Far Away Home (4 page)

In the Denehy
apartment, he found Katherine’s belongings. Her rocker rested in the parlor
next to the window. He sat in her chair and rocked for a minute, stroking the
chair’s arm. The sun blazed, and at this time of the year, it streamed into the
flat.
Katherine loved the sun.
He rose and wandered into the bedroom.

Tim looked at
the bed. The soiled linens had been burned in the stove. All evidence of the
tragedy had been removed, and a void remained.

Approaching the
dresser at the foot of the bed, Tim gently caressed the lace covering the top.
His fingers ran around the mirror’s frame and came to rest at the daguerreotype
Katherine had placed there. Tim lifted the wedding portrait and squinted at Katherine’s
tiny, faded face. The blurred photo did not relieve any of his longing.

Tim boldly lay
upon the bed and looked out the window to the sky. He closed his eyes. He could
see her, but he could not feel her. Stretching his arms, he ran his hands over
the covers. He thought about her last touch, her cool fingers and her soft
lips. Tim felt a need for her run the full length of his body. He needed more;
he wanted something to hold.

He sat up in
frustration. At the end of the bed, the dresser called to him. Crawling across
the covers, he reached the foot of the bed. He swung his legs down and sat on
the edge. Tim opened the top drawer. Brendan’s belongings filled the space. Tim
slammed it shut and pulled on the lower knobs. Looking into the gaping drawer, Tim
could not have experienced greater awe if he had discovered a religious relic.
Linens, laces, silks and cottons in the form of underdrawers, camisoles,
negligees, stockings, and handkerchiefs lay folded. He had uncovered a treasure
of feminine unmentionables. Completely forgetting he believed Katherine to be
watching, his young male curiosity took over. Tim’s hands reached for the shiny
silk. The entire piece quivered at his slight touch. He snatched his hand back.
When he fully reassured himself that it was lifeless and not bewitched in any
way, he lifted the camisole up to view it in its entirety. He was excited by
the softness in his hands. He leaned back and draped it over his face.
Katherine’s scent clung to the garment, and it sent a thrill through his short
body.

Tim quickly
realized that prying into Katherine’s private cache of clothes was
disrespectful, as were the feelings he was having for her. He folded the silk
and returned it to its place. Still tempted by the array of intimates, he
cautiously ran his hand under the lace negligee and quickly discerned that one
could have seen Katherine’s breasts through something that sheer. Feeling
strangely aroused, he tried to suppress the crude vision. Shame and tiny traces
of guilt fell like snow in his consciousness. The recollection of Katherine
watching from heaven made his cheeks burn with embarrassment. As he made
excuses to himself, he was comforted by the thought that Katherine would
understand. Katherine knew he loved her, and she knew he had not meant to be
indecent.

Looking over the
contents in the drawer, Tim wondered what Brendan would do with Katherine’s
belongings. He reasoned that they should be saved; every last piece should be
preserved, as in a museum, in tribute to Katherine. Someday, he imagined, they
could be presented to Aislynn with great pageantry to mark her transformation
into a woman like Katherine. Tim picked up a delicate handkerchief. The silk
shimmered. It was the color of peach ice cream and just as cool and smooth. A
small “K,” embroidered in deep green thread, shone from one corner. He drew his
finger over the letter, knowing that Katherine had pushed every millimeter of
thread through the silk and pulled it out again to form her initial. Glancing
about, like the thief he was, he folded the hankie and placed it into the
pocket over his heart, all the while telling himself that Brendan had so many
of Katherine’s things, he would never miss this one small item.

With his eyes
closed, Tim fell back on the bed, his hands crossed over his heart. His tears
rolled down the side of his face, past his ears and dropped on the bed where
they were instantly absorbed by the coverlet. He lay alone in the apartment,
alone on the bed; yet, he finally felt her presence. He could feel her in the
room, her aura settling around him. He heard her soft, tiny voice calling his
name. He turned his head expecting to see a glowing, diaphanous apparition
floating gracefully before him. Instead, Tim found a little girl, with black
curls and big, green eyes. For a moment, disappointment surged through him.
Tears of anger brimmed in his eyes. Aislynn tilted her head and looked at him.
She smiled a familiar smile and brushed his face with her cool, little fingers,
saying, “My love.” A gentle acceptance rose from Tim’s heart, and he reached
out his arms.

Chapter 4

With Tim in
Utah, Aislynn waited for the mail to arrive every day, hoping for a letter. The
Christmas Eve delivery left her disappointed and late for the communal dinner
at the Parish Hall. When she opened the door of the hall’s kitchen, she stepped
into the smell of stew and a wall of heat that made the windows sweat.

The kitchen had
only one occupant. Mrs. Tully stood at one of the four large stoves. Her body,
heavy and wide from bearing seven children, heaved when she saw Aislynn. “I
have been waitin’ on you, Miss. Your men are starvin’ out there. Everyone else
is bein’ served.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve
just been so busy,” Aislynn replied. To expedite her reunion with Tim, Aislynn
decided she had to earn money to either help him return or pay for her passage
to Utah. She took the only job she could find, as a companion to elderly Mrs.
Pearson. She diligently saved her one dollar a week.

Mrs. Tully said,
“I’m sure you have, love and t’will be a busier year. I do wish you every
happiness.”

The comment flew
past Aislynn’s ears, and she gave a standard reply. “Happy Christmas to you,
too.”

Aislynn lifted
the tray holding bowls and a tureen of stew. With her foot, she opened the door
to the hall and searched the room for her family’s table. Ropes of pine boughs
and strips of white paper draped the bare wooden rafters. Candles, perched on
every sill, nestled in beds of evergreens, threw halos of light on the watery
windows. A small tree stood proudly in the corner of the hall, dotted with
candles and red bows. For a moment, the excited air in the room cheered
Aislynn, and she forgot how much she missed Tim. He had been gone nearly three
months, and thoughts of him ceaselessly crowded her mind.

When she located
her men, she noticed the Mahers were seated with them. At first, Aislynn
thought it was nice that the Mahers were joining their group, but her thoughts
shifted to suspicions.
Da invited them. He’s pushing Johnny on me again
.
A dread rose, and her body started to tingle with tension.
Dear God! He
couldn’t have made any promises, not without asking me.
She tried to calm
herself.
No, not even my Da, inconsiderate and immature as he is, would make
promises and neglect to consult me.

Convinced she
was right, Aislynn exhaled with relief and approached the empty seat next to
Johnny. She greeted her family with a “Happy Christmas” as she settled the tray
at her place. With a quick curtsey in Mrs. Maher’s direction, she said, “It’s
so nice you could join us.”

Mrs. Maher
leaned her broad frame toward Aislynn. Her wide, freckled face smiled,
“Aislynn, we’re so thrilled to be here, sharin’ Christmas with our new family.”

Aislynn’s eyes
flew open. A great gasp escaped her lips. She wheeled around and glared at her
father. On the rim of rage, her hands gripped the edge of the table; her locked
arms were the only things keeping her upright.

The eyes of
everyone at the table began darting, looking for an explanation. Sean stood.
All attention veered toward his movement. He picked up the empty pitcher of ale
and said, “Aislynn, take Brendan into the kitchen and fill this. Brendan, go!”

Brendan rose,
and propelled by Sean’s shove, he stumbled toward the kitchen. Aislynn
followed. She was numb and could barely feel her feet pad across the trail to
the door.

Without
thinking, Aislynn directed Brendan out of the kitchen, onto the snowy stairs
and closed the heavy door behind them. Grabbing the frosty railing for
strength, she leaned into her father’s face. “What have you done?” she cried.

“I consented to
the boy payin’ court to you,” Brendan replied with his nose in the air.

“You know I
don’t want Johnny.”

“I’ll not have
you moonin’ over a man who don’t want you. He’s not comin’ home, and if he
does, it won’t be to you,” he insisted.

“But I love
Tim.”

“I know you
think that. But you’ll grow to love Johnny. You know in Ireland many families
make these arrangements, and the couples end up lovin’ each other.”

“This is
America, and I’m an American. You can’t make arrangements. Besides, you married
for love; I should be able to do the same.”

Brendan’s face
grew red. He set his feet on the slippery snow, his hands on his hips and
announced, “Our parents weren’t here. We had to make our own decisions. But I
am here, and I’m your Da. I can do what I think best and this is best. Aislynn,
I’m gettin’ old. I don’t have much to leave you. Let me go to my grave knowin’
you’ll be taken care of.”

“You’re not
going anywhere.”

“When I do, I
want you well married, and he’s the best I can do!”

Aislynn felt
weak as a new fear swept over her, “Da, did you promise I’d actually marry
him?”

“No, but if you
want to humiliate me before the whole parish, you’ll refuse the choice your ol’
Da has made for you. ‘Tis up to you. Now I’m cold, and I’m goin’ to eat me
dinner.” He brushed past her and disappeared into the kitchen.

Aislynn stood on
the landing shivering and biting her lip. She fought tears while she tried to
think of an acceptable way to disengage herself without insulting the Mahers or
humiliating her father. Although her father’s heart was in the right place, she
just wished he would let her make her own decisions. In Aislynn’s mind, if she
wanted to hold on to the hope of Tim, why should anyone interfere with her
choice?

Melting snow was
seeping through her thin shoes. Her cold feet reminded her she must move them
in one direction or another. She composed herself with the thought that given
time, she could find a way to get what she wanted.

As Aislynn
entered the hall, old Mr. Malloy was squeaking his fiddle into tune. Sean’s
eyes caught hers, and she saw him report her return to the table’s occupants.
The conversation stopped and Aislynn was greeted by silent expectation. She
threw her shoulders back and stood at her place, feeling the anxiety radiating
from Johnny’s body and hearing his short breaths. With her eyes focused on the
stew, she ladled a bowl for her Da and shoved it at him; only its thickness
kept it from sloshing over into his face. Following custom, she filled the next
bowl for Papa Nolan, her second father. Everyone waited to see whom she would
serve next. As a guest, Mrs. Maher was in line, but as her intended, Johnny
took precedence over his mother and the other men. She could feel their
anticipation and knew what they wanted, but Aislynn believed she should make
her own choices. Aislynn looked up at Sean; his eyes pleaded with her as they
shot toward Johnny. Grimacing, she closed her eyes and handed the stew to
Johnny.

Johnny took the
bowl in both of his hands and turned his face up to Aislynn’s. “Thank you,” he
said, sending her a grateful grin.

Aislynn could
feel her heart softening, her anger draining into pity. With a long, calming
breath, she gave him a sympathetic smile and said, “Happy Christmas.”

The Mahers joined
the Denehys at midnight mass. Kneeling between her father and Johnny, Aislynn
felt trapped. On one side, she could feel her father’s critical gaze. On the
other, she could feel Johnny’s discomfort in the taut muscles of his arm and
his thigh as they pressed against her in the crowded church. If she looked out
of the corner of her eye, she could see the muscles in his jaw were tight. She
leaned back against the pew, and with her head bent, feigning prayer, she
studied him from under her lashes. He was just a hair taller than Tim, but
everything about Johnny was big: his legs, arms, back, shoulders and head. He
had a round face and when he smiled, a chipped tooth, broken in a fight, was
revealed. His gray eyes, sandy hair and pink-toned skin were not features
Aislynn found attractive.

Disinterested in
Johnny, Aislynn’s attention shifted. She watched the smoke from the candles and
incense rise to the ceiling. Among the beams, Aislynn imagined thousands of
prayers still swirled, waiting to be answered. Sometimes she feared if she took
too large a breath, she might inhale someone else’s wishes, requested long ago
but still held captive under the thick slate roof with no escape. Aislynn added
her own request, asking God to let her join Tim or let him come home.

Her eyes
wandered and found other distractions to engage her imagination. Two rows
ahead, the Tullys sat with their array of children and grandchildren.
That’s
what I want. I want a real family with children, and I want it with Tim. We
could work together and buy land, have our own home.
Her eyes fell on the
O’Mallys. Mrs. O’Mally had her head down and a veil draped over her face.
Aislynn wondered what was hidden beneath. She knew in her world, marriage
reigned supreme, regardless of the conditions. Women stayed in marriages
through drunkenness, violence, and neglect. They stayed, bound by canon and
civil law, and to maintain social standing. Women without men were pitied. It
seemed better to be in a bad marriage than in no marriage.
My marriage will
be wonderful; if it's with Tim.

Aislynn folded
her hands and placed them on the pew in front of her. Johnny’s hands rested
next to hers and she studied them. His thick fingers were entwined. Black,
ash-filled lines ran chaotically through his skin, abruptly halting at the
places where smooth scars had been burned into his flesh. His thumbs stood
sentinel, guarding his palms that were thick with calluses, the natural armor
against the tools of his trade. Aislynn gazed at the soot embedded around his
thumbnails, shaped in the form of little ebony smiles.
As big as they are,
they seem to be kind, gentle hands.

Christmas
morning mass was a repeat of midnight mass. The Mahers joined the Denehys and
the Nolans at church, and they all proceeded to Worth Street for Christmas
dinner. Aislynn had decorated the shelves and sills of both apartments with
holly and pine. She hung two evergreen boughs tied with red ribbon on the doors
of both apartments. Presents trimmed with ribbons were stacked in the Nolan’s
parlor. The Nolan’s kitchen table had been moved into the Denehy parlor, which
would allow everyone to eat in the same flat.

Once home,
Aislynn retreated to the kitchen. Since Tim’s departure, Aislynn found
diversion in cooking. She planned a meal starting with beet soup, called
borscht, one of the many recipes she copied over the years from old Mr.
Rattawitz. After the soup, she presented a roasted goose dripping fat over its
potato stuffing to her appreciative diners. Applesauce, green peas and
cranberry preserves were served with the goose. For days prior to this main
event, Aislynn had baked whiskey cake, fruitcake and apple pies.

After the meal,
everyone squeezed into the Nolan parlor to open gifts. Frank Junior and his
wife, Patsy, brought their young son, who delighted the group by wrapping
himself in discarded ribbons and twirling among the presents. When all the
packages were opened, Brendan announced that Johnny had a gift for Aislynn.
Johnny, standing outside the circle, shot a surprised look at Brendan and shook
his head.

Patsy squealed,
“Let’s see! Let’s see!”  

Johnny’s pale
skin went red and looking across the room, he searched Aislynn’s face. Her eyes
were wide, her mouth taut. They looked at each other as though they had been
caught committing a terrible crime. Aislynn heard Patsy coaxing Johnny and
silently wished the woman would be struck dumb. Brendan said, “Come on, Son.
It’s fine.” He directed Johnny toward Aislynn with his arms raised high like
Moses parting the sea. Scowling at Brendan, Johnny turned back to Aislynn, who
gave him a weak smile. Onlookers murmured encouragement. With a sigh, Johnny
took the seat next to Aislynn. Looking over the crowd, Johnny pulled a small
box from his shirt pocket and passed it into her waiting palm.

Aislynn said,
“Thank you.” She rested the present in her lap and covered it with her hands.

“Open it!” Patsy
cried.

Please God,
just render her unconscious for a few minutes
.

Aislynn bit her
lip and looked up at Johnny for some direction. Johnny shrugged.

She untied the
bow and removed the top. Peering inside, she saw a small, gold Claddagh ring in
the shape of a heart wearing a crown. Embedded in the crown was a small diamond
chip. Aislynn gasped loudly as her mouth dropped open, and her hand flew to her
breast. “Oh, Johnny, this is far too dear.”

Johnny grinned
and whispered, “I wanted you to have it.”

Aislynn chewed
her lip, biting her way through three phases of emotion: guilt, remorse and
fear. The ring and its meaning terrified her.

Patsy rushed
forward and grabbed the box, “Oh, my heavens, look at it. It has a real
diamond, not that I would know what a real diamond looked like, because I don’t
have one,” she glowered at Frank Junior, “but I’m sure it’s real.”

Pushing the box
at Johnny, Patsy commanded, “Put it on her.”

“She can wear it
when she’s ready.” Johnny mumbled in Aislynn’s direction handing her the gift.

“Kiss him,
Aislynn! You have to give him a kiss!”

Aislynn’s wide
eyes strafed the room. “God,” she prayed silently, “strike her down or I will.”

She heard Johnny
say, “We’ll do our kissin’ in private, Patsy.”

She accepted the
reprieve gratefully. She knew it was not a full pardon, and she would have to
talk her way out of this ever-escalating mess.

Johnny slapped
his hands on his thighs and stood over Aislynn. “I think I’d like to get some
fresh air.”

Aislynn slipped
the ring in her apron pocket and rose. Looking up at Johnny, she said, “I have
to start cleaning up,” and began walking toward her apartment.

“He wants you to
go with him, you ninny.” Patsy informed Aislynn.