Winter
John couldn't stop thinking about Dottie's words. She had been right, as she usually was. He never did try to make any other friends. He never felt the need as he always had her. But, he certainly didn't have her now. All he had was his father who, admittedly, was not the greatest company. He liked his father but he always had a hard time talking to him.
It was with a surprising amount of effort that he managed to find a group of miners near his own age and befriend them. They were rougher around the edges and John knew they had very little in common—aside from the mine itself—but they seemed to accept him. He was still surprised when they invited him to go ice fishing with them.
Fernan Lake was unlike anything he had seen before. The large lake, frozen into a glittering white mirror, was surrounded by evergreen filled hills. An impromptu hockey game had broken out in the distance and he could see other groups fishing.
One of the miners gave him the choice of a tip up or a fishing rod. As John had never heard of a tip up and suspected they were having him on, he accepted the fishing rod. He stood off to one side, holding onto it tightly as the others drilled holes into the ice. Some set out small wooden contraptions with tiny flags that he assumed must be the tip ups.
At last, he baited his rod but when he tried to lower it into the water, somehow the line tangled. He didn't know how it had happened and, as he yanked on it, the tangle only grew worse. John could hear the others sniggering and knew it was directed at him. He suddenly recalled why he never put himself out there, why he didn't need any friends aside from Dottie. Eventually, someone took pity on him and took over, adeptly fixing his line.
John sat back on his folding chair and breathed a sigh of relief, watching his breath fog in the cold air. He listened to the others talk among themselves for a time, grateful that they seemed to have forgotten him entirely.
"How come you don't have an accent like your father?" One of them suddenly directed a question at him.
It still took John a moment to realize they were talking to him. "He's my stepfather," he replied. "My real father died before I was born."
"Who was your father?"
"John. I'm named after him."
"How'd he die?" Another man asked, almost eagerly. "Did your mother kill him?"
"No, of course not." John bristled at the accusation. "He was on the Titanic ."
They all seemed to lean forward in their seats, their eyes drilled into him. "Really?" The first man asked. "I heard they shot a bunch of people."
"I don't know." John looked at his fishing rod and willed a fish to bite…anything to deflect from the line of questioning but his line remained still.
"I heard there were men who dressed as women to get on a boat," the second man said. "Was your father one of them?"
"Considering he died, I'd assume not." John was glad that he didn't bring up Pat being there as well as he still didn't know how he had survived. His mother had mentioned meeting him on a lifeboat but his father refused to speak of it.
The questions continued through the rest of the trip and John answered them the best he could, growing steadily more and more uncomfortable. The group seemed to find his answers amusing and he could feel his face grow red with each round of laughter.
Later, when he was safely back in the bunkhouse, Pat asked him how the trip had gone.
"Fine," John replied simply. He knew that Pat wanted to press for more information so he changed the subject before he had the chance. "What was the Titanic like?"
Pat was taken aback. "It was…fine."
"Before it sank, you mean?"
"Aye, before it sank."
"Aunt Kate was there too?"
"She was," Pat replied. He seemed to be briefly lost in his thoughts before he spoke up again. "I was only your age when it happened."
"You were?" John couldn't imagine going through something so horrifying. He could hardly survive a single awkward conversation let alone a sinking ship. "How did you survive?" He asked the question he had been most curious about, knowing that he was unlikely to receive an response.
There was a pause and for a moment he thought Pat was going to turn and walk away but then, to his surprise, he answered. "I don't know how I survived," he said. "I shouldn't have."
"But how—"
"I was searchin' for yer aunt at the time because I had lost her. But the ship was a maze and I got lost meself." Pat brought a hand over his face and sighed. "I managed to make it up to the boat deck at the last possible moment and somehow I ended up in the water. God, it was so cold. I could hardly…" His voice faltered. "There was a boat that had been overturned and I somehow managed to make me way to it. I held onto it as tightly as I could. Ye see, I had to survive for Katie." He fidgeted with his sleeve. "I don't recall much after that, at least until I woke up on the Carpathia ."
"Mom said she met you on a lifeboat."
"That is what she says and sometimes I wish I could remember it."
"You never talk about it." John hadn't meant for his words to come off as an accusation but he was afraid they came off harsher than he had intended.
"Of course not," Pat replied. "It's terrible enough that I have to relive it every time I close me eyes. Why should I have to do so when I'm awake?"
"Is it true that—"
"I'd rather not speak more about it, if ye don't mind."
And with that the conversation was over, leaving John surprised it had happened at all in the first place.
Cal may not have been able to see his children, but he still wrote to them on a regular basis. He never received a reply but he hoped it was only Dinah being Dinah and that his children hadn't decided to cut him out entirely. At least, he hoped Arthur wouldn't. Kate had suggested that they weren't receiving the letters and urged him to continue regardless. They might find them someday.
Finally, a letter arrived addressed to him. He opened it quickly and his eye immediately caught Victor's name signed at the bottom of the page.
Dear sir,
Certain rumors have reached us in Philadelphia and your continuing to write is now inappropriate. I must ask you to refrain in the future. As you know and as Arthur's older brother, it falls on me to look out for his impressionable well-being. I'm certain you will respect my wishes.
Respectfully,
Victor Hockley
Cal could hear Dinah's voice in the letter, lurking behind each and every word but it didn't hurt any less. He read it a second time and with each syllable, he could feel his world being torn away piece by piece. He knew he had lost his children long ago but he still had clung to the distant hope that he could somehow keep them in his life, even if it was on the farthest periphery. But now he saw with startling clarity that it couldn't happen. The relationship was gone. Crumbled into dust by Dinah's hand.
He stared at the letter in front of him, willing the letters to form different words, to say a different message but they remained in place, taunting him. Certain rumors. He wondered what those rumors might've been. Everyone knew about the divorce. Everyone knew about his financial situation—and he was hardly alone in it. It had to have been Kate and Dinah must've still been keeping an eye on him. Still trying to turn his children against him.
He had lost them. His children were gone. The thought repeated itself through his mind, loudly rattling around his head. Unceasing. He looked around the room, hoping to see Kate but she had gone to visit Sarah and hadn't yet returned. He put his face in his hands and tried to push the grating thought away but it only grew louder, more persistent. There must've been something he could've done differently.
And then, Cal couldn't take it a single moment longer. His thoughts would drive him mad. He went to the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of bourbon and a glass. He poured himself a small amount and threw it back. His gaze landed on the letter once more. The letter telling him that his children wanted nothing to do with him. What had he done wrong? He supposed it was a myriad of things or it was Dinah's doing. It had to have been. He refilled his glass, looked at the liquor within, and then filled it to the top.
Cal brought it to the table where the letter sat and looked at it again. He wanted to write a response but his mind had gone blank except for the thoughts that wouldn't stop. He supposed it didn't matter. Anything he did wrong would be wrong. He knew that. Why would his children want anything to do with him? He refilled his glass once more.
"A little early isn't it?" Tommy asked, sliding into the seat beside him.
Cal startled at his arrival, having not heard him come into the room. "It's not that early." Early, late…it made no difference.
Tommy studied his glass. "Can I have some?"
Without thinking, Cal slid the glass over. "Don't tell your mother."
The child took a small sip and made a face. "That's terrible."
"It's not about the taste." At least, it was no longer about the taste. He drank because it quieted the voice in his head, because it smoothed over the jagged edges in his world.
Tommy reached for the glass but Cal snatched it out of his grasp. "No, one sip is all you get. Your mother would murder me in my sleep otherwise."
"She might anyway if she knew you were drinking so early in the morning."
"It's not that early," Cal repeated himself. "I've been up for hours."
"I haven't."
"You overslept."
Tommy drummed his fingers on the table. "How come you don't work?"
Cal let out a sigh, irritated by the endless questions. All he wanted was to be alone with his bourbon and his letter. "I am working."
"It doesn't look like it."
"I own several factories. They do the working for me."
"What sort of factories?"
"Steel," Cal replied. "Hockley steel…best there is." He took another drink.
Tommy's gaze drifted to the letter and he grabbed it.
Cal pulled it from his hand but not quickly enough.
"Is that from your son?" Tommy asked.
"It is."
"He's sort of rude."
"I suppose he is."
"Do you miss him?"
Cal looked at the bourbon in his glass and then took a slow drink before answering. "I miss both of my children."
"You'd think Arthur could make up his own mind if he wanted to hear from you or not."
"You would think."
Tommy turned the bottle of bourbon around so he could see the label. "Old Forester," he read. "You know, if I ever went away, you could write to me. Although I don't like writing so I probably won't write back."
"Thank you. I appreciate the thought." And Cal did. For all of Tommy's anger, he was a good kid.
Kate chose that moment to come into the room. She took one look at the bottle of bourbon and immediately removed it from the table. "Tommy, don't ye have school work needin' to be done?" She asked as she returned the bottle to its place in the cabinet.
"It's Saturday."
"Perfect day to be takin' care of it."
Tommy let out a groan as he left the room.
The moment he was gone, Kate turned to Cal. "So what's happened now?"
Cal handed her the letter to read.
"Oh, I'm truly sorry," she said, after reading it. She leaned over his chair to offer him a hug. "But ye do know that drinkin' won't help ye get them back."
He shrugged. "It was worth a try," he replied, before draining his glass.
"I'm goin' to make ye some coffee." Kate gently ran a hand through his hair. "It's too early to be drinkin'."
"I told you!" Tommy's voice came from the other room.
"Schoolwork, now!" Kate called back. She turned to start the coffee.
"It's Dinah's doing, you know," Cal mused. "It must be." He had to believe it. He had to hold on to the tiniest bit of hope that his children, if left to their own devices, would still want something to do with him."
"I'm sure it is," she replied softly. "And I think ye should still keep writin'. Just in case."
Cal sighed. "Maybe I will. I'm sure it couldn't make anything worse than it already is." He stood and pulled Kate to him. "At least I have you," he said, giving her a light kiss.
She smiled. "Ye'll always have me."
Pat was exhausted with a sort of bone-weary exhaustion that he had never felt when working at the sawmill. Part of him wondered if he was too old for such physically demanding work or whether it was the year spent in the asylum that did it. Or maybe it was a combination of both. All he knew was that he was always tired. Always sore.
He left the mess hall early, his dinner hardly touched, and trudged through the ankle deep snow as he followed the familiar path leading to the bunkhouse. As he neared, he spotted a young woman walking back and forth, her eyes glued to the ground, and a knit hat pulled low over her blonde hair. Pat watched her for a moment and debated walking past. But his curiosity got the better of him.
"Are ye lost?"
The woman looked up. "I'm not lost but I've lost a button." She spoke with an Irish lilt that made Pat homesick to hear.
"In the snow?"
"Nah, in the air," she replied. "Of course, in the snow. That'd be why I'm lookin' down. Could ye help me?"
Pat gave the bunkhouse a longing look, imagining his bed and wanting more than anything to lie down on it, and sighed. "Yer Irish?" He asked as he joined in the search.
"Nah, I just like the accent."
He gave her a look.
"Sorry, I'm from Clerihan."
"Yet not." He knew the town well, it being not far from where he had grown up.
"Why would I be lyin' about it?"
"I'm from Fethard," Pat explained. "Or was before me family moved to Queenstown."
"And now here ye are in the Sunshine Minin' Camp."
"Yer here too."
The woman shrugged. "Aye, well me husband's here and I go where he goes. I'm Johanna, by the way."
"Pat and I think yer button's gone."
She laughed. "I'm startin' to think that meself."
Pat considered the odds of running into someone who grew up so close to where he did, in Idaho of all the places in the world. It seemed so unlikely.
"I best be gettin' back to it," Johanna said. "It was nice to meet ye. Maybe later we can talk of home?"
"That'd be nice."
John came up behind him and gave her a sharp look. "You didn't eat?" He asked Pat.
"Wasn't all that hungry."
"Mom's going to lose her mind if she knew you weren't eating."
Pat looked toward Johanna but she had already left. "I'm fine," he replied. "I'll eat when I'm hungry." He started toward the bunkhouse once more.
"Who was that?" John asked as they went inside.
"Johanna."
"Johanna who?" There was an unmistakable note of suspicion in his voice.
"Don't know," Pat replied. "I only just met her. She was lookin' for a button she lost."
"And I suppose you helped her find it."
"Nah, the button's lost for good," Pat said, collapsing onto his bed. "And ye can stop interrogatin' me. I love yer mother more than anythin' and ye know that."
"I just wanted to make sure."
Pat thought of Sarah and wondered what she was doing at that exact moment. He wished more than anything that he could've brought her with him. The mine might even be bearable if he had her to return home to each night.
Lelia stood in line outside of St. Peter's Mission. She knew that Fabrizio wouldn't have liked it but she, at least, wasn't too proud to accept help and she knew that they needed it. Particularly as Rose was starting to need her less and less. Her work was taking her away from the office more often and she insisted that she had no need for a secretary. It was on those days that Lelia joined the line snaking down the street hoping for a box of food to tide them over. As usual, the line was composed mostly of men and she was always surprised they had the humility to accept help. Most men she knew were too proud.
The line moved quickly and she received her box. It was better filled than usual with bread and a handful of canned goods: milk, vegetables, mixed fruit, and beans. With a bit of creative cooking, it'd be enough to last for at least a week or possibly two.
As she started for the subway station, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Debating on whether to speed up or stop entirely, she turned to see a man following her. He grabbed her shoulders and shoved her against the wall. The box fell from her grip, spilling its contents across the pavement. Without hesitation, he released her and lunged for the food.
Lelia experienced a split-second of frozen shock before her instincts came to life. She was not about to lose her family's food. She struck him on the head with her handbag. He staggered backward, the can he had grabbed falling from his grasp. She snatched it up and hurled it toward him. For a tense moment, their eyes locked. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears. Then suddenly, he turned and fled.
She took a deep breath to settle herself then set to work regathering the food. It took her several minutes to find the can she had thrown at him but, at last, she found it and put the can of beans—now heavily dented—into the box with the rest. One more steadying breath, a quick adjustment of her coat and hair, and she started for the subway once more.
The snow had just started to melt when Pat happened to spot the button on the ground. He immediately picked it up and held onto it until he saw Johanna who was sitting on a bench outside of the mess hall.
"Is this yer button?" He held it out.
Johanna took it and smiled. "Wherever did ye find it?"
"On the ground."
"I don't need it much now, but I'm thankful ye found it," she replied. "I've noticed that if ye wait long enough, things tend to find their way back to ye."
"How long have ye been here?" Pat asked suddenly. He had noticed that she seemed more at ease than he did, as though she had lived in the camp her entire life.
"Only about a year." She shrugged. "We went straight from Ireland to the minin' camp with the briefest of stops in New York in between."
"That's hardly any time in this country at all," he said, taking a seat beside her. "I've been here fourteen years now." He thought of the year he spent with Kate in Ohio before returning to Ireland and wondered if he should've included it in his numbers. It wasn't a great year and the six years following were worse.
"So very long. And in all those years, ye never considered goin' back?"
It was Pat's turn to shrug. "I've had the thought now and then. I'm never doin' it though."
"So what's keepin' ye here then?"
"Me wife."
"She must be something special if she's keepin' ye from Ireland," Johanna said. "What's her name? I'd like to meet her."
"Sarah but she's in Spokane right now with me children. Well, with Eileen anyway. John's here with me."
"I can't imagine bein' away from me husband."
Pat thought of Sarah and felt a pang of homesickness run through him. "I'm only doin' what I have to do," he said quietly.
"I can tell ye miss her."
"So much I can hardly breathe."
Johanna sighed and smoothed down her skirt. "I feel that way about Ireland sometimes. I mean, I love me husband dearly but it was his decision to move." She shook the thoughts from her head. "Do ye ever miss it?"
"Ireland?" He thought of Tommy and how badly he hadn't wanted to leave and how he never had the chance to return home again. Of the time he left Katie behind. As much as she had claimed to have forgiven him, the feelings of guilt and blame never fully went away. They were just pushed down and buried. "No," he said, shaking his head. "I think I've ruined it for me."
"Ye didn't murder anyone, did ye?" She asked lightly.
"Nothin' like that. There's just a few unpleasant memories tied to it now. And even if there weren't, I don't care much for sea travel."
"Truly?" She turned in her seat to face him better. "I thought the ship was the finest part of the journey," she said. Her eyes seemed to light up as she spoke. "Certainly better than that train ride, I'd say. All that bumpin' along and no room to move about. No, I could've stayed on that ship forever and a day."
"Maybe yer ship was," Pat said. "But I came over on the Titanic ."
A silence fell over them and the smile faded from Johanna's face. "Ye were not, were ye?" She asked after a moment.
"I was but I rather not speak about it, if ye don't mind."
She touched his arm. "Well, that makes more sense then," she said. "I can see why yer not overly fond of travelin' by ship. I can't say I'd be feelin' any different if I were in yer shoes."
Pat saw John approaching and quickly pulled his arm free from her grasp. "This is John," he introduced him as he neared.
"A fine lookin' lad,'' Johanna said, a smile once again spreading across her face. "I'm Johanna." She held out a hand.
"Fine, thanks," John replied, not looking at her. "I think mom sent you something," he told Pat. "I put it on your bed."
Pat, taking the hint, rose from his seat. "It was nice speakin' with ye," he said to Johanna.
"Anytime."
As he followed John back to the bunkhouse, he waited for the lecture that was sure to come but John remained silent. Still, the young man's thoughts were as plain as day.
"Ye don't need to be frettin'," Pat said. "Ye know how much I love yer mother."
"I know," John replied. "Does she know?"
"If it eases yer mind, I'd be willin' to paint 'I love Sarah' on me face for the next time I see her."
"You don't need to go that far," John said. "Just be sure to mention it from time to time. Or don't talk to her at all."
"No worries, I'll just be keepin' to meself then." Pat had a vague memory, a sense of deja vu that he couldn't quite place. He was certain he must've said a similar thing once before.
Spring
Cal was subtle with his drinking. One glass here and another there. Spread out just enough to deny it. But Kate saw the signs. The glasses that seemed to refill themselves whenever she left the room. The occasional unsteadiness in his step or an inadvertent glass knocked over. He never did drink the same way that Hugh did and he certainly never became violent or angry. She had never even heard him raise his voice. But she worried just the same.
Sarah kept urging her to bring up those worries to Cal, reminding her that he was not like Hugh. But Kate still held back. She remembered too clearly what had happened every time she voiced concerns over Hugh's behavior. The way his mood would flip in an instant. The cold flash in his eyes. She knew that Cal was different and she repeated that reassurance to herself as often as possible. But the fear that she might have been wrong about him the same way she had been wrong about Hugh wouldn't go away..
It was while they were in bed together, that Kate tossed and turned, unable to silence her brain long enough to fall asleep.
"You're never going to fall asleep if you don't stop moving," Cal murmured softly from beside her, after she had inadvertently kicked him.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to kick ye," she replied. "I just can't seem to sleep."
He wrapped his arms around her and gently kissed the nape of her neck. "I'll just have to hold you still then."
"It's too bad ye can't also silent me mind."
"I don't think I can do that," he said. "What's bothering you?"
"It's nothin'."
"Kate, I highly doubt it's nothing."
She gently traced her fingers over his hand. "I just wish...I mean…" Her voice trailed off and she felt the fear creeping up. She took a moment to push it back down. "Do ye think ye could maybe drink a bit less?"
Cal was silent for a moment before responding. "Where is this coming from?"
Kate twisted around to look at him. "Nowhere. I mean, I think sometimes ye drink too much and it makes me worry."
"I drink no more than anyone else."
"Ye drink more than meself."
"Kate." He lightly kissed her cheek. "That's not hard to do as you rarely drink."
"Maybe."
"Have you ever seen me drunk?"
"Well, no."
"Have I ever lost my temper or struck you?"
"Of course not."
"Then I don't see why this matters," he said. "At least not enough to keep you up at night."
Kate saw the way he was looking at her, felt his arms around her, and suddenly felt a flutter of panic. She just couldn't forget how quickly Hugh used to turn on her. Sweet and loving one moment and then the next, strangling her against the wall. "I'm probably mistaken," she said, forcing herself to smile. "It just seemed like a lot but I'm sure I haven't been payin' attention like I should. It's me own fault really. I'm sorry for bringin' it up."
"There's nothing to apologize for." He gently touched her cheek. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Of course I am," she said quickly. "It's fine. Forget I said anythin' at all." Kate knew he wanted to say more but she was afraid of what that might be. Instead, she nestled against him and forced her eyes shut as she tried to will herself to fall asleep. After a moment, she felt Cal plant a gentle kiss on her head and then settle back down beside her, offering a brief hug before seeming to drift off.
Kate only wished she could sleep so easily.
It was Sarah's first time leaving Spokane and she was terrified. She wished that someone could have come with her. But Kate was reluctant to leave Cal alone with the children—not because he wasn't good with them but because she was worried that all of them, him included, would starve. And Cal had offered but Sarah declined, knowing that he was worried about leaving Kate alone in the unlikely case of Hugh returning. So instead he offered to pay for the train tickets, two nights in a hotel, and gave her a plethora of advice for traveling alone which mostly amounted to: don't trust anyone.
The moment she stepped off the train, she was forced to admit that she may have made a mistake. She clutched her bag close to herself as she looked around at the unfamiliar buildings. She wasn't entirely certain where the mining camp was and was too afraid to ask for directions. She had never thought it'd be so difficult to find Pat. Sarah took a deep breath to steady herself and, taking her best guess, began to walk in what she hoped was the correct direction.
It felt like hours when she finally found the camp and by that point she was tired and close to tears. Why had she thought it was a good idea to surprise him? Pat could have met her at the station and everything would've been so much easier. But, no. She thought it'd be romantic to simply show up.
The camp was filled with wooden buildings that all looked the same and men milled between them, all staring at her as they passed. Sarah had never felt so self-conscious and she was debating on what to do when one of them approached.
"Ma'am, are you lost?"
"I'm looking for my husband," she replied.
"Who's your husband?"
"Patrick Murphy."
"I'm afraid I don't know anyone by that name," he said, stepping closer to her. "But it's a big camp. How about we go find him together."
She felt a chill run down her spine. "Thank you, but I think I'll just wait here for him," she said, slowly backing away. "He's expecting me, you see."
The man stepped forward again. "I'm just trying to be kind. There's no reason to be taking offense. Now, let's go find him together." He grabbed her arm.
"Oh, there ye are!" A young woman shoved her way between them, pulling Sarah free from the man's grasp. "We've been lookin' all over for ye." She gave the man a sharp look that sent him backing away.
"We?"
"Oh, don't mind me," the woman said quietly. "I just couldn't think of any other way to get ye away from him. This isn't a great place for a woman on her own."
"You're on her own."
The young woman laughed. "Aye, but me husband's here and everyone's afraid of him." She gave Sarah a scrutinizing look. "Yer not here lookin' for work, are ye?"
"I'm looking for my husband."
"And who might that be?"
"Patrick Murphy."
"Pat?" The woman's eyes seemed to light up. "Ye must be Sarah then. Does he know yer here? I can't imagine he'd be leavin' ye alone for a single moment if he did."
"I was hoping to surprise him." Again, the realization of how foolish the idea was struck her. "Who are you?"
"Johanna," she replied. "Now, follow me. If he's not workin', I can usually catch him somewhere between the mess hall and the bunkhouse."
Sarah looked at the woman as they walked and wondered how well she knew her husband. The way she had been speaking made it seem as if they spoke often.
"Sarah?"
She snapped out of her thoughts and saw Pat looking at her with surprise written on his face. Without a word, she ran the last few steps and threw her arms around his neck. He held her so tightly that she could barely breathe but she didn't mind. It had been so long since she had last seen him and she could hardly believe he was there in front of her now.
At last, he loosened his grip. "What are ye doin' here?"
"I thought I'd surprise you. Did it work?" Sarah couldn't keep the smile from her face.
"Ye could knock me over." He slid a hand behind her head and kissed her. "How long are ye here for? And where are ye stayin'?"
"The hotel in town and only two nights," she replied. "Kate also sent some food. She was worried that they wouldn't be feeding you well here and…" She looked him over. "You're too thin so she must be right."
"The food is fine," John said, coming up to join them, a grin of his own planted on his face. "He's just not eating it."
"John." Sarah let go of Pat and hugged her son. "You also look too thin."
"Mom, stop." John pulled free from her. "I'm fine."
That night they ate dinner together in the mess hall and she was forced to admit that the food wasn't dreadful—some parts of it were certainly better than her own cooking. Later, John showed her around the mining camp, pointing out several things that all looked the exact same to her. And then, afterward, Pat went with her to her hotel room for the night.
The next day, Pat led her up a trail that circled and snaked around one of the large surrounding hills, leading to a view that would have left her breathless if the steep hike hadn't already done so.
"I think I'm too old for this," she said, taking a seat on a bench that someone had built long ago and trying to catch her breath.
"Nonsense." He sat beside her and immediately put an arm around her.
"How's John been doing?" She asked. "I know he says fine but I've still been worried about him."
"Thrivin', if I'm bein' honest," Pat replied. "I haven't heard him complain a single time since he's been here. I mean it. He loves the work. He loves the food. He loves the people. I think he must be lyin' about somethin' because the work is hard and the food is really not so great."
"Better than my cooking though?"
"That's…of course, not. How's everyone at home?" He asked, changing the subject.
"Eileen recently won an award at school for her spelling."
Pat smiled. "I always knew she was a clever one."
"She misses you a great deal."
"I miss her too," he replied. "Sometimes I fear she's growin' up without me."
Sarah kissed his cheek and rested her head on his shoulder.
"What about Kate?" Pat asked. "Hugh hasn't come back, has he?"
"No, he's been leaving her be, thank God. But Cal is keeping close to her so I wouldn't worry too much."
"Is she happy?"
"Very." At least she believed that Kate would be very happy if she would only stop worrying about every little thing. If only she would bring up those worries to Cal, the one person who would be able to put her mind at ease.
"What is it?"
Sarah hesitated. "It's nothing, really. Kate just believes that Cal's been drinking a lot lately and she's concerned, that's all. I told her that she needs to speak to him about it but she's been a bit reluctant to bring it up."
"I can imagine after that brute she married."
"Cal is not Hugh."
"I suppose not."
Pat brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Am I sendin' ye enough money?"
"It's enough," she quickly replied. "We're doing fine. I mean we're getting by alright."
He gave her a questioning look. "Sarah?"
"The roof's been leaking," she explained. "We've been putting buckets out but thankfully we only need to worry about it when it rains."
"How much to fix it?"
"A horrifying amount," Sarah said. "I was kind of hoping you'd be able to fix it when you get home."
"I don't know anythin' about fixin' roofs." He shook his head. "Maybe Cal would be willin' to take a look."
She laughed. "Cal can hardly turn on a stove without setting himself on fire. I doubt he'd know the first thing about fixing a roof." He had offered, of course, but everyone, including Eileen, were quick to tell him no.
"I wish I could send ye more money," Pat said after a moment. "I suppose I could start workin' on Sundays. They're always lookin' for more men so I doubt they'd say no."
"Wouldn't that mean you're working seven days a week."
"Ye can't live in a house that's fallin' apart."
Sarah felt a flicker of irritation run through her. "And if you work yourself to death, then what?"
"What do ye want me to do?"
"Nothing at all," she replied. "We'll sort it all out when you come home." An eagle of some sort wheeled overhead and Sarah took a moment to follow its flight with her eyes. "I think it's prettier here than in Spokane," she pointed out.
"It's alright." Pat suddenly ran his fingers through her hair.
She pulled away. "Was it a bug?"
"Nah, there's no bugs. Ye just have a few gray hairs."
She quickly flattened down her hair. "You're not supposed to be pointing them out." She always tried her hardest to forget that she was growing older. And while she considered herself fortunate to not have much in the way of gray hair just yet, she was finding it harder and harder to ignore the signs: the tiny lines by her eyes, the stiffness when she rose in the mornings, and the occasional gray.
"I like them."
"Of course, you would."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Pat gently turned her head toward him and kissed her.
She leaned into him but a sudden noise behind them heralded the arrival of another hiker and they quickly drew apart.
"When I leave, will you walk me straight to the train station?" She asked, feeling both flustered and irritated that they had been interrupted. "I had a hard time trying to find my way here and I'm not sure I could find the station on my own."
"Ye think I'm lettin' ye wander around by yerself? It's not a good place for it," he replied. "It's a lucky thing Johanna found ye before something happened."
Sarah tried to ignore the sudden feeling of jealousy that threatened to overcome her. "I wish I could take ye home with me," she said softly. "You and John both."
Pat didn't respond, just kissed her once more.
It was the first time Fabrizio had ever seen Lelia cry. She had come home from work, a box of her belongings in her arms, and cried. It took him a while to work out exactly what had happened and once she told him everything, he was furious.
First thing the next morning, he ignored his own job and went straight to see Rose. He found her in her office, reading a memo and looking content with herself. Without even saying a word, Fabrizio crossed his arms and waited for her to start.
"I know why you're here," Rose said. "I am sorry but I'm not changing my mind."
"She work for you for fifteen years."
"She did, indeed. But I'm moving to California. It's cheaper to make pictures there."
"Fifteen years."
"I had asked her to accompany me. Did she mention that?" Rose snapped. "All she needed to do was adjust her priorities a tiny bit."
"Meaning no family?"
"I didn't word it precisely that way and I wasn't saying you couldn't come. We're good friends, after all," Rose said. "I just need more of her focus. The film industry can be quite demanding, now more so than ever. You know how many competing studios have sprung up seemingly overnight?"
"I don't know and I don't care," Fabrizio replied. "You made my wife cry."
"I am truly sorry," she said and a look of remorse did seem to cross her face. "But I have to look out for myself. We can still be friends, you know."
He shook his head. "No. I thought we were friends but now I think not."
There was an uncomfortable moment where they both looked at each other. Rose turned a piece of paper around in her hands. Fabrizio didn't know what he was waiting for.
"Do you need money?" Rose asked at last.
He huffed. "No, we don't want your money. We do fine."
"Well, I'm glad to hear that at least," she said. "I've heard some horror stories and I hated to imagine you living in one of those squalid holes you hear so much about."
He thought of his home, the tiny two rooms with all five of them stuffed inside and felt a wave of indignation course through him. "I think I go home to my squalid hole now. Good luck with your Parament." He turned to leave.
"That's Paramount," Rose called out as he went through the door. "Paramount Studios. Sometimes it's as though you never listen."
As he headed to his job, hoping that he wouldn't be arriving too late for it, he found it difficult to be disappointed that Lelia no longer worked for Rose. His wife deserved a better job wherever that might be.
John's worries were momentarily relieved when he saw his parents together. But after Sarah had gone home again and Pat returned to spending time with Johanna, they were renewed tenfold. It wasn't so much that he didn't trust his father—he knew his father would never do anything to hurt his mother—but that he simply didn't trust Johanna enough to not take advantage of him.
Wanting to put an end to things before they escalated, he started to keep an eye out for her. And it wasn't too long before he was able to catch her alone.
Johanna smiled at him. "John, right?" She asked. "I've heard quite a bit about yerself."
John had intended to go about it delicately but, instead, the words slipped out before he could hold them back. "I want you to leave my father alone."
Her smile faltered. "I didn't think I was botherin' him."
"He's married."
"I know," she replied. "I've met his wife."
"Then why won't you leave him alone?"
She crossed her arms in front of her. "I know what yer suggestin'," she said. "But in case ye haven't noticed, I'm also married."
"All the more reason you shouldn't be trying to…I don't know… tempt him."
"Tempt him?" Johanna laughed. "Are ye thinkin' of me as some sort of siren? I promise ye, I'm not doin' anythin' of the sort."
John could feel his face growing red and he wished he was more intimidating. "But you're—"
"John," she cut him off. "I like how protective ye are of yer mother but yer worryin' for no reason at all. Yer father and I are no more than friends. Ye really need to trust him more."
"I do trust him," he replied. "You're the one I don't trust. You need to leave him alone."
"I'm not goin' to do that," Johanna said. "Yer father and I are friends and we're goin' to keep bein' friends."
John stared at her for a moment, wondering if there was a better way he could've worded things to make her listen. But he doubted it would have made a difference. "Well, it doesn't matter," he said at last. "He's going home next month anyway and then you won't be able to bother him."
"Is he?" She looked surprised.
"Yes, he is. That was the deal. One year and then he goes home."
She shrugged. "I'm surprised to hear it. Just this mornin' he was talkin' like he was intendin' to stay for some time."
"You're wrong."
"Maybe I am," Johanna replied, offering him a smile. "Now, this chat has been lovely, but I must be carryin' on with me day."
She left and John immediately went in search of Pat. He found him in the bunkhouse, writing a letter.
"You're going home next month, right?" John asked.
"Of course," Pat replied without looking up from his work.
"Then why does that woman think you're not?"
He raised an eyebrow. "That woman?"
"The one you're spending all of your time with."
Pat put down the letter and sighed. "I don't know what yer tryin' to accuse me of but—"
"You need to go home to mom," John insisted, surprised to hear the emotion in his own voice.
"I am."
John looked at him for a moment longer. "Okay, then." He fell onto his own bed, suddenly feeling tired. He didn't know if Johanna was telling the truth or if his father was but he did know that things were better before she entered their lives.
Kate couldn't tell if Cal had become better at hiding his drinking or if he had taken her words to heart. All she knew was that he seemed to be drinking less, at least in her presence. For all she knew, he could have been drinking bottle after bottle whenever her back was turned. She wanted so much to ask him about it but couldn't bring herself to broach the subject a second time.
An new fear began to surface every time he left the house. She knew it was absurd and that she had no reason not to trust him. Cal treated her so well. But she wished she could keep him home and close to her. The thought was frighteningly close to what Hugh had done to her and she felt guilty every time it crossed her mind. But still, the worry persisted. What if he was lying to her? The fear that he was leaving the house to drink every night spiraled into the fear that he must have been having an affair. After all, why would someone like him, someone who had so many wonderful qualities and so much money, be in love with someone with nothing to offer, someone like her?
Without realizing it, Kate took to waiting by the door for him to return. "Where were ye?" She asked, the moment he stepped inside.
"Post office," he replied, pausing to give her a light kiss. "I still own a few factories that I need to keep in touch with."
"For over an hour? I can't imagine how many letters ye must've been sending to keep ye so long." She suddenly clapped a hand over her mouth. She had been repeating Hugh's words without realizing.
There was a silence as Cal gently removed her hand from her mouth. "Do you not trust me?"
"I do. I want to." Kate took a deep breath. "I'm tryin', I really am. It's just…I can't see why someone like yerself would love someone like me."
"Someone like me? Kate." He led her to the sofa and took her hand. "Do you know why I love you?"
"I'm conveniently located?"
"Spokane is three days by train," Cal replied. "There is nothing convenient about you."
"Then I can only assume ye don't think ye can do any better but I'm not sure that's a compliment."
"I can't do any better because there isn't anyone better."
Entirely unconvinced, Kate looked away. She knew her own worth as Hugh was always so quick to remind her.
"I fell in love with you because you're the only person I know who never saw my money," he explained. "You saw me and you still saw someone of worth. No one has ever done that before. Not Dinah. Not Rose. Certainly not my own father. Maybe Sarah but to her I think I'll always be the man who was with her husband near the end."
She looked down at his hand holding tightly to her own. "I'm sure there are others who are like that."
"Kate," he said softly. "I love you because you always speak your mind. Because when I first met you, you frightened the hell out of me. Because I quickly learned that beneath that fiery temper, you're one of the kindest people I've ever known. And the strongest. And there is absolutely no one else like you." He brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "I believe I could go on for years listing everything I love about you."
Kate rested her head against his shoulder. "I don't believe half of that," she said. "But it's still nice to hear."
Cal wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. "I know Hugh did terrible things to you, but I'm not him. I wish you would trust me," he said. "I mean, I've waited over a decade for you. Do you really think I'd do anything to risk losing you?"
She blinked back the tears that had started to form in her eyes, irritated that they were there in the first place. Once, she never cried and now, it felt as though she couldn't stop. "I am tryin'," she replied. "It's just…it's hard ye know. I haven't had a reason to trust anyone in a very long time. It might take me a bit of time."
He kissed her head. "Then it's a good thing I'm a patient man."
Summer
The plan was to surprise Eileen for her birthday. Sarah had decorated the house and yard with paper streamers. Kate had made all of her favorite food with strawberry shortcake to end the meal. No one said a word that Pat and John were coming home and she suspected nothing.
Due to a delayed train,they arrived just as everyone was sitting down for dinner.
Eileen's face lit up and she excitedly jumped from the table, nearly upsetting her chair, and ran toward them.
Pat gathered her into a tight hug, lifting her off her feet. "Ye've grown so much," he said, setting her back down. "I hardly recognize ye."
"I am all grown up," she replied. She looked between her father and her brother. "Did you bring me anything?"
"Did I bring ye anything?" He repeated. "Ye think I'd forget yer birthday?" He took out a paper package and held it out.
Eileen immediately tore the paper off and let out an audible gasp at the sight of a pair of pink ice skates.
"Ye'll have to wait until winter to try them out, I'm afraid."
"I can wait," she called over her shoulder as she raced to show Henry.
There wasn't enough room for nine people at the old backyard table but Sarah had brought out extra chairs from inside the house and squished them in at the ends. It was cramped and no one had a bit of elbow room but they all managed to fit.
Pat looked around the table, packed full of children and his family (and also Cal) and was grateful to be home. Sarah kept nudging his leg beneath the table and he gave her a smile. But despite everything good that was going on, all he could think about was how if he quit the mine, then they'd be in the same situation as they were in before. They still needed money and it was still unfair to rely entirely on John. Particularly as he was a young man now and should be looking to his own future and his eventual family. For the past few nights, his usual nightmares had changed and all he could imagine was his family living on the street, cold and hungry, and he could hardly take it. But he remembered Sarah's ultimatum and her words still echoed in his head: 'If you don't come back in a year, don't come back at all.'
She suddenly nudged him, breaking him out of his reverie.
"It'll only be for another year," John was saying, between bites. "I just want to save up a bit of money and it's a good place to do it."
"So you can marry Dottie?" Sarah asked.
"We're just friends."
"I was friends with your father for years before I married him," she pointed out.
"That's not…this is different."
"Is it?"
"Mom, stop."
Pat laughed. "Stop teasin' him," he said. "This is good." He gestured to the food: chicken pie and fried tomatoes.
"I chose it," Eileen piped up. "All of it because it's my birthday."
"And ye made some very good choices."
"Yeah, I did."
After dinner, the younger children caught fireflies. Tommy was busy pestering John with an endless supply of questions. Kate and Cal sat off in the corner together, talking softly. Pat caught Sarah's eye and she gestured to the side.
"What is it?" She asked the moment they were alone.
"What is what?" He tried to gather her in his arms but she pulled free.
"There's something going on inside your head and I want to know what it is."
"There's nothin'."
"Patrick." Her voice was sharp. "I know you well enough by now to know when something's troubling you."
He let out a sigh and glanced toward the children before responding. "I was thinkin' I might work one more year at the mine. And before ye grow angry," he quickly added. "I haven't made any decisions yet. I want to talk it over with ye first."
Sarah's eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at him. She was certain she must have misheard. "I gave you one year and then you were to come home."
"I did come home."
"You were to come home and stay . Not immediately turn around and leave again."
"We need the money."
"We need the money," she repeated. "So that's your excuse?"
"It's not an excuse if it's true," Pat said. "Sarah, I keep imaginin' ye and Eileen out on the street starvin' and I can't bear to think of that happenin'. If I stay here, there's no job for me. We've already been down that path." He took her hand. "I won't let ye and Eileen go hungry. I can't."
Sarah yanked her hand free. She heard what he was saying but none of it made any sense to her. The thought crossed her mind that he must not love her anymore. Why else would he be so insistent on leaving? "Am I too old?" She asked, feeling the tears burning in her eyes. "Is that what it is?"
"What? No, of course not."
"Then I suppose you're just tired of me."
"Sarah, it's nothin' to do with yerself," Pat said, taking her in his arms. "I love ye now as much as I did the day I first met ye."
She pushed him away. "I was just thinking maybe not as I've hardly seen you in the past few years."
"And that's all me fault?"
"The past year was."
He brought his hands over his face and sighed. "Alright, say I quit the mine and come home. I can't find a job here, we've already been down that route. Either John ends up supportin' everyone once again which means he won't be able to go back to school as he wants or we lose the house and end up on the streets. Ye want to see Eileen go hungry?"
Sarah wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "That won't...that won't happen."
"No? Can ye see into the future"
"Can you?" She snapped back.
There was a tense moment as they locked eyes, both daring the other to speak first. Pat looked distraught and Sarah could feel the tears silently running down her cheeks.
"Ye could come with me," Pat said at last. "Ye and Eileen."
"I'd have to leave my house."
"I know it's a terrible thing I'm doin', makin' ye choose between yer husband and a damn house."
"You're being unfair."
"Am I? Because Johanna had no trouble choosin' her husband when he moved here."
Sarah felt herself go cold. "So that's it then?" She spoke quietly. "Is that why you're wanting to go back so badly?"
"What?"
"That woman."
Pat shook his head. "That woman is married. And I'm old enough to be her father so I don't know why ye would even bring it up."
"That didn't stop Hugh or Vera."
"Are ye truly comparin' me to Hugh?"
"I'm simply stating what I see," Sarah said sharply. "She's pretty and younger than me. And I'm sure she'd be willing to follow you anywhere."
"Ye've lost yer mind."
"That's rich coming from you of all people." She knew in an instant that she had gone too far.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Pat, I'm going to make this simple for you," she said. "If you love me, you'll stay here."
"Don't do this." Pat started to reach for her again but thought better of it, his hands falling to his sides.
Sarah folded her arms across her chest. She knew she should backtrack, apologize, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She was still too hurt by his decision to leave again, to abandon her.
"Fine, then," he said, his voice chillingly calm. "I'm goin'. I'll go tonight."
She felt a flutter of panic rising within her. "There's no trains running until tomorrow."
"Then I'll sleep in the station." He turned to walk away.
"If you want to ruin your daughter's birthday, then go right ahead," Sarah called after him. Her voice was louder than she realized and she could feel everyone's eyes on her.
"Sarah?" Kate came up beside her, giving her a concerned look. "What's happenin'?"
"Your brother's left me," Sarah replied, her voice breaking on the words. She wanted desperately to cry but instead felt a sort of hollowness inside. "That's what's happening."
"No worries," Kate said softly. "I'll go murder him for ye." She gave her friend's arm a light squeeze before going after Pat.
Sarah sat at the table and put her head in her hands. She felt as though she had ruined everything but couldn't pinpoint exactly when it all went wrong.
After a moment, John joined her. "He's just being stupid," he said.
"No," she replied. "It's me this time. This is my fault."
"Regardless, you know he'll be back," he said. "He loves you too much to stay away for long."
Sarah managed to give him a weak smile but she couldn't shake the doubt. If only she could believe him.
As wonderful as everything had gone only a moment earlier, the evening ended up taking a drastic turn. Kate had managed to convince Pat to at least stay the night, but he remained adamant about leaving first thing in the morning. Sarah was still inconsolable and, thus far, no one had the heart to tell Eileen that her father was leaving again. Kate believed that Pat should handle that conversation himself; it was the least he could do.
She had gone home later herself in a state of disbelief. She had genuinely thought her brother had changed, that the days of fleeing from problems were behind him. She couldn't imagine anything that Sarah might've said that would've justified his leaving. As she put the children to bed, she wracked her mind trying to figure out how she might fix things. However, the more she thought, the darker her mood grew. Everything had been about to go so well for everyone. But then Pat had to leave.
Returning to the living room, Kate found Cal still seated. Her gaze was drawn to the bottle of bourbon beside him and something within her snapped. She could no longer bear it. Without uttering a word, she crossed over to him, seized the bottle, carried it into the kitchen to pour its contents down the drain.
"Kate." Cal had followed her.
"I'm not doin' it again," she said, unable to look at him.
"Kate, stop." He grabbed her arm and yanked her back from the sink.
In an instant, her heart flipped in her chest and the bottle slipped from her grasp. She recoiled away from him until her back met the wall. She brought her trembling hands up defensively as she struggled to push down the panic that rose within her.
"God, Kate. I didn't mean to...I'm so sorry." There was a different sort of panic in his voice as he reached out for her. At the last moment, he pulled his arm back.
"Are ye?" Kate could hear her voice shaking and she took a breath in an attempt to slow down her racing heart. "Could ye step away from me? Please."
Cal complied, his arms held up. "I am so sorry," he repeated. "You know I would never...I should never have…"
"Just go," she said. "Please? I need a moment."
He looked at her, remorse painted across his face. "Alright." He turned and left.
It took Kate some time to compose herself, to overcome the sudden shock. She never would have expected Cal, of all people, to grab her arm in such a way. The same way Hugh had done before. It had to have been a one time slip. She wanted to believe that it would never happen again. But she briefly wondered if it was only her wishful thinking. She had been wrong about Hugh, after all.
Once her heart had returned to its usual rhythm, she went outside to find Cal sitting on the porch, his head in his hands. She took a deep breath as she sat beside him. "Cal?"
He lifted his head and looked at her. "I really am so sorry," he said. "I don't know what came over me. I wasn't thinking. I was just...I don't know."
"Do ye recall when we thought Pat and Sarah were clingin' to each other just because they were afraid of bein' alone?"
"I do."
"Are we just doin' the same?"
"No," he replied without hesitation. "Not at all."
"Cal."
"I don't believe it. And it seems to have worked out fine for them."
"Ye did see Pat storm away, right?" Kate asked. She didn't know how anyone could have missed it. "I wouldn't exactly call that workin' out fine."
Cal shook his head. "How long have they been married?"
"Ten or eleven years, I think."
"Then they're fine."
She wondered if he was right and maybe he was but all she knew was how much Sarah and Pat have been arguing over the past couple of years. It was as though something had changed after his stay in the asylum but she didn't know what.
"Pat will be back and Sarah will forgive him like she always does," Cal continued.
"Maybe," Kate replied. "Are we fine?" She looked at him. "Because what happened cannot happen again."
"I want to say that it won't."
She took his hand, kissed it, and then held it to her. "I love ye. Ye know that well. But…" She hesitated, afraid to bring it up but knowing she had no choice. "We need to be doin' better. Both of us because I care about ye too much to let this crumble into pieces." Her foot tapped anxiously against the ground. "You need to stop drinking," she said. "Not just drink less but stop entirely. I can't have it in me house any longer."
"I promise I'll do my best," Cal assured her.
"Best isn't good enough," Kate insisted. "Because I can't go through it again. I can't." She felt a burning in the back of her throat. "I can't survive it. I know ye say that yer won't do anythin' to risk losin' me but yer goin' to lose me otherwise."
"Alright," he quickly replied. He wrapped an arm around her and held her tightly. "Alright. I promise. No more."
She wiped her eyes and smiled. "Maybe I'm bein' foolish but I believe ye," she said.
"You're not being foolish. Promise."
Fabrizio was grateful that so far they have managed to keep their heads above water but they weren't doing any better. They were simply surviving, plain and simple. But surviving wasn't good enough. Every time he looked at Lelia, he was reminded that she had lost her job. That they've had to wait in relief lines. The idea of finding something better began to take root and he found his mind inexplicably filled with memories of Italy, specifically Positano. He knew there were plenty of reasons why he had left his home, but all he could think about were the steep mountains that towered over the city, the narrow streets, and the deep blue ocean. It was so easy to feel homesick and nostalgic when he looked around his current home, the dark two room tenement.
He found the chance to broach the topic one day when he caught his wife busy braiding Caroline's hair. "Lelia?" He began. "I was thinking and what you think of Italy?"
"It's a nice country, I suppose," she said, not looking up from her task. "Why do you ask?"
Fabrizio hesitated. "What you think about moving there?"
Lelia paused in her work. "Our home is here."
"Home is always Italy."
"Maybe for you it is, but I don't even remember it." She shook her head. "I don't even remember any Italian. Why are you bringing this up?"
He took a seat beside her. "I think maybe there are jobs there. Better jobs," he said. "We get nicer home and we do good for ourselves."
"I don't want to leave my home."
"You want to stay here?" Fabrizio looked around the room. Their home was hardly large enough for a single person let alone five of them.
"Not necessarily here but New York." She resumed her braiding. "I love living here."
"You love waiting in long lines for food?"
"I know things aren't great right now," she said softly. "But they were good before and they'll be good again." She had finished the braid and secured it with a pink ribbon. "Do you remember why you left Italy in the first place?"
"I left Italy because I not want to marry the butcher's daughter," he replied. "But now I marry you so I can go back."
Lelia took his hand and smiled kindly. "You left because you wanted to be a millionaire and you believed it could happen here."
He shook his head. "That was foolish dream. No one become millionaire here unless they already one in the first place." He suddenly thought of Cal and how he had lost most of his money. "Even millionaires don't stay millionaires here," he added.
She took a moment to respond, her brow furrowed. "Fabri, I don't want to leave."
"I don't want my children to be hungry."
"Do we need to make this decision right this moment?" She asked, turning to look at him. "Couldn't we wait a bit?"
Fabrizio was uncertain. He knew how quickly things went from good to bad to worse and didn't know when another blow might come.
Lelia gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "All I'm asking is we give it a year. If things haven't improved by then...we'll move wherever you want."
"Alright, one year," he agreed. He leaned over and kissed her. "You really not speak Italian anymore?"
She laughed. "A few words and I can understand a bit if it's spoken slowly," she replied. "I left Italy when I was eight and my parents never spoke it growing up."
"That's alright," he said, giving her another kiss. "I'll teach you."
"I'd like that." She rested her head on his shoulder.
"I like that too."
My darling Sarah,
I know you're angry at me and for good reason. And I'm still a bit angry at yourself, if I'm being entirely honest. But that doesn't in any way stop me from loving you. You're my heart. And I don't mean that in the tired chestnut sort of way. I mean it in a more literal sense. You're the reason I'm alive and you keep me living. I told you once how desperately I need you and despite the years, that need hasn't lessened a single bit.
I promise I won't be gone forever. I have to take care of you. And the thought of your house falling apart around you or you and Eileen going to bed hungry each night, gives me nightmares. It's more than I can bear.
I will be sending you every penny I make and I want you to tell me the moment the roof has been fixed. Send Eileen my love.
All the love,
Pat
Fall
John came off a shift and was surprised to find Jimmy, of all people waiting for him. He was doubly surprised at how happy he felt to see a familiar face. He had been feeling lonely. Especially after his father broke his word and returned to the mine. John couldn't bring himself to speak to him.
"Dottie wanted to come too but her father put his foot down," Jimmy said as he approached. "Said a mine was no place for a lady. He seemed to forget that Dottie's not much of a lady, at least in that sense."
"I'm surprised she didn't come anyway," John replied. "I mean she's old enough to make her own decisions now."
"I think he was worried she'd run off with a miner." Jimmy looked around them, taking in the wooden buildings and the surrounding mountains. "So this is it?" He asked, disappointment in his voice.
"Sunshine Mine."
"Hm. I thought it'd be...I don't know…" He gestured wildly.
"More exciting?"
"Rougher at least."
John laughed. "I think you're thinking of the wild west," he said. "I believe you need to go south and about a hundred years in the past to find that. Here, I'll show you around."
He took him around the camp, pointing out the bunkhouse and the mess hall and the mine itself, from a distance as he didn't want to risk getting roped into going back to work. It didn't matter that he had just finished a ten hour shift, if anyone in charge saw him loitering around the mine, he'd soon find himself working another one.
"You really go in there?" Jimmy asked, sounding impressed.
"Not that often," John replied. "I'm more of a general laborer so I'm usually just running things back and forth. My father works there though." Knowing his father's fears, he never understood how Pat managed it. More than once, he had wanted to ask, but he always held back. He knew it was a question his father wouldn't answer.
"Fascinating," Jimmy said. "Can I see the explosives?"
John laughed again. "I have nothing to do with those and I'm glad for it. It seems there's always someone blowing their fingers off." He wouldn't have minded seeing them from a safe distance but that hadn't yet happened. All he had heard were the distant rumblings and felt the ground tremble from time to time. "Got something else to show you though."
John led him along the trail that wound its way up one of the surrounding hills. At the summit, was a surreal view of the camp nestled down below, the river sparkling in the sunlight.
Jimmy let out a low whistle at the sight.
"You don't get a view like this in Spokane," John said.
"That's for sure." He stepped up to the edge and peered down. "Dottie kissed me," he said suddenly, giving John a look. "I just wanted you to know."
John briefly wanted to push him off the ledge but held himself back. As much as he didn't like the idea of Jimmy and Dottie together, he did appreciate Jimmy telling him in the first place. "You know, if you hurt her—"
"Yeah, yeah, I know. You'll murder me and bury my body in one of these mines," Jimmy replied. "You don't need to threaten me. I don't intend to hurt her."
John couldn't explain the way his stomach seemed to plummet to his feet, his good mood evaporated. Dottie could do as she liked and he had certainly made it clear often enough that he only saw her as a friend. He knew he should be happy for her and he certainly tried to feel it.
"Honestly," Jimmy continued, coming back to join him. "I'm surprised she kissed me in the first place. I always thought she was keen on you."
"Dottie and I are just friends."
Jimmy shrugged. "That or she's trying to make you jealous. Guess we'll find out, won't we?" He clapped John on the back. "Now, what do you have for food around here? Can anyone eat at the mess hall?"
"Sure," John replied, leading the way back down the trail. "But if they're serving biscuits, you're legally required to give me yours."
Jimmy laughed. "Fair enough."
It had been raining for four days straight, days that were dreary and gray and cold. Kate hadn't been feeling well for the past few days and was dozing on the sofa, buried beneath several blankets. Cal was feeling stir crazy made worse by the unceasing rain. But even if there was perfect weather outside, he still would've been reluctant to leave the house. True to his word, he was trying his hardest not to drink and he knew that if he left, he'd find himself at a bar. It would've been difficult to avoid them, particularly as with the end of Prohibition, dozens of new ones seemed to have sprung up overnight.
The sun was just beginning to set when Kate suddenly sat up. "I've only thought of it," she said. "But I don't think I've laid eyes on Tommy all day."
Cal looked around the room. Bridget and Henry played quietly in one corner but there was no sign of Tommy. "He's probably somewhere outside."
"It's been pourin' rain all day."
"In my experience, rain doesn't bother children as much as it might bother the rest of us."
"Cal, do ye think ye could go search for him?" She asked, looking worried. "It's startin' to darken out."
"Sure," he replied, rising from his seat. "And where might he be?"
Kate furrowed her brow. "I don't know," she replied. "Ye could give the park a go or maybe he's seein' a movie. Ask Sarah if she's laid eyes on him."
"Those are in three very different directions."
"I know. I'm sorry. I just can't shake the image of him lyin' dead somewhere and I can't…" She shook her head.
"Don't worry," Cal said, giving her a quick kiss. "I'll find him."
He pulled on his coat and stepped out of the house into the rain that only seemed to increase in intensity. He went over to the car and was just about to get in when the river suddenly popped into his mind. It was an absurd idea, at least to him, but there was no denying that the child seemed to be drawn to it. The image of Tommy playing by the embankment was abruptly replaced by an image of him in the river. Without hesitation, he slammed the car door shut and headed straight for the woods.
It was slow going as the rain had made the ground thick with mud. Cal carefully navigated around ankle-deep puddles, each step a slippery challenge. He could hear the river roaring from a great distance and he began to grow nervous as he drew closer.
But he breathed a sigh of relief as he caught sight of Tommy standing on the muddy bank, hurling stones in the surging current. The child was soaking wet and muddy but seemingly oblivious to the rainstorm going on around him.
"Tommy!" He called loudly to be heard over the river's roar and the downpour.
Tommy spun around and gave him a look.
"Come here," Cal urged.
But Tommy only shook his head and returned to throwing stones.
"Your mother's worried about you."
"That's a laugh," Tommy replied. "She doesn't care about me."
"She most certainly does but I'm not going to have this conversation here. Come away from the river at once."
Tommy ignored him.
Cal was completely at a loss. He had never spent a great deal of time with his children as they were growing up—mostly thanks to Dinah's efforts—and he certainly hadn't ever had to discipline them. He wasn't even sure if he had the authority to discipline Kate's children. Then, as if on cue, a section of the riverbank crumbled into the water. The sudden fear of watching Tommy drown right before his eyes spurred him into action. Without second thoughts, he lunged forward, seizing the child's arm, and began pulling him away from the water, just as the portion of the embankment he had been standing on collapsed into the river.
Tommy struggled to free himself and somehow both ended up in the mud.
"You're going home," Cal insisted, regaining his footing.
"Mom doesn't care where I go," Tommy said, shaking him off but still walking with him.
"She cares this time."
"Usually, she wants me out of the house, because he didn't like me.'
"I'm sure that's not true."
"No, he told me that he didn't like me," Tommy replied. "Because I'm not his son."
Cal winced at the blunt honesty. "I didn't mean that part," he said. "I meant the other. Your mother was trying to protect you the best way she knew how."
The rain seemed to be lessening as they walked but the ground was no less muddy and it was still a struggle to get through it.
"Did you know my father?" Tommy suddenly asked. "My real one?"
"I did."
"What was he like?"
Cal didn't often think of Daniel; he had hardly known him, after all. But he remembered how much the man had loved Kate. How much he would've loved his child. "He was very intelligent," he replied. "And he cared about your mother very much."
"Did he hit her?"
"Absolutely not. He would never have dreamed of it." He had never been so sure of anything.
"Oh."
As they approached the house, Tommy made a beeline for the front door, but Cal gently tugged him back. "Back door," he suggested. "The last thing your mother needs is you tracking mud all over the living room."
Tommy sighed but did as he was told.
Pat,
You could not understand just how sorry I am for what I had said. Of course, I didn't mean a word of it. How could I? I love you more than I ever thought possible to love anyone. You've often called me your heart but you are my air. Without you, I cannot breathe. The thought of you leaving again, so soon, frightened me more than anything ever had and I panicked.
I am so lonely without you here beside me. Please come home. Come home and we can move on from everything. Come home and we can return to the way things were before everything unraveled. Please. I'm not above begging.
I've enclosed a drawing from Eileen. As you can see, it's a horse. She would like one for Christmas. I leave it to you to figure out how to manage that. Perhaps she'd accept a turkey instead. You cannot deny that we're good at raising those.
Remember I love you desperately,
Sarah
Kate hadn't been feeling well for several days in a row and she was filled with a strange sense of foreboding that she couldn't explain. Finally she gave in and visited the doctor, only to have her worst fears confirmed. He had to repeat his words several times before they sunk in as she was too busy feeling her world crash down around her. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be possible.
She had barely made it home before she broke down in tears. She quickly retreated to the bathroom and locked the door. Collapsed to the floor and cried.
After a while, she heard a knock on the door. "Kate?"
"Would ye go away?" She called back.
"Kate," Cal persisted. "Would ye tell me what's wrong?"
Realizing that he wouldn't give up easily, she reluctantly unlocked the door, and returned to her spot on the floor.
He sat beside her. "What happened?"
Kate shook her head. "I just can't do it. I can't...I just…" She managed between sobs. "I can't...not again."
"Can't do what?"
"I'm...I'm...oh, God." She buried her face in her hands.
Cal put an arm around her and pulled her close. "Kate," he said softly.
"Pregnant." She whispered the word, afraid to hear it spoken aloud. She took a shaky breath. "It seems so unlikely. I should be too old but the doctor…" She shook her head again, stealing a sideways glance at him. "If ye wish to leave, ye can. I'm not goin' to force ye to stay here with me." She thought of her last pregnancy, how difficult it was, the way Hugh had treated her immediately afterward, and couldn't have been more afraid.
Cal didn't reply. He only looked at her with an unreadable expression on his face.
"Ye could say somethin', ye know," Kate said, starting to feel nervous in the silence. "Even if it's only, 'It's been a pleasure knowin' ye, Kate.'"
"I want to marry you."
That was the last thing she had expected to hear. "Are ye just sayin' that because it's the proper thing to do and yer concerned about me reputation?"
"Partially, I won't deny it," he confessed. "But I've wanted to marry you since the moment I arrived here."
She managed a weak smile. "That's sweet of ye but I'm already married."
"For now. You could divorce him."
"Right, and then he'd murder me in me sleep," Kate replied bitterly. "Although, I suppose he's likely to be doin' the same once he finds out about...about me condition anyway."
"He abandoned you," Cal said. "That's legal cause. If you see a lawyer tomorrow, in a few months, it'll all be over with."
"Provided he doesn't murder me in me sleep."
"Do you truly think I'd let him do that?" He asked. "He'd have to murder me first and if that damn ship couldn't do it, I doubt he could."
Kate looked at him. "Ye really want to marry me, a poor Irish lass with scarce a penny to her name? What would yer family make of it?"
"Well, my parents are dead so they're not doing too much thinking at the moment. I do have a sister but I haven't spoken to her in nearly twenty years. She's never liked me much anyway so I doubt I could ever change her opinion of me. There's Dinah whose opinion couldn't possibly go any lower. And my children who...I don't even know where they are," Cal said. "Regardless, I'm too old to be doing what everyone else expects me to do."
"Ye won't change yer mind?"
He kissed her. "I haven't yet," he replied. " And no matter what, you won't be doing this alone."
Kate rested her head on his shoulder. "Promise?"
"Promise."