Eva and the Irishman

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Eva and the Irishman Page 34

by Janne E Toivonen


  At the end of November, Bill kicked a man out of the house for good. The man had sweet-talked Kelly into coming to his room late one night. Bill gave him a proper thrashing out on the street. Turns out the man couldn’t keep his mouth shut to the other male boarders and Bill got wind of it. Luckily, the sex proved unfruitful and Kelly went on cooking, now with an extra-vigilant house manager. Bill put a slide bolt on the inside of her bedroom door and gave her a lesson in not being fooled by sweet talk from men.

  “But it felt nice,” she said unabashedly.

  “The Sisters will skin ye alive, Kelly, and ye’ll have to go back to the convent. Everyone here likes yer meals. So, stay away from the men.”

  “What if—”

  “Ye’re to be in your room by ten o’clock, and slide the bolt,” Bill said sternly.

  “Yes, Mr. Ronan,” she said.

  Kelly stayed away from the men, continued cooking, and rarely spoke.

  A few weeks later, Bill came to her again. She had just come back from grocery shopping. “Kelly, sweetheart, ye’re supposed to tell me the sink drain pipe was leakin’, so I can get the plumber right off,” he said as kindly as possible. “The plumber’s in now.”

  “Oh, sorry, Mr. Ronan.” Kelly’s apology was barely audible.

  ~~~

  When Liam moved into the boarding house on a hot June afternoon about six months after arriving in Chicago, Kelly instinctively recognized a kindred spirit. She also thought he was the most beautiful man alive, looking past the scruff and his constant sorrow. It took her nearly four months to say anything to him. Her secret love for Liam drove her out of her hard shell, even if it was for scant one or two words a week.

  “More stew, Liam?” she asked him in a sweet, soft voice at the supper table one evening. It was a warm October day, and Liam was making an unusual appearance at supper. Kelly’s utterance surprised everyone at the table.

  “Yes, please,” Liam’s replied, barely audible. He glanced at her.

  Thrilled, yet fearful that he responded, she ladled more stew into his bowl, blushing as she realized he looked at her briefly.

  “I didn’t know ye knew how to talk Kelly,” blurted a young boarder. He was a homely young man, with dirty brown hair and yellow teeth. “Maybe you and I could go dancin’ some evenin’.”

  She froze in her spot, but she remembered she was standing behind Liam Dady. She felt safe.

  “I didn’t know you knew how to dance, Jimmy,” said an old man at the table. He had a twinkle in his eye.

  “When I’m lyin’ down, I’m grand with the moves,” joked Jimmy. He put his arms up as if he were holding a dance partner. He had an offensive grin on his face, glaring lewdly at her.

  Liam snapped his eyes up and glared fiercely at the young man, who immediately shrank into his chair at the table.

  “She’s off limits to ye,” Liam said with quiet menace. “If ye touch her, ye’ll be sorry for it.”

  Jimmy, trying to regain some composure, started to stiffen into a pose to challenge Liam.

  The old man put a hand on Jimmy’s arm. “I wouldn’t be so unwise as to challenge ‘The Iron Fist,’ Jimmy. Do ye see those knuckles? Have ye not seen him fight?”

  Jimmy glanced at Liam’s abraded weapons, and went back to eating his stew and soda bread brooding. He said no more to her and his lewd glances summarily ceased.

  In her mind, that small bit of chivalry on her behalf convinced her that Liam loved her and wanted to protect her. It gave her new inner confidence and sent her lonely heart soaring. After that, she started to leave treats on Liam's bed stand. She also started to straighten up his room and change his bed more than once a week, on top of what the hired cleaner and launderer did. She’d sneak the room key when Bill wasn’t looking.

  ~~~

  It was nearly Christmas. Chicago was in a cold snap, with temperatures sub-zero at night. Liam had started to find treats on his nightstand around the time of the little supper confrontation back in October. He first discovered them upon returning to the boarding house in the wee hours, drunk and beaten up. Liam’s room was always neat, and he had clean linens more than just once a week. Fuzzily, he thought it must be Kelly. He would avoid her then. He didn’t think himself worthy of company, let alone female company. I killed my wife, after all, by not getting her magazine for her on the ship, leading her to her death fall.

  Filled with self-loathing, Liam made every effort to avoid Kelly.

  A man approached Liam at a fight bar after Liam earned a knock-out in his fight for the week.

  “I work for Sheridan McKay,” the man said. He was wearing a leather vest and newsboy cap.

  “Who’s he?” Liam was irritated that the man was invading his personal space.

  “He’s a promoter. He likes your mad style in the ring, and yer skills are brilliant. He wants ye as one of his fighters. He’s offerin’ a lot of money and travel ’round the country. If ye accept, ye have to be in Kansas City, Missouri in two days. Meet us at the Dublin Pub.”

  Liam accepted just to get out of Chicago. He was beginning to think too much about Dolly, and moving around the country would, perhaps, take his mind off her. He would have to leave the next morning then. The idea feebly stimulated him.

  Just before he left the bar, Liam bought a pint of whiskey. This worked as an insomnia remedy. He would drink, pass out, and wake the next morning, recalling no dreams. He began the frigid walk to the boarding house, hunched against the cold, skin-biting wind.

  At the boarding house, as he headed for the stairs to the second floor, Liam saw the kitchen light at the end of the first-floor hall. It was never on at that time of morning. Thinking Kelly may be up, he tip-toed as best he could, which was in fact, not very good at all, since he stubbed his boot toe on a stair halfway up and nearly fell to his hands and knees.

  “Jesus Christ, ye fuckin’ eejit,” he hissed at himself. He recovered and continued on to his room.

  ~~~

  When Liam had finally returned to the house, Kelly was hiding in the kitchen. She knew his habits. Her stomach tightened with fear when she heard him. She nearly peed herself, but she gritted her teeth, pursed her lips, and quietly followed him. She had remembered from a long time ago, a favorite nun told her that if she wanted something, she should pray on it.

  “If it feels right, Kelly Ann, then go seek it,” the elderly nun had advised.

  She hadn’t realized the nun meant something like a pair of needed shoes or a new dress or a job. It had never occurred to her that Sister Gloria was not including a man in that wisdom. So, pray, she did.

  “Dear God,” she’d prayed all afternoon and evening when no one would hear her. “It feels right to go to Liam Dady. He’s lonely and I want to make him feel better. I’ll bring him a piece of my raisin cake when he gets home.”

  In her mind, he wasn’t like the other man who put his penis in her. Liam was her protector.

  ~~~

  Liam closed his bedroom door behind him as he stumbled in. He took the pint out of his coat pocket and put it on the side table, making a loud thud in his quiet room. After the bottle, he took out the trinkets of his trouser pockets and put them on the table. He found it challenging to undress down to his worn long johns, every movement a struggle. He sat down hard on the bed and reached for the whiskey and twisted it open. The cork immediately dropped to the floor, and he dizzily fell to his knees to retrieve it. Cursing under his breath, he clumsily climbed back to the bed, cork in hand. He put the bottle to his lips and chugged. He was forced to stop when he heard a soft knock on his door, otherwise the whole pint would’ve been gone. He maladroitly replaced the cork in the bottle, put it on his night table, and staggered across the room.

  Irritated, he opened the door to find Kelly. She was standing in the cold hall with a large piece of raisin cake on a fancy plate. He looked at her with one eye, swaying.

  “It’s my birthday, Liam. I’m twenty. I wanted you to have a piece of my cake. It’s raisin, from t
he Old Country.” She heaved a nervous sigh.

  “Is that a fact,” he said hoarsely. The harsh whiskey made his throat burn. Through the alcohol fog, he saw her nervous, innocently sweet face framed in an untamable storm of curly copper hair. Her kindness softened him. “Come in,” he said in the same hoarse whisper, widening the space for her to walk through.

  As she entered the room, she gasped at Liam's swollen cheekbone and cut eyebrow. She flew into a motherly frenzy.

  “Liam, ye’re hurt. Let me clean yer eye before ye have yer cake.”

  He realized that from the time she had knocked on his door and entered his bedroom, those were the most words he ever heard out of her at one time.

  Putting the plate down on the table, she made him sit on the edge of the bed. She fetched a cloth next to the pitcher of water, wet it, and came to him, standing between his knees and dabbing gently at his wounds.

  “Ye don’t have to—” he protested softly. He didn't want to hurt her feelings, but he found it wrong that he should be cared for. Flinching, he tried to evade the cloth, evade her touch.

  “Hush now,” she said softly with a slight Irish lilt. She spoke with a quiet authority incongruous to her. Holding his chin with her finger and thumb to prevent him from moving, she continued to dab at the wound with a compassionate concentration.

  Liam glanced mournfully at her plain, yet angelic face, then looked away wanting to cry. Sadly, her gentle ministrations reminded him of those days in Belfast with Annie and Dolly. At first, he didn’t realize that he was giving in to her caring, feminine touch. Once he was aware of it, he began to yield more and more, noticing how her plump breasts lifted up and down as she breathed, covered by her shabby, but clean nightgown; they were unbound—and so close. It was apparent that she had taken a bath quite recently. He breathed in her fragrance of rosewater soap, clean cotton flannel, and raisin cake. Without thinking, his hands went to her hips and he pulled her close, her breasts right there for his mouth and lips to kiss, and— “Oh, God,” he heard himself say, feeling his erection intensify with her body in his arms. His need for female affection somehow overrode his ever-present self-loathing.

  ~~~

  Kelly gasped, yielding to him as he laid her on her back. She was not expecting this, but in her desire for him to feel happy she let him do what he wanted. She liked it when he kissed her on her neck and breasts. It made her tremble when he managed to get her nightgown off. With his knees, he spread hers wide enough so he lay between her legs. She began to shiver and hyperventilate.

  “Shhh, shhh, I won’t hurt ye. Do ye want me to stop?” he whispered.

  “No, Liam. Just go slow,” she responded. “I want ye to be happy. It’s just I’ve not done this before on my say-so. Go ahead, love.”

  “Are ye sure?”

  “Oh, aye. Very sure.”

  He still hesitated.

  “Now, Liam,” she said with soft authority.

  ~~~

  Liam’s hardness was pressing against the opening of her sex. He helped himself enter her with his hand. He heard her gasp as he slowly pushed in all the way, then stopped so she could get used to him being inside her. He began a tentative rhythm, desperate to feel alive again. The carnal sensations became overwhelming. He heard himself moan. It increased his desire to come when he focused on his hips and his cock moving in and out of her. Nothing short of dying would stop him from reaching the ultimate pleasure. He could feel her breasts against his, her hips moving against his, intensifying his need to come. Holding on to one of her buttocks, he forced her to move harder into him. His hips began to buck as he peaked and spilled himself inside her, the orgasm intense. He heard her cry out.

  For those few short minutes, until his orgasm waned, he did feel alive.

  “It felt good,” she whispered.

  He kissed her, and then his tears fell.

  She put her hand on his cheek. “Ye mustn’t cry, Liam.”

  He buried his face in her hair and neck as Kelly Ann Sullivan held him fast.

  ~~~

  He awoke in the lamplight, probably an hour or two after Kelly had entered his room. Liam was half on top of her. She was asleep, seemingly content, even though much of his weight was on her. He felt her naked body underneath him, and felt himself rouse to her—again? Yes, he remembered an orgasm. He then recalled crying.

  She stirred from his movements, waking. Her head turned to gaze into his eyes, pale blue blinking twice. Her eyes said It's all right, if you want me again. She spread her legs for him.

  Liam craved the orgasm again, taking her in single-mindedness, and in a short time he groaned, breathless in a few moments of pleasure, hearing her climax as well.

  It didn’t take him much time for those haunting moments of utter satisfaction and loving connection to turn into abject guilt—and shame—for taking advantage of Kelly’s loneliness and her desire for him. It forced him to leave the warmth of the bed, where he blindly searched for his strewn clothes from the ice-like floor. His head throbbed. He lost his balance as he bent over, but gained it back before falling over.

  “How did it do that?” Kelly said, breathless. “Why did it feel so good? It happened both times.”

  He didn’t answer her. Oddly, he felt some momentary relief, knowing she had experienced pleasure of orgasm from the encounter. He saw her pull the quilt to her chin and, propped on her elbow, she watched him start to dress.

  “Where are ye goin’ Liam? It’s dark and so late.” Her voice was so small and innocent. “Stay and do that again to me. I like it.”

  Liam, putting his clothes on as swiftly as he could, didn’t want to say the words he needed to say to her. His brain was working enough to know she felt strongly for him, since she let him do what he did to her.

  “I’m leavin’ … Chicago,” he said softly.

  “Are ye comin’ back?”

  He hesitated, feeling a cold rock in his belly. It made him feel sick. “No, Kelly. I won’t be comin’ back.”

  He saw the tears well in her eyes and stream down her flushed cheeks. He finished dressing in spite of her reaction. “I’m … sorry.”

  As he tied his scuffed and worn boots, the self-punishing hammer continued to beat down inside his mind.

  “Will ye kiss me goodbye, so I’ll remember ye well?” she said.

  He looked up from his boots, seeing her and feeling her pain. She sounded like a girl to him, yet in overcoming her fears over the last few months, she gave like a woman. He stood to take the few steps to the bed, where Kelly, forgetting she had nothing on, got out and let Liam take her in his arms. He kissed her tenderly, then whispered in her ear, “Thank ye for yer comfort. Ye’re beautiful.”

  He felt her go weak in the knees, and he led her gently back to the bed. He picked up her nightgown from the cold floor and helped her put it back on.

  From the corner of his eye, he could see her watch him pick up the few remaining items on the side table, including the long gold chain with gold charms, the silver wedding ring, and the old pocket watch. He stuffed them all into his trouser pocket. Kelly was crying uncontrollably now. Lastly, Liam slid the small bottle of whiskey into his overcoat pocket. He did not make eye contact again.

  “Ye didn’t eat yer cake,” she said, pleading through her tears.

  “I’m sorry, Kelly.” He hesitated at the door as if to show respect.

  ~~~

  As the door closed behind Liam, Kelly, the invisible girl once again, was left alone. Devastated that her love had left, she cried in the pillow where Liam’s head had lain.

  ~~~

  On the snowy, deserted street, Liam pulled his cap on snuggly and pulled up his coat collar against the cutting wind and blowing snow. He reached for the pint in his coat pocket. As punishment for taking advantage of Kelly Sullivan, he finished off the throat-searing whiskey in four or five big swallows, then threw the empty bottle in the drifted, trash-clogged gutter. He headed for Grand Central Station and a one-way ride to Kansas C
ity, alone with his own tears—and shame.

  Part Two: Unexpected Changes

  Chapter 1

  Virginia, Minnesota

  Three and a half days after they arrived in America at Ellis Island, Eva and Victor settled into a boarding house in Virginia, Minnesota, one of the North Country towns that skirted the Mesabi Iron Range. The boarding house was on the edge of town near the train station and was occupied by fellow Finns, including a lovely older widow by the name of Saimi Laivo. Much to Victor’s relief, there was a sauna for Eva, who took advantage of it immediately.

  “I want to go in alone, Victor. You can take Ellen in after me and wash her.”

  “I don’t understand, Eva,” Victor said.

  “I want to be alone,” she said tersely.

  Eva slept for days thereafter, while Victor took care of Ellen and started to help with the daily chores of fetching wood for the boiler in the basement, cleaning out the horse stall, and whatever else needed to be done. Little Ellen seemed to enjoy receiving attention from Mrs. Laivo and the other boarders who worked at the Mesabi Range Iron Ore mines.

  “It’s not so unusual for someone who left home and hearth to be very sad like she is,” Mrs. Laivo said to Victor in a private moment, “even under the best of circumstances.”

  “What do I do?”

  “She may need some gentle firmness, or she may need you to be her husband, if you understand me.”

  “What?”

  “What do husbands and wives do?”

  “I understand,” Victor said, feeling the flush of heat in his face. “I’m not usually that thick, Mrs. Laivo. I just didn’t expect a woman to suggest that to a man.” He smiled. “Will you watch Ellen for a while?”

  ~~~

 

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