American Anthem

by BJ Hoff

  He turned back to Vangie. “I am sorry, love,” he said over the tyke’s head. “I didn’t mean to be so long.”

  Too weary to fuss at him, Vangie waved off his apology. “I was worried, is all. I want this over and done with.”

  She turned, a renewed wave of dread overtaking her as she stared at the steamer that would take them to America. Someone behind prodded them to move forward, and now they were in the thick of the passengers about to board.

  Vangie looked to make certain the children were all accounted for, then again turned her gaze toward the ship. She felt Conn’s large hand on her shoulder, steadying her. Unwilling to let him see the anguish and fear pressing in on her, she reached to cover his hand with her own.

  “It will be well, love,” he said softly, his breath warm against her hair. “ ’Tis the right thing we’re doing.”

  Vangie didn’t trust her voice to answer, instead merely nodded as they continued their march toward the vessel that waited to take them away from Ireland, from all that was known and familiar, to a place where only the Lord Himself knew what awaited them.

  13

  THE PROMISE OF HIS PRESENCE

  “For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord.

  “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.”

  JEREMIAH 29:11 (NLT)

  They were in the thick of the passengers approaching the gangplank now, and there was no shelter from the bitter rain.

  Vangie stopped long enough to turn around and make sure Conn had covered Baby Emma’s face with her blanket. Immediately, she was shoved to the side by the driving crowd. Conn caught her arm, holding onto her as they continued toward the gangplank.

  Now everything was confusion, a wild scramble as the steerage passengers rushed ahead. Children were screaming, women weeping, their men trying to shield them from those who would trample them outright in their haste to board and ensure themselves the best berths.

  And all the while, the rain continued to batter the harbor with a vengeance.

  Vangie saw a large, raw-boned woman and two strapping youths bearing down on the twins and Nell Grace, who had fallen behind.

  “Nell Grace—behind you!” she called out to her daughter.

  The girl looked at her, then turned, stumbling in her effort to keep the boys in tow. At the same time, Aidan left his place up ahead and came whipping through the mob, shoving his way to his sister and little brothers. He took James, the smaller of the twins, to himself, grabbing Nell Grace’s arm with his free hand to buoy her and John along.

  Vangie blinked against the tears burning her eyes. She tried to ignore the sick churning of her stomach as the reality of their departure slammed through her like a wrecking ball. By the time they neared the gangplank, her legs felt so brittle that it seemed the slightest movement would shatter her to pieces.

  Sheer terror barreled down on her, and she bit her lip so fiercely she could taste her own blood. She felt Conn’s hand tighten on her arm as if he had seen the surge of fear in her. Somehow she managed to force a smile for his benefit.

  “Nothing matters so long as we’re all together,” she said, raising her voice above the pandemonium in an effort to reassure herself as well as her husband. “We have each other and the children. We will be all right.”

  He gave her a grateful smile and squeezed her arm. “We will, love,” he said. “We will make out just fine. We are going to a better life, after all.”

  Vangie turned away so he couldn’t see the panic struggling to overtake her. Please let it be so! She prayed silently. Please let us be going to something better and not to our own destruction.

  She became gradually aware that the movement of the crowd had slowed and now was stopping altogether. People muttered among themselves, shifting the weight of their burdens as they speculated as to the reason for the delay. Finally, someone farther ahead passed back the word that a crew member had halted their progress until their numbers were called. There was much grumbling and scattered cursing, especially from some of the rougher men, but there was nothing to do for it but stand and wait in the relentless rain.

  With Baby Emma still cuddled against him, Conn moved forward a little to stand between Aidan and Nell Grace and the twins. Vangie saw the hard, unyielding look Aidan gave his father, which Conn ignored.

  They were so alike, the two of them. Aidan, the very image of his father, had inherited both Conn’s good looks and bullheadedness. And Vangie loved him so deeply it made her heart ache.

  She still remembered, as though it were yesterday, the night he had been born. Perhaps there was always a special bond between a mother and her firstborn son, especially when that son was so much like his da. The first moment she held him, he had stolen her heart entirely, and now, nearly a man grown, Aidan still never failed to warm her with his teasing and boyish laugh.

  A laugh she had heard all too seldom in past months. Vangie sighed, her eyes going from husband to son. Why couldn’t the two of them find their way to an agreement—or at the very least, a truce?

  She watched her family for a moment, then let her gaze wander over the others who, like herself, stood drenched and miserable as they waited to board ship. Vangie saw her own fear reflected in the eyes of most of the women and in some of the men as well. Bony, whimpering children, some wearing little more than rags, clung to their parents, while young people who looked to be near the age of Aidan and Nell Grace shuffled their feet, as if anxious to get on with the adventure.

  So many leaving. Leaving home and family and all they had ever known. Most would probably never set eyes on Ireland again, herself included. They were leaving their past, not knowing if they even had a future.

  Vangie shuddered, fighting back tears. Suddenly from behind her, she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder. She turned to look, but there was no one except a gnarled old grandmother staring out into the distance, moaning softly to herself.

  But something happened as Vangie stood watching, something not so much seen as sensed. It was as if all movement had ceased. The restless, querulous crowd fell silent, frozen in the moment like a painting, with the great ocean in front of them and the isle of home at their backs. Everything seemed to fade and grow still, leaving Vangie as a solitary observer, removed from the press of bodies all around her.

  Again she was struck by the sensation of being touched. Vangie stood, scarcely breathing, her heart hammering as she saw, as if from a great distance, a kindly featured figure, dressed in homespun, moving among the crowd, murmuring to them, ruffling the hair of the children, consoling the women, encouraging the men, reassuring the elderly.

  He laid a hand to their heads as he quietly made his way through the masses, and his every touch was like a blessing. With each step he took, an encompassing warmth and light seemed to radiate from him, overshadowing the fear of the voyage ahead, the dread of the waiting unknown, even the sting of the cold, slicing rain. A strong but gentle presence, he walked among them with a touch and a word of kindness like a benediction for them all. And no one seemed to acknowledge that he was even in their midst.

  Then he was gone, and the crowd began to move forward again. The shouts of the crew could be heard over the wailing of the children and the futile attempts of their mothers to hush and comfort. A blast from the ship sounded, and somewhere in the distance the sound of a mournful fiddle could be heard.

  Vangie had fallen behind her family and had to hurry to catch up. But now as she threaded her way through the throng of other passengers, there was a new firmness to her step. Her feet no longer felt leaden, and her heart no longer hammered with dread. Instead, a sweet, inexplicable peace enfolded her like a cloak as she pressed on.

  She could not explain what had happened, but she knew what she had seen… she knew in her heart of hearts that she had not imagined it. That comforting presence, that caring touch, had been real—wonderfully, incredibly real.

  It was a promise, and she seized upon it a
s such. A promise to cling to, not only for today, but for all the days to come. A promise to carry with her across the fierce Atlantic and into the new land they would one day call home.

  A promise that, wherever she and her loved ones might venture, no matter how long their journey or how far their final destination, they did not go alone.

  14

  THE WATCH

  She had the look of one who would have gladly traded anything—anything but her pride—for the sweet taste of freedom…

  FROM THE DIARY OF NELL GRACE MACGOVERN, 1875

  Long after Conn MacGovern had disappeared from view, Renny Magee stood at the end of the alley staring at nothing in particular. Finally, she pulled her left hand free of her coat pocket and opened it to reveal the watch she had palmed from the street, where her rescuer had dropped it during his clash with Nan Sweeney.

  Odd, he didn’t look the sort to own such a fine piece. In truth, his attire had marked him as a man down on his luck, perhaps in circumstances not much better than Renny’s own.

  Not that her lot was all that bad. She got by, she did.

  The timepiece’s case was etched and carved all fancy-like, with strange, foreign-looking little houses and dragons and boats that made Renny think of some of the decorated knickknacks and baubles in the Chinaman’s shop over on Henry Street.

  After examining the watch’s gold casing—at least it looked to be gold—she opened it to study the numerals and dials. Were it not for the frayed clothing MacGovern had been wearing, she would have thought she’d captured herself a real treasure.

  Perhaps she should not be too quick to discount the watch’s value. It looked to be expensive, perhaps very expensive.

  Old Nan Sweeney would not see this particular piece, she wouldn’t. Renny would take it to Henchy’s, above the chandler’s place. Most likely, the moneylender would pay more by half than that awful old woman would offer anyway. Not that she’d be foolish enough to go near to Old Nan again anytime soon.

  Renny closed the case and stood flipping the watch from one hand to another a few times. She was not entirely comfortable with the idea of keeping it. The thing was, when had anyone ever put himself out to help her before this day?

  Aside from Thomas Lynch and one or two of the other buskers, she had no friends, not really. You couldn’t trust anyone, and that was the truth. There was always someone on the prowl to pick your pocket or kick you about and take your money.

  But Conn MacGovern had stood in for her, and him in a terrible rush on his way to the docks. Not only had the man put himself in harm’s path for her, but he had treated her kindly enough, in a gruff sort of manner. Why, he had even said he’d miss her performances.

  What if the watch was a family heirloom, something treasured and handed down now and again?

  What if it was? That would make it all the more valuable.

  Renny lifted the watch to look at it again, letting her fingers trace the engraving. The chafing at the back of her mind refused to go away. She looked down the street in the direction of the harbor, indecision sweeping through her.

  Finally, propelled by an urgency that started her heart to thundering, she tore out of the alley and took off at a fierce run toward the docks.

  The next few minutes were all confusion, with the crowd pressing forward like so many cattle prodded into movement, and members of the crew shouting commands and curses at them as if cattle they were indeed.

  Conn saw Vangie weaving her way through a family with half a dozen children or more, trying to reach him. He was relieved to see that she was smiling. She no longer appeared quite so frightened and weary as she had only moments before. He flung out his arm above the heads of the little ones between them, grasping her hand and pulling her to him.

  Immediately, the twins began hammering her with excited questions about the ship. Baby Emma squirmed in Conn’s arms and reached for Vangie. Conn handed her over to her mother, then moved in front of them, using his large body as both shield and guide to propel his family through the crowd.

  When a voice shrieked his name from behind, Conn whipped around to see who in this herd of strangers would be calling out to him. To his amazement, he saw the busker girl—Renny Magee—a fist stabbing the air as she snaked her way through the crowd, obviously intent on reaching him.

  “Conn MacGovern! Ho! Conn MacGovern!”

  Vangie looked at Conn, then turned to watch the girl. Conn stood staring, ignoring the people nearest him who had begun to grumble at the MacGoverns for impeding their movement. Indeed, his entire family had stopped where they were, gaping in bewilderment as a red-faced Renny Magee slipped almost effortlessly through the crowd and practically threw herself directly in front of Conn.

  “What in heaven do you think you’re doing, girl?”

  Her cap was askew, both it and the shaggy hair beneath streaming with the rain, but she seemed completely indifferent to her wretched condition. Instead, she stood there, grinning at him as if she were altogether witless.

  “Move along, man,” a skinny, whiskered fellow complained, shoving Conn in his impatience to board the ship. “You’re blocking the way, you are.”

  Conn glared at him, stepped aside a bit, then turned back to Renny. “What’s this about, girl?”

  The busker girl looked from him to Vangie and the children, then thrust out her hand, in which she held a watch.

  His watch!

  Instinctively, Conn reached inside his coat, but of course the watch was not there. It was cupped in the none-too-clean palm of Renny Magee.

  “What are you doing with my watch?”

  He fairly shouted at her—an accusation, not a question. It seemed she wasn’t about to meet his gaze, but instead locked her eyes on something just over his shoulder. “You dropped it,” she said, the rough-edged voice grating like a file along Conn’s backbone.

  He stared at her for a long moment. “I think not,” he bit out. “You stole it; isn’t that so, you little hoaxer? You stole my watch, and after my saving your neck at that!”

  Renny Magee curled her lip and shot back, “Think what you like, MacGovern! But if I stole it as you say, then why did I run all this way to return it?”

  Conn reached for the watch. She slapped it into his hand, and he stood eyeing her with disgust and no small measure of disappointment. “So Nan Sweeney was telling the truth after all. You are a thief! Have you no shame, girl?”

  The pointed chin snapped up. “That old witch was not telling the truth!” Her face darkened. “Not…entirely, that is,” she stammered. “It was as I said—I took from her only what was owed to me.”

  Conn lowered his head until he was in her face. “Well, my watch was not owing to you, you little guttersnipe! And you won’t get by with it this time—I’ll set the law on you for this.”

  He was surprised when Vangie put a hand to his arm to restrain him. “Conn—”

  Still furious with the busker girl—and with himself for playing the fool to her chicanery—Conn ignored the note of caution in his wife’s tone. “I’ll handle this,” he muttered.

  But when he glanced around, he saw that his entire family was watching him and the girl: Aidan with his customary glare, Nell Grace and the twins with patent astonishment, and Vangie with a frown of disapproval. He also noticed that the other passengers had left them behind and were well on their way up the gangplank, while he stood listening to the lies of a sorry little trickster.

  Still, he could not ignore the girl’s flagrant thievery. The watch was the only thing of any value he had ever owned, and the Lord knew it would more than likely have to be sold when they reached America, to help them survive until he found work.

  It was a fine piece, bestowed upon his Uncle Ryan for saving a landlord’s daughter from certain death by drowning in an icy stream. Their uncle had left it to Conn’s older brother, Taber, who had passed it on to Conn just before entering the priesthood.

  Conn fancied the timepiece, had guarded it with his life.
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  The time might well come when it was the only thing that stood between his family and starvation. And now this scrawny, dirty-faced busker girl had pocketed it for herself.

  “Conn—”

  He turned, impatient with his wife’s continued interference.

  “She’s only a girl,” Vangie said quietly. “And isn’t she returning the watch? There’s no real harm done, after all. Besides,” she added, “there’s nothing to do for it now, except to thank her.”

  “Thank her—” Conn gaped at his wife, who lifted her chin a little and met his gaze straight on.

  “She didn’t have to bring it back,” Vangie pointed out. “You probably wouldn’t even have noticed it was gone until long after we set sail.”

  Speechless Conn continued to stare at her, ignoring the prickle of truth in her words.

  “Conn, we have to go.” Vangie inclined her head toward the ship. “ ’Tis not as if they’ll wait for us.”

  He looked from his wife to Renny Magee. “Why would you do such a disgraceful thing, girl?”

  For the first time, she seemed to show some sign of remorse. “I didn’t steal it, MacGovern! I didn’t!” she blurted out. “You dropped it, and that’s the truth. I might have thought of keeping it—but only for a shake, I swear it!” The pale blue eyes met Conn’s directly. “I brought it back, now didn’t I?”

  Conn studied her a few seconds more. “And am I supposed to reward your honesty, then?” he shot back.

  The girl seemed to be deliberating as to whether she should say more. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, lifted a hand to straighten her sodden cap a bit. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then seemed to think better of it.

  Finally she found her voice. “I was thinking that if…if I did you a good turn, perhaps you’d allow me to go along with you and your family.” She stopped, gulped in a deep breath, and added, “To America.”

  Conn reared back in astonishment. “Are you demented entirely, girl? Why on earth would you think such a thing?”