by Lynn Ricci
Entering his apartment, he felt at peace again and took a deep breath. Familiar surroundings and an antique dealers fantasy; with Catherine’s artwork adorning the walls, a tall bookcase covering the back wall full of first editions, tiffany lamps, and the grandfather clock ticking away the never ending seconds.
Moving to his couch he turned on the lamp and sat down, taking this moment alone to closely inspect his hands. He held his hand under the bright light and could see there was a definite change, he was sure. Not only was the arthritic pain gone, allowing more movement and alleviating some of the twisted digits to look more normal, but he was now certain the discolored splotches and blistering bumps were almost entirely gone. His mind was whirring with this change, wondering how after all these years he could see improvement virtually overnight. He tried to remember if he saw any difference last night but the first he remembered taking notice was in Sarah’s apartment earlier today
By the time Mason returned to Sarah’s apartment, he was eager to continue the story. It had become amazingly liberating to share his past with Sarah; having someone to talk had been therapeutic in itself, but knowing it was her, all the more reason. And, he was starting to believe that maybe, just maybe, it was her acceptance of him that was alleviating some of his ailments.
Mounting the stairs, he passed by the Baldwins' door on the second landing and was thinking of how typically quiet this building was over the holidays. He had not shared a Christmas Eve with anyone since the 1950’s. Only eating for one every year, he never kept much food in the house but he did always cook on Christmas, following the recipe Delia O’Malley made every year for their Christmas dinner. Before the storm he had purchased a small goose for Christmas day, along with potatoes, apples and cranberry for stuffing the potato stuffing. He won’t have the full fare of Brussels sprouts and carrots, and of course the plum pudding. If she had no choice but to stay here for the day, maybe he should make it this afternoon for tonight. He was sure she would want to leave as soon as the transportation was operational again.
Mason rounded the last staircase and could easily here the television and a hair dryer shut off. The door was ajar but he still knocked lightly before entering. Sarah padded barefoot across the hardwood floor towards the door and told him to come in.
“So I took a quick inventory and I must say I don’t have much. Enough coffee, thank goodness, and I do have eggs, bread, peanut butter and jelly, some yogurt, pasta and jarred sauce a few frozen dinners in a bag and a frozen pizza.” He had watched her tick off the items on her fingers and couldn’t help but smirk, even though he knew how contorted it would make his face look, at the pitiful contents of her kitchen thinking that it was scarily similar to his usual grocery list. He also noticed the crisp smell of citrus and noticed she had showered and dressed in thick, oversized green sweater and black leggings.
“Well, I would be honored if you would allow me to prepare dinner for us. I had planned a goose for Christmas day but if all goes well you will be on your way by then so we should have it tonight.”
“Goose?”
Mason looked at her with a confused expression. “Yes, a goose. With a traditional potato stuffing.”
“I’ve never had a goose, but I would love to try it.” She beamed at the offer and his heart clenched tight.
“It would be my pleasure.”
“So, Mason,” Sarah started tentatively as she sat down on the arm of the couch to pull on her socks, “Actually, do you prefer Mason or Aiden?”
“Mason is fine. I have been Mason for many years at this point.”
“Ok, Mason, I hope you will share more of your story with me.”
“Yes, I would be happy to.”
“I have a confession to make first.” She had started slowly and Mason wondered what it could be. “Do you know what I do for a job? I told you a bit the other day. I am basically a researcher. Not that I don’t believe what you were telling me. As a matter of fact, I told you that I did believe you although I am having a hard time grasping all of this. But, while you were gone I did a quick search on some of the things you told me and I found something.”
“What do you mean? Found something where?”
“On the internet. Do you have a computer?”
“No. Never have. Too much to go through, to learn, and I am not good around people in my condition. Never needed it before, so I can’t imagine why I need it now.”
“Well, let me show you something.” Sarah crossed the room to where her laptop was open on the kitchen counter. Picking it up and unplugging it, she walked over to the couch and sat down, patting the cushion next to her. “Come here and see this.”
Mason sunk down on the couch next to her and could smell the shampoo from her hair as she leaned forward, tapping away at the keyboard. It almost made him forget that there was potential danger outside of these walls.
He watched with interest as the screen in front of Sarah flashed with one image after another until she stopped and leaned back, turning to him, looking somber. “I found this, Mason.” Her eyes large and round seeking his and then returning back to the laptop screen.
He leaned forward and recognized a picture of a newspaper article he had not seen in many years. It was describing the great fire, the incredible amount of acreage in downtown Boston that was affected and the nearly eight hundred buildings that were either burnt out, exploded from gas lines, blown on purpose, or just too weakened and damaged to keep. And, he already knew, this was the newspaper clipping that he had cut and kept with him as a reminder until it fell apart, for those dark days when he found it hard to believe they were gone and he was alone in a strange land. The newspaper story that listed the eleven brave firefighters and the nearly dozen others including his father and mother that lost their lives.
“That’s them, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he said, looking at the enlarged type on the screen showing William and Bridget Murphy listed among the other names he had come to know by heart. “Yes, that was me mum and dad.” His voice was sad, soft, and he turned to her. “How did you get this?”
“I told you, I research. I have access to all kinds of newspaper databases. When you left, I wanted to know more about the fire. I didn’t want to ask you because I could tell by watching your face as you spoke that it was a very troubling memory. I had no idea of the magnitude and how it shaped Boston as it is today. The people involved and who witnessed the fire, famous people like Oliver Wendell Holmes and Alexander Graham Bell that watched from their homes in Beacon Hill. In historic measures, it wasn’t all that long ago, but it’s like the fire has been forgotten.”
“I am sure there are Bostonians that are not aware of it, happening long before they were born. And for some reason the Chicago fire the year before in 1871 seems to stay in people’s imagination, perhaps because more people lost their lives and some reporter made up a colorful story of a cow kicking over a lantern. We Irish were not well liked back in those days and people loved blaming poor old Mrs. O’Leary for that one. But Boston lost a lot during that November, and I lost . . . everything.”
Sarah was watching him, he could feel it, but was afraid to look up and see the pity in her eyes. Instead, he was surprised to have her arms wrap around him for a few heartbeats and then let go just as quickly.
“I can’t imagine a boy being left alone like that and fending for himself. I am so glad you met the O’Malleys when you did.”
He nodded and looked back at the screen, clearing his throat. “What else did you find on this?” He motioned towards the laptop sitting on the coffee table in front of them. Sarah swiveled back to face the computer screen and tapped away on the keyboard causing images to flash in front of him.
“Actually, I was looking up the fire, but you can find almost anything you are looking for.” She tilted her head as she turned to look back towards Mason, her long hair nearly reaching her knees. “But I would love to hear more from you instead.”
He heard the imploring
inflection in her statement, making it almost a question, asking if he was willing to share more. She didn’t realize that he had to share more. She had to know.
He stood and moved over to the chair, feeling more comfortable alone with the high arms enveloping his body; isolating and making him feel safe.
“I will need to start dressing the goose by three or four o’clock but that gives us a few hours.”
With Mason now in the chair, she resumed her position of curling up on the couch under her blanket with her back nestled into the corner of the couch so she can face him. The TV was off and the brownstone was silent. All they could hear was the occasional plow making its way up and down Columbus and on the street below.
Mason closed his eyes as he did before and let the visions back in to take over. The sweet recollections as well as the sad ones and, reluctantly, even the scary memories.
Chapter 18
“It was Delia that actually found me the job. They had treated me as a son over all those years and as much as she knew O’Malley wanted me to follow in his footsteps. She also knew my fear and wanted to keep me safe. She asked around her circle of friends but nothing became of that.
As the fire-pole was being installed at the firehouse on Bulfinch, O’Malley’s retirement was growing closer, and with it his desire for me to be sworn in. Delia feverishly tried to find employment for me while O’Malley put the pressure on to take a firemen’s position for our city of Boston. He thought I could rise in the ranks with his mentoring and connections and that taking care of the horses could be left to a lad and I should be finding a wife soon and needed a better job.
“ ‘Faigheann an tseanbhróg an tseanstoca’ O’Malley would remind me in Gaelic. The old shoe gets the old stocking or for everyone there's someone out there. But of that I had my doubts." He paused again, eyes clouded and sad.
“ ‘How are you going to feed the little ones?’ He would ask. ‘You don’t want to shovel hay your whole life, now do ya?’ I was happy though. I loved the horses and kept reminding him I didn’t really know any women never mind one to marry.
That was why at Sunday dinner after we said grace Delia surprised both of us with her announcement.
“Aiden, I heard from Mrs. Sullivan at the butcher the other day that a family was moving in to the grandest of those new brownstones in The Fill." That was what they called the South End in those days – The Fill, because it was all filled land." He swept his hand towards the window with a halfhearted shrug.
"Mrs. Sullivan’s cousin was going to be the cook for the house. The man of the house, Arthur Todd had also just hired a governess for the two young daughters for when they arrive from England next month with their mother. They had a countryside home outside of London and planned to keep a number of horses in the stable behind the house. With all those horses they would need a groom. I told Mrs. Sullivan about you and she is going to tell her cousin to ask Mr. Todd to hire you.”
"Aye, I can remember how Delia sat back in her chair, emotions running all over her lovely face of hope that she did well, of hope I would be happy, and hope that O’Malley wouldn’t curse at the dinner table on a Sunday. The last one she lost on.
“What in blazes did you do that for, woman? You know the boy is going to join Engine 4.”
“I know no such thing, Paddy. You keep talking but Aiden has his own head.”
“I know the boy has a head but now he has a tarnation scrape of deciding what to do. It should be a bloody easy decision that you confused with a stable hand job.”
“He will be the groom, and I said he had been trained as a farrier, too.”
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!”
“Patrick O’Malley you will say a prayer for forgiveness for all the cussing at this dinner table!” Delia slammed down her fork and waited as O’Malley puffed out his chest, ready to stand his ground, and finally did as he was told. Delia was a tough old bird.
My mouth was full of mashed potatoes and I dared not even swallow or else their attention might turn to me. When O’Malley finished his begging for forgiveness, both sets of eyes turned to me and I finally swallowed loudly.
“Aiden, go speak with Mr. Todd. See what he is doing. I heard he was even was shipping his daughter’s Cobs.” Delia’s hopeful look had returned.
“Irish Cobs? Ah, they are a mighty fine horse.” As soon as I said it with that far away longing in my voice for a type of horse I hadn’t seen since my childhood, I got the eye from O’Malley. He immediately softened and I knew I loved these two as close to a family as I would get and thanked the heavens that I had found O’Malley and Black Ben in the park that morning.
“Go. Just to see the horses, mind you.” O’Malley said, giving a little wink and we all returned to eating with the decision made.
Author Todd was an impressive man in business; being a banker, and in pure statue being nearly six feet tall which was quiet tall in those days. He was from England, that you could be sure straight away, but unlike most Englishmen he did not have any issue with my being Irish.
We met that spring of 1880 in his downtown Boston office. I wore my Sunday outfit and Delia paid out of her house money for a professional barber to cut my hair and give me a shave.
Todd had a grand office in one of the new buildings built after the fire. I sat in a leather chair in front of his desk and he cleared away the papers he had been working on while I waited for him to start. He seemed like a meticulous sort, lining everything up perfectly before he felt ready to begin. We started with introductions and he told me a little about the stable he had built, and how many horses he had now and was expecting by ship. He had a strong and intelligent quality about him as he spoke, but you could also tell he was a fair man and didn't turn up his nose.
“Mr. Murphy, I hear you are well versed in horses and have been a groom for going on six years. And, our cook said you have been trained as a farrier.” He had a skeptical look about all this. “You look quite young for that amount of experience.”
“I have been employed by the Boston Fire Department, sir, since 1874 working at Engine 4 and Chemical 1. The farrier has trained me over the years but it has not been a full apprenticeship, sir. Before that, I was taken in by the engine company on Bulfinch Street as I was made an orphan by the fire of ’72 and I would help with the horses even then for room and board.”
Todd sat back in his, taking a different look at me and making me want to squirm in the chair. Clenching the hat I held in my lap, I felt my palms start to perspire with the feeling I was being not only scrutinized, but that a major decision about my life was about to happen, for good or bad.
Todd tilted his head down and looked over the wire rim glasses he wore. I could see a slightly balding spot on top of his head through the golden brown hair. He had some facial hair too, which was fashionable in the day, which made him look even more important. His hands had been neatly folded in front of him while we spoke but now one hand sought out his beard and smoothed it while he was thinking. I thought for sure he would ask about the fire and my being an orphan, a subject I did not want to discuss, but I was wrong.
“If the Boston Fire Department has had you in their employ for these last six years, and the farrier has been kind enough to mentor you given you worked directly for one of his obviously biggest clients, I am curious Mr. Murphy, why you would want to leave such a situation?”
I had a feeling this question would come up, but it appeared not a simple question the way Mr. Todd asked. To him, it appeared more like a puzzle piece was missing and his analytical brain did not like missing pieces.
Honesty was always best so I explained my story. How the fire taking my parents and the terrible days following, walking through the charred remains of the city, had scared me and made me want to avoid fire at all costs. And then finding myself living at a fire station put me in the direct line of fire day in and day out, coming to be devoted to the men there and the brave work they do to keep everyone safe,
yet the anxiety of them going out at the bell and not knowing if someone would not be back, was becoming too much. And lastly, I told him about Lt. Patrick O’Malley who had taken me in and would like to see me stay at Engine 4 but as a fireman which I could not do given my fear and that my passion was caring for horses. When I was done, I realized I had squeezed the blazes out of my hat.
“Do you know about Cobs? How to care for them?”
“Yes, sir. We had Cobs near us back in Dublin. They are a grand horse.”
“That they are, Mr. Murphy.” He waited for me to go on.
“I know you need to change their feed a bit, and that they are prone to infections of the skin behind the feathers and how to avoid such a problem.”
“Yes, I see you do know your horses. And shoes?”
“The young ones don’t require, but when they do, you need to get the right type of shoe for their weight.”
Mr. Todd smiled and nodded and I felt less squirmy in my chair talking about something I knew.
“Do they have a Cob at the station, or are you remembering this from your youth?”
“No, sir. I have not seen a Cob in quite a while. We had the horse flu go through Boston eight years ago and we mainly have domestic breeds and thoroughbreds from England.”
“Another fine horse.” Todd stood and walked to his window, looking out with his hands clasped behind his back, contemplating his decision. After a moment, he turned back and checked his pocket watch, inserting it back into its own pocket just as quickly.
“When will you be able to start Mr. Murphy?”
“You are giving me the position?”
“It is yours if you want it. I am offering a room at the house since I would expect you to be available day and night and to stay close to the stable. One meal per day that you can collect in the kitchen and a pay equal to your current wages.”
“I will let the station know to find a replacement straight away.” I extended my hand and we shook on it. He gave me his address and asked me to stop by over the weekend to familiarize myself with the stables and horses before the rest of his family arrived.
