chores were done, they would play checkers or
card games. Aislynn found him amusing and could admit to being fond of him.
Despite these feelings, Tim occupied a deeper place in her heart and her
imagination. Through time and distance, she could attribute all the bright,
good things he was and deny the negative. When she looked at Johnny, real and
flawed, he fell short of her romantic desire.
The winter of
1867-68 was an unusually harsh one. It brought heavy snow and low temperatures.
For Aislynn, the sun emerged and the world warmed on February 20th. Tim sent a
telegram for her birthday. It was short, but one paid by the word. “Happy
Birthday. Miss you.”
Aislynn read
much more into the four words. The telegram told her he loved her and could not
live without her. It said he would return to New York, or she could join him.
She would see him again, and when she did, everything between them would be the
way she fantasized it to be. It gave her hope, and her love thrived on hope.
She carried the missive in her apron pocket all day and checked it periodically
to confirm his affection. At night, it was kissed and gently placed under her
pillow. There was no more important piece of paper in her world.
A few warm days
brought a brief thaw in March. The damp smells of spring rose in the air. The
streets became a slushy mess, with puddles hiding ice. On the night of March
2nd, the men returned from work to a kitchen redolent with the scent of bread
pudding. Although Brendan was absent, Aislynn fed the men their meals. They
boisterously argued the impeachment of President Johnson throughout the main
course.
As Aislynn
served the bubbling dessert, the door opened, and Johnny stood solemn faced,
twisting his hat in his hands. Aislynn was surprised to see him so early, but
she casually asked him to sit and share their pudding. Johnny’s eyes narrowed
and raced across the cheerful group. His gaze held a question as it locked on
Aislynn. She crossed the room and extended her hands, pulling him toward the
table. Suspecting Johnny held a secret, she teased, “What is it?”
Johnny’s face
fell, his mouth moved wordlessly.
Chapter 5
Brendan had died
instantly. While grooming a horse, he slipped on an invisible sheet of ice.
Brendan’s excited flailing spooked the mare. She reared and caught him in the
chest, crushing his ribs into his heart and his lungs.
Aislynn passed
through the wake and the funeral with complete equanimity. She repeatedly
admonished Sean, Papa Nolan and Johnny for all their fussing about her. Knowing
the Police Brigade made the funeral arrangements, she busied herself cooking in
anticipation of her father’s mourners. Aislynn cooked for two days. When the
crowd departed, she cleaned. She stood unsupported at the burial, holding her
head high. Although she acknowledged being an orphan, Aislynn knew she was
resourceful and capable and assured those concerned she could carry on without
her father.
After the
funeral, she strove to get her life back in order. She sent the Nolans to work
with their supper pails filled and promised a fine dinner upon their return.
When they were far down the street, Aislynn returned to her room, lay on her
bed and cried herself blind.
A knock on the
door brought her into control. She wiped her eyes and hurried to the door. She
opened it on a police officer dressed in his blue uniform, buttons shining in
the sun from the skylight. Assuming he came to express his condolences, Aislynn
felt honored by the man’s personal visit. He spoke formally, “Miss Denehy?”
“Yes,” Aislynn
answered, “Won’t you come in?”
“No, ma’am. I’m
just here to deliver this. It’s from Sergeant James.” He handed her an
envelope.
Aislynn thanked
the officer and watched him leave, listening to his quick, sharp steps as they
struck the stairs. Closing the door, Aislynn sat in her mother’s rocker in the
parlor and opened the letter. Sergeant James had been a
card games. Aislynn found him amusing and could admit to being fond of him.
Despite these feelings, Tim occupied a deeper place in her heart and her
imagination. Through time and distance, she could attribute all the bright,
good things he was and deny the negative. When she looked at Johnny, real and
flawed, he fell short of her romantic desire.
The winter of
1867-68 was an unusually harsh one. It brought heavy snow and low temperatures.
For Aislynn, the sun emerged and the world warmed on February 20th. Tim sent a
telegram for her birthday. It was short, but one paid by the word. “Happy
Birthday. Miss you.”
Aislynn read
much more into the four words. The telegram told her he loved her and could not
live without her. It said he would return to New York, or she could join him.
She would see him again, and when she did, everything between them would be the
way she fantasized it to be. It gave her hope, and her love thrived on hope.
She carried the missive in her apron pocket all day and checked it periodically
to confirm his affection. At night, it was kissed and gently placed under her
pillow. There was no more important piece of paper in her world.
A few warm days
brought a brief thaw in March. The damp smells of spring rose in the air. The
streets became a slushy mess, with puddles hiding ice. On the night of March
2nd, the men returned from work to a kitchen redolent with the scent of bread
pudding. Although Brendan was absent, Aislynn fed the men their meals. They
boisterously argued the impeachment of President Johnson throughout the main
course.
As Aislynn
served the bubbling dessert, the door opened, and Johnny stood solemn faced,
twisting his hat in his hands. Aislynn was surprised to see him so early, but
she casually asked him to sit and share their pudding. Johnny’s eyes narrowed
and raced across the cheerful group. His gaze held a question as it locked on
Aislynn. She crossed the room and extended her hands, pulling him toward the
table. Suspecting Johnny held a secret, she teased, “What is it?”
Johnny’s face
fell, his mouth moved wordlessly.
Chapter 5
Brendan had died
instantly. While grooming a horse, he slipped on an invisible sheet of ice.
Brendan’s excited flailing spooked the mare. She reared and caught him in the
chest, crushing his ribs into his heart and his lungs.
Aislynn passed
through the wake and the funeral with complete equanimity. She repeatedly
admonished Sean, Papa Nolan and Johnny for all their fussing about her. Knowing
the Police Brigade made the funeral arrangements, she busied herself cooking in
anticipation of her father’s mourners. Aislynn cooked for two days. When the
crowd departed, she cleaned. She stood unsupported at the burial, holding her
head high. Although she acknowledged being an orphan, Aislynn knew she was
resourceful and capable and assured those concerned she could carry on without
her father.
After the
funeral, she strove to get her life back in order. She sent the Nolans to work
with their supper pails filled and promised a fine dinner upon their return.
When they were far down the street, Aislynn returned to her room, lay on her
bed and cried herself blind.
A knock on the
door brought her into control. She wiped her eyes and hurried to the door. She
opened it on a police officer dressed in his blue uniform, buttons shining in
the sun from the skylight. Assuming he came to express his condolences, Aislynn
felt honored by the man’s personal visit. He spoke formally, “Miss Denehy?”
“Yes,” Aislynn
answered, “Won’t you come in?”
“No, ma’am. I’m
just here to deliver this. It’s from Sergeant James.” He handed her an
envelope.
Aislynn thanked
the officer and watched him leave, listening to his quick, sharp steps as they
struck the stairs. Closing the door, Aislynn sat in her mother’s rocker in the
parlor and opened the letter. Sergeant James had been a
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