Finding Amy (13 page)

“I just know we’ll find our fortune up there, Red.”

“But Liam, they also say it’s too cold for humans out in that wilderness.”

“Ah, and it could be worse than this Chicago wind?”

Abby laughed as she pulled her collar up against the frigid breeze whistling through the stairwell. He had a point. “But we know nothing about gold mining.”

“We can learn. I’ll bet the library has information on how it’s done. We’ll teach ourselves. We’ve got a little over a year before the twins will be old enough to go to work.”

To Abby, a year was a lifetime. So much could happen. Six-foot Liam was a handsome lad with his dark brown hair and deep blue eyes.   He loved to dance and sing. At the monthly block parties, he was the center of attraction for all the young colleens.

“Oh Liam, a year from now you’ll be married with a baby on the way.”

He laughed and blew a smoke ring. “Now why would I want to tie myself to one colleen?”  Then he got serious. “Besides, I want to offer my future bride more than this grimy neighborhood, a third story flat, a passel of kids wearing hand me downs and a husband who works twelve hour days and is old before his time.”

A loud sob broke into her reverie. It was Aunt Kit. Even little Eddie, in the distraught woman's arms, was crying. Soon all the mourners were in tears. Grown men were walking away to hide their grief.

The priest could scarcely be heard as he concluded the eulogy with, “Rest in peace young Liam Martin Moynahan.”

****

Abby woke to the smell of coffee. The aroma snaked its way into her consciousness. Her eyes popped open. She sniffed. It was definitely coffee. Her feet hit the cold floor as she chided herself for oversleeping. She was still tying the belt to her threadbare, pink chenille robe when she entered the kitchen.

“Good morning, Abby.”

“Aunt Kit!”  The surprise in her voice was not lost on the older woman.

“Yes, it’s me.”  The woman held her hand out to her gaping niece. “Come, have a cup and a chat with me while I finish packing your uncle’s lunch.”

Abby sat. As she sipped the strong brew, she noticed the tremor in Kitty’s hands. It had been a week since the funeral and the dark circles under her eyes told Abby that the poor dear had had another tear-filled night. Abby reached across the table.

“Let me …”

“No. I need to do this. I need to be busy.”

“It’s too soon. You need to …”

“Abby, I need to take care of my other children and my husband. I loved Liam as only a mother can love her first born; the child who taught me as much as I taught him.”  Her voice quivered. She cleared her throat. “But, the others deserve a mother too. I can do this. I can take care of my family.”  She forced a weak smile.

Abby started to say something, but her uncle entered the room. The fact that he was alone caused a sharp pain to the hearts of the two women as real as if they had been physically struck.

Kitty recovered first. “Mornin’, Love. Come. Sit. Your coffee’s ready.”

Within minutes, a bowl of warm oatmeal, laden with butter pads and mounds of brown sugar was placed before the man along with a cup of coffee. The three of them made feeble attempts at small talk before Martin made his good-byes and left for work. Alone.

The women spent the remainder of the early hours getting the children off to school. Once the morning chores were over, Kitty retired to her room to rest and Abby headed out to market.

The morning sun on her face felt warm despite the twenty-degree temperature. The sidewalks were clear, but shoveled snow created a one to two foot high barrier between the walkways and the street. The week old snow was soot covered and frozen into ugly black-laced mounds. The street was quiet. The men were at work, the children at school and the housewives deep into their daily chores.

As Abby turned a corner, she slipped on a piece of ice that the morning sun had yet to reach with its warm, melting rays. Her body began a ballet of movements in an attempt to stay on her feet. The efforts would have been futile but for the arms of a tall, dark-haired young man who offered his hands as an anchor. Abby instinctively grasped them and steadied herself. She was flustered, red-faced and out of breath when she looked up into the bluest eyes she had ever seen.             

“Whoa there, Red. Are you all right now?”

The man’s eyes mesmerized her, but the word ‘Red’ thrust into her heart like a lance. She teared up and let out an anguished sob.

“Hey, hey. It’s all right now. You didn’t fall. You’ll be fine.”  He maintained a tight grip on her hands.

The tears were coming in an uncontrollable surge. Abby’s rubbery knees buckled. The young man pulled her close. He stroked her beautiful tresses as she sobbed into his chest.

Abby was not thinking. Her body had control. Her brain reacted to the welcome relief of the anguish she had bottled up since the accident. The man’s rough pea jacket, smelling of wet wool, was reminiscent of Liam’s coat when he arrived home on a rainy or snowy day. She snuggled into it for comfort. Visions of her handsome, kind cousin, her best friend, drifted through her mind alternating between colorful scenes of him alive and happy with dark pictures of his coffin and grave. The fact that her body was being transferred from one set of arms to another registered into her brain with the sound of a familiar voice.

“She just lost a loved one. Poor dear.”

Abby drew a deep breath and opened her eyes. She was now in the arms of Mr. Corcoran, the owner of the local market. The handsome stranger was across from her. The concern in his eyes touched her, but as she gained more control, embarrassment set in. Her face felt feverish. She lifted her hand to her face and felt the wetness from her tears amid a warm mucous substance.
Oh my God, my nose is running
. She brought both hands up to cover her nose and mouth.

The young man reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. Abby gratefully accepted it and wiped her face before blowing her nose. A quick comforting squeeze from Mr. Corcoran reminded her that she was making a scene. She pulled away.

“Are you feeling better now, Abby girl?”

“Yes,” her voice was almost a whisper. “Thank you, Mr. Corcoran. I don’t know what came over me. Thank you for being here for me.”

“Tis all right colleen. You had a big loss. But, you need to thank this young man for being here. He kept you from falling on this sheet of ice.”  He reached for the bag of salt he had dropped when he took Abby from the stranger. “Sure glad you were here to catch our Abby, young man.”  The storeowner extended his hand.

“It was my pleasure.”  The stranger returned the handshake and looked down at Abby. “Are you feeling better now?”

Abby nodded. Then a flush came over her again as she noticed the remnants of her runny nose on his jacket.

He looked down at the spot, then back at Abby. His smile seemed to light up everything. Despite her embarrassment, she felt at ease and warm being the object of his gaze. “Not to worry. It’s old, but it cleans up nicely.”

“Well …, thank …you.”  The normally glib Abby was stammering. “I… don’t really know… what came … over me.”  She was flustered and clutching the handkerchief.

“Now, girl. We’ve all been worried about you. You and Liam were so close.”  He turned to the stranger. “Liam was her cousin. Was killed in an accident about a week ago. Only eighteen.”  The old man shook his head. “Tragic. Tragic.”

“Well I’m glad I happened along at the right time.”

“Yes. Thank you so much.”  Abby attempted a smile. She was worried that the tears would begin again. “I must be going. My aunt will be worried.”

“Of course. Take care of yourself.”  He flashed another smile and tipped his cap before continuing on down the street. At the next corner, he turned and smiled, then disappeared from sight.

“Lucky for you he happened along, Abby.”

“Yes.”  Abby put her hand to her eyes to dab at an errant tear and realized she still had his handkerchief. Somehow, it gave her comfort. She shivered with a myriad of emotions.

“Girl, go on inside. It’s cold out here. Go on now.”  He opened the door and called to his wife. “Bridie, fix a cup of tea for Abby.”

****

A week later Abby sat at the kitchen table while little Eddie played with blocks on the floor near her feet. She was reading the newspaper when a want ad struck her eye.
Cook wanted. Good hearty food. Nothing fancy. Involves travel. Contact Patrick Finley, Calumet Hotel by 1-31
. The word travel caught her attention. She rued; it was what she and Liam had planned and now she would probably never get the chance. Girls did not go off by themselves. In fact, both she and Liam knew it would have been frowned on, if not completely forbidden, for the two of them to go off together. She smiled as she thought of anyone trying to stop Liam from doing what he set his mind to. They would have gone. Liam would have kept his promise.

“What brings such a smile to your lovely face this morning?”  Kitty had come in from hanging clothes out on the line.

Abby knew better than to mention Liam. “Just reading the paper.”  She stood and went to the stove. “Sit down, Aunt Kit. Warm yourself.”

“No time, Love. I promised Eddie that we’d go down to Corcoran’s for a piece of candy before he goes down for his nap.”

“Sit. I’ll run and get it for him. It’s too cold out.”

“I want to do it. I need to do it.”  She picked up the child, hugged him tightly and began to hum a lullaby as she went to get his winter clothing.

The kitchen was quiet again. For the past week, Kitty had been a whirling dervish. She rose before dawn, cooked and cleaned all day and sewed into the late hours of the night. Not a moment of idle time did she allow herself. Abby worried about her, but also missed the wonderful conversations they had often shared. Lately, Abby found herself with nothing to do and no one to talk to. Her best friends had been Liam and Kitty. She loved her other cousins and Uncle Maudie, but it wasn’t the same. The loneliness was becoming unbearable.

Before the accident, she and Aunt Kit had frequently taken a few moments to sit and talk about Abby’s future. The young men in the neighborhood were definitely interested in the beautiful redhead, but she never gave them encouragement. Her life was mapped out and it didn’t include marriage and babies, just yet. Maybe it was Liam’s enthusiasm, but Abby felt there were too many wonderful things to see and do before settling down.  As she mused, her eyes returned to the newspaper ad. The words,
involves travel
, sung to her like a siren’s song.

She looked around the comfortable, cluttered kitchen. This had been her home for her entire life. She and her mother had lived here before the poor woman had passed on. Mary Ann had been a fair-haired, fair-skinned delicate woman given to physical illnesses and flights of fancy. She had been the older and prettier of the two sisters, but Kitty, with her sandy colored hair and freckles, had always had more common sense and was often mistaken for the older of the two despite the fact that she was a full year younger.

Mary Ann bought into the tales of America being a land of milk and honey as the two young girls grew up in Cork, Ireland in the home of an older brother and his family. Their mother passed away when the girls where about ten. Shortly after her death, their father took up the bottle and drank himself to death. Just after Mary Ann’s seventeenth birthday, the girls lied about their ages and managed to get hired on as maids on one of the luxury liners that transported the rich and famous across the Atlantic. Mary Ann charmed an elderly matron who spent many lonely hours aboard ship while her husband gambled in the men’s poker parlor. The woman agreed to sponsor the two sisters for entry into the United States and had the bureaucratic acquaintances to make it happen. She arranged employment for them at a fine hotel in downtown Chicago. Her death shortly after their arrival saddened the sisters and left them eternally grateful to the kind woman.

The girls moved into a small flat in an Irish neighborhood and quickly settled in among their fellow immigrants. Kitty and Martin soon found each other and both declared it had been love at first sight. When they married, he moved into the girls flat and Mary Ann stayed on. As far as anyone knew she never dated, but a year after Kitty had given birth to Liam, Mary Ann had turned up with child, but no husband. Whether Kitty ever got the whole story out of her sister, no one ever knew. Abby had no clue as to who her father was or what her mother’s relationship with him had been.

Once Abby had been born, Mary Ann continued to work as a maid at various hotels and Aunt Kit took over the motherly duties for her small niece. In fact, as time went on, Mary Ann drifted more and more into a world of fantasy and unattainable possibilities until both Kit and Abby cared for Mary Ann like she was the child.

Kitty was a natural mother and found enough love in her heart for Abby as well as her own eight, now seven children. Sixteen-year-old Peggy was frail, quiet and lived only for the time when she could leave for the nunnery. She was a serious girl who prayed almost continuously. The twins Phil and Terry were fifteen and always walking on the edge as far as mischief was concerned. What one didn’t think of, the other did. They were close and often shut out other family members from their inside jokes and conversations. Eleven-year-old Billy, a younger image of Liam, was a pleasure to be around. He would grow up to be handsome and outgoing. He loved the world and everything in it. Bridget and Paula, eight and seven years old, were giggly little dark haired beauties. They shared a bond much like the twins and could entertain each other for hours. Three-year-old Eddie was a loving, cuddly child and Abby felt quite motherly toward him.