A Worthy Heart

by Susan Anne Mason

  The musty stench of unwashed bodies followed him through the corridor until he reached the last barrier. The guard before him rattled his circle of keys and selected one to unlock the door, then ushered Adam through. They continued on to a large outer room with a high counter and several long benches.

  “I hate to say it, O’Leary, but I’m going to miss your ugly mug around here.” The man known to Adam only as Sarge gave a slight twitch of his lips, which Adam supposed passed for a smile.

  Adam nodded and fixed him with a sincere gaze. “Thanks, Sarge. For everything. You made life in this hole a little more bearable.” Adam stuck out his hand, not sure if Sarge would take it. But the man’s huge paw swallowed Adam’s and pumped it hard.

  “Best of luck on the outside, lad. And try to stay out of trouble this time.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Sarge gave him one last clap on the shoulder before leaving Adam in the charge of the officer at the desk. After Adam had signed the required papers, the man handed him a plain brown package containing his worn leather wallet and pocket watch.

  “You’ve been provided with enough money to purchase a one-way train ticket once you reach the mainland.” The officer pushed a few bills across the counter. “The patrol boat will meet you at the dock to take you over. Don’t let me see you back here again.” The gruff warning didn’t match the sympathy visible in the man’s eyes.

  “I’ve no intention of coming back, sir. Thank you.” Adam folded the bills into his wallet and tucked the wallet into his back pocket. The weight of the leather made his trousers sag around his hips, emphasizing the weight he’d lost since coming here. He hoped Mrs. Harrison’s good cooking would remedy that in short order.

  If his father allowed him home again.

  Adam pulled on his jacket and tugged his cap over his shaggy auburn hair. A haircut and a proper shave would be most welcome right now. Grimly, he gathered the small bag that contained his only other clothing, tipped his cap to the officer, and headed out the main door.

  Less than one hour later, Adam stepped off the patrol boat and onto the East 34th Street pier. Brilliant sunshine momentarily blinded him as he made his way down the walkway toward the street. On the corner of First Avenue, he paused to get his bearings, unused to the rush of people, cars, and horses on the streets. A streetcar bell clanged as it went by, a sound Adam hadn’t heard in ages. The clear blue sky and long streets beckoned him. Instead of the streetcar, he’d walk to the station and take the next available train to Long Island.

  He strolled for several blocks, relishing the freedom to venture as far as he liked without a guard watching his every movement. Being able to enjoy the fresh air without having to sweat and toil at splitting rocks seemed decadent. He walked in the general direction of the train station, but his steps slowed as the neighborhood sights became familiar. Drawn almost against his will, he picked up his pace until he found the address he sought.

  Adam stopped across the street from the tall, brick building on Lexington Avenue and simply took it in. An engraved brass sign proclaimed it to be St. Rita’s Orphan Asylum. Going from memory, Adam noted a few subtle changes to the building, which he attributed to his sister and her husband, Rylan, the new manager. Cheerful flowerpots stood guard at the foot of the cement staircase leading to the main door. Window boxes spilled colorful blooms from the first-floor windows. Colleen always did love fresh flowers.

  Fighting an inner tug-of-war, Adam crossed the street. He had no intention of intruding on Colleen, but the lure of possibly catching a glimpse of her won over. From an open window, the voices of young children drifted outside. High-pitched cries of glee created a wave of longing in Adam. Had he ever been that carefree? Even as a ten-year-old boy, he’d rarely laughed or indulged in senseless playtime. Unlike the orphans housed within these walls, Adam had been given every advantage in life, yet despite their circumstances, they sounded happier than Adam had ever been.

  He pushed back a spurt of regret, imagining his vivacious sister inside, tending to the children’s needs. He wished he could find the courage to march up those stairs, grab her in a hug, and tell her how much he’d missed her these past years. But his uncertainty about the welcome he’d receive held him frozen in place. Despite the few letters he’d received from Colleen during his prison term, Adam did not have a clear picture of her feelings toward him. Would she embrace him or throw him off the property? He wouldn’t blame her if she did the latter, considering he hadn’t even attended her wedding. If he’d known at the time that he would lose his freedom a few weeks later during a raid at the Lucky Chance Saloon, he would certainly have made a different choice.

  Only one of the regrets that haunted him now.

  He stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets and moved reluctantly away from the entrance, prepared to walk on, but excited cheers coming from the side of the building drew his attention. He followed the noise down a side alley to the back of the building, where a large iron gate barred his way. His height gave him the advantage of being able to see over the adjacent hedge.

  “Run, Billy. You can make it!” a tall lad shouted at another boy, who rounded what appeared to be bases made from burlap sacks.

  At the far end of the grassy area, a dark-haired woman hiked her skirts to her knees and raced after the ball. With one swift movement, she scooped it up and hurled it back to a boy waiting at second base. Despite her Herculean effort, the runner made it safely to his goal. Several groans competed with the cheers.

  The woman laughed as she made her way back. “Nice job, Billy. Whose turn to bat?”

  The strong Irish lilt to her voice captured Adam’s interest. She sounded as though she’d just stepped off a steamship from Ireland.

  A tiny blond girl ran over to the woman and tugged her skirt. “Miss Montgomery, I need to use the restroom.”

  Miss Montgomery crouched in front of the tot and took her by the hand. “What’s your name, darlin’?”

  “Sarah.”

  The woman waved at one of the older girls across the yard. “Can you take Sarah inside, please?”

  “Yes, miss.” She came forward to take Sarah by the hand, and they moved out of Adam’s sight.

  “Can Mr. Rylan come out and play with us?” A boy with tousled hair bounced over to talk to Miss Montgomery.

  “Not right now. I’m afraid he’s working.” She crossed her arms in front of her, a mock scowl creasing her pert nose. “Are you saying I’m not good enough for you?”

  The boy grinned. “You’re not bad . . . for a girl.”

  With an exaggerated growl, no doubt given for effect, she took off in pursuit of the tyke. He squealed and ducked around her. So fascinated was Adam as he watched the enchanting young woman, he realized too late that the boy was headed straight for the gate where Adam stood. Quickly he ducked behind a tall hedge on one side of the gate. Had they seen him?

  Loud whispers froze Adam in place. There was no point in running. He’d only be spotted leaving the scene of the crime, and the last time he’d tried that, he hadn’t fared too well.

  The gate creaked open, the hinge squeaking in protest. A swirl of skirts rushed through the opening, and before Adam could take a breath, the woman stalked over to stand in front of him.

  “Is there something we can help you with, sir?” Though the question seemed polite, her facial expression, as well as her tone, dripped with suspicion.

  Her eyes, a cool shade of gray steel, mesmerized him. He blinked and straightened from behind the greenery. “No, thank you, miss.”

  She fisted her hands on her hips. “What are you doing, spying on us like that?”

  Oh, she is a feisty thing. Though he towered a full head above her, she showed not one iota of fear. Adam shifted his weight from one foot to the other. How could he explain what he’d been doing? “I apologize if I caused you any concern. The sounds of the children drew me over.” He tugged the brim of his cap and gave a quick nod. “Good day to you.”

&n
bsp; The woman scanned him from the top of his cap, which couldn’t conceal his unruly hair, past his over-large clothing, to the toes of his worn shoes. What must she think of him? A down-on-his-luck hobo in need of a handout? His heart thumped in his chest—for not an entirely unpleasant reason. For the first time in years, he felt fully alive, every sense attuned.

  She pinned him with a fierce glare, as though intending to give him a further tongue-lashing, but instead she lifted her chin. “Don’t be loitering around here or I’ll be forced to call the constable.”

  “No need, miss. I’ll be on my way.” He longed to ask after Colleen, but that would put his sister in the awkward position of having to explain who he was and why he didn’t go inside to speak with her.

  With a reluctance he couldn’t explain, Adam turned and headed down the alley toward the main street, wishing he could have met the lovely Miss Montgomery in another time—before he’d ruined his life.

  Maggie’s feet glided over the plush carpeting that lined the main corridor of the orphanage. “I never dreamed an orphanage would be this beautiful,” she said to Colleen as they walked.

  Maggie had waited outside with the children, unexpectedly joining in their game of softball, while Colleen had taken care of a pressing matter relating to the grocery order for the kitchen. Now Maggie gave her full attention to the tour of the building that Colleen had promised.

  Colleen smiled. “Believe me, I know how you feel. The first time I came here, I pictured rats running through the halls and hordes of children dressed in rags.”

  Maggie laughed out loud. “I’d say you had a vivid imagination.”

  “You’d be right.” Colleen chuckled as she pushed open the door to one of the rooms and ushered Maggie inside. “The couple who donated this building to the nuns insisted on the best furnishings and decorations. They wanted the unfortunate children who’d lost the most important people in their lives, as well as their homes, to feel nurtured and loved here.”

  “From what I’ve seen so far, the children seem to appreciate all they have.”

  “Most of them do.” Colleen ushered her through another door. “This is the common room. We use it for anything from prayer services to musical performances.”

  Every detail of the large room faded the moment Maggie spied the large upright piano. Pulled by a force beyond her control, she crossed to the magnificent piece and ran her fingers lovingly over carved swirls in the mahogany surface.

  “This was donated by the same couple. The woman was an accomplished pianist, or so I’m told. Do you play?”

  Maggie looked up to see Colleen watching her with a curious expression. “Aye. The piano and the organ.” She brushed the keys with reverent fingers, her senses tuned to the soft timbre of the notes that emerged. “To make extra money back home, I gave lessons to the children whose parents could afford it.”

  Colleen lifted a brow. “I don’t remember seeing a piano in your cottage when we were there.”

  “The pastor lets me use the one in our church. I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed playing.”

  “Feel free to use ours whenever the children aren’t doing their lessons. Speaking of which, let me show you the classroom.”

  Reluctantly, Maggie tore herself away from the piano, promising herself she’d try it out the first chance she got, and followed Colleen to the next room.

  Maggie took in the rows of desks, shelves of books, and the chalkboard up front. “It’s grand. Nicer than our schoolhouse back home.” A sudden longing for her country school and the students she taught rose in her chest.

  Colleen fairly glowed with pride. “It is nice, isn’t it? I’m sure, as a teacher, you’d like to take a closer look.”

  “I would indeed.” Maggie walked to one of the bookcases and ran her fingers over the spines. A tall cupboard at the far end caught her attention. “May I?”

  “Of course.”

  Maggie opened the doors to find a treasure trove of items: pencils, pens, bottles of ink, stacks of paper, rulers, and containers of chalk. She inhaled the scent, which reminded her of her own schoolroom, and a pang of homesickness gripped her. She hoped her students were faring well without her.

  Colleen adjusted the blind on one of the windows looking out onto the street. “Maggie, would you be willing to assist in the classroom while you’re here? We can always use extra help, especially with the younger children.”

  Maggie clasped her hands together. “I was hoping you’d ask. I’d be delighted to, if the nuns won’t mind.”

  Colleen smiled. “Sister Veronica will welcome you with open arms. Lucky for you, Sister Marguerite is mostly retired now. She was a force to be reckoned with in her day.”

  Maggie grinned and shut the doors to the storage closet. “I do believe Rylan regaled me with one such tale—something about you and an ink spill?”

  Pink bloomed in Colleen’s cheeks. “I can’t believe he told you that story.”

  Maggie winked. “I think Rylan fell in love with you that very moment. Or perhaps it was while he was helping with your waylaid wagon and you both ended up covered in mud.”

  Colleen set her hands on her hips. “I see I have no secrets left at all. Wait until I see that man tonight. He’ll get a piece of my mind.” But her huff of laughter gave away her pretense.

  Maggie followed her back out into the corridor. “You and Rylan are so fortunate. To have each other and to share this important work together.” A spasm of wistfulness tugged at Maggie. “I hope I’ll be as lucky one day.”

  Colleen patted her arm. “I’m so sorry your engagement didn’t work out. But you’re barely twenty. You’ve lots of time yet.”

  Thoughts of Neill Fitzgerald—thoughts Maggie had tried hard to leave on the shores of Ireland—came rushing to mind, bringing with them a wave of regret over the way their relationship had ended. It seemed marriage to Neill was not her destiny. “Maybe so, but meanwhile, I’ll fill my time helping children. It’s my life’s calling, I feel certain.” That and her music. Maybe she could teach the children to play a few simple songs while she was here and inspire a love of music within them.

  She glanced at Colleen in time to see a shadow of sadness drift across her features. “Lately I’ve been thinking about my life’s calling, as well.” Colleen paused in the foyer and gripped her hands together in front of her skirt. “These children may be the only ones I get to nurture.” She gave a small shrug. “Don’t misunderstand me. I’m extremely grateful for Delia, but I can’t deny the longing for a babe of my own.”

  Maggie squeezed Colleen’s arm. “I’m sure every woman has the same desire. I’ll make sure to double my petitions to heaven on your behalf.”

  “Thank you. The more prayers the better.” Colleen squared her shoulders and seemed to pull herself together. “We should bring the children in for lunch. They get cranky when they’re hungry.”

  As Maggie followed Colleen toward the back exit, she suddenly remembered the stranger at the gate.

  “I don’t wish to alarm you, Colleen, but I found a man watching the children at the back gate earlier. I shooed him on his way. Still, I thought it best to warn you.”

  Maggie recalled the man’s shaggy red hair and unkempt beard and the quiet desperation he exuded. Yet something behind the desperation—a type of yearning or regret—had spoken to her, and she hadn’t felt frightened.

  A slight frown marred Colleen’s features. “It might have been a parent attempting to catch a glimpse of the child they had to leave here for one reason or another. I’ll tell the other adults to be diligent in watching the children when they’re outdoors.”

  “Aye. I suppose it couldn’t hurt to be careful.”

  Irish Meadows. Never had two words summoned more love and more hatred with one breath.

  Adam slowed his gait as he neared the long, winding lane that would take him to his parents’ Long Island residence—his childhood home. If he had anywhere else to go, he’d head there in a heartbeat. However, not
only was he without funds, he couldn’t bear to hurt his mother again. If she found out he’d been released from prison and hadn’t come to see her, she’d never forgive him.

  He straightened and forced back the dread threatening to swamp him. No matter what fit of rage his father decided to unleash on him, Adam would endure it for his mother’s sake.

  When he reached the two brick pillars and the connecting arch that defined the property’s entrance, disbelief stalled Adam’s feet once more. A new sign swung under the ironwork, one that made bile rise in Adam’s throat.

  Irish Meadows: O’Leary and Whelan Enterprises.

  Ripe anger surged through Adam’s veins. That gold-digging snake had actually done it. Coerced Father into making him a partner in their family business. Gilbert Whelan, the orphan boy Adam’s parents had taken in, had usurped Adam’s place in the family. Adam squeezed his hands into fists. If he were here right now, he’d cheerfully knock Whelan into the next pasture.

  Adam continued through the entranceway, trying to quell his indignation with the words the prison chaplain had made him repeat over and over. “God grant me the wisdom to accept the past and the courage to face the future with a clean heart.”

  Adam took in a deep breath and slowly released it. Nothing would change the past that had cost him his freedom. But Adam did have the power to change his future. And letting go of old resentments would be the first step toward achieving that goal.

  As he got closer to the house, his palms grew damp. In truth, he personified the prodigal son, returning home to beg a lowly position on his father’s farm. If Adam had to shovel out stalls, or feed the beasts, or even sleep in the barn, then that’s what he’d do. Anything to earn back his mother’s trust and respect. He couldn’t bear to think of the pain his actions had caused the one person who had loved Adam unconditionally his whole life.

  Yet right at this moment, Adam’s courage faltered. If he could be sure of catching Mama alone, he’d march right through the front door. But the thought of his father’s perpetual scowl had Adam wanting to put off that encounter awhile longer.