Sons of an Ancient Glory (59 page)

“Such as?”

“Oh…practical. Sensible. Steady. Dependable.”

“You make me sound deadly dull, love.”

“Hardly. I can't think of a man
less
dull than you. But certainly I'm not quite as prudent or rational as I need to be at times.”

He chuckled softly as Sara went on. “And I suppose I need to heed your caution about Quinn. I'll admit that I find myself admiring the girl's grit. I do like her, Michael, but it's true that we don't know her—even if she is upstairs, sleeping in our best guest room.”

Still stroking her head with his chin, Michael uttered a small sound of approval. “I know you only want to help the lass, Sara. And so do I. It's just that, at present, I think Nora and Evan should be our first concern. That doesn't mean the girl can't stay here for a time, if your grandmother doesn't object. We'll speak with her in the morning, and—”

“Michael?” Sara jerked upright and looked at him instantly. “Didn't Evan tell you that what would help most…is a girl to take over the housework and look after Teddy?”

“Aye, he did.”

“They'd be looking for an immigrant girl, more than likely. Someone who wouldn't be expecting an exorbitant wage, perhaps someone who would be satisfied with a small salary in addition to room and board?”

Michael nodded. “Yes, she'd have to be reasonable about her earnings. They don't have all that much to spare, but Evan said they'd manage somehow.”

“Michael?” Her voice was muted, muffled against his shoulder. “What about Quinn?”

Michael grew still. “
Quinn?
”

With one hand on his chest, Sara pushed herself back and looked at him. “Yes, Quinn! She's recently immigrated. She's young, she seems healthy—and I doubt she'd be expecting an unreasonable wage, not for her first position in a new country. Oh, Michael, she might be just the one—”

“Now, Sara, just slow down a bit.” He caught her hand in his. “I don't think Quinn O'Shea is necessarily the best choice for Evan and Nora.”

“Why not?” Suddenly impatient with the sensible nature she had been praising only a moment ago, Sara frowned at him.

“For the same reason I told you not to be too quick to get involved with the girl. We know nothing about her! You're suggesting that Evan and Nora take a complete stranger into their home, to help look after Nora and the baby—”

“Michael—you told me once that you trusted my instincts about people. Remember?”

He admitted, grudgingly, that he had told her exactly that.

“And didn't you just say that Nora and Evan should be our first concern?”

He clamped his jaw and nodded.

“But you also agreed that we should try to help
Quinn
, too.”

“All right, Sara, that's true. But it wasn't my intention to drop them all in the pot together to see if they can make soup! Quinn O'Shea is but a slip of a girl, and a stranger at that. We haven't even a notion as to whether she knows how to keep house or cook or tend a baby.” He stopped. “And don't forget,” he said pointedly, “that Evan and Nora are our friends.”

“It seems to me that's exactly why we should be trying to help them. Michael—couldn't we at least
talk
with Quinn?”

Michael frowned. “Talk with her?”

Sara nodded eagerly. “Yes, couldn't we talk with Quinn and find out if she has the necessary qualifications for such a position? Don't you see, Michael? If Quinn
is
qualified…and if she's interested…we'd be helping
her
as well as Nora and Evan! Quinn would have a job and a place to live—and Nora would have the help she needs. It could be an ideal arrangement.”

In the end, he agreed that, no, it wouldn't hurt to talk with the girl. He was quick to remind her, though, that talking would not obligate them. And, yes, she did have a point: It might turn out to be a good thing for the girl as well as for Nora and Evan. He said all this, and then he smiled as Sara threw her arms around his neck and told him, not for the first time, that he was really quite wonderful.

My heart is the seed of time, my veins are star-dust,
My spirit is the axle of God's dream.

T.D. O'B
OLGER

L
ate the next morning at the hospital, Evan said a final goodbye to Billy Hogan, reassuring him that he would be back to visit the next day. “Right after Sunday m-morning worship,” he promised. “Perhaps Daniel John will come with m-me. Would you like that, Billy?”

The boy managed a faint smile. His forehead was bandaged, as was his left eye. His cuts had been cleaned and dressed, and due to a fractured shoulder, his right arm was in a sling. But he was alert and able to communicate with Evan and Michael Burke, who had walked into the children's ward not long after Evan arrived.

“Mr. Evan?” The boy's voice was little more than a whisper. Obviously, he was still in great pain. It occurred to Evan again that, given Billy's grave physical condition, it was nothing short of miraculous that his voice had reached beyond the coal cellar the night before to attract their attention.

“Yes, Billy?” Evan bent lower to hear him.

The child glanced at Michael Burke, standing at the foot of the bed with his arms over his chest, then lowered his voice even more. “Am I in trouble?”

“Trouble?” Evan stared at him. “Why, of course, you're n-not in trouble, Billy! What would make you think such a thing?”

The boy's gaze slid back to Michael Burke, who obviously had heard his question. Smiling, the policeman came around the bed to stand next to Evan. “I'm here strictly as a friend, Billy. You helped me out in a tight place a couple of years past. Do you recall?”

Billy frowned, shaking his head. “No, sir.”

“In the Five Points, when the strikers jumped me and Sergeant Price? You ran for help. If it hadn't been for you, we'd have been in a bad way for certain.”

The boy's expression cleared, and he gave a brief nod.

“Am I going to get well, Mr. Evan?”

“Oh
yes
, Billy!” Evan rushed to assure him. “Why, you're going to be as good as n-new in no time. I have the word of two physicians on that. But you m-must do exactly as the doctors and nurses tell you while you're here.”

The boy looked away, and Evan thought he was drifting off to sleep. But after a moment, he asked quietly, “Do I have to go back home when I'm well?”

Evan swallowed against the knot in his throat. He turned to look at Michael. The policeman's expression was grim as he gave a curt shake of his head.

“N-no, Billy,” Evan said quietly. “You don't.”

After another silence, the boy turned back to face Evan. “Then where
will
I go?”

Evan drew a deep breath, let it out again, still not answering. An urge overwhelmed him to gather the broken boy against his heart and tell him he would take him home with
him.
But with Nora so ill and the house already crowded, how could he even think of it?

Instead, he sank down on the side of the bed and took Billy's hand in his. “It's too soon to m-make plans just yet, Billy. For a while, you're going to b-be right here, getting strong and well. B-but I promise you, when the time comes for you to leave, we will find you a good…
safe
place to live. Please promise m-me you won't fret about this for now, that you'll concentrate on getting well.”

“Aye, Mr. Evan,” Billy said after only the slightest hesitation. “I promise.”

Seeing that he was growing drowsy again, Evan rose. “Captain Burke and I m-must go now, Billy. You rest. And be sure to eat everything the nurses b-bring you. I'll come again tomorrow.”

On the way out, Evan could not help but notice the crowded conditions of the ward. Every bed was taken, many with children much younger than Billy Hogan. Some lay sobbing, in obvious pain. Others bore bruises and injuries all too similar to Billy's. The scars of abuse.

Unable to restrain himself, Evan stopped several times to visit with a youngster who looked unhappy or lonely. By the time he and Michael reached the exit of the hospital, his heart felt almost as heavy as it had the night before.

Outside, they stopped to talk before going their separate ways. “I came in a patrol wagon,” Michael said. “Why don't I take you to the ferry?”

Evan shook his head. “Thank you, Michael, but I think I'd like to walk a ways. I think b-best when I walk, and…well, I have a fair amount of thinking to d-do.”

“About Nora, I expect.”

Evan nodded, drawing his muffler more tightly about his throat. “And Billy. About a lot of things, actually.”

They both stood looking out over the East River, choppy in the brisk November wind. As always, the river was dotted with a variety of ships, largely immigrant vessels. They kept coming by the thousands, week after week, month after month, bringing their sorrows and their dreams to America.

“Have you talked with Nora yet, about your visit with Dr. Grafton?” Michael asked, still staring at the river.

“No. Dr. Grafton is coming by Monday evening. He thought it m-might be best for him to be there when I tell her. It's just as well. It was too late last n-night. I was exhausted, and with everything else—well, it will be best to wait, I think.”

He explained about the fire, went on to tell Michael his Aunt Winnie's observation: that God's purpose had been accomplished in the fire, that He had turned it to good use for Johanna. “Ever the optimist, Aunt Winnie,” Evan said with a faint smile. “And as Nora would say, I'd not b-be the one to argue with her.”

After a long silence, Michael turned to him. “Sara and I want to help, Evan. However we can. You and Nora—well, I expect you know—we feel that you're family.”

“Thank you, Michael,” Evan responded, pleased by his words. “I'm sure Sara will be a great help in finding us a girl to live in.” He turned to look at Michael. “I think it's absolutely vital that I find someone as soon as p-possible. N-not just anyone, of course, but someone Nora will feel comfortable with, someone qualified.”

Evan paused and gave a rueful smile, “It should be a very simple m-matter, don't you think: finding a girl who's willing to take on the responsibility of keeping house, as well as providing care for an infant—and Nora? A very small, crowded house with a g-great deal of work. And all at an af-affordable wage, of course. I can't think why I'd have any difficulty finding the person we need.”

Michael folded his arms over his chest, regarding him with a studying look. “Well, Evan, as it happens, you may
not
have all that much trouble finding someone. In fact, we may have already found her—if you're agreeable, that is.”

Evan stared at him. He was unable to suppress the surge of hope that began to rise in him as Michael explained the situation with the young woman named Quinn O'Shea.

Michael ended his story with a word of caution. “Sara says I'm too much the policeman, but I'd not feel right if I didn't tell you I have misgivings about the girl. I can't shake the feeling that she's not being altogether candid with us.”

“You think she's lying?”

Michael hesitated. “Perhaps not
lying
so much as…withholding something. I know you're anxious to find a girl right away—but with Nora and the children, I also know you're not wanting to take any chances. I just thought I should mention what I suspect.”

Evan thought about it for a moment. “You say the girl has n-nowhere to go?”

“She has nothing but the clothes on her back, and that's the truth. Sara was going to enlist her grandmother's help this morning in altering a few things for her. She's absolutely destitute.” Michael's eyes darkened. “Apparently, she never saw the first penny of a wage, though she worked several hours a day at the Shelter.”

“You indicated that she's had experience, m-managing a household?” Evan asked thoughtfully.