Destiny - The Callahans #1 (10 page)

“Umm,” Tom mumbled, his mouth full of
potatoes. “Suppose I stick to ‘Father’ P. J., just so’s I know my
place,” Tom grinned, wiping his mouth with the back of his
hand.

“Well and good, lad. Well and good. So,
what’s this job you think you just lost?”

“A job working on a bridge repair crew,
Father. I signed on three days ago, and since then I’ve had
misgivings. I saw two men killed yesterday, and even before that
several good men have quit or been laid off. It was my turn to go
under the water today. I guess the foreman will think I’m a bit
afraid when I don’t show.”

“Are you, Tom?”

Tom looked up, filling his mouth again with
sausage. “Might be, Father. I never got the chance to find out,
what with the accident and all yesterday.”

O’Leary pushed his plate aside and refilled
both their coffee cups. Placing his elbows on the table and holding
the coffee mug in between his cupped hands, he said, “I read
something about that in the morning papers. Were you involved?”

“Ummm,” Tom mumbled, working his way through
the eggs.

“Aye,” O’Leary said, his eyes brightening.
“You’d be the ‘Tom’ the story said pulled the other Irishman out of
the river. If your job’s gone, lad, and you’ve got some time on
your hands, maybe it’s time for the conversation I spoke
about.”

“I’ve still got work, Father, both morning
and evening, but it’ll never pay enough to get me to . . .” Tom
paused, not sure how much of his inner thoughts to reveal.

“She’s somewhere else, is she?” O’Leary
asked, smiling.

Tom grinned in spite of himself. “Ya got this
uncanny knack, Father, of looking into a man’s soul.”

“That’s me business, Tom, and I been at it
for over forty years now. I’ve helped many a young lad set himself
straight once he arrived here in the States, and some, as I
mentioned the other night, I lost along the way.”

It was Tom’s turn to counsel. “You can’t save
’em all, Father. Some of us are just dead set on our own path.”

“I know you’re right, lad, but like I said,
that’s my job. And my joy, I might add. You’d be surprised how
alike people are once you get inside ’em and get ’em to open up.
Now tell me about this lass and how you come to be so set on
finding her.”

“Ever heard of Utah, Father?”

Two hours later, Father “P. J.” O’Leary knew
everything worth knowing about Thomas Matthew Callahan and had
found himself liking the boy. O’Leary’s warning counsel about Utah
didn’t surprise Tom. He had already heard stories about the wild
doings among the Mormons—that they were a group of religious
zealots that had adopted the Old Testament practice of plural
marriage. One of the other boarders where Tom lived had told some
particularly lurid tales about old Mormon men taking young wives,
and Tom had been worried about Katrina. But to be fair, Father
O’Leary said that it was his understanding that Mormon church
leaders had for the last several years, officially decried the
practice of plural marriage. The priest explained that there had
been a national debate on the matter, and that Utah had thus far
been denied statehood over the issue.

Tom’s determination, however, had convinced
O’Leary that the lad intended to make it to Utah, and so Father P.
J., also a determined Irishman, advised Tom that the easiest way to
go west would be on the railroad. And if one couldn’t afford
passage, then riding the rails as a paid employee was the next best
thing. He offered to introduce Tom to a parishioner who worked for
the New York, Baltimore, & Ohio Railroad. Mr. Donohue, Father
O’Leary advised, was a fair man, and would likely do what he could
to help Tom get on in some capacity.

By three o’clock that afternoon, cap in hand
once again, Tom Callahan had been hired as an apprentice oilier for
the New York, Baltimore, & Ohio Railroad. The company was
headquartered across the New York harbor in Bayonne, New Jersey,
where Tom was to be provided living quarters near the switchyard,
to facilitate his availability.

Convinced now of Father O’Leary’s concern,
and grateful to him for his help, Tom expressed appreciation to the
kindly priest. As they said good-bye, Father O’Leary handed Tom a
letter of introduction addressed to Sister Mary Theophane, the head
nursing sister and chief administrator of Holy Cross Hospital in
Salt Lake City. Father O’Leary explained that he and Sister
Theophane had known each other in Ireland and had come to the
United States at about the same time, many years before. He thought
she might be of some assistance to Tom in Salt Lake City and wished
to be remembered to her if Tom succeeded in getting to Utah.

Following a quick visit to the Stanicich
Construction Company to pick up his three days’ wages, grudgingly
authorized by the crew foreman, in consideration of Tom’s heroic
action, Tom found himself later that same day in small, but clean
quarters, a half-mile from the railroad switchyard in Bayonne.

In America for three months, with not quite
six months left on his promise to find Katrina Hansen, Thomas
Callahan had moved exactly seventeen miles west from his point of
entry in New York City. One thousand, nine hundred and eighty-three
miles remained.

26 June 1895

Dear Nana,

What a wonderful place Salt Lake City is, Nana. To
the west is barren desert, but the mountains surround the valley
and when Poppa took us on a buggy ride up into Cottonwood Canyon,
it reminded me of our country cottage and the beautiful hills of
Norway. You would like it too, Nana. It is not like Horten, and we
are far from the sea, but it is so beautiful.

Next month the city holds a Pioneer Day celebration
to remember those who first came. It has been forty-eight years
since they arrived. I laugh when I tell some of my friends at
school that we have churches in Norway that are over one thousand
years old.

People are here from all over Europe, but mostly
from the British Isles. I will like it here, Nana.

Jeg elske du,

Trina

In Salt Lake City for nearly two months, Lars
Hansen had purchased a house six blocks south and four blocks east
of Temple Square. A city of 75,000 people, Salt Lake had, in nearly
fifty years, become an important economic hub and the literal
crossroads of western America. When, in 1869, the transcontinental
railroad had linked up and the rail line had been extended into
Ogden, Utah, just twenty-five miles north of Salt Lake City, the
nation had not only completed its union, but Utah had been linked
to the rest of the nation.

With Denver on the eastern slopes and Salt
Lake City framing the western edge, the Rocky Mountains stretched
for over four hundred miles east to west between the two cities.
Many cities and towns had been established in the beautiful valleys
and high meadows that were nestled in the Rockies, and during the
intervening five decades since the earliest pioneers had blazed
trails through the high mountain passes, easier routes had been
found, roads had been built, and the trek to Utah no longer
presented a hazardous undertaking. Still in all, it hadn’t come
easy.

It wasn’t until the Hansens arrived in Utah
and learned the full story of the settlement of the Valley, that
they became aware of the magnitude of the exodus, unparalleled in
history, that had brought the early Mormon pioneers west. In the
course of their learning about Joseph Smith and the restoration of
the gospel, Lars Hansen and his family had understood the
importance of young Joseph’s spiritual message, but remained
ignorant of the political repercussions of the westward movement,
and how the settlement of Utah related to American history. As much
as the gospel had encompassed their lives, the founding of Salt
Lake City was not part of their heritage, other than viewing it as
a refuge that provided them the liberty to practice their
religion.

By 1895, many Mormon families were into their
third generation of residency in Utah. In some respects, Salt Lake
City was still a frontier town, absent many of the centuries-old
edifices which were present in Oslo and central European
communities that Lars had visited on business trips. The Hansens
quickly discovered that the mostly Mormon community had brought
culture and education with them as they packed their wagons and
handcarts and established what they referred to as, “The Lord’s
house in the mountains.”

The existence of a university, opera
performances, ballet, symphony concerts, and many smaller public
performances of plays and musicals convinced Lars and Jenny Hansen
that their family had found their place. The closeness of community
spirit was enhanced by the shared spiritual goals, something that,
following their conversion, had eluded them in Norway. Within
several weeks, Lars felt he was home, and was enjoying the added
advantage of a large LDS Scandinavian population that had welcomed
him and his family. Even the age-old divisions between the Danish,
Swedish, and Norwegian peoples over which King or Queen should rule
were absent. The people had melded into a solidified block of
Scandinavians—and Mormons.

Following the arrival of his woodworking
equipment, Hansen’s furniture making business was an instant
success. Lars found a wealth of craftsmen among those who were
already living in Utah, many of whom were eager to staff his
factory. There was an ongoing demand for business and residential
furnishings, and so, renting a large warehouse facility near
Sugarhouse for his production line, Lars launched into business
with a fervor. Within three months, he had his factory producing
cabinets and furniture that he sold at a brisk pace, out of a
small, retail store on South Main Street.

The two younger Hansen children, Sofie and
Hilda, were enrolled in school, while Anders went into the
furniture business with his father. Katrina, whom Lars and Jenny
agreed needed to marry as soon as possible, found her way to the
university located in Salt Lake City and began to take courses
toward becoming a teacher. Completely unaware of her father’s
communication with Harold Stromberg, Katrina thought frequently of
Tom Callahan and whether he would keep his promise and one day show
up on her doorstep.

In quick order, the Hansens had moved
smoothly into life in turn-of-the-century Utah. The talk of
imminent statehood infused the community with energy and
excitement. At long last, it was beginning to appear that the
Mormons had accomplished their purpose in their escape to the West:
the Lord’s kingdom had been saved from destruction. And Utah would
soon have the added advantage of joining the rest of America in its
growth and expansion.

That the Hansens were not part of the pioneer
heritage of Utah proved no deterrence. By 1895, fewer than twenty
percent of Utah residents were descendants of those who had come by
wagon train and handcart. Such was the success of church missionary
efforts throughout America and especially in the British Isles and
Scandinavia, that the burgeoning population of Salt Lake City had
become a cosmopolitan gathering of Saints. Then, too, attracted by
favorable living conditions, employment opportunities, and the
strategic location of Salt Lake City, many non Latter-day Saints
had begun settling in Utah. The once tiny, exclusively Mormon
settlement was growing up and statehood would be a crowning
achievement.

In those final evenings on the ship and
during their brief stay on Ellis Island, Tom and Katrina had not
had the time or the forethought to formulate any communication
lines, and so, day by day, all she could do was hope that he would
carry through with his promise to come for her. Still, in the
recesses of her heart, she had begun to wonder if, indeed, it had
just been a “shipboard romance,” such as she had read about in a
certain dime novel. As the months passed, Katrina thought more and
more about the reality of how far it was from New York to Salt Lake
City, and the memory of Tom faded. She developed a growing
suspicion that Tom Callahan had more important things to worry
about than her. Survival for one thing. Living alone in a new land,
without such support and structure as that provided by her father,
it would be difficult for anyone to make their way. And then there
was her father’s attitude about the Irishman—an attitude that had
gone unspoken since they had left Chicago, but which she knew her
father kept firmly in place. A poverty-stricken, Catholic, Irish
ruffian would never be an acceptable suitor for Lars Hansen’s
daughter. Thomas Callahan would amount to nothing, her father had
declared, and it would take a miracle to persuade him
otherwise.

But at night, as she lay her head on the
pillow and closed her eyes, she would revisit in her mind that he
had the deepest blue eyes, and a smile that had made her heart
pound on those few evenings they spent together, so long ago, on
the deck of the
Antioch
.

“Katie, me darlin’,” he had called her.
“Katie, me darlin’.”

The evening that Harold Stromberg presented
himself for the first time at the Hansen household provided one of
the most humiliating experiences in Katrina’s young life. Out for
the day with new friends from school, Katrina returned home to find
her family seated in the parlor and her father anxiously awaiting
her arrival.

“Katrina,” he exclaimed as she entered the
foyer. “We are so glad you are home. Come, see who has
returned.”

Katrina’s first glimpse of Harold Stromberg
filled her with joy and surprise. The special attention Elder
Stromberg had paid to her in Oslo had not escaped Katrina’s
attention, but she had also admired his ability to keep his
feelings under control. In spite of whatever he may have felt
toward her, Elder Stromberg had behaved with perfect decorum. In
fact, his restraint was such that during the religious discussions,
which Elder Stromberg and his companion conducted in the Hansen’s
parlor in Oslo, Katrina had felt somewhat ignored by him. But when
her mother explained how these young American missionaries were not
permitted to associate with young women, Katrina formed the opinion
that Elder Stromberg was a man of character and dedication. She had
been fond of him, and seeing him now, on his return from Norway,
was truly a joy.