“I’m guessing you are a newcomer.”
“I am. I . . . uh . . . have not been out much.”
“Well, I do hope you’ll come back.”
She had so much to learn.
When she saw Owen McNulty waiting for her, she tried to be polite. “Thank you. I’ll be on my way now.”
“I will walk you back.”
“Please, Officer. ’Tis not far. You go about your work.”
He tipped his hat to two middle-aged women who passed by. They greeted him by name and giggled when he returned their hellos. Grace wasn’t sure, but she thought they made light of him, whispering something about a wealthy boy. He let out a breath, impatient sounding, she thought.
He turned back to her. “I’m going your way anyhow.”
She didn’t want to encourage him. Not after Ma . . . “I’d rather go alone, if you don’t mind—learn my way around here.”
He bowed as though she were a princess. “Until we meet again, Grace McCaffery.”
She did not want to like this man and hurried away before he could charm her any more.
She returned by the back door. “Sorry it took me so long.”
Mrs. Hawkins hurried to her side and took the basket. “Oh, my. Did you get lost, love?”
“A wee bit.”
“I am so sorry. I should have waited for Annie.”
“No, no.” Grace hung up her cloak and warmed her hands by the stove. “I found them all right.”
“Indeed. Excellent! Did you ask directions? Always someone ready to help, love, if you ask.”
“I did.”
Mrs. Hawkins took Grace’s shoulders and steered her toward the hall. “Look on the table, love. A letter just arrived for you. Reverend Clarke has informed the post office of your current residence. Go on.”
Grace’s heart leaped. Ma! She took the treasured letter into the parlor.
Dearest One,
I can scarcely believe this letter will find you in America. It warms my heart to know that you will be well fed, clothed, and your soul nourished in church. S. P. assures me the place he sent you to will take care of you. The only hope I have left for you that has not been fulfilled is that you will find a fine young man to marry.
I do hope you are still drawing. Ever since you were a wee lass, you liked to make pictures. Do send me something.
Work hard. I will continue to pray for you and love you with all my heart.
I also am well fed and attend church regularly. So do not be concerned. There is nothing I need besides word from you occasionally.
Love,
Mother
Her mother had to come to America. She just had to.
Grace refolded the letter, took it upstairs, and slipped it into the trunk at the end of her bed. She stared at the old piece of luggage for a moment. With its frayed leather strapping and scuffed exterior, the trunk might have crossed the ocean several times. Grace was not sure she could make that trip again to get her mother away from Sean Patrick Feeny, the man Ma was unfortunately married to. The peeler. She had to get Ma over. Without her mother, Grace was unsure she could make it.
6
OWEN HOPED GRACE MCCAFFERY had not heard the snide remark the women on the street made about him. The last thing he wanted was for new arrivals to get the sense that he was not who he appeared to be. He might have been born rich, but now he was a public servant, someone folks could count on. Many of the shopkeepers and upstanding citizens in Lower Manhattan did not trust the police—and with good reason—but Owen was working hard to earn a good reputation on his beat.
He swung his nightstick as he walked down a side alley and chuckled to himself. There might be another reason he hoped Grace didn’t overhear. That petite redhead had caught his eye. He had no time for romance with the kind of schedule he kept, but he enjoyed pondering the idea nonetheless.
His mother would faint if she knew what her son was thinking.
Mother. If only he could separate the two sides of his life, build a dam between them. He’d tried and so far had not done a bad job of it. His mother usually had no
“I am. I . . . uh . . . have not been out much.”
“Well, I do hope you’ll come back.”
She had so much to learn.
When she saw Owen McNulty waiting for her, she tried to be polite. “Thank you. I’ll be on my way now.”
“I will walk you back.”
“Please, Officer. ’Tis not far. You go about your work.”
He tipped his hat to two middle-aged women who passed by. They greeted him by name and giggled when he returned their hellos. Grace wasn’t sure, but she thought they made light of him, whispering something about a wealthy boy. He let out a breath, impatient sounding, she thought.
He turned back to her. “I’m going your way anyhow.”
She didn’t want to encourage him. Not after Ma . . . “I’d rather go alone, if you don’t mind—learn my way around here.”
He bowed as though she were a princess. “Until we meet again, Grace McCaffery.”
She did not want to like this man and hurried away before he could charm her any more.
She returned by the back door. “Sorry it took me so long.”
Mrs. Hawkins hurried to her side and took the basket. “Oh, my. Did you get lost, love?”
“A wee bit.”
“I am so sorry. I should have waited for Annie.”
“No, no.” Grace hung up her cloak and warmed her hands by the stove. “I found them all right.”
“Indeed. Excellent! Did you ask directions? Always someone ready to help, love, if you ask.”
“I did.”
Mrs. Hawkins took Grace’s shoulders and steered her toward the hall. “Look on the table, love. A letter just arrived for you. Reverend Clarke has informed the post office of your current residence. Go on.”
Grace’s heart leaped. Ma! She took the treasured letter into the parlor.
Dearest One,
I can scarcely believe this letter will find you in America. It warms my heart to know that you will be well fed, clothed, and your soul nourished in church. S. P. assures me the place he sent you to will take care of you. The only hope I have left for you that has not been fulfilled is that you will find a fine young man to marry.
I do hope you are still drawing. Ever since you were a wee lass, you liked to make pictures. Do send me something.
Work hard. I will continue to pray for you and love you with all my heart.
I also am well fed and attend church regularly. So do not be concerned. There is nothing I need besides word from you occasionally.
Love,
Mother
Her mother had to come to America. She just had to.
Grace refolded the letter, took it upstairs, and slipped it into the trunk at the end of her bed. She stared at the old piece of luggage for a moment. With its frayed leather strapping and scuffed exterior, the trunk might have crossed the ocean several times. Grace was not sure she could make that trip again to get her mother away from Sean Patrick Feeny, the man Ma was unfortunately married to. The peeler. She had to get Ma over. Without her mother, Grace was unsure she could make it.
6
OWEN HOPED GRACE MCCAFFERY had not heard the snide remark the women on the street made about him. The last thing he wanted was for new arrivals to get the sense that he was not who he appeared to be. He might have been born rich, but now he was a public servant, someone folks could count on. Many of the shopkeepers and upstanding citizens in Lower Manhattan did not trust the police—and with good reason—but Owen was working hard to earn a good reputation on his beat.
He swung his nightstick as he walked down a side alley and chuckled to himself. There might be another reason he hoped Grace didn’t overhear. That petite redhead had caught his eye. He had no time for romance with the kind of schedule he kept, but he enjoyed pondering the idea nonetheless.
His mother would faint if she knew what her son was thinking.
Mother. If only he could separate the two sides of his life, build a dam between them. He’d tried and so far had not done a bad job of it. His mother usually had no
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