Winter
They used to always walk to school each morning which Tommy had always preferred. It made it easy to ditch his siblings and school, itself. But, ever since Cal arrived, he had taken it upon himself to drive them. Henry and Bridget were thrilled to have a ride. Henry, especially, thought the world of Cal and would never leave his side unless necessary. But for Tommy, this attempt at parenting was a nuisance he could do without. He didn't need someone driving him to school each morning. He didn't need someone to tell him to have a nice day or, later, ask how it had gone.
He followed Henry and Bridget to the door, an eye kept on the car, and the moment Cal had driven away, he turned around.
"Where are you going?" Henry asked.
"Dropped something," Tommy replied. "Be right back."
Henry looked unconvinced.
"Go on or you'll be late."
Tommy made a show of looking at the ground until Henry had gone inside. Then, he broke into a brisk walk, rounding a corner and distancing himself from the school. Once the building was out of sight, he slowed his pace. He loved how the city looked in the morning when everyone was either at work or school. It was quiet, peaceful. There were a few people walking around, mostly mothers with small children, and the occasional stray dog. He stopped to pet each one.
It took him an hour to reach the bridge where Cable Road crossed the river and his friends awaited. Robbie, Warren, and Harry, all three older than him. He always felt grateful that they allowed him to join their group.
"Took you long enough," Robbie said, handing him a cigarette. "Thought you might've been rethinking your education."
"Nah, my mom's friend wanted to drive me to school again," Tommy replied, lighting the cigarette. "Had to wait until he was gone to ditch."
Harry nudged Warren. Tommy watched as he reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle filled with an amber liquid. He knew it was some type of liquor—perhaps bourbon. He had no interest in drinking any of it but knew that if it ended up in his hands, he'd have no choice.
"She still doesn't know you're skipping?" Robbie asked.
Tommy shrugged as he took a drag from his cigarette, holding the smoke briefly in his mouth before exhaling. "Probably not," he replied. "She doesn't give a shit what I do."
"What about your father?"
"Stepfather and I don't even know where he is." He picked up a rock and hurled it into the river. "Hopefully dead in a ditch somewhere."
"I don't know why you ever took his shit," Harry joined in. "If it were me, I'd have taught him a lesson forever ago."
Warren snorted. "This coming from a blimp like you?"
Harry spun toward him. "What'd you call me?"
"You heard me."
Without hesitation, Harry pushed Warren into the river.
Warren swore as he clambered out. "You son of a—" He threw himself at Harry, sending them both to the ground.
Tommy watched them tussle, unsure on which one would end up the winner. He felt something nudge against his arm and he turned to see Robbie holding out the bottle. He accepted it and took the smallest of sips, fighting hard not to make a face.
Robbie laughed. "We're not about to run short. Take a real drink."
Reluctantly, Tommy did as he was told. He couldn't stop the face he made but Warren and Harry both ending up in the river proved a suitable distraction. Cal had always said that drinking wasn't about the taste but Tommy couldn't quite figure out what else it could be about.
The frozen pond at Liberty Park glistened in the sun. The day was warm enough to make Sarah worry but the ice was filled with skaters and none seemed to be in any danger of falling through.
Eileen's chatter was endless as she swapped her shoes for the pink ice skates she had received for her last birthday. Pat's foresight in buying them a size too large paid off, as they now fit her snugly.
Sarah had originally planned to sit on a bench and watch Eileen glide around but her daughter had insisted that she participate. Feeling somewhat uneasy and out of her element, she rented herself a pair of skates. She had never been skating before but everyone else made it look so easy.
She held onto Eileen's hand as they stepped onto the ice. They were both a bit wobbly as they pushed off. But after skating a few laps hand-in-hand, the music from the clubhouse enveloping them, they both seemed to find their rhythm.
Eileen couldn't take her eyes off the other skaters, often causing Sarah to nudge her to look at where she's going. Some other skaters flew by backwards and twirled on the ice as though they were flying. Inspired, Eileen let go of Sarah's hand and tried to spin around on her own, falling onto the ice with a laugh. Undeterred, she regained her footing and tried again, this time managing to slowly turn herself around.
"I think I want to be a figure skater," she said suddenly. "Like a really good one."
Sarah reached for her hand again but Eileen shook her head. "No, I can do it myself."
She smiled. Her daughter was growing up so quickly. "You'll have to practice every single day."
"I can do that."
"You'll have to wake up very early in the mornings."
Eileen gave her a skeptical look. "Why?"
"That's just what they all do."
"Oh." Eileen focused on her skating for a moment. "What if I'm just an okay skater?"
Sarah laughed. "You can be whatever you want."
"Right now I want...hot cocoa."
"Me too."
They stepped off the ice and went into the clubhouse. Sarah paid for two hot cocoas. She felt guilty for spending the money Pat worked so hard to earn and wondered how many days those drinks equated to, how much longer he'd have to be away to cover the expense.
Eileen took a long drink of hers and smacked her lips. "Mmm," she murmured, holding the cup beneath her face to feel the warm steam rise off of it. "So, if I'm just an okay skater, I think I won't have to get up so early. I probably still have to practice everyday, just not early. I can't do that." She shook her head. "Do you think I could be a good one if I didn't get up early? I could practice extra, extra hard. Like so hard. And then maybe I'd be good. Right?"
"I believe you could," Sarah assured her. She knew that her daughter's moods changed quickly and by the time they were home, she'd want to be something else. She took a sip of her own cocoa, letting her gaze drift out the window where skaters still twirled on the ice. Her heart leapt to her throat as she caught sight of a familiar face and she nearly dropped the cup in her hands. Hugh and Vera stood near the ice. They seemed to be arguing but she couldn't make out what they were saying.
"Eileen," she called to her daughter. "Are you finished with your cocoa?"
"Yeah."
"Good." Sarah turned away from the window. "I need you to go find your shoes and put them on."
"But I'm not done skating."
"Don't argue. It's time to go."
"But I'm not good yet." Eileen's voice had taken on a whine.
"How about this?" Sarah began. "Once we get home, you can help me make some cookies."
"Chocolate cookies?"
"Absolutely."
Once they had their shoes back on, they left the clubhouse. Sarah spared a quick glance in Hugh's direction, where he was still locked in an argument with Vera. She quickly ushered Eileen to the car, terrified that at any moment, he would turn his head and see them. But once they safely reached the vehicle, Sarah shut the door with a sigh of relief.
She drove home in a state of shock. Everyone had believed that Hugh and Vera had left town. The thought that they might've stayed in Spokane seemed so impossible. As she pulled into the driveway and parked the car, she silently resolved not to tell Kate. She could only imagine her friend's terror if she knew that Hugh was still so close.
Pat kept trying to speak with him but John's anger towards his father's broken promise remained an impenetrable wall between them. Every time Pat approached, he walked away or feigned being asleep until his father gave up. He always felt guilty immediately afterward but then he thought of his mother and the devastated look on her face the night Pat had gone, and John was angry all over again.
Fortunately, they never seemed to work together during the day with Pat typically deep in the mine and John always busy running back and forth. The only time they did see each other was at meal times and in the evening. He thought of it as he carried a canvas bag filled with supplies up the narrow path that led to the main adit of the Jewell Shaft. This was his last trip to the adit before lunch and he found it difficult to keep his mind off his impending meal. He hoped they were serving fried chicken or something similar. There was a sudden sound of small pebbles rolling and he paused to look around. His gaze drifted down. He was at least twenty feet up. Not seeing anything out of the ordinary, he shrugged and started walking again, his mind back on lunch.
Then, in an instant, John's world tilted abruptly. The solid ground beneath his feet disintegrated, giving way to an abrupt avalanche of rocks and debris. A strangled yelp escaped him as he desperately clung to anything within reach, but everything fell with him. Time seemed to stretch to an agonizing crawl before shattering with an abrupt jarring halt.
He awoke lying in a hospital bed with no recollection of how he ended up there. "Mom?" He called out weakly, certain she must've been nearby. Trying to draw a deep breath, he was met with a sharp, searing pain. "Mom?"
"Just me," Pat replied. He sat next to the bed, still dirty from a shift in the mine, looking both exhausted and worried.
"I want mom."
"She's in Spokane, ye know that."
"Right." John's head throbbed terribly. He brought a hand up and felt a bandage. "What happened?"
"Ye fell about twenty feet."
"Why'd I fall twenty feet?" John squeezed his eyes shut and tried to recall anything at all but the period between breakfast and that current moment simply didn't exist.
"Ye were deliverin' shovels and there was a rock slide of some sort," Pat replied. "I didn't witness it meself, but they said yer lucky to be alive."
"Oh."
"How are ye feelin'?"
"Foggy." John didn't see a reason to mention his pounding head or the sharp pain he felt whenever he took a breath or moved. "Am I fired?"
Pat was silent for a few seconds. "They're willin' to give ye a few days to recover but...ye've got broken ribs and a terrible concussion. A few days won't be enough."
"I'm sure it's enough." John wanted to snap at him but couldn't muster the energy.
"I broke a rib meself when I was just a lad and I can tell ye, ye won't be able to get back to work so soon."
John hated the concerned way his father looked at him. He hated that he couldn't walk away or feign being asleep to get out of the conversation.
"I think ye should go home," Pat continued. "Just until yer better."
"I think you have no right to be telling anyone to go home," John huffed, feeling something tighten in his face.
"John."
"Can you go away now?"
"I'm sorry if ye—"
"I don't want to talk to you," John cut him off.
Silence lingered as Pat looked deeply hurt. "Alright, I'll go. I'm glad yer alright," he said, rising from his seat. "If ye need...well, ye know where to find me."
"Yeah, with that woman," John retorted.
"John, that's not—"
John promptly turned away from him. He didn't want to hear what his father had to say. When he eventually looked back, his father had gone.
It was the third time that Kate had to let out the hem on Bridget's dresses. She could not believe how quickly her children were growing up. She smiled as she brought the needle in and out. It still felt strange to feel happy in her own home. The emotion felt unreal. She glanced to her left where Cal sat reading a book. She caught his eye and he smiled. Kate put her legs across his lap.
"Do you want me to move?" He asked.
"Nah, this is perfectly fine," Kate replied.
Cal continued to look at her as he ran his fingers along her leg.
Kate smiled. "Why are you lookin' at me that way?"
"Just thinking about how beautiful you are."
Before she could reply, an urgent pounding resounded from the front door.
"I'll get it." Cal gave her leg a gentle squeeze before carefully moving her feet to the floor. He got up and opened the door to reveal a policeman.
"Good afternoon," the man said. "I'm Detective Frank Barber. I'm looking for Mrs. Werner. Is she available."
"Mrs. Werner?"
"Katherine Werner."
Kate, who had been listening from her seat on the sofa, immediately jumped up and joined the group at the door. "It's Kathleen, actually." She didn't bother to hide the note of irritation in her voice. Why couldn't anyone ever get her name right?
"Good afternoon, ma'am," the detective ignored her correction and went straight into it. "I'd like to speak with you alone, if you have a few minutes. May I come inside?"
"Of course," she replied, feeling both confused and mildly alarmed.
Cal gently touched her arm. "I'll go," he said quietly.
"No, please stay. Can he stay?" She asked.
"Who are you?"
"A friend," Cal replied.
Barber shrugged. "Stay if you wish."
They all went into the kitchen and Kate immediately made some tea. After filling three cups, she took a seat at the table. "So what's this all about then?"
The detective took a drink of his tea. "Just need to ask you a few questions," he replied. "Nothing to worry about."
"Questions about what?"
"Mrs. Vera Kelly."
Kate's hands shook as she quickly set her cup down. "What about her?" She reached for Cal's hand beneath the table.
Barber pulled out a small notepad. "How well would you say you knew her?"
"Not real well," she replied. "She lodged with me off and on nearly ten years back."
"When was the last time you spoke to her?"
"Seven or eight years ago, I believe."
He raised an eyebrow. "I'm going to need an exact number."
It took little effort to recall the last time she had seen Vera. It was snowing outside and she had been making bread. Hugh ended up driving the woman home. "Eight years, not long after I married."
"What did you talk about?"
"I can't recall the details but I believe she was plannin' her own weddin' at the time."
"Did she sound excited?"
"It was eight years ago," Kate replied. "But what woman isn't excited for her own weddin'?"
"I see." Barber paused to write something down. "Now how well did you know her husband?"
"Not well at all." She took a drink. "I spoke to him maybe twice in me life." She pushed her cup of tea away. "Now what's goin' on? Has something happened to her?"
The detective sighed heavily. "I'm afraid to say that Mrs. Kelly was found in the Spokane River late last night."
Kate felt a chill run down her spine and it took everything she had to not clap a hand to her mouth. "Dead?"
"We wouldn't be asking any questions if she had only been going for a swim."
She stole a glance at Cal who had been watching quietly and he squeezed her hand in return.
"Now," the detective continued. "I'd also like to speak with your husband. Is he home?"
Kate shook her head.
"Do you know when he might return?"
"Couldn't say." She couldn't seem to keep her hands from shaking. She knew that Hugh must've been behind it. He had to have been.
"Mrs. Werner?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. Um...me husband up and left me more than a year ago," she said quietly. "I've no idea where he's gone."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Barber replied. "It seems there's been a plague of husbands running out on their families lately."
She nodded, unable to say anything.
"Maybe you can answer my questions for him. Did he know Mrs. Kelly?"
"He gave her a lift home once, but I wouldn't say he knew her."
"Did they seem to get along?"
"Well enough."
Barber wrote something down. "I believe that's all the questions I have for now." He rose from his seat. "Is there anything else you'd like to tell us?"
Kate felt Cal squeeze her hand again. Her head screamed at her to say everything but she couldn't seem to find the words. "No, I'm sorry," she managed at last. "But...why aren't ye speakin' to Wally about all of this?"
"I'd love to speak to Mrs. Kelly's husband but no one has seen him in nearly a year."
"What?"
"If you think of anything else, please reach out," Barber said as he left.
Once the detective had gone, Cal turned to her. "Why didn't you tell him about Hugh and Vera?"
"I don't...I just…" She shook her head. "If Hugh knew I was sayin' anything at all..I'm afraid." She took a shaky breath. "I don't want him comin' after me."
He drew her into his arms. "I told you, he'll have to go through me first and that's not going to happen."
Cal had reassured her so many times that Kate was starting to believe it. "I know," she said softly.
Mom,
I'm not sure what dad told you but it was only a tiny bump on the head. I am perfectly fine. It doesn't even hurt. And I didn't lose my job at the mine, I chose to leave.
I've already found a new job working at the post office, if you can believe it. I may have had to lie about finishing high school. I was only one year short so it was hardly a lie. I'm not sure what an education has to do with anything though. All they have me doing is selling postage and sweeping the floor.
If dad tells you anything else, I shouldn't have to tell you not to believe it. You know you can't listen to him. Especially, if he gives his word.
Tell Eileen I said hi.
John.
Sarah frowned as she read the letter a second time. She had already received one from Pat, saying essentially the same thing but without the hostility at the end. John had made his feelings about his father returning to the mine extremely clear but she had still hoped that the two would have managed to repair their relationship. The thought that they might not have been speaking to one another worried her. Pat had a tendency to spiral when he felt entirely alone.
She folded the letter and slipped it into her coat pocket, quickening her pace as she walked to Kate's house. With Pat gone and Eileen in school, she found herself entirely alone during the week. She had learned long ago that her worries always seemed worse when she was by herself.
Sarah reached the house and found Cal standing outside staring up at a tree, a frown on his face. "What're you looking at?" She asked, coming up beside him.
"Dead branch," he replied. "Kate thought it might fall on one of the children and asked me to take care of it."
"And how are you going to do that?"
"I have absolutely no idea."
"They didn't teach basic tree maintenance at Harvard?"
Cal laughed. "I must've slept through it."
"So where's Kate at?"
"Store," he replied. "She should be back soon."
Sarah felt a flicker of unease. "You let her go alone?"
"I'm not letting her do anything." He gave her a sideways glance. "Kate can do as she likes."
"That's not…" Sarah hadn't wanted to bring it up as she didn't want to make anything worse but now she was worried that by keeping the information to herself, she had done wrong. "Cal, Hugh is in Spokane."
Worry crossed his face. "What do you mean?"
"Just what I said. Hugh is in Spokane. I saw him a month or two ago in Liberty Park," Sarah replied. "He was with Vera."
"I wish you would have told me this."
"I didn't want to frighten Kate." She shook her head. "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about. I mean, Hugh hasn't shown up once since he left."
Cal let out a sigh. "A couple of weeks ago, there was a detective at our door, asking questions."
"About Hugh?"
"Vera. They found her body in the river."
Sarah's legs suddenly felt weak and she would've fallen if Cal hadn't quickly reached out to catch her. She let him guide her to a seat. "You don't think…" She couldn't finish the thought.
"That Hugh killed her? I'd believe it." He gently touched her arm. "I won't let Kate go anywhere alone again. Not until…I don't know. I wish he would show up dead in the river."
She managed a weak smile. "If only we could be so lucky." She let her gaze drift to the tree once more. "If you wait for a storm, maybe your dead branch will take care of itself."
"Take care of itself on Bridget's head, you mean." He shook his head. "I think I'm going to have to hire someone."
"If you wait until Pat gets home, I'm sure he'll be more than happy to lend a hand."
"Hm."
Sarah turned to look at him. "You don't believe he's coming home?"
"I don't know what I believe."
"You were so certain the last time." She fidgeted with the wedding ring on her finger.
"That was before he decided to take off once again."
He had to have been coming home. He spoke of it in his letters. She had to believe it. "I suppose we'll see then, won't we?"
Spring
Pat sat at the top of the trail, looking down at the camp. His thoughts were on Sarah. He desperately wished she was there with him. There hadn't been a single day since he left that he hadn't been thinking of her. She wrote in her letters that she still loved him and wanted him to come home, but why was it so difficult to believe? How could she have forgiven him so quickly for the way he had left everything?
And then there was John who hadn't spoken to him since his accident. The moment he was released from the hospital, he had found himself a new job and a new place to sleep. Pat knew that John would never forgive him for returning to the mine. And if their places were reversed, he wasn't sure he'd be any different.
At the sound of a twig snapping, he turned to see Johanna.
"There ye are," she said, taking a seat beside him. "I feel like I haven't spoken to ye in a while."
"Ye haven't," Pat admitted. He had been trying to avoid her as much as possible.
"I heard about John and, well, I was worryin' about the pair of ye."
"John's doin' just fine."
"And yerself?"
He shrugged.
"Alright, what's troublin' ye?"
"There's nothin'."
"I don't believe that for one second," she replied. "Now, I'm not goin' to leave ye be until ye tell me what's on yer mind."
Pat briefly closed his eyes. He didn't want to speak to her. He was tired of being accused of things, blamed for things. He had only ever tried to do his best. "Yer what's troublin' me," he said at last.
"Me?" She blinked in surprise. "What have I done?"
"Yer speakin' to me for one," he replied. "And ye exist for two. Not that that truly matters all that much because I'm sure I don't need yerself for me to be doin' everything wrong."
"Pat." Johanna reached to touch his arm but then thought better of it. "Ye should start at the beginnin'. What's goin' on now?"
He took a deep breath and before he could stop himself, everything spilled out of him: the leaking roof, the argument at Eileen's party, Sarah's jealousy, John's continuous accusations. "The moment I said I was leavin', I wanted to take it back," Pat admitted. "But I couldn't bring meself to do it." He put his face in his hands. "Sarah's still askin' me to come home but how could I even face any of them again?
"Why'd ye do it at all in the first place?" She asked softly.
"We needed the money and I can't...I couldn't find a job in Spokane." He shook his head. "And then yerself was brought up and Sarah was angry and she said…it doesn't matter what she said. I snapped and before I knew what I was doin', I had gone."
"And how precisely did I get brought up?"
"Sarah thought there was somethin' goin' on between us."
Johanna was silent for a moment. "Is that why ye've been avoidin' me lately?"
"It seemed easier than constantly havin' to deny it."
She placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Pat, ye should head home," she said. "And I'm afraid the longer ye wait, the less likely ye are to have a home to go to."
"I can't…we need the money."
"To hell with the money. Yer family needs ye more."
"Aye, I'm sure I'd be a real comfort to them all as they're starvin' out in the cold."
Johanna's eyes narrowed. "Ye need to stop yer self-pityin'. Yer life is not so difficult and hopeless as ye seem to believe it to be."
"I'm not self-pityin'. I'm just…"
"Just what?"
"All I want to do is take care of me family. But everything I do is wrong." Pat clasped his hands together to keep them from shaking. "Sometimes I think I'm not meant to be happy."
"That's not true."
"But it is. All I'm meant to do is drag everyone else down with me. I know it. Me wife knows it. John certainly knows it. I keep…" He took a deep breath. "I keep thinkin' how much better everyone else might be if I hadn't…if I had just let meself drown all those years ago."
"Pat."
"I'm tryin' me hardest but…" His voice gave out.
Johanna put an arm around him and pulled him close. "I can promise ye there is no one in yer family who would be better off without ye in their lives. I know that," she said softly. "Everythin' will be alright. But I still think it's time ye went home."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Am I interrupting?"
They both spun around to see John standing there with his arms crossed.
Johanna quickly jumped to her feet. "I should be goin'," she said, giving them both a concerned look as she walked away.
John followed her with his eyes until she was gone before turning back to Pat. "You could've at least divorced mom first instead of stringing her along like this."
"For God's sake, I'm not…there's nothin' between me and Johanna."
"That's not what it looked like."
Pat was suddenly angry. "Then ye must be blind or stupid," he snapped, rising from his seat. "If ye don't want me speakin' to ye, then maybe ye shouldn't be speakin' to me neither." He pushed past him, immediately feeling guilty for having spoken to John in such a way.
Fabrizio had been jumping from one job to the next, always worried that he wouldn't be able to find the next one quickly enough. It wasn't until he finally landed on one that promised to last for years that he began to feel more at ease. It was a project of the newly created Public Works Administration, a tunnel beneath the Hudson River, connecting New Jersey with New York.
The work was difficult and being underground made him feel claustrophobic. He was grateful that he wasn't one of the sandhoggers who did the initial tunneling. They may have been paid better and their shifts may have been shorter but there was a certain comfort in knowing that he likely wouldn't place a shovel wrong and inadvertently let in the entire Hudson. His work contained more variety—laying out the roadway and installing thousands of tiny glass tiles on the ceiling. It felt absurd to be spending so much time on the glass ceiling—something that would surely have been dazzling in the sunlight but would certainly lose its effect underground. But that was the job and Fabrizio wasn't one to complain. It was a relief to finally have a steady and consistent paycheck.
Throughout it all, Lelia remained an unwavering source of positivity and support and he had never been more grateful to have married her. She had done her utmost to make their tiny home something to be proud of, with a bright rug on the floor and lace curtains over their window. The walls were adorned with Caroline and Maria's colorful drawings. Every night, she threw open the window to let in fresh air and every morning, she closed it before the nearby restaurant had a chance to start up for the day.
But, despite her best efforts, Fabrizio couldn't forget that it was only two small rooms. The kitchen with its stove and sink and tiny table filled one of them and the other contained their beds: one for him and Lelia and another for the children. There was no room to move about and their free time was spent outdoors, weather permitting. Everyone acted as though everything was wonderful but he knew they could do better. They have done better. Every so often, usually after the children had fallen asleep, he attempted to quietly bring up Italy again but Lelia always shut him down.
"You promised me a year," she gently reminded him.
"I know," he replied. "I just think we could do better."
Lelia silenced him with a kiss. "Perhaps we could. But we're not discussing it until the end of the year."
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "Forget I say anything."
In spite of her ultimatum, Fabrizio couldn't resist researching the transatlantic fares for a family of five. And every paycheck, he set aside a small amount. When the time came, and Lelia finally agreed to make the move, he intended to be ready.
Pat couldn't do it anymore. John still wasn't speaking to him. Johanna was avoiding him—he was sure she meant well by it. It felt as though he had been transported back to the asylum, to the suffocating feeling of being trapped and utterly alone. All he had wanted was to take care of his family even if that meant sacrificing himself to do it. However, instead of understanding, blame seemed to encircle him like a noose and the weight of guilt had become unbearable. His need for Sarah had never been more desperate. With his mind made up, he awoke one morning, packed his bag, and boarded the next train bound for home.
As he stepped inside the house, an eerie stillness filled the room. Pat set his bag down in the living room and resisted the urge to call out, haunted by the fear that no one would answer. He stepped into the kitchen just as Sarah came through the back door, a basket of laundry in her arms.
The abrupt sight of him startled her and the basket slipped from her grasp.
Pat longed to rush toward her, to gather her into his arms, but he held back. "I thought ye might've changed the locks on me," he said.
"I would've sooner left them unlocked," she replied, gazing down at the ring on her finger. "I had asked you to come home. Repeatedly."
"I know," he said. "I just...I wasn't sure ye meant it."
"Pat." Sarah stepped around the basket and approached him. She placed a gentle hand on his cheek before sliding it down to his chest, over his heart. "I know I should be angry with you."
"I'm angry with meself," he admitted. "I truly didn't mean to—"
She silenced him with her fingers against his lips. "Stop talking, please." She took a deep breath and shook her head. Then, she took his hand. "Do you remember when you first came back from Ireland?"
"Sarah—"
"You promised me that you wouldn't leave." Her hands trembled on his own. "That you would work through whatever it was that was going on inside your head. You would do it with me."
The guilt was suffocating. "I'm so sorry."
She brought his hand up to her lips and kissed it. "If you're going to leave again, I'd rather you do it right now because it'd be less painful than waiting to be surprised."
Pat looked into her eyes, at his beloved Sarah, his wife. He shook his head. "I'm not leavin' again. I'll swear it on anything ye wish."
She moved closer. "I don't need you to swear it. I just…" She blinked back the tears that were forming in her eyes. "Do you still love me?"
"Still love ye?" Pat recalled the day he had asked her to marry him, the way the sun flitted across her features, the way she smiled at him right after Eileen came into the world, the way she held him after she brought him home from the asylum. "Sarah, I've never stopped lovin' ye. I don't think I could stop lovin' ye even if I tried." A lump formed in his throat. "Yer the only reason I'm still alive. Ye and Eileen. I don't think…" His voice faltered.
"Pat." Sarah slid her arms around him, buried her face in his shoulder.
His fingers tangled in her hair, and he breathed in her scent, felt the warmth of her body. "Sarah," he murmured, kissing her cheek, her lips.
He felt her hands feverishly undoing the buttons of his shirt and he slid his own beneath her dress, pulling her close. He had never needed her more.
Sarah's head rested on his chest and his fingers ran through her hair. If she closed her eyes, she could easily pretend as though nothing had ever gone wrong. Pat had never left. It was always the two of them, with no worries, no arguments, no heartbreak.
"I really am so sorry," he murmured.
"Don't," she said. "Please don't bring it up. Not right now."
A silence fell over them and she gently traced her fingers over the scar that still lingered across his shoulder. The accident at the mill had felt like a lifetime ago.
"I always forget how beautiful you are," Pat said.
Sarah smiled and she pushed herself up to look at him. "What made you come home?"
"I thought we weren't discussin' it?"
"We're not," she replied. "But I need to know."
He suddenly looked uncomfortable. "I just…I needed ye," he said at last. "I needed ye more than…well, I was about ready to throw meself off the mountain so I thought I'd take me chance with yerself and hope that ye might take me back."
Sarah leaned forward and kissed him. "I'll always take you back."
"Unless I leave again."
"Patrick."
"I'm not goin' anywhere." He smoothly rolled her over, positioning himself on top, and kissed her. "I promise."
She slid a hand behind his head but then caught sight of the clock. She hadn't realized how late the day had grown. "Get off me," she said, pushing him away. "Eileen's going to be home from school any minute." She began to look around for her dress.
"Here." Pat held it out.
"You know, you're going to be a bit surprised when you see your sister," Sarah said, pulling the dress over her head. "She's expecting another child."
"Hugh came back?" There was an unmistakable note of fear in his voice.
"Not Hugh." She sat beside him on the bed and took his hand. "Kate didn't want me telling you," she continued. "She seemed to think you'd give her a hard time for it."
"I should," he replied. "After the way she carried on about us."
"Please don't. She's been through enough." Sarah hadn't forgotten Kate's horrified reaction to her and Pat living together before they had married but she saw no point in bringing it up. After suffering through Hugh for so long, Kate deserved whatever happiness Cal brought to her.
Pat ran a hand through his hair. "Is Cal stickin' around?"
"He wants to marry her."
He scoffed. "Of course, he'd say that. He knows she can't marry him."
"You're being unfair," Sarah said softly. "Cal's been trying to get her to file for divorce. He believes she has a good case for abandonment. But Kate's the one who won't do it."
"She doesn't still love him, does she?"
She laughed. "God, no." She shook her head. "No, if she filed for divorce, it'd have to be published in the paper and she's afraid of Hugh seeing it."
"Maybe if he were in Spokane but I don't think—" Pat stopped abruptly. "What is it?"
"Hugh's in Spokane," Sarah said. "I saw him a few months ago." She felt Pat's hand twitch in her own and she tightened her grip.
"Does Katie know?"
"I didn't want to frighten her and he's left her alone for so long already, it seems as though he had moved on. I doubt she'll see him again." At least Sarah prayed that was the case. It would be devastating for Hugh to suddenly step back into their lives, especially now that everything was finally going so well.
Kate laid in bed, buried beneath a blanket. A clock ticked loudly. She had felt so tired before she had gone to bed but inexplicably found herself wide awake. She kept one hand on her belly, her thoughts constantly drifting to her coming child. She hoped desperately that it was a boy. Cal would want a boy. All men wanted boys—except for Pat but Pat had always been unusual. She couldn't stop thinking of Hugh's reaction to each of her children—his elation at Henry being a boy, his complete disregard for Bridget. Babies always change everything. Hugh had been wonderful until Henry came along. Had he been wonderful? She knew he had changed once or gradually. She wouldn't have married the man she ended up leaving. She couldn't have.
She looked at Cal who was sleeping soundly beside her. He hadn't left yet. She was so certain that he would have grown tired of her long ago. Hugh had always been so quick to remind her how difficult it was to put up with her. Maybe Cal would leave if she had a girl and not a boy. Kate sighed and rolled over, away from him.
Her heart seemed to freeze in her chest.
Hugh stood beside the bed, staring at her, watching her. "Hi Kate." He grinned but his eyes remained cold.
She opened her mouth to speak or to scream but no sound came out. She reached for Cal's arm. "Cal…" She managed to force his name out.
"Oh, no you don't." Hugh lunged forward, his fingers wrapped themselves around her throat and he began to squeeze.
Kate desperately clawed at his hands, twisting beneath the sheets. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't—
"Kate?"
She was jolted awake, her heart pounding madly and still struggling to breathe. Kate tried to push away from the edge of the bed, from where Hugh had been only a moment earlier, her panic only growing worse as she found herself hopelessly entangled in the blankets and she began to cry.
"Hold still," Cal said softly as he untangled her. "You were having a dream."
She shook her head. "No, no. I saw him. I swear I saw him. He was standin' right there." Hugh may have been gone but the terror still lingered in the air. She could still feel his hands around her throat.
"Who was here?" Cal rubbed her back.
"Hugh." She wiped at the tears running down her face. "He was right there standin' over me."
Cal leaned over her to turn on the bedside lamp, sending a warm glow over the room. "There's no one here."
Kate looked around. "I swear I wasn't dreamin'. I saw him. He had his hands around me throat and…and I couldn't breathe. He was tryin' to kill me. He wants to kill me."
He gently brushed the hair back from her face. "Kate, I've been right here the entire night. There was no one here."
She hiccupped and wiped her nose. "It felt so real. I swear it was him. I swear he was here."
He pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her head. "What if I search the house?" He offered. "Just to be absolutely certain that he's not here."
Kate nodded.
"Alright, I'll be right back," Cal said, getting out of bed.
She immediately stood to go with him. "I don't want to be alone, if ye don't mind."
"Of course, I don't mind." He took her hand.
"I think he killed Vera," Kate said softly as they left the room.
"I know he did."
"He's goin' to come back here." She had never felt more certain about anything in her life.
Cal put an arm around her. "I would just love to see him try to break in with me here."
"Why'd he break in?" Kate tried to push away the hollow shaky feeling that seemed to have taken over. "He likely still has his own key."
He stopped abruptly and looked at her. "You didn't have the locks changed after he left?"
"Ye can do that?" She suddenly felt dizzy and she looked around as though expecting to see Hugh standing just out of sight.
"Don't worry about it," Cal replied. "I'll take care of it in the morning." He held onto her tightly. "He's going to have to knock down a wall to get back in here."
Kate wanted to trust him, she wanted to believe him so badly. But her fear remained nonetheless.
Summer
John hadn't realized that his father had gone home until he received a letter from his mother who casually mentioned that Pat had come home several weeks earlier. He thought he would feel relieved or perhaps even accomplished—he surely drove him away—but, instead, he only felt lonely. They had hardly spoken in months—by his choice—but it was the knowledge that his father was no longer there, that he had no one he could turn to, that did it.
He tried to push away the loneliness by focusing on his job. There was a young woman who stopped by the post office every morning to buy a single stamp and smile at him. Several times he suggested she buy several stamps all at once and save herself the trips but she always refused.
It was the morning that he received word that Dottie and Jimmy were now officially going steady, that he took the courageous leap and asked her to dinner. He was almost frightened at how quickly she said yes.
John took her to a tiny café and they both ordered hamburgers and glasses of root beer.
"I think Ellen is a nice name," he said as they both dug into their meals.
"It's fine."
"It suits you."
She raised an eyebrow. "My name is Helen."
"Oh, right." He could feel the blood rushing to his face. He could have sworn she had first introduced herself as Ellen.
They ate in an uncomfortable silence for several minutes before Helen broke it. "Do you like my dress?"
John took a good look at it—black and white plaid—before answering. "It's fine."
"Fine?" She looked momentarily crestfallen before putting a smile back onto her face. "You know, I had it made special but I can't say it turned out just so."
"You don't say." He really didn't want to talk about dresses and he desperately tried to think of a new topic, any topic at all.
"I went to this new tailor. Mrs. Plummer. Do you know her?"
"I don't know any tailors."
"Well, supposedly she's on the up and up but let me tell you, she must be up and up from the basement. The whole thing was quite an ordeal."
"Sounds like it."
"You see, I wanted her to use bias cut in how she put the dress together but she claims to have never heard of bias cut. What sort of tailor isn't familiar with bias cut?"
"A terrible one, I imagine." John hadn't the faintest idea what bias cut was but wasn't about to ask.
"Worse than that," Helen continued. "I wanted something like what Greta Garbo wore in Anna Christie . You know the dress I'm talking about?"
"Sure."
"That plaid skirt is just so stylish, don't you think? Especially with the black jacket over it. I could die just thinking about it." She paused to take a sip of her root beer. "Anyway, would you believe it but she had never seen Anna Christie . I'm not entirely sure she even knows who Greta Garbo is in the first place." She shook her head and looked to John to respond but he had just taken a large bite of his hamburger. "The whole thing was an absolute fiasco. She did plaid, as you can see, but it was the wrong size of plaid and she didn't cut it on the bias so I think it makes me look boxy. She also made the jacket plaid as well."
John didn't know if she was looking for agreement or a compliment so he settled for something neutral. "That is certainly plaid."
Helen sighed. "By this point, it had been weeks of arguing and I was about ready to go bananas. I didn't want to start all over so now I'm stuck looking like a bunch of boxes."
"I think you look nice."
"Do you?" A smile spread across her face, bringing out two dimples. "I suppose I can pull off looking like boxes even if I am no Greta Garbo. You do know who Greta Garbo is, don't you?"
He knew that she was an actress although he doubted he had ever seen any of her films. But he was bored and Helen wasn't all that interesting. "Sure," he replied. "She's a tennis player."
"A tennis player?" She looked momentarily shocked then broke out laughing. "I see how it is. I think you're going to need to take me to see a few of her movies."
"Uh huh." John thought that was very unlikely to happen.
"I'm having such a wonderful time," Helen said. "I'm so glad you asked me to dinner. Took you long enough to pick up my hints."
He took another bite of his hamburger so he wouldn't have to answer.
"My mama's going to be so happy that I'm finally going steady with someone."
He choked. "What?" He managed to sputter between coughs.
"Going steady." Helen pushed his root beer closer to him. "Me and you."
John took a hasty drink. "We're not going steady," he replied. "This is just dinner."
"Oh." Her face fell. "Is it the plaid? I know it doesn't sit as well since it's not bias cut but I did the best I could."
"It's not the plaid."
"Is it my hair?" She brought a hand up and tentatively touched her hair. "Because I try as much as I can but it never seems to lay just right."
"It's not your hair," John assured her. "Your hair looks nice. I just don't think we have much in common."
"You don't even know me yet."
"I know enough to know we couldn't get along."
"You can't tell that right away."
"Sure you can. I mean, when I met my friend Dottie, we knew at once that—"
"Oh," Helen cut him off. "So that's it."
"What's it?"
"There's another woman." She let out a sigh. "Why didn't you just say that in the first place."
"There isn't another woman."
"Either there's another woman or you must think me detestable. I can't see any other reason for the horrid way you've been treating me."
"I thought I've been pleasant."
"No, you've been abhorrent."
John was confused at how the dinner had suddenly gone so wrong. At least he had thought he was being a gentleman. "I don't find you detestable," he insisted. "I think you're nice. And you're very pretty," he quickly added.
Helen smiled sweetly. "So, are we having dessert? I could go for some pie. They make it fresh here and serve it with a great big scoop of vanilla ice cream on top."
"Sure, order what you want." He glanced toward the door and prayed that he would still have some money left by the end of the date.
Cal wondered if there would ever be a time that he didn't have the urge to drink. It had been nearly a year since he had promised Kate he would stop drinking. And, for the most part, he had kept his word. At least, he made his best effort to keep his word. Only a handful of slip ups, times when he had somehow inexplicably found himself in a bar, a glass of bourbon in his hand. He always kept those times to one drink, never more than two, plus a renewed vow to never touch liquor ever again.
As he held his new daughter in his arms and looked at her face—how was it possible for someone to be so small?-he made yet another promise. He had to do better no matter how difficult it might be. She was too perfect to let down.
"I'm sorry she's not a boy," Kate said quietly from where she sat in bed, propped up by several pillows.
"You've said that three times now," Cal replied. "I don't care that she's a girl. Why would that bother me?"
"It bothered Hugh?"
"I'm not Hugh." The baby in his arms playfully waved a tiny fist and he smiled. "Besides, I already have two sons. I don't need any more." He moved to sit beside her in the bed. "She needs a name."
Kate gently touched the baby's cheek. "Evelyn," she suggested tentatively. "If that's alright. I mean, we don't have to name her that if ye don't care for it. I just thought we might call her Evy." She looked at him hopefully.
Cal leaned over and kissed her. "If you love it, then I love it."
Evy began to fuss and Kate immediately held out her arms.
"It's alright. I have her."
She blinked in surprise. "Hugh never liked it when they made noise."
"Hugh never liked a great many things, did he?"
"That's not true. He liked drinkin' and gamblin' and takin' his anger out on me." She spoke casually as though she were discussing the weather.
Cal looked at her with concern. "Kate, that's not—"
Evy began to cry.
"I'm not sure what to do now," he admitted, looking to Kate for help.
Kate carefully took the baby from him. "You didn't have much to do with your children when they were babies, did you?"
"Between Dinah and their nannies...I hardly saw them."
She gently tugged down the shoulder of her nightgown and positioned their daughter at her breast. "Ye'll learn," she said with a smile on her face. "Now ye won't be forgettin' me other children now that ye have one of yer own, will ye? Because they like ye a great deal, especially Henry, and I won't have their hearts broken."
"Of course not," Cal replied. "You believe I'd do something like that?"
"Hugh did."
The more he heard about the things Hugh did, the more he wished he could tear the man into pieces. He gently pressed a kiss to Kate's head. "I love all of your children, I promise."
"And yer truly not intendin' to leave?"
"Why would I leave? My family's here."
Kate rested her head on his shoulder. "I love ye."
Cal looked at her and their child and felt happy in a way that he hadn't in a very long time. "I love you too," he murmured back.
Pat had never believed that once he returned home, everything would go back to how it was before. But he hadn't realized it would be so difficult. Sarah was wonderful and he had never been more grateful for her presence. He had missed the way she used to cling to him each night when he was away. But now, she not only clung to him in her sleep, she also kept close to him during the day. He knew that she was afraid he'd leave again and he couldn't fault her wariness.
Eileen was another matter entirely. His daughter who once trailed him like a small shadow, now kept her distance. Sarah assured him that it would take time for her to come around once again, that he needed to be patient. But, it was painful to know that he was the one who had broken their relationship in the first place. How had he ever been able to leave Eileen? He knew she deserved so much better.
Pat gave his sister a week after giving birth before he walked over to her house to check on her. He remembered vividly how terribly Hugh had treated her immediately after her previous children were born. And while Sarah insisted that Cal was different, he needed to see for himself that she was doing alright.
As he walked up, he found Cal sitting on the front porch, holding a sleeping infant in his arms.
"Is Kate around?"
"She's sleeping," Cal replied. "I'd rather you didn't wake her."
Pat looked at the baby in Cal's arms and tried to recall when Eileen had been so small. It seemed impossible how quickly they grew. He thought of the years he had missed in her life and felt a wave of guilt.
"Can I help you with something?" Cal asked suddenly.
Pat shook his head. "No," he replied. "I was only thinkin' of Eileen bein' so little. Feels like only yesterday."
Cal looked down at his child and smiled. "I was never around when my boys were this small so this is a bit of a first for me." She let out a tiny grunt and jerked her arms. "I never realized babies were so difficult."
"Do ye reckon that might be part of why Dinah harbored such a dislike for ye?" Spying a plush rabbit sitting nearby, Pat picked it up. It was clearly brand new with floppy ears and a blue velvet jacket.
"Is there something you needed Kate for?" Cal asked, his tone sharp.
"Not particularly," Pat replied. "I just haven't laid eyes on her in a while."
"Are you checking on your sister or are you checking on me?"
"I can manage both."
"Well, you can stop worrying. I've never laid a hand on her," Cal said. "Not that it'd matter much to you."
Pat stiffened. "What the hell are ye sayin'?"
"How many years did you sit back and watch your sister suffer? It's a miracle she's alive at all."
"I tried to get her out."
"You didn't try very hard."
"At least I was here." Pat knew it was a weak argument but he couldn't think of anything else. He knew he should have done more over the years regardless of Kate's insistence that he keep out of it.
"Except for the past two years and wasn't there a year before that as well?"
"I wasn't—"
"If you like," Cal cut him off. "I can tell Kate you stopped by."
"I think I'd prefer to wait for her to wake up."
"Suit yourself." Cal readjusted the infant in his arms. "By the way, if you ever make Sarah cry like that again, I'm going to run you over with my car."
"When did I make her cry?"
"When you decided to abandon your family."
"I never—" Pat's voice rose, startling Evy awake.
Cal shot him an irritated look as she began to cry.
Kate chose that moment to step outside, looking tired but happy. Her smile immediately faltered. "Please tell me the two of ye are getting' along."
"Of course, we are," Cal replied. He had already managed to soothe the cries out of the child and she was on her way back to sleep.
"I'm glad to hear it. Pat, will ye give me a hand inside?"
"Sure." He followed her into the living room.
Kate took a seat on the sofa. "I don't actually need a hand, but I wanted to have a word with ye." Her gaze landed on the plush rabbit still in his hands and she reached out for it. "Cal bought this for Evy right after she was born. He wanted the rabbit from Velveteen Rabbit but the stores only had Peter." She smiled. "Evy's still a bit too small to fully appreciate it just yet." She carefully set the rabbit on the table, positioning him so he was sitting up and facing them. "Are ye alright?" She asked suddenly.
"Why wouldn't I be alright?"
"Because I don't think ye are," Kate answered.
"I'm fine."
"Pat, there's plenty of jobs in Spokane."
"Yer point bein'…"
"Ye didn't need to leave."
"I had to." He felt strangely defensive, more so than he should have been.
"Ye sure ye weren't runnin' from yer problems instead?
Pat bristled under her accusation and the kernels of truth that laid beneath the words. "I didn't…I asked Sarah to come with me."
"Ye asked Sarah when ye knew she would never leave her home."
"Are ye tellin' me I wanted to run out on me family?"
"I don't believe it was intentional but, ye do that," Kate said softly. "Ye run from yer demons. Ye have ever since the Titanic sank."
"I don't have demons."
"No? Patrick Murphy, yer filled with them."
Pat opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Instead he put his face in his hands.
"It's alright," Kate said. She put an arm around him. "Yer not the only one. Hugh gave me a few demons of me own. What matters is that yer home now."
"I just... I can't shake the thoughts, ye know?" He looked at her. "If it's not the ship, it's the mill. If it's not the asylum, it's Hugh. It doesn't stop. It just keeps runnin' from one to the next, night and day. I just want it to stop. How do ye make them stop?"
"I don't know," she replied. "But if those thoughts won't go away, maybe they'll get quieter with time."
Pat wanted to deny it. It had been twenty years, after all, and they were as loud as ever. But Kate was genuinely trying and he was tired of arguing.
"But yer not on yer own anymore," she continued. "Ye can't up and leave again. Ye have a family who needs ye."
He had a family but still wasn't sure how much they truly needed him. He nodded anyway.
"Now, did ye see me new daughter? Isn't she the most beautiful child ye ever set eyes on?"
"I did. She's a fine child," Pat replied, grateful for the change in subject. "Has he been helpful?"
"He's been doin' his best." Kate picked up the plush rabbit once again and smoothed down its tiny jacket. "He even changed a diaper the other day without a single word of complaint. Hugh never did such a thing."
"I'm glad yer happy."
"I am, finally."
His thoughts drifted to Hugh, the thorn in their happiness. The thought that the man was so close, could so easily walk back into their lives was troubling.
"What is it?"
Pat hesitated. He didn't want to frighten his sister or ruin her current happiness but he didn't like the idea of her being unaware either. "Hugh's in Spokane," he said at last.
"What?" She tightened her grip on the rabbit.
"Sarah saw him a while back."
"She never told me."
"She didn't wish to frighten ye."
The color had drained from Kate's face and, briefly, Pat regretted telling her. But then she smiled. "It's fine. Cal's here now. He keeps me safe."
"Yer always welcome to move in with us if ye wish," he offered.
"No, I think I'll stay in me home," she replied. "Ye don't need the whole brood squeezed in there with ye again." She shook her head. "Cal can protect us. I know he will." She looked at him. "I wish the two of ye would get along."
"We get along fine."
"Pat."
"I don't hate him," Pat insisted. "I know he's treatin' ye well and that's all I want."
Fall
Tommy sat beneath the bridge, smoking and pretending to drink from the bottle that kept getting passed around. He wasn't paying a great deal of attention to the conversation going on without him. His mind was preoccupied with his new sister. He couldn't believe that his mother would willingly have another child. Things always went from bad to worse whenever there was a new baby and he was practically holding his breath until it happened this time. Until Cal decided that he no longer liked them.
A small pebble bounced off his forehead, snapping him out of his thoughts. "What was that for?" Unsure who had thrown it in the first place, he chucked it at Warren.
"I asked you if you've ever been to Wilson's." Harry said.
"No, my family doesn't eat out," Tommy replied. "Is it good?"
"It's fine except for the nelly who owns it." Harry picked up a rock and threw it into the river. "I was there two days ago and the bastard threw me out."
Warren laughed. "Maybe it was the smell," he said. "You've always been a smelly one."
"Well, fuck you. No, I was only sitting there minding my own business and I just happened to ask for a bit more coffee."
"I'm sure you were perfectly polite about it," Robbie joined in.
"I was polite the first three times I asked," Harry continued. "I ended up having to throw my cup to get the old man's attention."
"Maybe his hearing is going?" Tommy suggested.
"It's not going. He just doesn't like me." Harry scowled. "So far as I see it, the son of a bitch owes me a cup of coffee."
"Then let's go get one." Robbie stood and stretched. "We can take the whole coffee machine."
"Percolator," Tommy said.
They all stared at him.
"My mom's friend likes coffee," he explained. "But what good would that do anyway?"
Harry jumped to his feet. "We can see how he likes it when everyone's yelling at him for a change."
"I think he'd notice us taking his perco-machine right out from under his nose." Tommy desperately hoped they'd find some other way to occupy their time. He didn't want to take anything from anyone.
"Not if we go at night," Robbie suggested.
"You mean break in?" Tommy knew his mother would murder him on the spot for simply discussing such a thing.
"It's only breaking in if we take money," Warren said. "We won't touch that."
Tommy looked from one to the other. "I still don't think it's a good idea."
"Oh, don't be such a baby." Harry gave him a light shove. "It'll be fun."
Tommy had no trouble slipping out of the house once everyone had fallen asleep. He crept through the back door, leaving it unlocked for his return.
Instead of their usual meeting spot beneath the bridge, he met his friends outside of Wilson's.
Robbie shattered a window with a rock and, being the smallest of the group, Tommy climbed through to unlock the front door.
"Great," Warren said, clapping him on the back. "Now, go find the coffee machine."
"Me?"
"You know coffee better than the rest of us."
"But I don't—"
But the group walked off, leaving him alone.
Tommy sighed and went in search of the kitchen. The building was dark and full of deep shadows and he felt uneasy. He wished he was at home, asleep in bed, instead of wandering through a deserted building, expecting the police to show up at any moment. He picked up something that looked like two glass balls stacked on top of each other and looked at it. Maybe it was the percolator? It didn't look at all like the one his mom had at home but he couldn't see anything else that might be it.
"Would you hurry up?" Harry came up behind him.
Startled, Tommy dropped the percolator, the glass shattering on the floor.
"Good enough. Let's go."
As they turned to leave, he spotted a tray of turnovers, already prepared for the morning. He grabbed one as he passed by.
The group gathered back in the park and Tommy watched, horrified, as they all began to count a stack of bills.
"I thought we weren't taking money," he said."
Robbie shrugged. "It's just a little something for our troubles."
"We could go to jail."
"Only if we get caught."
"Don't be such a baby," Warren gave him a light shove.
Tommy didn't want to come off as a baby to his friends but he also didn't want to go to jail. He stood there a moment, watching them divvy up the money, as he made up his mind. "I'm going home."
"Fine, go," Harry said, not even looking up from his pile.
Tommy ran home as quickly as he could, the turnover still clutched in his hand. At every moment, he expected to hear sirens or see someone chasing after him, demanding he put his hands up. He reached home out of breath and was grateful to find the back door still unlocked. He quickly slipped through and locked it behind him.
"And where were ye?"
He spun around to see his mother standing in the kitchen, the baby in her arms. Both her and the baby seemed to watch him with the same disappointed expression on their faces.
His heart pounded madly as he scrambled to come up with an excuse. "I was just...I mean, I didn't…" He held out the turnover, now slightly squashed. "I got this for you."
The ghost of a smile flickered across Kate's face as she took the turnover from him. "Go on to bed now and we can discuss it in the mornin'." She brought the pastry to her nose and smelled it. "Is this from Wilson's?"
"Um, I'm not sure...it could be," he stammered. "Why?"
"No reason," she replied. "I went there with your father once."
"Hugh?"
"Daniel." She smiled. "Now get to bed."
Usually Tommy would've argued but he was still too shaken up from earlier. Now all he wanted to do was hide beneath his covers and pretend the whole night had never happened. Without a word, he turned and started from the room. He glanced back to see his mother take a bite of the turnover, a wistful look on her face.
Despite their circumstances improving, Fabrizio still hadn't been able to forget about Italy. He couldn't explain why needed away from New York so badly. He didn't even fully understand it himself. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw the mountains, the deep blue ocean of his childhood. He could practically breathe in the fresh air. And every time, they stepped outside of their tiny two room tenement, he smelled the refuse and the grease from the nearby restaurant, he wanted nothing more than better for his children. He didn't want them to grow up in such a small space, surrounded by terrible smells and poverty.
Lelia remained adamant about staying in their home but she was slowly starting to soften to the idea. As he talked about great open spaces and fresh air, freedom to move about, room for their children to grow, she finally sighed. "But are you even going to be able to get on a ship again?"
"Of course, why wouldn't I?'
"I was thinking of the last time you were on one. It didn't go so well."
"That wasn't the last time." He didn't often recall the years immediately following the sinking and he frowned as he thought of them now. "I was here four years and then I receive word that my mama was sick. So, I take ship back to Italy." He wouldn't have called it an unpleasant trip so much as an exhausting one. It was difficult to sleep when, at every minute, you expected to end up in the water. "Turns out, she was not so sick. She live for two more years. And then I take another ship and come back here. And I was fine both times." For the most part.
Lelia took his hand. "I'm glad you're not nervous then because I think I might be," she said. "It's been so long since I was on one."
He kissed her hand. "It is only a ship."
"Maybe." She grew thoughtful as she watched the children playing on the beds, jumping from one to the other, and then she sighed. "Alright," she said. "We can move. You convinced me."
Fabrizio immediately kissed her. "You'll love it. I promise."
"So long as my family is there, it doesn't matter where I live," Lelia said. "But do we have to leave at once? I hate to surprise my parents like this."
"There's no ships until spring so we have time. And maybe they come with us?"
She laughed. "I can't think of anything more unlikely."
Kate couldn't escape the fear that something terrible was going to happen. Perhaps it was because, for the first time since she lost Daniel, everything in her life seemed to be going well. So well, in fact, that it couldn't possibly last. Ever since Pat told her about Hugh being so close by, she expected the man to show up, to reclaim her as his wife. She began to keep as close to Cal as possible. Despite his reassurances that he, in fact, preferred her being near, she was still afraid of driving him away. She knew she needed to be able to protect herself.
She went and retrieved the gun from its hiding place. She hated the weapon and wished she could give it back but the thought of Pat with a gun was almost more frightening than the thought of Hugh returning. It wasn't that she believed her brother was a threat so much as a threat to himself and she thought it best to keep such ready means out of his hands.
She found Cal in the living room, engrossed in a newspaper, his brow furrowed.
"Bad news?"
"I believe so," he replied. "I think we should just be glad we don't live in Europe at the moment." He kissed her.
"Oh." Kate didn't read the newspaper as the information usually found inside it was either bad news or didn't pertain to her. "Can ye teach me how to use this?" She asked, suddenly, holding out the gun.
Cal lowered the newspaper. "Are you sure?"
"Aye," she said, taking a seat beside him. "The last time I pointed this at Hugh, I didn't know what I was doin'. The next time I point it at him, I want to know how to use it."
He took the weapon from her and looked at it for a moment, clearly conflicted. Finally, he sighed. "It's actually fairly simple," he said, demonstrating how to load it.
"And how do ye turn the safety off?"
"This switch right here." He switched it off and on again. "But I don't want you to have to do any of this."
"I may not have a choice."
"Kate, I don't want you using this."
"If he comes back then—"
"I don't want you killing anyone." Cal took her hand. "If he comes back, and I don't believe he will, I'll take care of it."
"So it's alright for ye to be killin' someone but not for me then?"
"I'd rather neither of us killed anyone," he replied. "What's going on?"
Kate took a breath. "Pat told me Hugh's in Spokane."
"Kate—"
"Did ye know?" She cut him off.
He hesitated before answering. "I did know. Sarah told me a while ago."
"And ye didn't feel the need to be tellin' me?"
"I didn't tell you because there was no need to tell you." Cal squeezed her hand. "He's not goin to come near you again. I won't let him."
"Cal—"
Their conversation was abruptly interrupted by the arrival of all three children, home from school. Henry and Bridget made a beeline for them, both talking at once, and Tommy's gaze immediately landed on the gun.
"Could ye distract everyone while I put this away?" Kate asked, kissing Cal's cheek.
"Distract them?" He sounded mildly alarmed at the thought.
She slipped into the kitchen, quickly returning the weapon to its box on top of the cabinet. She turned to see Tommy standing behind, watching her.
"Ye know yer not to touch this, right?"
"I know," he replied. "Can I have a snack?"
"Ye know where the food's kept."
Tommy sighed and pulled an apple from the refrigerator. "Is he coming back?"
"No, of course not," Kate replied. "He moved on elsewhere and so have we."
As Tommy bit into the apple, he looked unconvinced.
Sarah awoke with a start and realized that Pat wasn't beside her. For the briefest of moments, she pushed down the thought that he had left again, this time without a word. She took a deep breath, willing herself not to panic. He wouldn't have done such a thing.
She pulled a coat on over her nightgown—the memories of doing something similar twenty some years earlier flitted through her mind—and went in search. She checked the front porch first then circled around the house, breathing a sigh of relief as she found him.
Pat was lying on the backyard table, his arms behind his head, looking up at the stars. He glanced over as she approached, a smile forming on his face.
"I wondered where you went."
"I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to wake ye."
"Bad dream?"
"Aye." He took a deep breath. "Ye think I'd be used to them by now."
"Move over a bit."
Pat made room and she climbed onto the table, immediately snuggling up beside him.
"What was it this time?" She asked.
"That damn ship," he replied, his gaze back on the stars. "How many years has it been?"
"Twenty two."
"Twenty two years and I still can't escape it." He briefly closed his eyes. "Sometimes, I can barely recall last week, but every tiny detail of that night twenty-two years ago won't let go. The sound of the ice breaking, the water spillin' over the deck. I close me eyes and I can feel the keel of that boat beneath me fingers." He turned his head to look at her. "Sometimes, when we're sleepin', yer hair will brush against me hand and I'm..." His voice faltered. "It's not right."
Sarah gently kissed his cheek. "If I close my eyes, I still feel John pushing me toward the boats," she said quietly. It was something she tried her hardest to forget but yet always lived in the back of her mind. His face might've grown hazy with time but the feel of his hands was never less vivid. "I can still feel yer hands too," she said, taking Pat's hand. "In that lifeboat, you held onto me so tightly. Even when you had fallen unconscious, you refused to let go."
"How could I let go?" Pat asked quietly. "Even then I knew I'd fall apart without ye. Shootin' star." He pointed to the sky.
Sarah turned her head to look. The dark sky was scattered with stars, each twinkling and shining unimpeded by any clouds. It was nothing like that one night twenty two years earlier but it was an impressive show nonetheless. "It really is something, isn't it?"
"Katie and I used to lie on the roof and gaze at them," Pat said. "We haven't done it in years though. I suppose she's grown out of it."
"Hugh may have had a bit to do with it," she pointed out. "I'm surprised you're not on our roof."
"I considered it but I think the angle's too steep," he replied. "I'm likely to just roll right off if I tried." He smiled. "Nah, this table is fine."
Sarah moved her hand to his chest, where she could feel his heart beating. "I'm glad you're home."
"We'll see if yer still glad once we all starve," Pat said. "We can't keep livin' off the little savin's we have."
"Stop it." She kissed him. "We're going to sort it all out. I'm sure some place is hiring."
"Hirin' and willin' to hire me?"
"I don't see why not. I'd hire you if I had a job."
"That's sweet but ye'd make a terrible boss."
"You think so?"
"Yer too nice."
Sarah laughed. "I'm not that nice."
"No?" Pat kissed her.
"Pat."
He moved the kisses to her neck, her throat.
"Pat, I'm not—" Her breath caught in her throat. "We're outside. The whole world can see us."
"What world?"
Sarah ducked under his arm and wiggled free from his grasp. "You know, we have a bed for a reason."
Pat put his arm around her as they headed inside. "And what reason would that be?"
She laughed. "I like it when you're happy."
"Me too."