by Al Lacy
Finally Tom gave Caleb a piece of bread to gnaw on and said, “Honey, I don’t know how we’re going to do it, but one of these days we’ll put together enough money to stake our gold claim, and things will get better for us.”
“I’m not complaining, darling. We’re happy with things as they are. Sure, I’d like to have more money so we could live in a real house, and we could have more clothes and more variety in our meals, but as long as I have you and Caleb, I’ll get along fine.”
Tom reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “You’re the best, Loretta May Harned. You’re the absolute very best. A man couldn’t ask for a wife any better than you.”
Loretta’s face tinted. “I’m glad you feel that way about me.”
“Caleb feels the same way. He’s been telling me what a fortunate boy he is to have such a wonderful mother.”
Loretta laughed softly and looked at her little son, who had bread crumbs stuck to his face with butter. Light from the lantern above the table glowed on his golden hair.
When supper was over, Tom played with Caleb on the rug in front of the fire while Loretta cleaned up the kitchen. Caleb squealed with delight as Tom tickled him on his tummy and under his arms.
After a while, Loretta stood over father and son and said, “Okay, boys. Play time is over. Time for Caleb’s bath.”
As she spoke, Loretta gathered the boy into her arms and took him to the kitchen table, where she had laid a large towel and a basin of warm water.
Tom rose to his feet. “Are you going to bathe me next, Mommy?” Loretta giggled. “Nope. Big boys have to bathe themselves.” “Oh, all right. Then I guess I’ll read the book I started last night.”
While Tom picked up a book from the small table by his rocking chair and started reading, Loretta removed Caleb’s soiled clothes and tenderly washed his little body. He squirmed and fretted a little, but all in all he was a good boy. Once he was clean and dry and in his sleepwear, she carried him to her rocking chair next to Toms and sat down.
Caleb immediately snuggled close and popped his thumb into his mouth. Smiling around the wet thumb, he reached up with his free hand and patted his mother’s cheek. This was Caleb’s routine, and as always when he did it, Loretta’s heart swelled with love. She rocked the chair slowly and began crooning a soft lullaby.
Tom looked up from his book and smiled.
Soon Caleb’s eyelids began to droop, and his sturdy little body relaxed in sleep.
While Loretta carried their son to his crib, Tom made the house ready for the night by throwing more logs on the fire and stirring the flames. Moments later, Loretta appeared in her flannel nightgown, carrying a hairbrush. Husband and wife also had their routine.
Loretta sat down on the floor in front of Toms rocking chair, facing the roaring fire, and handed him the hairbrush. Tom laid aside his book and began taking the pins from her hair. When the last pin was removed, her golden hair cascaded down her back, and Tom took up the brush. Her long blond hair crackled with electricity as Tom drew the brush through the entire length.
“Loretta, I really am serious about staking our own gold claim.”
“I know that, sweetheart,” she said, bending her head against his gentle strokes. “We’ve been putting a few dollars in the cookie jar almost every payday.”
“Yes, but there’s got to be a way to come up with more money faster. All the gold will be dug out of the hills before I can get started.”
Loretta reached back and patted his hand. “Don’t you fret, darling. It’ll be all right. Our day will come.”
When Kathleen O’Malley pillowed her head on Wednesday night, October 11, she was tired but happy. Her first day at the Ralph Massey home had been a good one. Mrs. Massey welcomed her with a smile and was quite helpful to her all day long as she broke in on the job. Mr. Massey had come home only minutes before Kathleen’s workday was done, and he had treated her kindly.
She was a bit nervous about tomorrow. Mrs. Stallworth certainly had treated her well when hiring her, but she was nervous about meeting Peter Stallworth. She thought of the day when he’d stopped the carriage. She hoped he wouldn’t hold the lie against her.
Then a roseate thought slid into her mind. Maybe… maybe he won’t even remember me. Maybe he won’t know I’m the same girl he spoke to on the street.
Kathleen spent a rather restless night and was up at dawn. She prepared herself for meeting Peter Stallworth by arranging her hair differently than she had worn it the day he’d seen her on the street.
She was at the dining room table ahead of the other boarders, and Hattie Murphy made sure she had a hearty breakfast of creamy oatmeal with brown sugar, biscuits with strawberry jam, and plenty of hot coffee.
The cold wind off Lake Michigan put high color in Kathleen’s cheeks. As she approached the Stallworth house, she thought the Stallworth men had probably already headed for downtown to the Great Lakes Railroad Company building. No doubt she would have to face Peter at the end of the day unless for some reason he got home too late. If that happened, she would just have to face their first meeting on Saturday.
As she passed through the open gate she felt butterflies in her stomach, and for a brief instant she thought of her dead family, their faces flashing on the screen of her mind. She pushed the painful memory aside and walked past the front entrance. She had learned at the Massey home that it was considered proper for employees to enter the house at the back door. She hurried alongside the huge house, turned the corner, and stepped up onto the back porch.
Kathleen turned the small handle beside the door and heard the bell ring inside. Her mind went to her family again, but she would not allow her grief to show. When she heard footsteps she squared her shoulders, lifted her delicate chin, put a smile on her rosy lips, and waited for the door to open.
When the latch rattled, Kathleen’s lovely blue eyes glistened with anticipation and a touch of nervousness.
“Good morning, Kathleen!” Maria Stallworth said. “You’re right on time! Just as I expected. LuAnn Massey was over last night. She said you did a marvelous job on their house.”
“I’m glad she was pleased, ma’am,” said Kathleen, pulling off her coat. “I’ll do my best to please you the same way.”
“I have no doubts about that. Let’s start by taking a tour of the house; then you’ll know what you’re dealing with. I’ll explain some things as we go along.”
As Maria Stallworth guided her through the mansion, Kathleen saw that it was a bit larger than the Massey house and somewhat fancier. She knew she would have to keep moving at a good pace to get everything done according to Mrs. Stallworths instructions and wishes.
When the tour was over, Kathleen was given her two uniforms. They were black with white collars and cuffs, and white, stiffly starched aprons that covered the dresses from collar to hem. To complete the uniform she was given two soft white mobcaps, each with a small ruffle encircling it.
Maria Stallworth showed Kathleen to a room where she could change. When she appeared in one of the uniforms—which fit perfectly—Maria said, “You look fine, Kathleen!”
“Thank you, Mrs. Stallworth.”
Kathleen worked hard all morning, and Maria found her at noon in the master bedroom upstairs, polishing the dark wood of the huge bedstead. She took her downstairs to the kitchen, where she had prepared lunch for the two of them. While they ate, Maria told her of hiring Carlene Simms to cook, explaining that Carlene would start her job on Saturday but would not be living in.
The conversation then led to the Stallworths railroad company, and Maria explained that their son Peter—who had graduated from the Chicago Institute of Business in May—had been given a position of junior vice president upon graduation.
Kathleen went back to work and was just finishing up her last job for the day in the big pantry off the kitchen when she heard male voices. They were coming down the hall from the front of the house toward the kitchen. Her heart began to race.
; “Kathleen!” came Marias voice. “My men are home. I want them to meet you!”
Kathleen swallowed hard and stepped into the kitchen.
“Kathleen, this is Mr. Stallworth…and this is our son, Peter.”
Kathleen smiled at John, watching Peter from the corner of her eye. She did a curtsy and said, “I’m very glad to meet you, Mr. Stallworth.”
Peter stared at her.
“And I’m glad to meet you, Kathleen,” said John.
When her eyes met Peter’s he said, “I know you, young lady!” He took a step closer. “We talked on the street the other day, remember? You were leaning against a tree up the street, and—”
“Yes, I remember.”
Peter had been stricken with Kathleen’s beauty and sweet personality when they met on Tuesday. He was trying to recall what she had told him she was doing in the neighborhood, but it wouldn’t come to mind.
Kathleen curtsied and said, “You were very kind to me the other day, Mr. Stallworth. I am glad to know who you are.”
Peter chuckled. “Tell you what, Kathleen. Mr. Stallworth is my father. You can call me Peter.”
Kathleen smiled and nodded.
As the sun dropped close to the western horizon, Kathleen made her way home. It had been a hard day but a good one. A tiny smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as she thought of how exceptionally handsome Peter was, and the way he had looked at her.
Then she shook her head and said aloud, “Don’t be ridiculous, girl! He was only being nice and trying to put you at ease. Nothing more.”
Upon arriving at the boardinghouse, Kathleen ate supper with Hattie and the other boarders. At bedtime she crawled into bed, picturing Peter Stallworths warm eyes in her mind, and soon fell asleep.
At eight o’clock on Saturday morning, Kathleen rang the bell at the back door of the Stallworth mansion and was greeted by Maria, who took her into the kitchen and introduced her to Carlene Simms. Carlene was rather plain, with light brown hair and brown eyes, and was of a sweet disposition. The two young women liked each other immediately.
Upstairs, Kathleen encountered Mr. Stallworth in the hallway while sweeping. He was cordial and stopped to talk to her for a moment before vanishing down the winding staircase. While Kathleen was changing the sheets and pillowcases in the master bedroom, she heard Peter come out of his room and hasten to the staircase.
The morning went by quickly as she cleaned the master bedroom then changed the bedding in Peter’s room and cleaned it thoroughly. She dusted and swept in the other bedrooms, then carried the bedding downstairs to the laundry room. She was doing the wash when Carlene came in and said, “It’s our lunchtime, Kathleen. I’ve already fed the Stallworths.”
“Oh. All right. What time is it?”
“Twelve-forty-five.”
Kathleen left her washing and followed Carlene. She had baked several small loaves of bread, and the aroma filled the kitchen. They had bread and cheese together, along with hot tea.
After lunch Kathleen returned to the laundry room and finished the washing. Her next task—as directed by Maria—was to clean and dust the library on the ground floor at the rear of the mansion.
A small cart had been provided on each floor to transport cleaning equipment. As she pushed the cart down the hall toward the library, the door of the sitting room opened, and Maria appeared.
“How’s it going, dear?” asked the dignified woman.
“Fine, ma’am. I’m finished with today’s work upstairs, and the washing is done. The wash is hanging up to dry. I’m about to clean the library next.”
“Good. Sounds like you’re right on schedule. You did have lunch with Carlene, didn’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am. Carlene makes good bread.”
“We found that out,” said Maria. “I won’t detain you any longer, dear.”
With that, Maria went back into the sitting room, and Kathleen pushed the cart to the rear of the house and opened the library door. She jumped when she saw Peter sitting at the desk. He shoved the chair back and rose to his feet.
“I didn’t know you were here, sir!” she said.
Peter took a couple of steps toward her. “Please don’t feel you have to apologize, Kathleen,” he said in a gentle tone. “It’s your job to clean the house. You can’t be worrying about who’s in what room.”
“Well, sir, I knocked on your bedroom door before I entered it, but I didn’t think about knocking at this door. I … I’m so embarrassed.”
Peter took another step. “Please, Kathleen. Don’t be. It’s all right.”
She released a slight smile. “Thank you, Mr. Stallworth.”
Moving back to the desk, Peter said, “You go right ahead and do your work. You won’t bother me.”
“You’re sure? I can come back later.”
“No. Mom’s got you on a work schedule, and far be it from me to interfere. You go ahead.”
As she took her feather duster from the cart, Peter said, “And, Kathleen…”
“Yes, sir?”
“Remember, Mr. Stallworth is my father. I am Peter. I want you to call me Peter.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you don’t have to call me sir. Just Peter. Okay?”
She nodded. “Yes…Peter.”
He smiled broadly “That’s better.”
While Kathleen dusted expensive paintings, washed mirrors, swept rugs, mopped the hardwood floor, and polished furniture, Peter told her all about his father’s company and his job as junior vice president.
As the one-sided conversation continued, Maria came out of the sitting room and moved down the hall. She stuck her head in the open library door and cut Peter off midsentence.
“Peter, you’ve been talking incessantly since this poor girl came in here to clean. I could hear you all the way from the sitting room. You need to stop the chatter and let her work.”
“But, Mom,” Peter said, “my talk hasn’t slowed her one bit. She is getting her work done.”
Maria glanced at Kathleen, who was polishing the mantel over the fireplace. “Well, honey, it looks like you’re able to work in spite of my sons chatter.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Kathleen with a smile. “I’m enjoying Peters chatter. He’s telling me all about his job and the company.”
Maria grinned, shook her head, and walked away.
During the following week, Peter Stallworth could hardly get his mind off Kathleen O’Malley. She had captured his imagination and was close to capturing his heart. He couldn’t wait till Saturday when he would see her again.
Kathleen, too, thought of Peter often. She admired him as a gentleman and found herself wishing he was from her part of town so they could be friends. At other times, Kathleen found portions of Dwight Moody’s sermons going through her mind, especially when he used the words from the song Ira Sankey had sung:
What Thou, My Lord, hath suffered
Was all for sinners’ gain:
Mine, mine was the transgression,
But Thine the deadly pain.
When Saturday came, Peter made sure he was in the kitchen with Carlene at eight o’clock. When the doorbell rang, Peter hurried to the back door and surprised Kathleen by being the one to let her in. Peter’s mother happened into the kitchen at that very moment and saw her son fall all over himself as he ushered the Irish girl inside.
An expression of displeasure crossed Maria Stallworths face.
Carlene, who had quietly observed it, ducked her head when the mistress looked her way.
During the morning, Kathleen was surprised when Peter appeared in different places in the mansion where she was working. He even offered to help her a couple of times, and she kindly told him it was her job and she would do it.
Early that afternoon, Maria hunted through the house for Peter and found him in the large parlor, where he was scooting the long, heavy couch back into place. He looked up and said, “Oh, hi, Mom. I was helping Kathleen. You know, so she didn’t have to move t
he couch to clean underneath it and behind it.”
“Your son is such a gentleman, Mrs. Stallworth,” Kathleen said.
“Well, we’ve raised him to be that,” Maria said, smiling at the girl. Then to her son: “Peter, your father is busy with some business papers in the library. I need you to drive me downtown. I have to do some shopping.”
While mother and son rode in one of the Stallworth carriages toward downtown Chicago, Maria said, “I want to talk to you, Peter.”
“About what, Mom?”
“About Kathleen.”
“Yes?”
“You mustn’t be so friendly to her, Peter. It doesn’t look good.”
“To whom?”
“Well, anyone who would see it. You mustn’t show so much interest in a girl who cleans for us. You understand.”
Peter was quiet for a moment as the carriage moved along State Street. Then he said, “Well, Mom, I guess I might as well be honest with you about it. I’m quite attracted to Kathleen. I’ve never met a girl with so much natural beauty and such a pleasant and warm personality.”
Maria’s eyes widened and her face went dead white. The lines around her mouth hardened as she said in a tight voice, “Peter, I’m not going to have this. You stay clear of Kathleen or I will terminate her job. Do you understand me?”
“All right, Mom. I’ll not spend so much time around her on Saturdays. But you’d have a hard time finding a girl who does the quality of work she does.”
Maria set her jaw. “Peter, you will not spend any time with Kathleen. I mean what I say. If I see you giving her any more than a passing word, she goes. Am I making myself clear?”
Peter stared straight ahead. “Yes. You’re making yourself clear.”
That night, Peter was in his room getting ready for bed when he heard a tap on his door.
“Yes?”
“It’s Dad. Can I come in?”
Peter opened the door. “Sure, Dad. Come in.”