
Ophelia seemed to relax, although the pain hadn’t yet passed from her face. “There’s somethin’ else I’d be sayin’. I’ve been prayin’ for Caleb’s return every day since he disappeared. I know yer heart is heavy for fear of what’s happened to him.”
“It is. Sometimes I can keep myself busy enough that it doesn’t eat me alive, but his absence and not knowing what’s happened to him consumes me. I came out here with such confidence that I could get to the bottom of things.” Camri paused and shook her head. “False confidence.” She drew a heavy breath. “Now I don’t know what to do.”
Ophelia squeezed her hand. “Aye, and I know you’re hard-pressed to know who ye can trust.”
In Places Hidden Page 12
