Chapter 37

~Erik~

I woke to a crisp November morning. The mild weather had permitted me to travel in and out of the city with ease on Jacques's horses. I was glad that this morning I had no call for such a journey. There were no clients to meet with and my tailor would send word to me once my suits were completed.

There was a slight chill in the air so I selected the best of my wool sweaters before wandering downstairs. Even though I had until spring to finish the designs, I was determined to set them to paper for the approval of my clients. Why wait? If we had anything like last year's snowfall, trips to the city would soon be quite limited.

On my way to the office, I halted to the sounds of a great commotion behind the kitchen door. There had been a deer in the field the other day. It was unusual but perhaps the scent of the apples stored in my larder had attracted him. Cautiously, I pressed my hand against the door, cracking it open to leave a barrier between me and the intruder. I was wrong … that was no pilfering deer.

Behind me Nadir came to a halt. I heard his breathing pause as I opened the door a little wider to the torrent of activity.

"Nadir … " I could not even move as my eyes stared in disbelief. "Why is there a plethora of women in my kitchen?"

"I … I haven't a clue," he stammered.

The entire kitchen was occupied by the activity of dozens of women accompanied by a few children assisting them. Hands kneaded bread dough, dividing it into loaves to rise by the heat of the cooking hearth. Pots and kettles boiled, constantly stirred by vigilant women who mopped their sweaty brows. Crusts for pastries were rolled out and dropped into pans with the most astonishing skill. This was not baking, this was art … but what were they doing in here?

Pressing past me, a young girl in a gingham dress carried a bowl of freshly churned butter. "Pardon me, Sir."

I gently clasped her shoulder, "What is going on?"

Her ginger braided hair flopped to the side as she cocked her head. "Why, don't you know? Tis Thankgivin'."

Nadir shook his head when I offered him a searching glance.

"What is this … Thanksgiving?"

A smile brightened her flour covered face. "Only the best day of the year, Sir. Specially this year. A day of great feasting, a celebration of what we have to be grateful for. And this year we have much to celebrate!" I couldn't get a word in because after a breath she continued in a tense whisper. "This year we have a real roof of our own thanks to a very nice man who gave my da a lot of work. That's who the feast is for. The Master."

My numb hand slid from her shoulder as the little girl skipped into the kitchen to deliver the bowl. I had been watching the families from the window of my bed chamber, but … aside from the workmen, these people didn't know me. Yet, here they were toiling in my kitchen making a feast fit for … fit for … a royal court!

Leaning out the window, one of the women bellowed with a voice that could split stone, "O'Hennesey! When the hell are you gonna finish with those turkeys?"

"Christ, woman!" He shouted back. "I'm a mason, not a butcher!"

She fixed him with a glare that would stop a charging bull. "Sass me again and I'll come out there and show you your gizzard. You lot oughta contribute something to this feast. Least you can do is clean the damn birds for the spits. If they aren't in here soon we'll be serving Master Erik raw meat. What kind of a tribute is that?"

Abandoning the window, Mrs. O'Hennesey instructed a few of the women before picking up a basket of apples and a paring knife. She glanced up at the door and seeing me, blanched. Hustling across the room she shooed me like a pigeon. Forcing an apple in my hand she declared, "Out you go. We're hardly ready for you yet."

I couldn't get a word in edgewise as she shut the door on both Nadir and myself. He stared blankly listening to the cacophony continue.

With a shrug, I flipped the apple into the air and caught it deftly. "I shall be drafting until what appears to be dinner."

The rays of bright sunlight traced their path along the office wall as I lost myself in the blur of ink lines. Relaxed and at complete ease, I was only barely aware of the commotion until Nadir knocked on the door. I looked up to a spill of color in the sky from the setting sun. The pole barn's door stood open, lantern light beckoning.

"They're waiting for us." He glanced over his shoulder.

Seating the quill in its holder, I capped the ink. Beside the door a lantern waited, always at the ready. I brought it with us knowing how Nadir hated trying to navigate by starlight alone. The evening was cool with a soft breeze carrying the aroma from the barn … the savory feast awaking a hunger.

The entire hamlet had gathered in the pole barn. Tables comprised of long planks ran the length of the space where by now no families lived. Each family within their own house. Men with their wives gathered with scores of children, all ages from infants to those on the cusp of adulthood. I had seen many of the older ones tending the crops. In a sea of many nationalities, their clothing was simple compared to the elegant attire of the last party I had attended. But the smiles they wore, the smiles were earnest as they gathered, chatting around the tables. Tables so heavily laden with food that they sagged in the middle.

The barn fell silent when they realized I had arrived. O'Hennesey, dressed in a simple wool vest over a clean Henley, gestured us to a place at the head of one of the tables. Wordlessly, Nadir and I took our places. With everyone else seated, O'Hennesey held up his hands. All attention focused on him.

"On this blessed evening we gather together for a feast which … Christ, I've not the gift for words. Let me just say it plain like. Last year there wasn't a dream in any lad's head that coulda matched this." Reverently, no one spoke as he fingered the button on his vest. "Last year, gathered in this very barn, the lot of us wondered what we had done. There wasn't much up here, just a promise. A promise that, in the turn of a leaf on an autumn breeze could surely change. Lads, we all knew from our lives in the Bowery, in Hell's Kitchen, around Fiver Corners that the starched shirts did not have the time of day for our lot! Not a one of them truly noted our existence as anything more than a plague upon their city. And so we lived and died, crammed in tiny tenements, breathing in the stench of the city, dusted in soot from the passing trains, sickened by the miasma."

I glanced at them gathered at the table. Clean and tidy, no one was smeared with the grime of the gutters. They sat with their heads held high, hands folded, listening raptly.

"Last year, at the time when VanHollus's ploy ruined work for my crew, I had been dealt with a crushing blow. My daughter had grown ill. I feared it was consumption." He rested his hand on the ginger-headed little girl I had seen earlier. She smiled up at him, cheeks blushing. "Here we are up in this clean air and she breathes! Away from the filth of the city, my little angel thrives! I know I am not the only one!"

Heads nodded around the room, some children held up.

O'Hennesey continued, "Last year we all wondered if this promise was too good to be true. If this dream of being treated like human beings was going to endure. In the spring when work began, we all watched as we toiled shoulder to shoulder, still doubting that we had found a chance at the American dream we all journeyed here for. Even in the summer, beneath the blistering sun there was a question none of us dared to voice. Were we laboring for nothing? Just another man who would suffer the wrath of VanHollus?"

He paused, casting his eyes around at the entire population.

"Well, Gentlemen … " A quiet chuckle carried through the men. "Here we sit with our proof." He lifted his glass and in a wave all of the glasses were raised. "A toast to Master Erik, the man who kept his word and buried VanHollus in that bank vault! An honor to work with you. May there be many more years."

Astonished, I could only sit there and stare as everyone rose their feet with a mighty roar … a roar of respect and honor. These people were not crying out and calling me a manipulative monster. They were not trying to beat me and remove my mask. In that heartfelt speech, I realized O'Hennesey had spoken for all of them. It had been my intention to distinguish myself in society. He spoke as though I had intended to lift them … and it shamed me. That had been such an insignificant detail in my plan, yet to these men it had been everything. My plans had changed their lives as much, if not more than they had mine.

There was nothing I could say as I took an embarrassed sip of the fresh apple cider. Immediately following the toast everyone fell into devouring the feast. Potatoes mashed with butter. Turkeys roasted on the spit over open flames. Apple and pumpkin pastries sticky with glaze alongside puddings and soups from sweet to savory. The feasting lasted for hours. Chatter was a constant accompaniment with children dashing about the edges playing chase.

Family.

In the guise of savoring the cider in my hand, I concealed the ache in my heart. All these years I had been alive wandering this earth and never had I experienced what it was to truly have a family. To be part of a real family. They gathered as mother, father, sister, brother; singing and laughing in the lantern light. Italian, Irish, Spanish … none of that differed for the body language they displayed as they reveled in what it was to be alive.

With a sigh I leaned back, just listening to their joy. I had done this … without even intending to I had united these men and their families around this once insignificant quarry. Here they found their haven from the horrors of society, from the judgment of other men. Here they found their pride. And the thanks they gave … they gave to me.