by Rhys Bowen
Bridie asked whether she should go back to school. “I’ve already said good-bye to everyone,” she said. “I don’t want to go through that again.”
So I let her stay home. We were both bundles of nerves, pacing and waiting. Seamus’s letter had only said the new year, not an actual day. That could have meant anytime in January or February, I supposed. Poor Bridie could not be going through this torture for days or even months.
“If he doesn’t come tomorrow, go back to school,” I said. “At least you’ll be kept busy there.”
“Perhaps he has changed his mind,” she said hopefully.
I took her little face in my hands. “Bridie, he is your father and he does love you,” I said. “Do you really not want to be with him again?”
“I suppose it’s terrible to say it, but I want to be with you. You and the ladies across the street and Captain Sullivan’s mother. You are my family now. I don’t feel Irish and I don’t want to live in Ireland.”
“I’m sure you’ll feel differently when you see him again and he takes you to a fine new house,” I said, but I couldn’t sound convincing.
Daniel was gone all day and didn’t arrive home until darkness had fallen. He stepped into the front hall, unwinding the scarf from around his face. “My, but it’s bitter out there tonight,” he said.
I came to help him off with his coat. “What news?” I asked. “You’ve been gone all day.”
“Yes,” he said. “And I don’t want to speak too soon, but the news is all good, I think. The new commissioner knew my father. He remembered him well. Thought he was a fine man. A man whose word he could rely on. And he looked forward to having me to rely on too. He said he’d heard rumors, and heard that I was thinking of leaving. He hoped that wasn’t the case.”
My eyes didn’t leave his face. “So I told him as long as I had his confidence I’d give it another chance. And yes, he could count on me to be perfectly straight, to do the right thing.”
“So you’re going to stay?” I tried to keep my voice even.
He put his hands on my shoulders. “Look, I know how unsettling this last year has been for you. I dragged you into danger in San Francisco. You never knew whether I was alive or not when I was working in Washington. I can’t put you through that anymore. I want you to be safe and happy and with your friends. I want us to settle down and have more children.”
“I do too,” I said.
“You wait. We’ll have another baby this year, I promise you.” He drew me to him, slipped his arms around my waist, and kissed me.
Our love tryst in the front hall was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Probably Sid and Gus wanting to know what has happened,” I said. “They must have spotted you coming home.”
“Talk about no peace for the wicked.” Daniel gave me a wry smile as he went to open the door. Then I heard him say, “Oh! Can I help you?”
“We’re looking for Bridie O’Connor,” a boy’s voice said, with a hint of aggression to his tone.
Curious, I joined Daniel at the door. Standing in front of me was a boy I recognized, although he had grown considerably since I saw him last: It was James, one of Seamus’s cousin’s sons. I had stayed with that family when I first arrived in New York. Hovel would have been a polite term for their terrible tenement home. And my memories of the family had not been more favorable. But James had been an appealing little boy in those days. He was now a scruffy and disreputable-looking adolescent.
“James, isn’t it?” I said. “How good to see you again. Bridie’s in the kitchen. Come on in.”
“I’ve brought Cousin Seamus with me,” the boy said, glancing back into the street nervously. “He’s come looking for Bridie.”
The dark shape in the swirling snowflakes revealed itself to be Seamus, all bundled up. He stepped forward, holding out a big, meaty hand. “It’s good to see you again, Molly Murphy. You’re looking grand. All grown-up and settled as a married woman now.” He gave me a firm handshake. “And you remember my boy, Shamey.”
Another shape revealed itself through the swirling snow.
“I do. Come in, out of the cold.” I ushered them into my narrow hallway.
Shamey had been a skinny little scrap of a lad when I had first brought him from Ireland six years ago. Now he looked like a man; big, strapping, and with the first sprouts of hair growing above his lip.
“How are you, Miss Molly?” he said in a deep man’s voice. “Or should I say Mrs. Sullivan?”
“You’ve certainly grown up.” I shook his hand. “I’d never have recognized you.”
“Well, I’ve been doing a man’s work so now I have a man’s body,” he said.
We stood in the front hall, their breath coming out like steam. “And this is my husband, Captain Sullivan,” I said. “No doubt you remember him.”
Hands were shaken. I noticed James was glancing across at Daniel and edging toward the front door. If he was anything like his brother, he had become a Junior Eastman, a member of one of the city’s most notorious gangs.
“I’ll be leaving you then,” he said. “You can find your own way back, I’ve no doubt.”
And he ran off into the night.
I went to close the front door. “Bridie. Come and see who is here,” I shouted, although I was sure she could have heard everything we had said from the kitchen.
“Just a minute,” Seamus said. “I’ve brought someone else with me I want you all to meet.” He turned back to the alley. “Come on in, my love.”
“I thought you were going to keep me standing out here freezing forever, Seamus,” said a female voice, and a large woman stepped over the threshold. She was olive-skinned with flashing dark eyes. Her hat was decorated liberally with feathers and fruit and the whole effect was exotic looking. She stared at me and then at Daniel. “Well, here’s a warm welcome, I must say.”
Seamus cleared his throat. “I’d like you to meet my new wife, Lola,” he said. Then his face lit up as he saw his daughter coming down the hall toward him. “Well, if it isn’t my little Bridie, all grown-up.” He opened his arms wide. “Come and give your old dad a hug.”
Bridie came to him, slowly. He went to embrace her. She pushed him away. “Da, you’re all wet,” she said.
He laughed. “So I am.”
“Here, let me take your coats,” Daniel said.
We helped them out of their outer garments.
“And please come through to the back parlor,” I said. “We’ve no fire alight in the front parlor tonight, but the back is snug enough.” I led them through and went to retrieve Liam from the kitchen.
“You’ve a little one of your own. He’s a strapping fine boy,” Seamus said as I carried him through and handed him to Daniel.
“Yes. We’re very proud of him,” Daniel replied, still stiffly formal. “Won’t you take a seat?”
“Thank you kindly,” Seamus said. “But first Bridie can now give her daddy a hug and a kiss.”
Bridie stood like a statue while he embraced her. “And here’s your big brother, dying to see you again. You don’t know how he’s talked about you, all this time away. Wondering how you were and what was happening to you.”
“Bridie?” Young Shamey took a tentative step toward her. “You’re looking grand. All grown-up like a lady.” And he hugged her, tentatively, as if she was made of porcelain.
“It’s good to see you too, Shamey,” she said.
“Would you listen to her?” Shamey laughed. “She sounds like a Yankee, doesn’t she?”
Seamus took Bridie’s hand. “And this, my darling, is your new mother. Come and say hello to her. I’ve told her all about you.”
Lola pushed Shamey aside and went up to Bridie. “Well, aren’t you a pretty little slip of a thing,” she said. “I know we’re going to get along just famously.” She took Bridie’s face in her hands and planted a kiss on both of Bridie’s cheeks.
“When did you get married again, Da?” Bridie asked him.
“Don’t put yourself down, Seamus,” Lola said. “You treated me like a lady, which is more than I can say for some of them.”
“Are you from New Orleans, Mrs. O’Connor?” I asked.
“Lola, please. We don’t stand on formality here. No, I’m not from New Orleans. I’m a little nomad. No real home ever. My mother was of Spanish origin. She was a dancer, and my father was a no-good sailor. We lived all over the place. I was orphaned young and have had to make my own way in the world. And finally I’ve landed on my feet with this fine man and we’re looking forward to settling down and having a lovely life together.”
Seamus was beaming. “I’ve saved a tidy sum and I’m going to provide the best for my family.”
Lola slipped her arm through Seamus’s. “We’re going to buy land, near where his family came from, but near enough to Belfast so that I can go shopping and we can visit the theater if we’ve a mind to. And we’re going to raise chickens. I’ve always wanted to raise chickens.”
“And pigs too. Remember we talked about pigs,” Seamus said. “Plenty of profit in pigs.”
“What about you, Shamey?” I asked.
“I’m going to help them get the farm going,” Shamey said. “And then Da has promised me land of my own. We’ll be the big land-owning family and have people working for us, instead of the English foreigners owning everything. And when Ireland is finally independent, then we’ll be leaders. You wait and see.”
“So you see, Bridie, you won’t want for anything,” Seamus said. “And another piece of news for you. You’re going to be a big sister. Lola is expecting a little one this summer. How about that, eh?”
“I bet she’ll be a splendid little nursemaid and mother’s helper,” Lola said.
“But what about school, Da?” Bridie said. “Where will I go to school if we live out on the land?”
“School?” Lola let out a loud laugh. “Aren’t you done with school yet? How old are you?”
“Almost thirteen,” Bridie said.
“Well, there you are then.” Lola was still chuckling. “Most people have all the schooling they want by twelve, don’t they? You know how to read and write, don’t you? What more do you need?”
“I want to go on studying,” Bridie said. “I want to go to a college like the ladies across the street. I might want to be a teacher or a writer.”
“Would you hark at her?” Lola said, digging Seamus in the ribs. “She’s certainly picked up airs and graces since you left her here.”
“We can see about a school for you, if that’s what you want, Bridie,” Seamus said. “Now go up and pack up your things. We’re staying at a hotel near the docks and I’ve passage booked for us on the Majestic, sailing in two days for Liverpool. You remember the Majestic, don’t you? It was the ship you came on, only this time we’ll be in a good cabin, not down below.” He gave her an encouraging smile.
“I’m not coming with you,” Bridie said.
There was a sudden silence.
“What did you say?” Seamus demanded.
Bridie stood staring defiantly at him. “I said I’m not coming. I don’t want your kind of life. I want to stay here.”
“But I’m your father,” Seamus said. “You’re my child and you do what I say. And I say I want you home in Ireland with me.”
“You don’t care about me at all.” Bridie’s voice was now raised. “You left me to be a servant. If it weren’t for Molly and Captain Sullivan’s mother, I’d be scrubbing floors today. Maybe getting beaten and sleeping in a cellar with rats. They saved me. They have educated me and they have loved me. You couldn’t love me or you wouldn’t have abandoned me.”
“I did what I had to so I could make money,” he said gruffly. “Make a decent life for us. That’s what I wanted. We both went through a lot down there in Panama. We both nearly died of sickness. And then I worked my way home; hard manual work on the docks, Bridie. All so that I could finally provide for my family. I’m grateful for what these people have done for you, but now I want you back again.”
Bridie shook her head. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes very bright. “You might want me for myself, but she wants an unpaid nursemaid for your new child. And that’s not what I want. If you really loved me, you’d want what was best for me.”
“Of course I love you and I want you back where you belong. We’re not fancy folk. I want you home with me. Back in Ireland.”
“You can’t make me come,” Bridie said. I was watching her with amazement. She had always been such a quiet and compliant little thing before now. Never fighting to get her own way.
“Oh, yes, I can. I can go to the police and have you brought to the ship, if I’ve a mind to.”
“Captain Sullivan is one of the most important policemen in New York City and he would stop you,” Bridie said. “He wouldn’t want me to go where I’d just be an unpaid servant.”
“Don’t say that. You wouldn’t be treated like a servant.”
“Yes, I would.” She turned to glare at Lola. “You heard what she said. I’d be a grand little mother’s helper. And she thinks I have all the schooling I need. And there is no way I could go to a proper school out on a farm.”
“But, Bridie, my darling girl.” Seamus stepped forward and stroked her cheek. “I’m awful fond of you. You remind me of my dear dead Kathleen.”
“I love you too, Da.” Bridie was crying now. “But you have to see that’s not the life for me. I love books and studying and the ladies across the street have promised to send me to their college one day. To Vassar, Da. Can you imagine that? I could be anything I wanted to be.”
Lola grabbed Seamus’s arm and dragged him away from his daughter. “Oh, let her go, Seamus. Who’d want a surly-faced, ungrateful kid like that round the place? You can see right now she’d be more trouble than she was worth.”
“But she’s all I’ve got to remind me of my Kathleen,” he said.
“Kathleen’s dead and buried. You’ve got me now.” Lola put her hand on his shoulder. “And I can give you any number of daughters, I promise you. I can fill the house with daughters. Forget about this one. If she wants to stay here, I say good luck to her. Come on, let’s leave this poky little place and get back to the hotel.”
Seamus shook her off and stood facing Bridie. “If you’re sure that’s what you want?”
“It is, Da.”
“And how do you know these people are going to want to keep you?” he said. “What if this lady has daughters of her own someday and doesn’t have a place for you anymore? What then, eh? Thrown out on the streets?”
I went over to Bridie and put an arm around her shoulder. “First of all I would never throw her out, whatever happened. I’ve loved her like my own daughter since I brought her across to Ellis Island as a terrified little scrap. But if I couldn’t take care of her for any reason, she has more homes in New York. Plenty of people who love her would welcome her into their homes. My neighbors across the street also wanted to adopt her, and my husband’s mother would certainly welcome her back. So you see, Seamus, Bridie is loved and wanted here.”
“Well, that’s that then.” Lola brushed off her hands, then grabbed at Seamus’s arm. “We’ll be getting back to the hotel. I’m expecting a decent dinner tonight. A good steak.”
Seamus was still looking at his daughter. “Will you at least come and wave good-bye to your old da?” he said. “Wave when the ship sails?”
“If you want me to.”
“I do. I do want you to.”
She nodded solemnly and I could tell that she was now torn. “Then I’ll come. And maybe I’ll come and visit you in Ireland someday, when I’m a college student or when I’m a writer.”
“Lovely.” He beamed at her. “I’d like that
. Come and meet your new brothers and sisters. That will be grand.”
He hugged her then, fiercely, and I realized the sacrifice he was making. Would I give up Liam so that he had the chance for a better future? I wondered. If Lola hadn’t been in the picture, I believe I would have let her go without a fight. But I simply couldn’t have sent her to live on a pig farm being bossed around by that self-centered, brash, and uneducated woman.
We walked them to the front door. They stepped out into the chill night air. We watched them walk down Patchin Place. Daniel closed the door and we stood there in the hallway. Bridie was in such a state of shock that she kept staring at the closed door. I put my arm around her shoulder. “Come on in by the fire, my love. You’re shivering.”
“I did the right thing, didn’t I?” she said. Her voice quivered. “I mean, my poor da. He has been through a lot and he was always kind. It’s just that…”
“I understand perfectly,” I said. “You’ve changed. You’ve become a New Yorker. You’ve learned to love books. You should have every opportunity possible.”
“And I certainly wouldn’t get it on a pig farm looking after chickens and babies, would I?” she said, making me burst out laughing.
“No, you wouldn’t.” I led her back into the parlor. “You should go across the street and tell Sid and Gus,” I said. “They will be so happy. They wanted to adopt you, you know. But I’d never let that happen. You’re my little girl. You always have been. In fact, why don’t you start calling us Mom and Pop?”
“Really?” She looked across at Daniel.
“Why not?” Daniel said. “You’ve called me Captain Sullivan for years and it’s far too formal.”
Her eyes were sparkling. “All right. I will. And can I go over to the ladies now?”
