A Promise for Tomorrow (22 page)
“Well, I suppose that’s a good start. I presume one of those rooms is a kitchen?”
“It will be,” Miriam said with a grin. “Gots no stove jes yet, but I’m a-reckonin’ that when that gets here, it’ll make a fine kitchen.”
“Oh dear,” Carolina said, feeling despair wash over her. “Can you cook over an open hearth, Miriam?”
“I ain’t never done it, but I suppose it can’t be too hard.”
Carolina shook her head, realizing anew what a pampered life she had lived. “Can you put something together for lunch? The men are going to unload the wagons, and then they’ll probably be ready for some sort of meal.”
“I’s gwanna have it all ready. Jes you trust Miriam to see to it.”
Carolina smiled as the woman took herself off to find the necessary supplies. She looked around and sighed. Six rooms total, and only two for living space on the ground floor, she thought. Still, the front room was plenty big and they could always build on a room or two in the future. She tried to bolster her courage.
“Where do you want this?” one of the freighters asked as he entered the room with a large trunk on his shoulder.
“Upstairs,” she murmured. “I’m not sure which room, so you’d better let me lead the way.” Carolina hurried to precede the man. She glanced in each of the four small rooms and picked the one on the front side of the house that appeared to be slightly larger than the others.
“This one,” she motioned to the man. The trunk was full of serviceable clothing that belonged to her and James. This room would serve as their bedroom, while the room across the hall would be perfect for Jordana and Brenton. Perhaps she’d find Victoria and give her a choice of the other two rooms.
She didn’t have far to search. Victoria was leading the way up the stairs with a most insistent Jordana tailing behind. “She wanted to see the house,” Victoria said with a shrug.
“It’s just as well,” Carolina replied. “I’ve chosen these two rooms for your father and me, and Brenton and Jordana. I thought you might like to take a look at the other two and decide which one suits you.”
Victoria nodded and went to peer inside each of the rooms. Carolina could see by the frown on her face that she wasn’t overly impressed with either one. “I suppose this one,” Victoria finally said, picking the room on the front side of the house. “At least I can see what’s going on from here.”
Carolina ignored Jordana’s animated exploration and went to hug Victoria. “It will be all right,” she told her daughter. “You’ll see. Together we can make this a wonderful home.”
“But there’s not even paint on the walls,” Victoria said, shaking her head. “And the floor downstairs is dirt.”
“I know,” Carolina replied. “And there’s no stove in the kitchen, and only two rooms downstairs. And I haven’t even a single clue as to what we’ll find in the way of a necessary, but we could always dig out the chamber pots.”
“I hate this place,” Victoria said, her voice filled with disgust.
“I know. It’s not the best of places, but your papa did what he could. We mustn’t let him see us unhappy; otherwise, he’ll feel as though he’s failed us.”
Victoria nodded. “I won’t complain,” she assured her mother, and Carolina smiled.
“You’re a good girl, Victoria.”
“Me good girl. Me good girl,” Jordana chanted, dancing circles around her mother and sister.
Carolina laughed. “Yes, indeed. Now, I need to go direct the men. You two stay out of trouble and out of the way.”
She took herself back downstairs, her heart a little lighter. I need to heed my own advice, she thought. I need to focus on the fact that we have a roof over our heads instead of a tent, and that we have the means to improve our lot. Those thoughts did much to improve her attitude.
The men made short order of the work, and it wasn’t fifteen minutes after the last of the load had been brought into the house that the rain came just as Red had predicted. Carolina was grateful to have her things protected but couldn’t help despairing at Miriam’s trials in fixing a meal with rain leaking into the chimney. She offered what help she could—which wasn’t much—as the men stood around discussing how to temporarily fix the leak.
James had directed the dining table to be positioned near the center of the kitchen, and it was here that Miriam happily plopped down the steaming caldron of stew when it was finished cooking.
Miriam shook her head. “Don’ hardly seem right that our trials should come one atop the other.” She glanced at another leak in the roof, then frowned. “We gwanna have ta get sumptin’ to cover up this floor, else we be walkin’ in mud.”
Carolina managed a laugh. “I don’t imagine it’s going to much matter for the time. However, I plan to speak to James straightaway and see about getting a plank floor put down. Is the stew ready?”
“Ready as it’s gwanna get. Them taters could be a mite hard, but most ever’ thing else was canned first.”
“I’m sure we’ll all be grateful for it. I’ll let the men know.” She left Miriam to fuss around looking for bowls and silverware, and approached the men. “Miriam has managed to put together some stew,” she announced. “She tells me the potatoes may be a bit underdone, but I assured her that given the circumstance we will all be happy for what we receive.”
“Folks in Ireland would be mighty happy for a potato, cooked or raw,” Red said with a hint of sadness in his tone.
“Did you go through the potato famine?” Carolina asked the big man.
“Aye, that we did. Folks there are still goin’ through it. Crops ain’t been worth eatin’ for years.”
“Potatoes turned black almost as soon as you dug ’em up,” Kiernan said. “It seemed a cruel joke. At first you’d dig a hill and think you had a fine-lookin’ crop. Next thing you know, they were black and moldering.”
“How awful,” Carolina commented.
“Tain’t the half of it,” Red said. “Folks half starved, half crazy from want of food. People hurtin’ each other over crumbs. Parents a-watchin’ children die. Everybody seekin’ out even the tiniest morsel of food.”
“They were even eatin’ the grass,” said Kiernan.
“The grass?” Victoria questioned. “How could people eat grass?”
“When your stomach is empty and there’s little chance of anything else comin’ along, grass seems mighty reasonable,” Kiernan said soberly.
“But I thought the worst was past,” Carolina remarked.
“The famine just gave the landlords reason to come in an’ strip away the land from the workin’ folk. Sheep now graze where crops once grew, and farmland is scarce in some regions. Many a family was just left out of work and home and given over to die.”
“How terrible!” exclaimed Victoria.
Carolina saw the way his words affected Victoria and thought to change the subject. “We will be extra grateful for our fare, indeed, given the stories you’ve shared with us this day.”
“Absolutely,” James replied and nodded. “We have been blessed to make our way through the wilderness, and now we have been blessed to make new friends. We share a future,” he told them. “A future that will require each of us to work together just as we worked together this day. May we always remember that many hands together make the load lighter, and that even small blessings are still blessings that shouldn’t be overlooked.”
Red grinned. “You’re quite the speechmaker, now, aren’t ya?”
James laughed. “From time to time I’m inspired. But right now I’m mostly hungry.”
“Aye,” Red replied. “I could go for some of that stew meself.”
Carolina watched them exchange glances. She was torn in many ways regarding their new friends. Red seemed oppressive and demanding, while Kiernan was quiet and restrained. She wondered what the future might hold in store for the group, especially given her daughter’s intent interest in the young Irishman. Only time will tell, she thought and followed the group to the kitchen.
Sitting outside the opening of their tent, Kiernan O’Connor watched his older brother with guarded interest as Red slipped out and lumbered down the path to a gathering some five or six tents down the way. For days he’d watched the man come and go at all hours of the night. Always there seemed to be some secret meeting somewhere, and always it involved the work force on the Kingwood Tunnel.
They’d hardly been in America for more than two days when Red had hooked them up with canal work on the Chesapeake and Ohio. Red had assured his brother that while canal work was mostly digging and mucking out, it was better than the alternative of having no money at all. Kiernan wasn’t that sure he was right, but having been only fourteen at the time, he respected his older brother’s direction and put his heart and soul into his work.
Railroad work seemed to come along as a natural alternative to canal work, and once again Kiernan followed his older brother’s lead. Then the trouble started. First one skirmish and then another. Someone would say something against the Connaughtmen, from the Connaught region of Ireland, of which Red and Kiernan were proudly a part. The next thing Kiernan knew, that person ended up either badly beaten or just plain dead. Of course, that required a balanced response from the other side, which more often than not consisted of the Irish Corkians from County Cork.
Kiernan had grown up with county brawls and rivalries all of his life, but it seemed that these things were escalated when the Irishmen came to America. Desperation made the Irish turn against each other, and if you weren’t aligned with your own people, from your own county or region, you were often made to suffer unbearable punishment. Kiernan thought it a pity that Irishmen should fight against one another when so many Americans were happy to fight them all and even instigate fights among the immigrants. It seemed the Irish were considered the lowest form of scum to ever wade ashore, and with exception to positions of hard labor that few others wanted, the Irish were seldom welcomed in American society. But their willingness to do the dirty work of the upper class was challenged by other immigrants like the Germans and Swedes and even free blacks.
It was clearly understood that if the men fought and killed or ran off one side or the other, then that many fewer men would draw pay for the week.
Kiernan tried not to think of Red being one of those among his own people who were sowing seeds of strife. It was well known that Red had a temper, but Kiernan liked to give him the benefit of the doubt. He wanted his brother to settle down, maybe even take a wife. Anything would be better than seeing him in the center of bitter hatred and turmoil.
Pushing those thoughts aside, Kiernan tried instead to focus on the month-old newspaper in his hands, wishing for the millionth time that he could read. He made out letters and symbols, thinking he just might have a grasp of what the various advertisements were about, but there was no real way of knowing. Red didn’t read; in fact, he thought it foolishness to desire such a thing. Reading wouldn’t turn a shovel or pick its way through rock, and therefore it couldn’t possibly be important to them.
But Kiernan felt otherwise. He longed to know what the words and letters on the page meant and often imagined himself passing the evening reading one book or another. Not that he felt like doing much else after twelve- and fifteen-hour days at the tunnel site. He didn’t mind hard work. He’d never known anything else. His home back in Ireland had lent him nothing but work from the time he was able to walk and talk.
Tossing the paper aside, Kiernan stared into the fading light of the evening skies. The clouds hung heavy and blanketed the valley with growing swirls of fog. It suited his brooding. And as he sometimes did when in such a mood, he wondered why things had gone as they had. The famine in Ireland had come upon them without much warning. Oh, to be sure, there had been bad crops in the past. His granddaddy had told him of times when the potatoes had failed, leaving them to wonder how they’d ever see the winter through. But this had been different. The crops had failed and then continued to fail, until year after year had passed by and no hope was left to any of the folk remaining.
Kiernan had watched his mother suffer as she saw her children go hungry night after night. She had prayed and cried and wailed to God. When their da had died, leaving her a widow, Kiernan had felt sure there would be a funeral wake to rival all others, but instead, his mother had given up on life and died, as well. That left Red in charge of the family, and his answer to all of their troubles was America.
But there were five younger siblings to worry over and the three youngest were girls. Kiernan felt it was wrong to leave them behind, but Red had little difficulty putting them off on their two married sisters, both of whom had scarcely been wed a year. They took their responsibility seriously and accepted Red’s edict with few objections. Even their husbands had respected Red’s wishes and his promise that he would send for each one as the money came through. But now after two years, Kiernan feared the time would never come when he’d see his brothers and sisters again. Always when the money was saved up, Red would throw it into some harebrained scheme. Mostly he’d drink it away, and for that, Kiernan truly resented him. Kiernan had often thought of deserting his brother in order to return to Ireland, but he knew it was an impossible dream. He had neither the money to go to them nor to bring them here to America. Red thought Kiernan crazy for wanting to return to Ireland when America had so much to offer.
But Red couldn’t go back to Ireland. Not after what had happened. Even thinking of that cold dark night caused the hair on Kiernan’s neck to bristle. It was before Red had truly made up his mind to go to America. Red had hoped to convince their landlord to give them just one more year of tenancy. But the man was hardhearted and couldn’t care less that Kiernan and Red were now responsible for five children. He demanded Red empty the small hut and burn it to the ground on his way out the door. Other plans had been made for the property.
Red had once been a reasonable man, if not exactly peaceable. But he had started to change even before the problem with the landlord. It had begun with the death of his new wife and infant son in the beginning of the famine. The bitterness and rage began to seethe within him. And it wasn’t helped by the death of their parents and so many friends.
