Winter
Sarah couldn't stop counting what remained of their money. Even with the small amount that John brought home weekly, the number never seemed to increase. Fortunately, it held steady but hardly and that was with both her and Pat eating meals half the size of their children. Sarah knew they couldn't last the way they were living. And so, every morning, she found herself in the pantry, counting the money once again.
"John?" She called out as she stared inside the canister with a frown.
He appeared behind her. "Yes?"
"Did you take any money out of this?"
"No," he replied, shaking his head. "I've put money in it but never the other way around. Why?"
"It's missing $30."
"Maybe you miscounted?"
"No, I didn't miscount," Sarah snapped. She had counted the money twice just to be certain. "Where's your father?"
John shrugged. "Haven't seen him all day."
"He left," Eileen piped up from where she sat at the table, a coloring book open in front of her.
Sarah looked at her and felt a prickle of unease run up her spine. "Did he say where he was going?"
"He told me not to tell you." She didn't look up from her picture.
"And when was this?"
Eileen shrugged.
"He probably just wanted some air," John suggested. "He's been a bit stir crazy lately."
Sarah knew that Pat didn't like being stuck inside the house all of the time but she was so afraid of losing him again, of someone returning him to the asylum, that she could hardly let him out of her sight. But to leave without telling her? She hadn't the time to debate on whether they should search for him or let him be when Tommy came barreling into the room.
"Where's Aunt Sarah?" He asked, struggling to catch his breath.
"Right beside you."
"Oh." He turned to look at her and took a deep breath. "Mom told me to fetch you at once and to hurry because it's urgent."
Sarah left John to look after Eileen and followed Tommy home.
"Kate?" She said, the moment she walked through the door. "What's going—" Her words caught in her throat as she took in the scene before her.
Hugh stood at the far end of the room, his arms folded and a look of bored amusement on his face. Across from him, at the other end, stood Pat, a gun clutched in his trembling hand and anguish painted on his face.
Sarah sighed. At least now she knew where the missing money went.
"Ye have to do somethin'," Kate whispered urgently. "He's lost his mind."
"I can hear ye, mind ye," Pat snapped, his gaze never leaving Hugh.
"Then put the gun down," Kate pleaded. "Before someone comes to harm."
Hugh scoffed. "I doubt he knows what he's doing," he said derisively. "His mind's completely snapped.
Sarah reached for Pat's arm. "Let's go home," she calmly suggested. "He's not worth it."
But he refused to move.
"You know how easily I could have you thrown back into that place?" Hugh taunted. "Seeing how you were never officially released. Some orderly snuck you out in the dead of night. In fact, I bet they're still out there searching for you."
Sarah tried to pull him away. "Don't listen to him. You belong at home with your family."
"No, where you belong is locked up in that asylum," Hugh continued.
Pat's grip tightened on the gun, his fingers white-knuckled. "Would ye shut up?"
"It's been twenty minutes; you're not going to shoot me." Hugh shook his head. "Probably don't even know how to use that."
Pat fired a shot to the side, narrowly missing Bridget who had just unwittingly entered the room, followed closely by Henry. The deafening gunshot reverberated off the walls, startling the toddler who began to cry.
Kate let out a cry of her own and, crossing between the two men, scooped Bridget up from the ground. "What's the matter with ye?"
Sarah placed a hand on Pat's face, trying to turn his attention to her. "That's enough. You need to put the gun down." She spoke calmly, more calm than she certainly felt.
"Sarah, do you regret not leaving him in the asylum now?" Hugh asked, turning his attention to her. "He needs to be locked up. We should be calling the police."
"Pat, you need to listen to me," Sarah could hear the emotion in her own voice. "Lower the gun so we can go home. Please. Before this turns into something we can't come back from."
There was a pause, the seconds dragging on interminably, where she thought he hadn't heard her. Perhaps hadn't even known she was there.
But then, slowly, he began to lower the gun.
"Coward," Hugh sneered. "You're beyond help."
Pat tried to lunge forward but Sarah pushed him back. "Don't," she said softly. "You have to ignore him."
Hugh laughed and left the room.
Kate stepped forward and snatched the gun from Pat's hand. "How dare ye—"
Sarah cut her off. "Kate, stop."
Pat looked around the room, seeming to notice Sarah for the first time. A look of heavy despair came over his face. "I don't know...I just...I didn't mean…" Something inside of him finally broke and he started to cry.
At once, Sarah pulled him close and held him tightly. "It's alright," she murmured. "It's alright." As she ran her hand through his hair, she could feel him trembling. She knew that he had been struggling ever since he had escaped the asylum, but she hadn't realized just how much.
"It's not alright," Kate snapped. She still held Bridget in her arms and Henry clung to her leg. "He nearly killed me child."
"But he didn't and everything is fine."
"Fine? He's lost his damn mind," Kate said. "Perhaps Hugh has a point and he ought not to have left that place. He is not alright and ye know it."
There was a silence while Sarah processed her words. Pat seemed to tighten his grip on her, desperately holding onto her as though she was his only life line. "How can you say that?" She managed at last.
Kate looked remorseful. "Well, maybe I didn't mean that. I'm sorry I said it," she said. "But if he had harmed me child, I'd make sure he never saw the light of day again."
"I guess it's only acceptable when it's your husband causing the harm," Sarah retorted bitterly. "Come on." She kissed Pat's cheek and then, taking his hand, led him to the door before Kate had a chance to respond.
They walked in silence for several minutes before Sarah spoke up. "Were you really going to kill him?"
Pat kept his gaze on the ground. "I wanted to. I should have."
"Pat, you—"
"I know," he interrupted her. "I know, I shouldn't have. But all I could think about was how he was responsible for every terrible thing in me life. And Katie's too even if she's refusin' to see it." He took a slow breath. "I can't stop thinkin' about what happened when I was in that place and his face hauntin' me every time I close me eyes. Tauntin' me. Tryin' to convince me that Katie had been behind it. He doesn't deserve to live."
Pat hadn't said a word to her about what life was like in the asylum and, knowing that he would tell her in his own time, she hadn't asked. But she knew it must've been terrible based on the expression that crossed his face every time it was mentioned. She stopped suddenly and wrapped her arms around him. "Maybe you're right about him not deserving to live, but you don't need to be the one to do it."
"Well, Katie won't," he said bitterly. "She's still in love with him."
Sarah pulled back and took his hand again. "You need to give your sister more credit," she said. "It's not that she loves him—because I know she doesn't, not anymore—it's that she's making the best of a terrible situation with no way out." She thought of how Kate admitted to making a mistake and her desperation to be free from her marriage and she tightened her grip on Pat's hand. There had to have been something they could do, something short of murder.
Kate placed the gun into a small box which she then hid on top of a kitchen cabinet. Out of reach of Hugh and out of reach of Tommy who had almost seemed disappointed that the whole ordeal had ended without bloodshed.
She was still angry over Bridget's close call—even if the toddler had already forgotten the incident—but more than that, she was frightened of the desperate look on her brother's face. Once everything had calmed down, she knew that she and Sarah needed to have a conversation about him as something needed to be done.
That night, after putting Bridget and Henry to bed, Kate went into her own room, exhausted from the day, and closed the door behind her.
Immediately, Hugh cornered her against the closed door. "I think we can both agree that I have been more than patient," he seethed. "But that's over now. I'm not going to put up with this bullshit anymore."
"I don't—"
He slammed his hands against the door frame on either side of her head. "Don't play dumb with me. You're not going to see either of those lunatics ever again, is that clear?"
"Ye can't control who I see."
"You saw what your brother did or are you blind as well as stupid? He didn't give a damn if he hit your child. He's deranged and he belongs locked up somewhere."
Kate could feel the anger radiating off of him. "I'm not goin' to cut me brother out of me life and Sarah—"
Hugh silenced her with a sharp slap to the face.
Her cheek stinging, she reached for the door behind her and tried to pull it open but Hugh grabbed her wrist in an iron grip. "If I ever see either of them in this house again, I'm going to throw your damn child into the river."
He hadn't specified which child but she knew he was speaking of Bridget. "I'll just—"
"You'll just what? Go to their house? Run to the police?" He leaned in closely. "Why don't you try it and see what happens. Now, have I made myself clear?"
Kate nodded, unable to find her voice.
"Good." Hugh kissed her. "Now, come to bed."
She closed her eyes as she let him pull her to the bed. She had never felt more trapped.
Cal had retrieved the remainder of his cash from its hiding spot beneath his father's office. He counted it carefully and sighed. It was only $15,000 minus what he had spent in the past year. He knew it was enough to live on for some time—and certainly more than what most had—but it was a far cry from the five million he used to be worth. It was hard to know that if he hadn't been in such a rush to sell and hadn't needed the money in cash, he could've sold the land for more than twice the amount he ended up receiving.
His lawyer had dropped off the Decree Absolute earlier in the day, but, thus far, he hadn't been able to bring himself to look at it. He had wanted to be free from Dinah for so long and now he held that freedom in his hands. It all seemed so much.
At last, unable to delay it any longer, Cal poured himself a generous glass of bourbon, settled into a chair, and tore open the envelope. He began to read:
Be It Known, that on February 12, 1931, in the case of Dinah Hockley vs. Caledon Hockley, the Court having fully considered the evidence and circumstances presented, including the best interests of any children of the marriage, hereby issues this Decree Absolute.
Wanting to savor the moment, he paused as he took a drink.
It Is Ordered and Decreed that the marriage between Dinah Hockley and Caledon Hockley is dissolved, and the parties are hereby divorced.
Cal closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. It felt as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. At last, he was free from his marriage. Free from Dinah. There were no words for the relief he felt at seeing it in writing. He read on:
It is hereby ordered and decreed that full legal and physical custody of the minor children of the marriage, Victor Hockley and Arthur Hockley, is awarded to the petitioner, Dinah Hockley.
That wasn't a surprise. He had known that she would end up with custody of the children. How could she not? But even knowing that, there had still been a small part of him hoping for a different outcome. A miracle.
It is hereby ordered and decreed that the marital home, located at 807 Newtown Rd, shall be awarded to the petitioner, Dinah Hockley. The respondent, Caledon Hockley, shall execute any necessary legal documents to transfer the title and ownership of the marital home to Dinah Hockley within 30 days from the date of this Decree Absolute.
Cal held his glass of bourbon up to the light and, studying it, wondered what his father would have thought about him losing the family home. Losing the family fortune. Losing everything. He felt a sudden chill and looked over his shoulder, almost expecting to see the ghost of his father watching him, judging him. But the room was empty.
He had expected to feel elated, perhaps even jubilant, but all he experienced was a profound emptiness that he couldn't explain. Everything he had ever known had vanished in one fell swoop—no wife, no children, no home, no wealth.
"Well, now what?" He asked the empty room with a sigh.
Pat couldn't stop thinking about Hugh's words, even his sister's words. She had said that she didn't mean them only a moment later but there was truth behind them. He knew there was truth behind them. He didn't belong at home. He should never have left the asylum. The words played over and over again in his head, a constant unending, unforgiving refrain.
He didn't leave the house again. He was afraid to go beyond the walls. Instead, he spent all of his time with Eileen. She had a stack of coloring books, purchased before everything went wrong, and she was steadily working her way through them page by page. As each picture was colored in, she held them up for his approval.
As much as he might've been watching Eileen, he knew that Sarah was watching him. Possibly afraid that he'd fall to pieces or fly off the handle. The thought that perhaps she was having regrets in marrying him crossed his mind. How could she not? Every time he met Sarah's gaze, she smiled but still his worries lingered. Kate was right about one thing; he was not alright.
One evening, as they stood side by side, the clinking of dishes filled the air as Sarah washed them and Pat dried. They worked in a methodical silence for a time.
"Do ye still love me?" The question slipped out before he could stop it.
There was the briefest moment of silence before Sarah looked at him. "More than anything," she replied softly. "Why would you ask me that?"
Pat shrugged. "I was only thinkin'…" He shook his head suddenly.
She set down the dish she had been washing and dried her hands. "Patrick," she murmured, wrapping her arms around him. 'There is nothing that could stop me from loving you."
"If I had killed Bridget..." He couldn't finish the thought. That moment lived clear as day in his head.
"But you didn't kill her," Sarah reminded him gently.
"I didn't know she was there."
"I know."
"I just wanted to…" Pat took a breath and looked at the towel still in his hands. "Knowin' what he did...what he's currently doin' to me sister, I can't...I can't just let it go."
"I know," she said again.
"I couldn't kill him," he confessed. "Why couldn't I kill him? He deserved it."
"You couldn't kill him because you're a better man than that." Sarah kissed him.
Pat nervously fidgeted with the material of her dress, his fingertips lightly brushing against her waist. "I am tryin'," he said quietly.
"I know you are," she replied. She gently touched his cheek. "I am right here. You don't need to do this alone."
He slid his hands around her waist and held her tightly. Warm, steady Sarah. His wife. "I know ye are," he whispered. "I love ye more than anythin'."
Typically, Hugh was only violent after he had a few drinks, but ever since Pat held a gun to him, it seemed as though he existed in a near constant state of drunken rage.
Kate, on the other hand, wore a painful tapestry of bruises, all the result of his cruel hand. Her heart raced with fear whenever he approached, the uncertainty of what might happen next a constant torment. Fortunately, he had thus far spared the children, with the exception of Tommy who always stood up to him. Overall, she was trapped beneath a shroud of misery that hung over everything.
Hugh didn't like her leaving the house so any errands had to be run without his knowledge, usually while he was working at the mill. Every time she went out, she could feel everyone's eyes scrutinizing her. Always, she pulled her hat down low over her eyes and tugged the sleeves of her dress over her hands.
That day, the line at the grocers moved at a glacial pace. She stood with an impatient eye kept on the time, all too aware that Hugh could be home at any minute. Finally, after purchasing the ingredients for the hamburger stew she had planned for that evening, she rushed home as quickly as possible.
Yet, when she arrived, Hugh was already there, waiting and radiating anger. "Where were you?"
"I went to the store," Kate replied.
"The store, huh?" He roughly grabbed the basket from her hands and dumped the contents out. Potatoes rolled everywhere. "You were gone for almost two hours. Where else were you?" He asked sharply.
She retreated, her back pressing against the wooden door. "Only the store," she insisted, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. "There was a line."
Hugh's temper flared and he struck the wall beside her head and she flinched. "I know you're lying."
Tears filled her eyes as she shook her head.
"You're always lying," he seethed.
"But I'm not. I'm not, I swear," she pleaded, bracing herself for the blow that was sure to come.
But instead of striking her, Hugh only glared at her. "Pick this shit up," he commanded, before storming off.
With trembling hands, Kate knelt and began to retrieve the scattered items, unable to stop the tears that ran down her face.
Tommy appeared seemingly out of nowhere to help. "Why'd you marry him?" He asked.
Kate couldn't think of an answer.
Spring
It had been awhile since John had last seen Dottie. With his mother spending all of her time fussing over his father, who was still busy fighting his own demons, Eileen had somehow become his responsibility. And that responsibility was on top of being the only one keeping his family from starving. His father may have liked working at the mill, but John hated it more and more each day.
At last, he had a moment of freedom, and he immediately went in search of Dottie.
He found her outside of her house, speaking to a young man with her bicycle perched between them. They both looked up as he approached and he recognized Jimmy.
Jimmy quickly excused himself and left.
"What was he doing here?" John asked.
"He fixed my bike for me," Dottie explained. "My chain broke when I was riding it the other day. I think I nearly died. If you had been there, you would've laughed so hard you cried." She grinned.
A smile flickered across his face but it didn't last. "Why didn't you ask me to fix it?"
"I never see you anymore," she replied. "Jimmy just happened to have been nearby when it happened and he offered."
John couldn't explain why he felt irritated at the thought of the two of them spending any amount of time together. "From the goodness of his heart, I suppose."
"John, would you stop? I don't know why he offered but I'm glad he did. I need my bike." Dottie sighed. "Now, would you fill me in on everything already?" She pushed her bike as they began to walk along the road.
He filled her in as they went.
She listened patiently until he had finished and then shook her head. "Excuse my language but holy crap," she said. "Your family is...I don't know."
"Completely nuts?"
"I was leaning towards unlucky but I suppose nuts might work as well. I'm sorry."
John shrugged. "It's fine," he said. "I just wish they weren't all depending on me. I just keep thinking how if I do something wrong, like I lose my job or...well, anything goes wrong, my entire family will starve." He sighed. "If my father could find a job, then it wouldn't all be my responsibility, which would be nice."
"Is he looking?"
"If he is, no one's told me." John understood the reservations around his father. He certainly knew what had happened the last time he left the house. But it was difficult to not feel resentful when the weight of everything fell onto his shoulders and his alone.
Kate laid in bed, her body throbbing from Hugh's brutality. A deep sense of despair threatened to overwhelm her and suddenly she understood Pat. She quietly rolled out of bed, wincing as pain shot through her, and got to her feet. She looked at Hugh sleeping, unconcerned and oblivious and knew that she couldn't keep going with the way things were. Her children needed a better life even if that better life didn't include her.
She slipped out of the room, her footsteps barely making a sound on the cold, wooden floor. In the kitchen, she pulled a chair over to the counter and stepped onto it. Her hand reached for the box she had secreted away months ago, and upon opening it, took out Pat's gun with shaking hands.
As Kate returned the chair to its place beneath the table, she began to question herself. What was she doing? The doubts continued to mount as she ascended the stairs, returning to her bedroom. But then she stared down at Hugh, sleeping with an unsettling smile on his face, and a seething anger overcame her. How dare he smile? Tears streamed down her face as she pointed the gun at him, her hands still trembling. It'd be so quick, so easy, and then she'd be free. But no matter what she told herself, she still couldn't bring herself to pull the trigger.
Suddenly, Hugh's eyes snapped open and he fixed his gaze on her without flinching. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Kate found herself unable to answer, entirely paralyzed by fear.
"Oh, for God's sake, stop being so dramatic and get back to bed."
She shook her head.
Hugh sighed impatiently. "Maybe I should have you locked up alongside your insane brother."
Coming suddenly to her senses, she pulled the trigger but nothing happened. The gun remained silent.
"The safety, Kate," Hugh pointed out. "You have to turn off the safety if you wish to kill me. Now put that away and get back in bed."
Her resolve crumbled and, almost without thinking, she did as she was told. As she settled beside Hugh, he casually wrapped an arm around her, a gesture that made her skin crawl. In the darkness, she laid there, her cheeks still wet with tears, trapped within her own personal nightmare.
With nothing else to do, Cal found himself in a state of mild self-destruction. Somehow he had ended up in New York, driven by the reckless hope of a chance encounter with Louise, despite knowing such an encounter would be a terrible idea. But with no inkling of her whereabouts or any means to contact her, he ventured to the Paramount Publix Corporation (formerly the Paramount-Famous Lasky Corporation), intending to ask Lelia if she knew where the actress might be found. But as he opened the door to Rose's office, he was surprised to see Rose, herself, sitting at Lelia's desk, a stack of papers before her.
Rose looked up as he opened the door and for a moment they both stared at each other in astonishment.
"I was looking for Lelia," Cal stammered, an awkward tension hanging in the air. "Is she here?"
"She's out with the flu," she replied, nonchalantly.
"Is she alright?"
Rose shrugged. "I suppose so. At least, I haven't heard otherwise." She gathered up the papers. "How are you alive?" She asked suddenly.
Cal was caught off guard by the unexpected question. "I don't know how to answer that. Why are you asking?"
"It's just that I heard you had killed yourself after the crash," she said. "A pistol in the mouth is the word going around."
He let out a weary sigh. "I suppose that would be the work of my wife. My ex-wife," he quickly corrected. It was a satisfying correction to make. "She likes spreading rumors about me."
"Oh, you're divorced. Good for you," Rose said, giving him a knowing look. "You know, that wasn't the only rumor I've heard about you."
"What else have you—nevermind, I'd rather not know." He could only imagine the sort of things Dinah was saying.
Gathering up her belongings, Rose changed the subject, surprising him once more. "Are you hungry?"
He blinked in surprise. "What?"
"Would you like to get lunch?"
"With you?"
"Why not? I think we can both be civil for an hour."
Not entirely sure how it happened, he soon found himself sitting across from her, eating lunch. Surprisingly enough, she ordered mutton. Cal wondered if she remembered their argument over it nearly twenty years earlier.
"So what's your plan now?" Rose asked. "Going in search of your next wife?"
"No," he replied. "I think I'm done with marriage."
The table fell silent as they both picked at their meals. Cal imagined what it would've been like to marry Rose and he was struck by how badly matched they were. Rose would have resented him for holding her back. And he would've resented her for her coldness. Now, after experiencing life with Dinah, he wanted someone warm. A partner. An equal. His thoughts drifted unwittingly to Kate.
He tapped his fork on his plate. "There is this woman…" He hesitated, unsure why he was bringing it up in the first place.
Rose leaned forward. "And?" She asked, almost eagerly.
"Nevermind." He shook his head. "We're not friends and I don't know why I'm telling you any of this."
A look of disappointment flashed across her face. "You cannot mention a woman and then not say more," Rose said. "So, who is she? Do you love her?"
"It doesn't matter," Cal replied, wishing ardently that he hadn't said anything in the first place. "I haven't seen her in years."
"But you're still thinking of her."
He let out a sigh. "Only every day for the past ten years."
"Does she like you?"
He shrugged. "She doesn't dislike me."
"I suppose that must be quite the change from what you're used to," Rose said with a laugh. "So what precisely is stopping you from going after her?"
"She's married."
"In my experience, marriages are temporary," she replied. "Perhaps you only need to wait a moment."
Cal pushed his plate back on the table. "This has been fun but I need to be going." Whatever it was he needed to do with his life now that he was free from his marriage, speaking to Rose was not it.
"Suit yourself." Rose lifted her glass to take a drink but then paused. "Wait a moment. It's not Lelia, is it?"
"No, of course not."
"I was just wondering." She took a drink. "It'd be rather rude of you to be chasing after Fabri's wife."
Cal looked at her and frowned. It may have been twenty years but Rose still had an uncanny ability to get under his skin. "I'm glad we never married."
She laughed. "Agreed. I thank the Lord every single night that I called off the engagement."
He stared at her. "I called off the engagement."
Rose shrugged. "Perhaps, but that's not what I tell people."
"Goodbye, Rose." Cal rose from his seat and left the restaurant, leaving her to cover the bill. Perhaps it wasn't gentlemanly but he no longer cared.
Sarah had insisted that some fresh air would do Pat some good—provided he didn't stray too far from the house. And, so far, as they worked together to clear out the flower beds in front of the house, she hadn't been wrong. There was something methodical and relaxing about pulling out dead plants and the weeds that had already begun to spring up in the dirt. Working next to Sarah, who smiled every time he caught her eye, made it even better. Pat was starting to feel the remnants of his old self once again.
She suddenly nudged his arm and gestured to the sidewalk. Tommy was coming toward them, holding tightly to Bridget's hand. Henry trailed behind them, weighted down with a bag nearly as large as himself.
"Mama wanted me to ask you if we can stay with you for a time," Tommy said as soon as they neared.
"Is she coming?" Sarah asked, looking behind them, farther down the road.
Tommy shook his head.
As if on cue, Bridget began to cry. "I want mama."
"And I'm sure she'll be here shortly," Sarah said, soothingly.
"But she's not—"
Sarah silenced the child with a look.
Pat watched them, feeling worry gnaw at him. He knew that his sister wouldn't have sent her children away without a very good reason for doing so. "I'm goin' over there."
"No, you're not," Sarah replied. She took the bag from Henry who immediately let out a dramatic sigh of relief. "Tommy, won't don't you take them into the kitchen? Eileen has a whole stack of coloring books in there that I'm sure she'll be willing to share?"
A look of irritation crossed his face, but he still ushered his siblings inside without complaining.
"I'm not leavin' her there," Pat continued. "She wouldn't have sent them away unless somethin' was dreadfully amiss." The more he considered it, the worse he felt. Something horrible must have happened.
"Maybe so, but you're not going anywhere near that place." Sarah's voice was firm, her tone final.
"Sarah—"
"I don't mean…" She sighed. "I know your sister and I know she wouldn't choose to be separated from her children. I'm certain she's on her way here."
"And if she isn't?"
"If she's not here by morning, I'll go over there and find out what's wrong."
"So it's alright for yerself to go there but I'm not to step a foot outside the house?" Pat's tone was sharper than he intended and noticed Sarah flinch in response.
"Pat, you're the one who held a gun on him the last time," she said, quietly. "Not me."
Without responding, he turned and went inside. He was certain that something terrible had happened. And because of Sarah's insistence on waiting, they would be too late to stop it.
That night, when they were both lying in bed, he turned away from her. She reached out for him, but he shrugged off her arm.
"You used to trust me," Sarah said softly.
Pat pretended to be asleep and didn't answer.
She let out a huff. "Fine, be a child about it then."
In the morning, he came down the stairs to find Kate sleeping on the sofa. A deep purple bruise seemed to cover half of her face and her hair—usually neatly pulled back—was loose and tangled. He stared at her for a while before glancing back toward the stairs. Sarah had been right. Somehow she had known that Kate would be there.
As though sensing his presence, Kate suddenly opened her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said, stifling a yawn. "I didn't want to wake anyone so I let meself in. I hope that was alright."
"I wanted to come fetch ye," Pat admitted. "But Sarah said ye'd be showin' up soon enough."
"Aye, but I had to bide me time till he was sound asleep before I could slip away," she replied. "Hugh never pays the slightest attention to me children so I didn't think he'd notice them missin'. I suppose I should've sent a note with them. I wasn't thinkin'."
"Why'd ye finally leave?" He had been trying to get her to leave him since before they had married. Always, Kate had adamantly refused to even consider the question of leaving.
She ran a hand over the blanket that covered her. "He…he's changed."
"He hasn't changed," Pat said. "He's always been—"
"This is different," she cut him off. "He has changed and I've never seen him so angry. It was frightening." She hesitated. "I had to leave before I did somethin' I regretted."
Pat felt as though she was holding something back but he knew there was no use in prying. "Ye should've left him long ago," he said, instead.
"Please don't be lecturin' me right now," she said, running her fingers through her hair in an attempt to work out the knots. "Ye don't know anythin' about what I've gone through."
"Kate!" Sarah had come down the stairs and stood in the doorway to the room. "Thank God, you're here safely," she said, making it a point to ignore Pat. "We were worried."
'Ye should still be worried," Kate replied. "He's likely to come lookin' for me."
"Well, he can't have ye," Pat said.
"Mama!" Bridget gleefully ran to her.
"Yer never goin' to be able to feed all of us," Kate said, scooping the toddler onto her lap.
"We'll sort it out," Pat reassured her.
"Sure, maybe we'll send Eileen out to find a job," Sarah retorted. "I'm going to go figure out breakfast."
"Are you two fightin'?" Kate asked him, the moment she left the room.
"I think so," he replied. "But I'm not sure what about."
"Doesn't matter what about. Ye need to be apologizin'."
"But I hadn't done—" He was interrupted by a sudden pounding on the front door.
After exchanging a look with his sister, he approached the door and opened it cautiously to reveal a red-faced Hugh. Immediately, Pat positioned himself in the doorway, blocking the man's way into the house. "What do ye want?"
"I want to take my wife home."
"The hell ye are," Pat snapped. "She doesn't want to go home with ye."
"That's not her choice," Hugh replied. "She's my wife."
"Get off me property."
Hugh tried to look around him into the house. "Kate?" he called out. "You stop this nonsense right now and we'll forget this whole thing happened."
"Katie, stay right where ye are."
"Kate, if you don't get the hell over here right now, I'll—"
"Ye'll what? Beat her?" Pat interjected. "I think maybe the police will be interested to hear how ye've been treatin' her."
"You really believe they would listen to you, an escaped mental patient over her loving husband?"
Pat swallowed hard. "Aye, everyone can see just how lovin' ye are."
There was a momentary pause. "I didn't want to have to do this, but—" He reached into his coat and pulled out the gun. "Kate, if you don't get out here," he began, pointing the gun at Pat. "I'm going to shoot your brother."
"Katie, don't move." Time seemed to stretch impossibly long as Pat stared at the gun. He recognized it as the one he had purchased months earlier. He had wondered what had happened to it. There was the sound of distant voices as a young couple walked by, pushing a stroller. Pat watched them as they passed.
Hugh followed his gaze, giving the passersby the briefest glance.
"Go ahead and shoot me," Pat said. "I'm sure Kate will love watchin' ye hang." He could hear his own heart beating loudly in his ears as he gripped the doorframe tightly to keep his hands from shaking.
After an agonizingly slow few seconds, Hugh lowered the gun. "Fine," he said. "I'm sick of the bitch anyway."
Pat waited until he had walked away to let out the breath he had been holding. He quickly closed and locked the door then turned to look at Kate.
She stood in the center of the room, with Bridget clutched in her arms, her face pale beneath the bruises and tear-streaked.
"I think yer free of him," he said quietly.
Kate set the child down. "What is the matter with ye?" She asked, first giving him a light shove then hugging him tightly. "He could've killed ye."
"But he didn't."
Pat stepped into the kitchen and found Sarah sitting at the table, a cup of tea in front of her. Coming up behind her, he put his arms around her. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I wasn't bein' fair to ye earlier."
She patted his arm but didn't say anything.
"Why are ye so angry with me?"
"Oh, I don't know. Perhaps because just a moment ago, my husband happily let a man point a gun at him."
"I wouldn't say I was happy about it," he said. "What else should I have done?"
"Maybe don't sacrifice yourself," she snapped. "You have a family."
"So does me sister."
Sarah slowly turned the cup of tea around on the table and didn't reply.
Pat kissed the top of her head anyway. "I love ye even if yer not lovin' me so much at the moment."
"Stop that," she replied, giving his arm a light squeeze. "You know that I love you no matter what." She sighed. "If Kate's feeling up to it, could you ask her if she would help me figure out how to make breakfast for eight people? I can hardly manage it for four."
He kissed the top of her head a second time. "I'll send her in."
Summer
Kate being free from Hugh's grasp was a relief to them all. With her in their home, Pat was nearly back to his old self. A circumstance that Sarah noted with a small hint of jealousy. With all of her love and care, he had only grown more irritable and jumpy. However Kate's presence made all the difference. But seeing him smile for the first time since before he had been admitted was enough to erase any jealousy. Sarah was simply thrilled to have him back. She had missed him so much.
Unfortunately, none of that happiness and relief helped feed four extra mouths. They were eight people all trying to live off of what John made at the mill. Sarah continued to count the money each day, noticing this time that it steadily decreased even with the money that Kate had thought to stuff into all three of her children's pockets and worry ate at her. She had even debated sending a letter to Cal, asking for his help, but she hadn't heard from him in years. The thought of reaching out after all that time for money, of all things, seemed wrong.
Pat had, finally, started looking for a job but Sarah wasn't sure just how diligent he was in his job search. She knew he was terrified of being readmitted and she was all too aware of how word of his commitment had spread throughout the city. Every day, he returned home unemployed. Either his heart wasn't into the search or simply no one was hiring. Sarah suspected it was a bit of both. All she knew was that she was afraid to speak to him about it. Afraid that he would spiral into depression once more if she brought it up. All she could do was hope that something would soon change.
The one blessing was that their garden was filled with an overabundance of shell peas. Sarah knew that everyone was likely growing sick of them, but food was food. And everyday, she went out to pick as many as she could.
After placing the filled bowl in the kitchen, she went up the stairs to change. The relentless heat, combined with the hours spent among the pea vines, left her feeling grimy and uncomfortable. As she entered her bedroom, she was met with an unexpected sight. John sat cross-legged on the floor, clutching a letter in his hand, while several others lay scattered around him.
Upon noticing her, he immediately tried to hide the letter behind his back but she had recognized it at once. It was one of the letters that John had written to her long ago. She held out her hand for it.
"I didn't mean to snoop," John said, placing the letter into her hand. "Eileen found some paint and dad said you might have an old apron hanging up here that she could wear. I really didn't mean to find them and I know I shouldn't have looked at them." He looked at the letter. "It's just...my father wrote them, before he died, right?"
"He did," she affirmed softly. "Before we married, in fact." She sighed. "I suppose there was hardly any time afterward." She took a handful of letters from the ground and flipped through them, the familiar handwriting on each and every one sending a jolt through her. "You know, we had both kept the letters we sent each other. I found the ones I had written when I was packing up his belongings, right after I moved in." She felt a lump in her throat. Those were the days that she tried the hardest to forget. "And the ones he had written, I had actually left them at home. I was so upset with myself at the time but it was a good thing I did or they'd be at the bottom of the Atlantic by now."
"How'd you get them?"
"My mother sent them to me later."
John looked around the room uncomfortably, his gaze lingering for a moment on the door. "I really didn't mean to read any of them."
Sarah smiled softly. "You can read them if you like," she said, handing the letters to him. "I know I haven't been able to bring myself to look at them again just yet."
There was a moment of silence as John stared at the letters in his hand. After a moment, he looked up. "What was he like?" He asked the question nervously as though afraid of her answer.
She took a seat beside him. "He used to tease me," she began. "Because I could never remember anyone's names. I 'd have to be told at least three or four times before it'd stick. But John…" She closed her eyes and pictured his face, an image that had grown slightly fuzzy with time. "He'd never forget a name or a face. And I swear, he made friends with everyone he met."
"You've never talked about him." It was almost accusatory.
"I think…" She paused. "If I don't speak of him or think of him, it's almost as though he never existed. I know that's not fair to him but," she sighed. "We were only married for five days. Now don't get me wrong. I loved him more than I ever thought possible. We grew up together so it's not like I didn't know him. He was my best friend. But, it was just so hard. It is so hard." Her voice broke on the words and she took a deep breath to compose herself.
"How did he die?"
It was Sarah's turn to look at the door but she made no move to leave. "Fabri was with him at the time. Do you remember Fabri? I think you were only six the last time he was here."
"Barely."
"Well, he was with your father," she continued. "They had both swum to a lifeboat but it was one that was filled with water. And it was hours before they were rescued." She tried to smile but it came out strained. "Fabri said he nearly made it. An hour longer and he might've…" The words died in her throat.
"So he didn't drown?"
Sarah shook her head.
John looked back at the letters in his hand.
"You look like him, you know," she said suddenly.
"I do?"
"Same smile." It went beyond the smile though. Sometimes when she caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye, for the briefest moment, it was as though he had come back to her.
"Do you think he would've liked me?" John asked the question with such vulnerability that she had to resist the urge to hug him tightly.
"He would've loved you more than anything in the world," she admitted. "And he'd be so, so proud of you. I know I am."
John turned his head and wiped his eyes, quickly and secretly as if hoping she wouldn't notice. He looked back at her and let out a sigh. "So when did you meet dad?"
"I met him on a lifeboat," Sarah said. "He was pulled out of the water and somehow ended up right next to me. I gave him my coat to keep him from freezing to death." It was another memory that was all too clear in her mind but it was a memory that was all her own. Pat claimed to not remember anything from that night. "We didn't speak to each other until just before we reached New York though."
"Did you fall in love immediately?"
She smiled. "No. He went back to Ireland not long after it happened. We didn't fall in love until he came back, many years later." With that, she stood and went to the closet. After a moment spent rifling through clothes, she pulled out an apron. "I'll bring this to Eileen, if you'd wish to keep reading."
"Could I?"
"I already said you could." Sarah hesitated for a moment then leaned down and gently kissed his head.
"Mom!" John tried to pull away.
"Sorry, just put them back when you're finished." With his assurance, she left the room, closing the door gently behind her, her heart fluttering oddly. She hadn't thought about John in so long that to be suddenly thrust back into that previous life, was jarring.
Sarah had been hinting at him finding a job, always skirting directly around the issue. But Pat knew she was disappointed that he hadn't found anything yet. It wasn't from lack of trying. He had gone around to every factory he could find and none were hiring. He didn't know if it was from the economy—there were already men lining up outside of the Salvation Army—or if word had gotten around about where he had been. He assumed it was likely the latter as he could practically hear everyone whispering about him whenever he left the house. Every time he ventured out, he was terrified that that would be the day he'd be sent back.
But, still he went out. It wasn't fair to put their entire well-being on John's shoulders and he needed a job. They needed the money.
Finally, feeling desperate and more than a little hopeless, he returned to the mill. Breathing in the scent of sawdust, he ignored the looks and people whispering to each other. He found Harris in his office and immediately, before he could lose his nerve, asked for his job back.
"No," Harris was quick to respond. "There's no place for you here."
There was a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"It's nothing personal," the foreman continued. "I've had to let five people go in the past week, including your brother-in-law."
"Hugh?"
"It was between him and your son and I chose to keep your son despite him being new. I would say this makes us even."
Pat thought of the freezing cold water, the dark, suffocating room, the restraints and stared at the man. "Ye think that makes us even?"
"Would you rather I fired him?"
He returned home, afterward, feeling defeated.
"Any luck?" Sarah asked the moment he came through the door.
Unable to find his voice, Pat wrapped his arms around her and, holding her tightly, buried his face against her shoulder.
Sarah ran her fingers through his hair. "I'm sure you'll find something soon."
Henry and Eileen chose that moment to noisily run by, playing some sort of game, with Bridget struggling to keep up.
"Slow down," Sarah said, letting go of him. "I never thought this house could feel so small."
They ran by a second time. And Bridget, still trying to keep up, stumbled and, falling to the ground, began to cry.
Sarah returned the toddler to her feet who immediately scampered off in search of Kate. Henry and Eileen both started speaking at once, saying the same thing but trying to talk over each other.
And Pat was suddenly overwhelmed. There were too many people. Too much noise. He couldn't breathe and he had to get out. To escape.
He went down the steps into the basement where he knew he wouldn't be followed. Eileen was afraid of it and, by extension, Henry as well. He took a seat on the rat slab floor in the same place he once sat during the terrible storm, back when everything had been going well. He took a deep breath. The room was silent, cool. Dark with the single lightbulb sending deep shadows into the corners. Peaceful.
Pat closed his eyes and tried to will himself back to an earlier time, before the asylum, before they lost their savings, before everything terrible that had happened in the past couple of years.
There was a gentle touch on his arm. "Pat?"
He opened his eyes to see Kate sitting beside him. He ran a hand over his face. "It was too noisy."
"I know," she replied. "It'll be alright, ye know. Yer bound to find somethin' soon."
"Ye don't know that."
"Yer a hard worker and yer reliable," she said. "That counts for a great deal more than ye might think. Someone will see that."
Pat suddenly remembered his conversation with Harris. "Hugh's been fired," he said.
"He's what?"
"I was at the mill today, askin' for me job back. Harris told me that he had let him go."
"Ye were at the mill?"
He shrugged. "I'm runnin' out of places to look. No one who's hirin' wants anythin' to do with me. And now, there's eight of us tryin' to make ends meet on $20 a week. And poor John is the only one keepin' us all from starvin'. It's not fair to him." Once he began speaking, there was no holding back the words. All of his thoughts, his worries came out in a rush. "Ye know, this is what I was afraid of," he admitted. "That I wouldn't be able to take care of Sarah. I shouldn't have married her. It's been nothin' but misery ever since that day."
"Ah, yes. Nothin' says misery like the birth of yer daughter," Kate said sarcastically. But then her voice softened. "I miss the Pat who never worried about a thing. What on earth happened to him?"
"He froze to death long ago."
A silence fell around them broken only by a faint scratching. He thought it was likely a mouse and wondered if they should look for a cat. He immediately pushed the idea from his head. He couldn't take care of the people currently living in the house; it'd be absurd to add another member.
"Ye truly believe that Sarah would be better off without ye?" Kate asked suddenly, breaking the silence. "She'd follow ye to the ends of the earth, as would John and Eileen. That's not me tryin' to make ye feel better. It's simple fact."
"She's not…she wouldn't…" Pat put his face in his hands. Maybe Sarah would, at one time, have followed him anywhere but he didn't feel so certain anymore.
She rubbed his back. "It'll be alright," she said softly. "I mean, for the love of God, we're Irish. We can survive anythin'." She smiled. "And we can always eat the turkey."
"Good luck findin' anyone willin' to kill it."
"Mama?" A small voice came from the top of the stairs.
"Yer shadow is lookin' for ye."
Kate sighed as she returned to her feet. "I'm startin' to think I've spoiled her."
"Just a wee bit," Pat replied. "But it's hard not to spoil them."
A terrible thunderstorm struck out of nowhere and Caroline was thrilled. She stood at the window and clapped her hands after every boom of thunder. Fabrizio didn't understand their strange child who was delighted by every little thing, entirely oblivious to the worries of the world. He wished that he and Lelia had even the tiniest bit of her optimism, particularly after their bank closed unexpectedly, taking their savings with it. But they were cursed with being adults and knowing the way the world worked. He knew that losing their savings wasn't the worst thing in the world as they were both still working but he couldn't help but worry what might happen next. More and more people were losing their jobs, people he worked with, and he wondered when his own turn would come.
As the thunderstorm roared around them, Lelia suggested playing a game to take their mind off things. He agreed and they began setting up the board.
"I wanna play," Caroline said, turning away from the window.
"Of course, you can," Lelia said, setting out a piece for her. "Now how do we play?"
Fabrizio looked at the instructions and frowned. "The green cards represent title deeds to lots, charters for franchises, and broker's license. The original price of each card is marked on the card as well as on corresponding board space. Each player has the privilege of buying any cards which have been dealt, the price being paid into public treasury." He looked at the board then back at the instructions in his hand. "I think we each get $500 to start."
"If only it was real," Lelia said as she passed out the money. "What do we do with the green cards?"
"We pass those out too."
Caroline picked up one of the playing pieces and studied it intently.
"Don't you dare put that in your mouth," Lelia cautioned.
The toddler slowly set it back down.
She looked toward the bedroom where baby Maria slept peacefully and smiled as she turned back to her husband. "So what was next?"
Fabrizio read on further. "If a player's throw bring him to the speculation space he may refuse to move. If he elects to play, the ownership of speculation card for broker's license is determined as are title deeds under rule 7. The player pays $10 ante to the broker. Then he throws his dice again, and if he throws a double, he wins $100 and pays ten percent of his winnings to holder of speculation card." He looked up at her, his brow furrowed. "Where did we get this from?"
"Wedding present from my parents," she replied, looking equally confused.
"I think they must hate us."
"Are there any simpler instructions? Because I'm completely lost."
"Every space has its own rules and…uh…"
Lelia glanced at the board then back at him, raising an eyebrow.
"We figure it out as we go, yes?" Fabrizio picked up the dice and held them out.
She rolled and moved her piece along the board. "DF Hogg's Game Preserves," she read. "No trespassing. Go to jail."
"You heard the board," Fabrizio said with a laugh. "Go to jail. But it's fine. I break you out."
They continued playing, inventing rules as they went along. Caroline moved her own piece as she pleased, occasionally reaching across the table to pilfer money from her parents. And the thunderstorm continued around them.
Finally, Lelia moved Fabrizio's piece onto one of her own squares. "And now you owe me $400."
"I didn't move that," he said. "You moved it."
"Did not."
"Did so. I see you move it."
"Caroline, did I move daddy's piece?"
The toddler shook her head. Her interest had been fading the longer they played and now she looked both bored and sleepy.
"That's it, you going back to jail." Fabrizio picked up her piece and moved it to jail.
"In that case, I'm stealing all of your money," she replied in feigned outrage. She reached across the board for his money.
"You can't steal my money," he pointed out. "You're in jail."
"Well, I just did. Now you're broke and I win."
"But you're in jail." Fabrizio looked over in time to see Caroline let out a big yawn. "I think maybe game over," he said, gesturing to their tired toddler. He scooped her up and carried her into the bedroom where she immediately curled up in bed.
Lelia had followed him and he gently pushed her out of the room with a playful smile. "I think we stay out here for a time, yes?"
She smiled. "I'm not one to argue."
Fabrizio usually didn't mind their small apartment but occasionally, he wished they had a bit more privacy that didn't involve stealing quiet moments on the sofa while their children slept.
Fall
John had been making an honest effort to spend more time with Dottie as he worried that she thought he was ignoring their friendship. But it was a difficult thing to do when every waking hour seemed to be spent at the mill. The dirty, noisy, dangerous mill. He wished more than anything that he could quit but knew that their money was running dangerously low. Everyone was starting to eye the turkey and he would be damned if he let anyone eat Moose.
But, lately, whenever he went in search of his friend, he found Jimmy hovering around her. He couldn't help but worry that he was being replaced as her friend by the worst person in the world. Surely, Dottie had higher standards in friendship than that.
Finally, he caught Jimmy alone, seemingly waiting outside of Dottie's house. John went straight up to him and gave him a shove. "You need to leave her alone."
"What are you talking about?"
"Dottie," John clarified. "Leave her alone."
Jimmy looked at the house and frowned. "I don't think I'm bothering her."
"I think you are."
"Are you sweet on her?"
"No," John replied defensively. "Why would I be?"
Jimmy shrugged. "I wouldn't blame you if you were. She's the prettiest girl in school and you two are always together. At least you used to be."
"I'm not sweet on her. We're just friends," John said. "And I just don't think she'd like someone like you hovering around her all the time."
"What do you mean by someone like me?"
"I mean someone who likes to spread lies about people they don't even know." No matter how many years might pass, John had never been able to move past the things Jimmy used to say about his father.
"It wasn't a lie though, was it?" Jimmy asked. He shook his head. "I am sorry though. I shouldn't have said any of it. I was just repeating what my father would say and…I don't know." He shrugged.
John stared at him as he tried to determine whether he was being sincere or not. But he didn't need to respond as he was saved by the arrival of Dottie.
"There you are," she said, ignoring Jimmy entirely. "Let's go see a movie." She stuck her arm around his and pulled him away.
"I don't have any money."
"It'll be my treat."
John pulled his arm free and gave her a look.
"Oh, stop it," she said. "If it makes you feel better, you can always pay me back later."
He watched the trees as they walked by, the leaves turning vivid shades of red and yellow. He was grateful that he was nearing the end of the working season at the mill but was afraid to think of how they might get through winter without any income at all. He shook his head suddenly, pushing the worry from his mind.
"So what was that all about?" Dottie asked. "You and Jimmy, I mean."
"He apologized."
She raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Yeah, I can't sort it out either," John replied with a shrug. "But I think he meant it. Maybe he hit his head."
"Or he was visited by three ghosts last night."
They both laughed.
John gave her a sideways glance. "You know, I think he might like you."
"Me?" Dottie considered silently for a moment and then she shrugged. "He's still ugly though."
As they walked together, he looked at her again, trying to see what Jimmy meant by calling her the 'prettiest girl.' He supposed she wasn't ugly. Her hair looked soft and she had nice eyes and her cherry red lips—
"Since when did you start wearing lipstick?"
"Since I stopped being a child," Dottie replied. "You like it?" She kissed the air.
"It's alright."
Sarah tried her hardest to stop worrying, to stop the thoughts and worst case scenarios from running through her mind. But as she laid in bed, pressed against Pat, his arm tightly encircling her as he planted kisses along the nape of her neck, all she could think about was the dwindling supply of cash hidden in the pantry. She couldn't help but let out a heavy sigh.
"Alright, what's wrong?" Pat asked, stopping abruptly.
"It's nothing," she replied, knowing full well that anything she said would likely lead to an argument. All of their conversations seemed to lead to arguments lately, particularly if the question of money was involved.
"Is that so? Because yer clearly deep in thought."
She turned over to look at him. "You are still looking for a job, right?" She tried to phrase the question as softly as she could.
"Ye think I'm not?"
"No, that's not…" Sarah shook her head. "I'm just a bit worried."
"And ye think I'm not worried?"
"You certainly don't seem as concerned."
A weighty silence hung between them as Pat withdrew his arm from around her waist. "We're penniless, not a soul will give me a job, and soon we'll be havin' to eat the children. Is that enough worry for ye?"
She reached for his hand, fingers intertwining with his as she held it close. "I think you'd want to eat the turkey before starting on the children," she said, trying to salvage the moment before it could turn into a full-fledged argument."
Pat smiled. "I imagine the turkey would be harder to catch."
Sarah laughed.
He shifted his position over her and kissed her deeply.
"Pat," Sarah began, her voice soft as his lips lightly brushed her neck. "I was thinking that maybe I should find a job. I know there's factories that only hire women."
"Absolutely not. I don't want ye workin'."
"Pat..."
"Ye shouldn't have to," he explained. "I'm supposed to be takin' care of ye."
"What if I take in sewing? I've done that before," she continued. "Or we can take in lodgers, like Kate used to do. Don't know where we'd put them all but I suppose we'll find a place."
"Aye, because we can't even feed our own children, so why not bring another soul to feed."
Sarah pushed him away. "Then how about you come up with some of your own ideas," she snapped. "Because every time I come up with one, you immediately dismiss it."
"I'm not dismissin' them," Pat replied. "They're just terrible ideas. I'm the one who ought to be providin' for ye."
"And are you?" Her voice took on an edge. "Because right now your children are hungry."
"Ye mean child."
Sarah gave him a sharp look.
"I didn't intend it that way," he was quick to say. "What I meant was, John's eighteen now and he's not a child anymore. I'd say ye should stop treatin' him like a child, but I don't think ye ever have."
Sarah's anger flared and she felt the urgent need to distance herself from him. She sat up abruptly and reached for her robe.
"Where are ye goin'?"
"To sleep on the sofa," she replied firmly. "I don't want to be near you right now."
"Katie's sleepin' on the sofa."
Sarah hesitated. She had momentarily forgotten their overcrowded house. "Then I'll sleep on the floor beside it."
"Don't bother," Pat said. "I'll go. Ye can stay here."
After he left the room, Sarah lay there, regretting the way their conversation had unfolded. It was the way too many of them had gone lately. With a heavy sigh, she pulled the blanket up over her head.
Kate appreciated having a safe place to stay for her and her children but she yearned to go home where there was space to breathe. Where she was currently was overcrowded and noisy, with Bridget and Henry often crying over the toys they had left behind. There was never enough food and Pat and Sarah's arguments had become a regular occurrence, as they seemed to take turns being angry with each other. She couldn't help but feel responsible. Taking on the extra burden of feeding twice as many people had strained their relationship to the very edge.
"Sarah," Kate said, seizing a rare moment to catch her friend alone. "Are ye and Pat doin' alright?"
"We're doing fine."
"Ye seem to be fightin' a lot."
"I wouldn't call it a lot."
"He slept on the floor last night."
Sarah sighed and turned to her, placing her hands on her hips. "Kate, is this going somewhere?"
"I just want to ensure that the pair of ye are fairin' well," Kate responded. "I'd hate to think that me bein' here is drivin' the two of ye apart."
"I can assure you that it has nothing to do with you being here," Sarah replied, her expression softening.
Kate immediately went in search of Pat and, finding him, managed to corner him. "What is goin' on with ye and Sarah?"
"What do ye mean?"
"The two of ye are fightin' like children."
His eyes narrowed. "And ye think it's all me fault?"
"I didn't say that," Kate replied. "But is it?"
"Sarah's the one flyin' off the handle every other minute."
"And I've no doubt yer actions are helpin' the situation."
Pat looked irritated. "Katie, would ye kindly let us be?" he implored. "It's none of yer concern."
"Maybe not, but I can tell ye right now, yer fortunate to have her," Kate said. "Ye ought to be offerin' an apology and beggin' for forgiveness, no matter what ye may or may not have done."
"I haven't done a thing that warrants an apology."
Kate raised an eyebrow. "Really? I find that—"
She was interrupted by an urgent pounding on the front door.
Pat gave her a look then moved to open it. "Who are ye?" He asked the young man standing there.
"Is Kate here?" The man asked. He twisted his hat around in his hands as he tried to peer into the house.
Kate came up beside her brother. The man looked familiar but she couldn't place where she had seen him before.
"Oh, good, I've found you," he said. "I went to your house first but there was no one there and then I remembered Vera saying you had a brother down the street and I was hoping you'd be here and here you are."
"Wally." His name suddenly came to her. "What's goin' on?"
"Vera's gone."
"I'm sorry to hear it," Kate replied. "She always has been a bit flighty."
Wally gave her a puzzled look. "Why aren't ye upset?"
She shook her head. "I feel for ye but I'm not sure what ye're hopin' I can do about it," she replied. "I haven't exchanged a word with Vera in years." Not since the day she had so brazenly flirted with her husband, in fact.
"Oh, you don't know."
"What don't I know?"
"Vera left me this note." Wally pulled it out of his pocket and held it out.
The note was wrinkled and the ink was smeared—she suspected from Wally's tears—but she began to read:
My dearest Wally,
You know of what great esteem I hold you in. How could I not? You are the most sweetest person I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. But, and you must know how greatly it pains my heart to write these words to you. You who are so dear to me. Who I care about so much. But I must speak my truth and I must follow wherever my heart leads. I know how greatly you love me and how you must wish the same for me.
It is with the greatest feeling that I must break your heart. I've run away with Hugh. My soulmate. I know how this must break your heart but I'm terribly sorry for any pain you must be feeling. I'm in love with Hugh and he loves me and we're to be together forever. He's told me that it was time I lived my own life. That he had been in love with me from the first moment he laid eyes on me.
In my heart, I hold onto the hope that, with time, our paths may cross again, not as lovers but as dear friends.
I know you will forgive me.
With all my heart,
Vera
It was a strange feeling to recognize the same lines Hugh had once used on her. Encouraging her to live her own life. Telling her that he had loved her from the first moment he laid eyes on her. Her heart broke for Vera. If only she knew what she was getting herself into.
"I am so sorry," Wally said. "I think they may have been having an affair for some time now. I feel so foolish for not realizing it." He let out a sigh. "God, I am so sorry for being the one to tell you this."
"Oh, that poor girl." Kate shook her head as she was suddenly overwhelmed with a deep sense of relief as though a weight she hadn't even realized she had been carrying was lifted off her shoulders. She handed the letter to Pat, who read it in silence.
Then, without a word, he hugged her from behind, lifting her briefly off her feet. "I'm goin' to find Sarah," he said after letting her go.
Kate fought to keep from smiling. I can go home, was all she could think. I'm free.
Lelia hummed softly as she rocked Maria in her arms. She had taken the child, who was still not quite sleeping through the night, out to the sitting room to prevent Fabrizio and Caroline from being disturbed. With Maria finally asleep, Lelia didn't dare move. Instead, she gazed out of the window at the brightly lit city that always seemed so alive as she enjoyed the peace and quiet inside her own home.
There was a sudden noise outside the door and she looked up in time to see it slowly begin to open. Lelia looked at the baby in her arms then toward the bedroom. There was no way to wake Fabrizio without passing directly in front of the door. Just as a man stepped into the room, she ducked behind the sofa. She watched as he began going through their belongings as he methodically made his way around the room.
Carefully, Lelia set the sleeping child on the floor. She then took up a knitting needle from a nearby basket and waited. The moment he was nearly on her, she reached forward and drove the needle into his foot. He let out a shout, startling Maria awake who immediately began to cry.
Lelia tried to run past him but he grabbed her with an arm around her waist. "Oh, no you don't," he hissed.
But then Fabrizio was there and he struck the man.
Freed from his grasp, Lelia went back to Maria and scooped her from the ground. She watched as Fabrizio struck the man a second and then a third time. Finally, he seized the intruder, dragging him to the door and unceremoniously tossing him down the steps.
He returned a moment later, clearly angry. "You alright?"
"I'm fine," Lelia replied, her voice a little shaky. "Will he be back." Maria had already quieted down in her arms and was nearly asleep once again.
"I don't think so but I'll stay awake just in case."
Caroline stood in the doorway, watching them. Lelia pressed a grateful kiss to Fabrizio's cheek before ushering the toddler back to bed. After she had put Maria down, she came back out to the sitting room. The thought of sleeping seemed absurd after what had happened.
Lelia settled beside Fabrizio on the sofa and rested her head on his shoulder. "Maybe we should move," she suggested.
"You want four rooms?"
"I want someplace safer."
Fabrizio took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "We look into it in morning," he promised.
"Four rooms would be nice," Lelia said, after a moment. "The girls could have their own room and we could have some privacy again."
"Privacy would be nice," he agreed.
She smiled and closed her eyes, feeling entirely safe and secure with him by her side.
Winter
The woods lay under a serene stillness, blanketed by a layer of pristine white. Thick clumps of snow clung to the branches, dropping onto their heads as they passed beneath. Eileen was bundled up in a coat that was at least a size too large and a thick scarf that obscured half of her face. Pat slowed his pace but still she struggled to keep up as they trudged through the snow on the ground. He had offered to carry her once but she immediately refused, preferring the struggle instead.
They had been out in the woods for an hour already, searching for the perfect Christmas tree but, thus far, Eileen had found fault with every tree they passed: too tall, too short, too skinny, too green...none were right.
"What about this one?" Pat asked, looking at the next tree.
Eileen scrutinized it for a moment before shaking her head. "It's too pointy."
"Too pointy?"
But she had already moved on to the next tree, circling it slowly before letting out a dramatic sigh. "Not enough room for presents."
Pat swallowed back his anxiety at her comment. He didn't know how they were going to afford any presents when they could hardly afford food. He feared that Eileen was only going to be disappointed. As they walked onward, he could hear the river through the trees. He hadn't realized they were so close to it. Pat quickly grabbed Eileen's arm to slow her down.
"I just want to see," she insisted.
He looked at the eager expression on her face and felt his resolve crumble. "Fine," Pat said. "But ye need to be holdin' me hand."
They approached the river together, Eileen obediently keeping close to him. Memories of a time nearly twenty years earlier flashed through his mind, when Katie had fallen into the water and he had gone in after her. The large tree still leaned precariously over the river, seemingly closer to the water's surface than the last time he had seen it. And he wondered how much longer it would last before taking the plunge itself.
"There!" She exclaimed, pointing across the river. "That tree there."
Pat laughed. "How about we search for one on this side of the river?"
"But it's perfect." Her voice had developed a slight whine.
"I'm sure there'll be a perfect one over here."
She stomped her feet in the snow. "But there won't be."
"Ye don't know that."
"We've already looked at them all."
"Nah," Pat said, gently pulling her away from the river. "We haven't checked over here yet."
The search continued and, finally, they found a tree that fit Eileen's high standards.
"I want to do it," she said, holding out her hands for the ax.
"Alright, but don't be tellin' yer mother." Pat removed her mittens and positioned her hands on the ax handle.
"It's heavy."
"It surely is," he agreed. "Now, ye're goin' to give it a good swing and aim right here. As hard as ye can."
Eileen focused and then swung the ax. It hit the trunk with a thunk but only the smallest chip of wood came off.
"Try it again."
She struck the tree a second time, making another tiny notch. She sighed. "Can you do it?"
Pat took the ax from her and she returned her hands to their mittens. With a few steady strokes, he chopped down the tree. He took hold of the trunk and began dragging it.
"Let me do it," Eileen said.
Pat stepped back. "Go right ahead."
She gripped the trunk with both hands and pulled. The tree refused to budge. Her feet slipped out from under her and she fell back into the snow. "Okay, you do it," she said, scrambling back to her feet.
He laughed. "Come next year, ye'll be strong enough to do this all yerself." With that, he took hold of the tree once more and began dragging it along behind them as they headed homeward.
"Can we have some hot cocoa when we get home?" Eileen asked.
"Maybe."
"That means no."
"That means maybe," Pat replied. "We'll need to see if we have any cocoa first."
"Can I have a sled?" She asked, changing the subject.
"A sled?"
"For Christmas, I mean."
"There's no hills around here," he pointed out.
"But you can pull me."
Pat laughed. "We'll see." He didn't know how they would be able to afford a sled but he thought that there might be a chance at finding a second hand one. At least he hoped. He hated the thought of Eileen being disappointed on Christmas morning, finding nothing beneath the tree. Being poor wasn't fair to her.
Cal found himself sitting at the bar of the 21 Club, nursing a drink. It had been years since he had last set foot in the establishment. The lively jazz band still played in the dimly lit corner of the room, but the once-crowded space had thinned out—a casualty of the tough times that seemed to weigh on everyone. He wouldn't have found himself there at all if he had any inkling of what to do or where to go next. He had wanted out of his marriage for so long, but he had never given a thought as to what might come afterward.
A voice, soft and familiar, sliced through his thoughts. "Well, if it isn't you," the woman beside him remarked.
Cal looked around the room to see who she was speaking to, before realizing that her words were directed at him. "Do I know you?"
The woman raised her eyebrow. "I'll try not to be too offended as it has been quite some time. Ten years, I believe."
A hazy memory of a barefoot woman surfaced in his mind. "Alice?"
"That's me," she replied with a warm smile.
"And here you are in the same spot I left you," Cal observed. He couldn't help but notice that, for once, she was wearing shoes.
She laughed lightly. "That's hardly fair," she replied. "I've been married for years now. I even have a baby back at home."
"I'm sorry," Cal said. "I didn't mean to imply that you lived here."
"I would if I could, believe me."
He looked around the room. "Is your husband here?"
"He's in the bathroom. Poor man can't hold his liquor," Alice replied. "I'll introduce you once he comes back." She took a sip of her drink. "Now you," she said, studying his face. "You haven't changed much at all. Well, aside from a touch of gray. You look just as sad as you ever did."
'I'm not sad," he said defensively. "Just unsure."
"About what?"
Cal directed his attention to his drink and didn't reply. He hardly knew the young woman well enough to unload his troubles on her poor shoulders.
"Fine, then. You don't need to tell me but maybe I can help you anyway," Alice said. "I'm good at helping people make decisions. I did help my husband choose me, after all."
"I don't need any help," he replied. "And who says I'm trying to make a decision?"
"What else could make you feel unsure?" She leaned in closer. "Is it about a woman?"
Cal gave her a sharp look.
"I knew it. And you're trying to decide whether you should pursue her or not?" Alice was nearly gleeful with the asking. "Do you like her?"
"I'm not playing this game."
"So you do like her," she replied with a satisfied smile on her lips. "What's holding you back, then?"
"A lot of things." Cal tried to step away from her but she followed him closely.
"Let's try this then. If there were no consequences, no barriers, no rules," she began. "What would you do?"
"I don't know."
"I think you do know," Alice insisted.
"It's not that simple."
"It is that simple."
"It's really not," Cal said sharply.
Alice sighed. "We can go in circles all night but the problem is that you're not listening to yourself," she said, her voice taking on a gentle but firm tone. "Cal. What do you want?"
Kate was relieved to be able to return home. The worry had nagged at her, the thought that Hugh might have done something terrible to it—maybe sold it or razed it to the ground. He knew how much she loved the house and she could hardly believe that he had left it untouched, just as much as she could hardly believe he was gone. Hugh had packed his bag, absconded with whatever remnants of money dwelled within those walls, and then vanished, leaving her free at last.
Despite the cold weather, Kate flung open every window in the house, inviting the biting cold inside as she attempted to freshen the stale air. She'd gathered what little was left of Hugh's possessions and debated the idea of setting them ablaze. Since her return, she had methodically gone from one room to the next, scrubbing tirelessly. Just as she longed to cleanse his touch from her skin, she was equally determined to purge his lingering presence from the house.
Kate hummed as she gathered up a stack of rugs and carried them outside, intent on giving them a good shaking out. The humming ceased abruptly, replaced by a sharp intake of breath as her gaze fell upon Cal standing by the road. Her eyes widened and the rugs tumbled from her grasp.
"I asked ye to come," she said, her steps closing the distance between them. "I needed ye."
He shifted uncomfortably, his shoulders slumping. "I'm so sorry," he replied.
"When Sarah needed ye, ye were here without fail, but the instant I needed ye, ye couldn't even be bothered to respond," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "Why didn't ye come?"
"I couldn't…" He sighed heavily. "I needed to end my marriage first."
"Ye didn't kill her, did ye?"
He shook his head firmly. "No, I divorced her."
"Well, I tried to kill Hugh," she said, nonchalantly.
Cal's eyes widened. "What?"
"I couldn't go through with it."
"Where is he now?"
"Gone," she replied with a touch of relief, a smile playing on her lips. "Ran off with another woman.
"I'm sorry."
"I'm not."
"No, I'm sorry I didn't come when you asked," he said, his voice filled with genuine remorse. "Kate, I should have–"
Without another word, she silenced him with a deep kiss.
"So you don't want me to leave then?"
She shook her head vehemently, her arms wrapping around him tightly. "Never."
