Ellis Island: Three Novels

by Joan Lowery Nixon

  Where else would he go for a short while but Casey’s pub? Rose put her head down on her arms and sighed. Her father had been different this past week. He’d really tried. She’d believed in him.

  She got to her feet, rewrapped the salmon, and placed it back inside the ice chest. Slowly, reluctantly, she walked to her room, opened the wardrobe, and knelt in front of it. The loose end of the board rose on one side. Da hadn’t even tried to cover up what he’d done by making the board lie flat.

  She took out the jar, counted the money, and to her surprise discovered that an extra dollar had been added. Da hadn’t taken anything out. He’d actually added a dollar to the amount in the jar!

  Relief was short lived. Even if his job was over, Da should have come home with one full week’s wages, and here was only one dollar toward Ma’s passage money.

  Rose rested her head against the hard edge of the wardrobe and murmured sadly, “Happy birthday, Rosie.”

  * * *

  Late that evening Tim and Kate arrived and Michael brought Ellen to celebrate Rose’s birthday.

  Laughing along with the others, Rose tried to hide her feelings. Finally, delaying as long as she could, she went to the kitchen to take care of the last-minute touches to the meal. She mashed some potatoes and boiled others, serving them in a cream sauce, along with a bowl of boiled and buttered carrot slices. She placed the cold salmon on a platter with chopped onions and wedges from the lemon she also found in the ice chest. Da hadn’t forgotten a thing … except his promises.

  Before the others joined them, Michael took Rose aside in the kitchen and whispered, “Why don’t we wait for Da?”

  “We’ve waited long enough,” Rose said, fighting back the tears that burned her eyes. “We’ll go ahead without him.”

  “But he brought the salmon,” Michael protested. “It doesn’t seem fair to go ahead with the celebration.”

  “What isn’t fair,” Rose said, “is where his celebration is taking place—at Casey’s.”

  “Would you like me to bring him home?” Johnny asked from the doorway, but Rose could hear the reluctance in his voice. “I’ll do it, if you want, but last time he wasn’t too happy about it. He said it made him look bad in front of his friends.”

  “Leave him be,” Rose whispered. “Johnny, get the others.”

  As soon as they were all seated around the kitchen table, Rose said, “Michael, if you’ll say grace, we can begin”

  Michael quickly bowed his head, murmured the prayer, then immediately reached for the nearest bowl of potatoes.

  Everyone ate hungrily. “The salmon is excellent,” Ellen said, and Kate added, “I’ve never tasted finer.”

  But Rose found it hard to swallow. She kept listening for Da’s footsteps on the stairs, hoping … hoping … but he didn’t come.

  When they had eaten their fill, Rose began to clear the plates from the table, but Johnny said, “Wait a minute, Rosie.” He pulled a small box from his pocket and handed it to Rose. “It’s a birthday gift.”

  “Johnny!” Rose pulled at the ribbon that was tied around the box. “You’ve never before given me a birthday gift.”

  “To be honest I wouldn’t have given you one this year either, if it hadn’t been for Tim,” Johnny said with a grin. “It was his idea. He even picked it out.”

  “And probably paid for it,” Michael said.

  “Keep your suspicions to yourself,” Johnny said as he winked at Rose. “What would Da think of a young man sending gifts to Rosie?”

  A gift from Tim? Rose’s heart pounded as she carefully lifted the lid of the box. With trembling fingers she unwrapped the folded paper that lay inside and gasped as she saw the heart-shaped gold locket on a long, thin gold chain.

  Both Kate and Ellen admired it, but Rose stammered, “It’s beautiful! But I can’t … I can’t accept a gift like this from Tim.”

  “I told you, it’s a birthday gift from me,” Johnny said.

  “Johnny, if you …”

  Johnny got up, took the locket from the box, and stood behind Rose, fastening it around her neck.

  She reached up and touched the locket, turning it so that she could examine the engraved design that swirled around the heart.

  “There’s nothing inside it, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Johnny teased. “If you want a lock of Tim’s hair, you’ll have to get it yourself.”

  Rose blushed so furiously the others laughed. She quickly glanced at Kate, but Kate’s smile was warm and delighted.

  As though to answer Rose’s unspoken question, Kate said, “I think you’re a good influence on my pigheaded brother, Rosie.”

  “Pigheaded, is it?” Tim exclaimed.

  Rose lifted a hand as she heard quick footsteps clumping up the front stairs. “Here’s Da,” she said, but a loud pounding on the door startled them all.

  Michael and Johnny sprinted toward the parlor, Rose and the others on their heels. Rose’s heart pounded, and it was hard to breathe. Something terrible must have happened. Had Da been hurt? Was he ill?

  Michael reached the door first and threw it open. A boy in uniform stood there. “Telegram,” he said, “for Mr. Peter Carney.”

  “I’ll take it,” Michael told him. He signed a paper the boy handed him and accepted an envelope, then quietly shut the door.

  Rose and Johnny silently waited as Michael opened the envelope and began to read. It must be from Uncle Jimmy, Rose told herself, remembering that Jimmy had telegraphed the time of her arrival in Chicago, but her hands were damp and she shivered with cold as she watched Michael’s face turn gray.

  “What is it, Michael?” Rose whispered. “What has happened?”

  Michael looked up, his eyes dulled with agony, and said in a voice so hoarse it came out in a growl, “It’s Ma … Pneumonia. Rosie … Johnny … Ma’s dead.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “NO!” Rose shouted. “It’s not true! It’s not true!” The room turned black, tipping and rolling, and Rose heard herself screaming over and over again, “No! No!”

  A slap stung her cheek so hard that she gasped and opened her eyes. “Stop it, Rosie!” Johnny said and gave her shoulders an extra shake.

  “Johnny,” Rose whispered. “The telegram … it’s a lie … Ma’s all right. I’ve prayed … I’ve prayed so hard for her and for our sisters. Johnny, what they wrote isn’t true.”

  “It’s true, Rosie,” he said firmly, and she suddenly realized there were tears on his cheeks. “You have to get hold of yourself now. Sit down. Kate’s making you a cup of tea.”

  “I don’t want a cup of tea,” Rose said and burst into tears. “I want Ma.”

  “Rosie, you’re not a child.”

  “Leave her alone, Johnny. Let her cry.” As Tim gently took Rose into his arms, she pressed her hands hard against the pain in her chest, trying to force it away. Finally, her tears subsided, and she felt like the empty beach near Drogheda after the tide had gone out. Inside her was that same bleakness.

  Tim helped Rose to the sofa and sat beside her, one arm still snug around her shoulders. She dried her tears on a handkerchief Ellen gave her and accepted a cup of tea from Kate. She took a long sip before she asked, “Did Michael go after Da?”

  “That he did,” Johnny said. He walked to the window and parted the curtains. “They’re coming now.”

  “Bridget and Meggie,” Rose asked, her head beginning to clear. “Who’s caring for them?”

  “The Doyles. The girls are in good hands.”

  “Da will have to go for them right away. How will we manage that?”

  Johnny took a long, slow look at Rose, as though he were thinking out a new idea. “We’ll manage,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  The door opened, and Rose heard her father say, “Now, Michael, can you tell me what’s so important that you have to make me come home in the middle of …?” He broke off and squinted at the people in the room. “Tim … Kate,” he said in surprise. “Ellen. How nice of you to
visit. We’re pleased to have you here.” He gave a courtly bow that threw him off balance, and Michael struggled for a moment to help him remain upright.

  “Ah, Rosie, I know! They’re here for your birthday,” her father said, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Well then, it’s time to enjoy the birthday surprise.”

  Michael edged him into the nearest chair and put the telegram into his hands. “It’s about Ma,” Michael explained while Da confusedly peered and squinted at the telegram as though he couldn’t make out the words. Michael took it from him and read it aloud.

  At first the words didn’t register, but as Rose watched in agony she saw her father’s face sag, then crumple. “Maura, Maura, Maura,” he whispered over and over, tears pouring from his eyes.

  “Oh, Da!” Rose cried and ran across the room, dropping into his lap and holding his head against her shoulder. It didn’t matter about the birthday. Nothing mattered except the horrible, painful news they’d received. Ma was gone, and what were they going to do without her?

  Rose was up early the next morning. Like an automaton she dressed for Sunday Mass, then sat at the kitchen table staring at her hands and trying to collect her thoughts.

  Johnny came into the kitchen and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right, Rosie?” he asked.

  She barely nodded. “I’m making plans.”

  “What kind of plans?”

  “The telegram from the Doyles said that Ma’s burial would be taken care of, but it’s only right that we pay them back, and we need to put up a stone. Her grave shouldn’t go unmarked.”

  “That’s right,” Johnny said.

  “So I’ve been doing some figuring. We’ll need to borrow some money. We’ll need to get round-trip steerage passage for Da and return passage for the girls and …”

  Johnny sat down beside her and took her hand. “Rosie, listen to me,” he said. “We can’t send Da after the girls.”

  “We have to. He’s their father.”

  “How will he cope with caring for two little girls on the ship?” Johnny’s voice dropped, and he added, “At times he has difficulty caring for himself.”

  “Oh,” Rose said, shocked that she had been so set in making arrangements that she hadn’t seen the obvious.

  Johnny’s hold on her hand tightened, and he leaned closer. “Rosie,” he said, “last night, after the others had left and you had gone to bed, I went to talk to … someone. I think we can work out the problem about the girls’ passage. If all turns out as planned, there should be enough money to bring them home second class so they won’t have to go through the examination at Ellis Island.”

  “How can you do this?”

  “Didn’t I tell you I have connections?”

  “But who will bring the girls? They aren’t old enough to travel alone.”

  Johnny shoved back his chair and stood, buttoning the coat of his suit. “Let me work it all out,” he told Rose, “and then I’ll tell you. For now, just relax. You don’t have to do all the planning by yourself. You’ve got two big brothers to help.” His smile was faint, like the fading ghost of his teasing self.

  “All right,” Rose said and tried to smile in return.

  She went through the motions of attending Mass, walking home, and cooking their noon meal. She ate only because her father said, “Rosie, I know how much this is hurting you, but the living have to go on living. Sit down and eat.”

  It was after Rose had washed the dishes and set bread to rise before baking when Johnny came into the kitchen and took her hand, tugging her toward the door. She could feel his undercurrent of excitement and see the spark in his eyes, and it puzzled her.

  “Come into the parlor,” Johnny said. “Tim’s here. We’ve got something important to tell you.”

  Wondering at Johnny’s odd behavior, Rose followed him into the parlor, where her father, Michael, and Tim waited for her.

  Tim glanced at the locket Rose was wearing, and selfconsciously she brushed it with her fingertips. Tim didn’t know, but she intended to wear his locket forever. She would never take it off—never.

  As Tim got to his feet and took her hands, Da cleared his throat loudly.

  Rose would have liked to rest her head against Tim’s shoulder, feel his arms around her, and cry away the pain that wouldn’t let go, but she knew that her father’s signal meant he expected proper decorum, so she pulled her hands from Tim’s grasp and sat stiffly upright on one of the chairs.

  Da’s eyes were swollen and red. He blew his nose, tucked his handkerchief into a pocket, and said, “Rosie, Johnny and Tim have worked out a plan to bring the girls here right away.”

  “Now? Do you mean it?” Rose’s heart gave a jump, and she looked intently from Tim to Johnny and back to Tim.

  “I told you that it pays to know the right people,” Johnny said proudly. “Alderman McMahan helped out—mainly by providing the right papers—and some of our friends have come up with the cash.”

  Rose gulped a long breath before she could speak. “You have the money? All of it?”

  “More than enough,” Tim told her. “In fact, we have tickets for Johnny in second class, not in steerage.”

  “Johnny? You’re going for the girls?”

  “It seemed logical,” Johnny answered.

  Rose was puzzled, because mischief shone in her brother’s eyes. “McMahan was glad to give me the time off, whereas if you or Michael went after Meggie and Bridget you’d lose your jobs.”

  Da spoke, as if he hadn’t been listening to what Tim was saying. “I’ll have to get some things together. I can use the wicker suitcase Rose brought with her. If I …”

  “Da,” Johnny said, “it’s better that you not go after the little ones. They won’t remember you, and caring for them on the ship would be difficult for you. Think how much easier it would be if I made the trip.”

  Da hesitated, staring from face to face. “If you think this is right …”

  “It’s right, Da,” Johnny said firmly.

  “So it’s all settled,” Tim added.

  Rose glanced at him quickly. That odd excitement in Johnny’s manner—Tim had it, as well. What was it all about?

  “This money loaned for the trip—it must be quite a large amount,” Rose said. “How soon will we have to pay it back?”

  “It’s not a loan. It’s a gift,” Tim said.

  “Better it were a loan,” Rose said, an uneasy feeling tickling the back of her mind. “A gift often comes with strings attached. Why would the alderman and your other friends do this for us?”

  Johnny smiled easily, and he explained, “It’s the political system. It works like this: You do a favor for me. Then someday you need a favor done, and you call on me, and I come through. It’s as simple as that.”

  “So there are strings.”

  Johnny and Tim threw each other a brief glance before Tim said, “Rosie, here in Chicago the system works. Fines for overparking a cart or buggy are fixed, jobs are given out, even doctors’ bills are paid … all in exchange for votes.”

  “These friends of yours would put out all that money in exchange for only three votes?”

  With an indulgent chuckle Johnny said, “Trust Tim and me to know what we’re doing. I’ll leave tomorrow, and I’ll return in less than two months with our little sisters.”

  Rose thought about it. Whatever political shenanigans her brother wanted to be involved in were his business. All she was concerned with was seeing Bridget and Meggie again. Think how lost they must feel, how much they must need her. Just think how much she needed them. She murmured, “Thank you, Johnny … and Tim.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE next morning Rose awoke as usual to the jangle of the alarm clock and had a hot breakfast on the table by the time her father and brothers arrived in the kitchen.

  Johnny had already packed, so he wolfed down his breakfast, jumped to his feet, and pulled on his coat.

  Rose hugged him, tears in her eyes. “God go with you,�
�� she said. “May He keep you safe.”

  “He will,” Johnny answered softly, but Rose could feel a tension in his back and arms as though they were strung with vibrating wires, and she stepped back to study his face.

  His smile was the same, but the excitement that had puzzled her earlier was once again in his eyes. “What is it, Johnny?” Rose asked.

  “What is what?”

  “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  He laughed at this and turned away, stooping to pick up his suitcase. “There’s nothing to tell,” he said. “Is there a message you want to send to the little girls?”

  “Yes,” Rose said. “Tell them I love them. Oh, Johnny, they’re going to need so much comforting.” She gasped as a disturbing thought struck her. “Their clothes! Bridget and Meggie will need the right clothes to wear if they’re going to travel in second class.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “I wonder if Sweeney’s … No, their prices are too high … Maybe secondhand clothes … Perhaps I could ask …”

  “Rosie! Stop blathering!” Johnny teased. “There’s no time to get the girls’ clothes, in the first place, and in the second place I wouldn’t have room to carry extra clothing, not with two suitcases.”

  “Two suitcases? You have only one.”

  Michael pulled out his pocket watch and examined it. “Johnny’s going to be late if you keep asking questions.”

  “But I don’t understand,” Rose said. “What is this other suitcase he’s talking about?”

  “A friend is sending a little something to his brother,” Johnny said. His tone became teasing. “It’s a good thing I’m not one for nosing into someone else’s business the way our Rosie is.”

  Rose had no chance for other questions. Da and Michael surrounded Johnny, hugging him and wishing him well as they walked with him to the front door. Rose began to scrape the dishes, murmuring aloud a blessing she hadn’t had time to give him: “May the road rise to meet you and the wind be ever at your back, Johnny, and may the Lord hold you always in the hollow of His hand.”