A Girl Like That Page 14

  “I’m sorry, Sam.”

  Sam tensed. “Sorry about what?”

  “I saw Nancy give the letter to Franklin and heard her tell him it was a letter for your ‘young lady,’ as she said.” His father sighed, and Sam saw sorrow wash over his face. “What can I say except I’m sorry? I thought I was doing the right thing when I took it.”

  “You read it?”

  “Of course not. I disposed of it.” Shame filled his eyes. “I was wrong. I’m very sorry, Sam. I thought I was protecting you. Now that I’ve gotten to know so many of the Irish people, I’ve come to respect most of them. I asked around about Miss O’Shannon and heard about the good work she’s been doing in the Patch.”

  Sam’s chest tightened. He knew his father had thought he was doing the right thing, but could he forgive this outrage?

  “Sam, all I can say is I’m so sorry and I’d love to meet the young lady. I just pray you can somehow forgive me.”

  With awe, Sam saw tears spring up in his father’s eyes. Eugene Nelson, tough businessman, was crying.

  He reached over and pressed his father’s hand. “I do forgive you, Father. And I’m sure my Katie will be thrilled to meet you and Mother.”

  Nineteen

  Katie put on her best dress and then, peering into the mirror, arranged part of her hair on top of her head. She smoothed the ringlets hanging down on each side then picked up her hat and eyed it critically.

  She’d purchased the plum-colored head covering from a catalog shortly before she came to the city. The lace and fake flowers were still as good as new. But the small black bird, which had so fascinated her at the time of purchase, now wanted to lean over onto the brim. She’d have to repair or remove it. But not today. After tugging the bird back into place, she arranged the hat on her head. It would simply have to do.

  She’d been excited about church before, but this joy bubbling up inside her wasn’t about sitting in the back pew, giggling with her girlfriends. She practically skipped downstairs and was surprised to see her pa, standing beside a smiling Rosie, wearing his best suit and smelling like pomade.

  “It’s about time you got down here, Katherine O’Shannon. And here we’ve been waiting for you fifteen minutes or more.” He pulled out his pocket watch, gave it a quick glance, then replaced it in his vest pocket.

  “Five is more like it, Michael. Don’t pay him any mind, Katie. You’re very pretty this morning. Isn’t she?”

  Katie grinned as her father took a closer look at her.

  “Isn’t that waist a little snug, daughter?” Creases appeared between his eyes.

  “No, Pa, it’s not snug in the least.” She grabbed his arm. “Shall we go? I wouldn’t want to be late.”

  They stepped out into the already scorching hot morning.

  “My lands,” Rosie said, holding a handkerchief to her face. “Were there more fires last night?”

  “Hmm. It wouldn’t surprise me any,” Pa declared. “The count was at twenty for the week the last I heard.”

  Katie latched onto one of her father’s arms while Rosie grabbed the other, and they headed down the street, turning when they reached the corner. By the time they reached the church, she noticed her father wheezed a little, and her own breathing was difficult as well.

  A group of men stood on the steps outside the church, their conversation reaching to the sidewalk.

  One man flung his arm upward. “That’s right. The whole street’s gone. Houses, stores, everything.”

  “What are they talking about, Father?” Dear God, please don’t let it be what it sounds like.

  Her father patted her hand. “Go inside, Katie. You, too, Rosie. I’ll join you shortly.”

  She followed Rosie into the church, and they found seats in a pew about halfway up the aisle.

  A smattering of women and children sat around the sanctuary, and an occasional whisper reached her ears.

  Finally, the men drifted in.

  Katie scooted over so her father could slide into the pew next to Rosie. “Father, what’s going on?” She leaned over and peered around Rosie.

  “Shhh.” The sound came from the seat behind Katie.

  A tall man had stepped onto the platform and made his way to the podium. He stood for a moment with his eyes closed. Was he praying?

  “Brothers and sisters, neighbors,” the deep voice sounded throughout the room, “some of you have heard about last night’s fires. For those who haven’t, I’m sorry to be the bearer of sad news.”

  A sob sounded from the other side of the room, and Katie heard a moan from farther back in the church.

  “Four entire blocks were destroyed last night on the southwest side of town. I don’t know the exact location, and I’m sorry I don’t have more information. If you have family or friends in that area and would like to leave, we will be praying.”

  Katie averted her eyes as several people got up from their seats and hurried out. Dear God. Help them. Let them find their loved ones safe.

  “If you’ll bow your heads, I’ll say a few words of prayer for those who may have lost homes or, worse still, family members.” He paused a moment then sighed. “I’m afraid it’s also time to pray for the safety of our entire city.”

  Katie closed her eyes and silently prayed, blinking back tears. Oh, why didn’t it rain? Lord, please send rain.

  “And now, if you’ll open your hymnals, we’ll continue our service with our brothers and sisters still in our hearts.”

  As Katie sang the familiar hymns, peace flowed into her spirit. She listened intently to the sermon that followed, almost awestruck. Grandma and Grandpa’s church wasn’t like this. Was it? If so, where was she at the time? In another world? Perhaps it was the tragedy and common-felt sorrow among the congregation that made it feel different. No, the feeling came from inside. Butterflies tickled her stomach. God is really real.

  She had to cover her mouth and nose with her handkerchief during the walk home, as did her father and Rosie. She followed them into the house and went up to change into something fresh and lighter before dinner.

  Why hadn’t she invited Sam to dinner? Perhaps he’d drop by later. If not, the afternoon would drag. If only Bridget were here. But she wouldn’t be home until sundown at least.

  What could she do to make the time go faster? And get her mind off those poor people? As she walked into the hallway, the aroma of Ma’s fried chicken wafted up the staircase. Her favorite meal. Her stomach churned. Who could eat?

  ❧

  Sam scanned the front page of the Chicago Tribune. His eyes rested on an article covering last night’s fire. According to the reporter, the absence of rain had left everything so dry it would only take a spark to ignite the whole city. He shook his head. The southwest wind blowing off the prairie could make that prediction come true.

  His mother came in from the kitchen and stopped in the middle of the room. “All anyone at church could talk about this morning was the fire and the possibility of more.”

  At the sight of her worried face, Sam got up and took her hands in his. “Now, Mother, don’t be worrying yourself sick.”

  “I won’t. I’m trying to lift it up to God.” She offered a rueful smile. “Most of the time, I remember.”

  A twinge of guilt bit at Sam. How long had it been since he’d gone to church or even opened his Bible? He could remember a time when he was so close to God he could actually feel His presence. What had happened?

  His mother placed her hand on his sleeve. “I’d like to talk to you before dinner.”

  She sat on the sofa, and Sam returned to his chair. “All right, Mother. What about?”

  “Your father told me about Miss O’Shannon.”

  Sam’s stomach tightened. “Yes? You know Father hasn’t actually met her yet, and besides, he’s given
his permission for me to bring Katie to meet him.”

  “You don’t need to sound so defensive, Sam. I’m not planning an attack.” A dimple appeared and then hid again at her brief smile.

  “You’ll have to forgive me, Mother. I’ve been defending Katie to Father for some time.”

  “But I am not your father.”

  He darted a look at her. “Do you mean you approve? Even though she isn’t one of your friends’ daughters?”

  “What do they have to do with anything? I want my son happy, whomever he chooses to love. But as to whether I approve of your choice, I can’t say. You haven’t given me the opportunity to approve or disapprove.”

  Sam’s jaw dropped open, and he burst out laughing. “You’ve a point there. I haven’t, have I?”

  She patted the seat next her. “So, come over here and tell me all about this girl who has managed to capture my son’s elusive heart. Goodness knows I’ve thrown plenty of lovely young women your way with no success at all.”

  Sam sat where she directed and leaned back. How good it felt to relax when he spoke of Katie. “Mother, you will love her. I know you will. She’s not only lovely to look at; she’s sweet and kind.”

  Sam paused, wondering how to continue. How to show her the Katie he knew and loved. “Her parents were in vaudeville and lived in New York City. When she was fourteen, her mother died, and her maternal grandparents raised her after that. They have a little farm somewhere in southern Illinois. She turned eighteen a few months ago and came to live with her father.”

  “Tell me about him.”

  Sam smiled. “Michael O’Shannon is bigger than life with a stubborn streak and a heart of gold. He came here from Ireland when he was a small boy and is very much American. He’s very protective of his Katie, and it took me quite awhile to win his trust so that I could call on her.”

  “What sort of acting does Katie do?”

  “She won her first role after one of the other performers broke her foot. The actress is back now, so Katie only sings a solo before the show. Usually a ballad. She also helps out backstage.”

  “I always thought it would be exciting to be onstage.” Her eyes sparkled.

  Sam couldn’t help the little choke of laughter at her words. “You, Mother?”

  She flashed a smile at him. “I was a young girl myself once, you know. Of course, I’d have been locked up forever if I’d tried to follow that short-lived dream.”

  Franklin appeared in the doorway. “Dinner is served, Mrs. Nelson.”

  “Thank you, Franklin.”

  Sam fidgeted. Had he said enough? Too much?

  Mother rose and waited for him then took his arm. “Ask Miss O’Shannon when it would be convenient for her to come to dinner.”

  A weight lifted off Sam, and he took a deep breath. “Thank you, Mother,” he whispered.

  “I’ve always wanted a daughter, you know.”

  Sam smiled at the dimple that appeared in her cheek.

  ❧

  Katie couldn’t join in the festive mood with the rest of the troupe as Pat Devine entertained them with his fiddle. Why hadn’t Sam come to see her? All right. So he didn’t say he would be here today. But still. . .

  She glanced at the mantel clock again. Seven. Bridget should have been here by now. Katie went to the window and peeked around the lace curtains and through the open window. With a huff, she sat on the wingbacked chair. Bridget wasn’t coming either. She turned her attention to Pat, who had everyone in the room but her tapping their toes.

  Rosie sat beside her. “Bridget’s not here yet?”

  “No. She must have decided to stay home tonight,” Katie sighed.

  “I know it’s lonely for you with just us older folks for company.” Rosie gave her an understanding smile.

  “Oh no, Rosie. I love being with you.” The older woman had been a wonderful friend to Katie. Almost like a mother.

  “Mmm-hmm.” Rosie gave her hand a squeeze. “We love you, too. But it’s not the same as having someone your own age to talk to.”

  A shout of laughter drew their attention back to their boisterous friends.

  Katie smiled at her father, who stood in the center of the room, surrounded by the others. “Rosie, they’re insulting me.”

  “Now, you fellows, leave my man alone.” Rosie gave a playful frown and went to stand by Michael, looping her arm through his.

  Her man? Did Rosie call Pa “her man”? Katie put her hands to her cheeks. She’d known that Rosie had a crush on her pa, but when did he decide to return her affection?

  Deciding she needed to collect her thoughts, she went outside and sat on one of the rocking chairs on the porch. The smoke from the night before seemed even stronger than it had earlier, probably carried by the wind blowing from the south. Like Pa said, the fire department was well equipped to take care of any more fires that broke out. Katie shivered. But then why did four city blocks burn to the ground?

  Suddenly part of a verse from the minister’s sermon came to her. “When thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.” What did that mean? People did get burned sometimes. Just last week, one of Harrigan’s business associates had died in a fire.

  Another shiver went through her body. She jumped up and hurried back to the parlor. Back to the noisy laughter. Back to where she was safe.

  Twenty

  “Katie, wake up.” Her father’s voice broke through the sleep-filled fog. He shook her shoulder. “Katie.”

  “What’s wrong?” She bolted upright, her eyes landing on her fully dressed father.

  “More fires. Get dressed and come downstairs. We’ll talk then.” He rushed out. The door closed, and his running footsteps receded down the stairs.

  Katie flung the covers aside, jumped out of bed, and grabbed the first dress her hands touched. She jerked it from the closet and threw it on over her shift and pantalettes. No time for a corset. Pa’s voice sounded frightened.

  Five minutes later, curls flying unconfined around her shoulders, she hurried downstairs. Voices sounded in the dining room. She hurried inside, finding the entire troupe there. “What’s wrong?” She stopped and took a deep breath. “Is there fire heading this way?”

  “Come sit down, daughter.” Her father took her arm and led her to one of the straight-backed chairs by the table.

  She looked at the small clock on the mantel. Ten thirty. No wonder she was so disoriented. She’d only slept a few minutes.

  “Daughter, fire is out of control across the river. They’re sayin’ it started in someone’s barn on DeKoven Street. The southern branch should stop it, but with all the oil floating on the surface, that’s not certain.”

  She gasped. If the fire jumped that part of the river. . . “But the gasworks are near there. And, and. . .” Conley’s Patch and Bridget and. . .

  “I know, child.” He patted her shoulder.

  “What can we do?” Her knees weakened, and dizziness clouded her thoughts.

  “A group is forming to help evacuate. Most of us men are going to join them. We’ll be needin’ your prayers.”

  “I’m going with you. I can’t stay here when Bridget and her mother and Betty are in danger. And the children.” She gasped. “They’ll need all the help they can get over there, Father. Surely you can see that.”

  “She’s right. I’m going, too.”

  Katie could have hugged Rosie. She sent her a grateful look.

  “Now listen here, Katherine. I know you’re worried about your friends, but you’ll not be going, and that’s that.”

  “Pa, please. Am I more important than those babies across the river?”

  A look of anguish crossed his face. “No, but. . .you’ll not be goin’.”

  “You have t
o let me go, Pa. God is able to protect me.”

  He stared at her as though memorizing every inch of her face. “All right, there’s no time to be arguin’. But ya have to be careful. If ya see any sign of the fire getting close, get out of there.”

  Katie flinched at the panic in his voice. Was she doing the right thing? But she was supposed to go. She felt it deep inside.

  “I’ll take care of her, Michael.” Rosie laid her hand on his arm. “I promise I won’t leave her side.”

  Katie watched in awe as her pa stroked Rosie’s cheek.

  “And who will be takin’ care of you, I’d like to know?” His voice broke.

  “I will.” Katie put her arm around Rosie’s shoulder. “We’ll watch out for each other.”

  “Here,” Ma Casey’s booming voice rang out as she walked into the room, her arms piled high with blankets. “Take these. If the fire gets bad, you can wet them down and wrap them around your heads and shoulders.”

  Dubious, Katie took one of the blankets.

  She filed out of the door with Rosie and the rest of the troupe. They hurried to the theater and squeezed into Harrigan’s three-seater carriage.

  To Katie, the conveyance seemed to crawl down the board streets toward the river. Katie’s stomach and chest were tight. The longer it took to get to the fire, the less time they had to help those in danger.

  Rosie’s hand moved under hers, and the older woman flinched.

  Katie glanced down, realizing she was squeezing the life out of the poor woman’s hand. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, dropping the hand.

  What if the fire had already jumped the river? They might run right into it. Could they outrun it?

  Blocks away from the river, screams and the pounding of feet rose above the crunch and squeak of wagon wheels on the wooden street. Mr. Harrigan shook the reins. The horses sped up, the links on the harness and single trees jingling. They turned onto Clark Street. Terror filled the air. Mothers grabbed the arms of screaming children, pulling them onward. Men pushed carts filled with household goods. Barking dogs dashed among the human wave.