by Al Lacy
A look passed between John and Maria, and he gave her a slight nod.
“All right, son,” John said.
On Tuesday, Kathleen rang the bell at the back door of the Stallworth mansion and was greeted by Carlene. She immediately headed through the house for the winding staircase, for on Tuesdays she always started her work on the second floor.
She mounted the stairs and went to the closet where her cart and cleaning equipment were stored, and reached for the doorknob.
“Kathleen! Just leave the cart in the closet!”
Kathleen backed away from the door, waiting for Maria to reach her. “Is there a change in plans today, ma’am?”
“There sure is. You’re not cleaning one more day in this house. You’re fired! Get out!”
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“Peter confessed that he’s been seeing you on the sly! Shame on you, Kathleen! I brought you in here and gave you a job because I trusted you. I thought you were a nice girl. Well, I found out Sunday night that you’ve been seeing my son behind my back when you knew how I felt about it. Peter told his father and me that he’s through with you. He doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore. Now get out!”
Kathleen felt the strength drain from her body. Her voice sounded faint as she said, “I…I’ll bring the uniforms back to you, Mrs. Stallworth.”
“Forget the uniforms! I just want you out of my sight and out of my house, right now!”
As Kathleen walked toward the spiral staircase, Maria shouted, “Sneak! Seeing my son behind my back! How much lower can you get? I’m going over to LuAnn’s house right now and tell her all about you! She’ll fire you, too!”
A wave of nausea washed over Kathleen as she moved down the hall. When she entered the kitchen, Carlene gave her a sorrowful look, “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Kathleen nodded without speaking and picked up her coat. As she walked away from the Stallworths’ neighborhood her shoulders drooped, and tears coursed down her cheeks. There was no use in even going to the Massey house tomorrow. Maria Stallworth would have already persuaded Mrs. Massey to fire her.
People stared at the girl who walked with her head bowed, tears dripping from her chin. She didn’t even notice them, so great was her sorrow. She had lost her family in the fire, and now she had lost her livelihood and…Peter.
That evening, Hattie Murphy happened to be near the front door of the boardinghouse when she saw Peter Stallworth come in.
“Hello, Hattie!” Peter said, smiling. “How are you?”
Hattie’s cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were aflame with indignation. “I was fine till I saw you!”
“What do you mean? Hattie…what’s the matter?”
“What’s the matter? How do you expect me to feel after the way you broke that poor girl’s heart?”
Peter frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Kathleen didn’t come down to supper tonight. I went up to her room to see if she was all right, and she was crying her eyes out. Your mother fired her this morning and told her you said you were through with her. You didn’t want anything to do with her anymore. And your mother told her she’d get Mrs. Massey to fire her, too.”
Peter was stunned. “Mrs. Murphy, what my mother told Kathleen about me was a lie! I never said any such thing. I love Kathleen with all of my heart, and I want to marry her!”
Hattie cocked her head and looked him straight in the eye. “Do you really mean that, Peter?”
“I sure do!”
“Then I’m giving you permission to go up there and tell it to Kathleen in the privacy of her room. Come with me. She probably won’t open the door if you knock and tell her it’s you.”
Kathleen lay sprawled across the bed. She had cried until there seemed to be no more tears left. The only good thing that had happened to her all day was that Hattie had told her she could stay in the room and eat her meals without cost until she was able to find work.
When the tap came at the door, she sat up and called out, “Who is it?”
“Its Mrs. Murphy, honey.”
Kathleen’s eyes were swollen and her hair was somewhat unkempt as she opened the door. “Yes, Mrs. Murphy?”
“Honey, there’s somebody here who wants to talk to you.”
When Peter stepped into view, Kathleen was speechless.
“My mother lied to you this morning,” he said. “I did not say I was through with you, and I did not say I wanted nothing more to do with you. I love you, Kathleen. I want you to be my wife.”
“That’s why he’s up here with my permission, honey,” Hattie said. “I want you two to have a good talk.”
“May I come in?” Peter asked.
When Kathleen threw her arms around him, Hattie’s eyes filled with tears. Sniffing, she said, “I’ll see you two later.”
It took only a few moments for Peter to apologize for his mother’s cruelty. After a tender kiss, he held Kathleen in his arms and said, “Sweetheart, you don’t have to worry about finding more jobs.”
“I know, Peter. Your mother’s not going to hire me back, and Mrs. Massey won’t either—”
“That’s not what I meant. What I mean is, we’re going to get married right away. I will provide for you. You won’t have to work.”
“But your father—”
“If he fires me I’ll get another job. This is a big city. I have a good education in business. We’ll be fine. Will you marry me?”
“Oh, yes, my darling! I’ll marry you!”
They sealed it with a kiss.
On Saturday, April 27, 1872, Peter had been gone from the Stallworth mansion since early morning. When he returned late in the afternoon, Carlene Simms was mopping the kitchen floor. Most of the cleaning work had fallen on her until Maria could find someone to take Kathleen’s place.
As he passed through the kitchen, he saw his mother in the hallway near the dining room.
“Well, there’s my wandering boy,” she said. “Where have you been all day?”
“That’s what I want to talk to you and Dad about. Where is he?”
“In the library. Is there something wrong?”
“Very.”
Maria felt a tightening in her stomach as she led the way. “John,” she said, pushing open the library door, “Peter wants to talk to us. He says it’s about something very serious.”
John’s desk was spread with papers. “I’m pretty busy right now,” he said, looking at Peter. “Couldn’t this wait till after dinner tonight?”
“I won’t be here after dinner tonight, Dad,” Peter said softly.
“What do you mean?” Deep lines formed across John Stallworths brow.
Peter pulled a chair up beside his father and seated his mother in it, then eased onto a chair facing them and said, “Mom, Dad…I love you both with all my heart. I hope you know that.”
They nodded, studying his face.
“We love you the same, son,” said John.
“Enough to wish me happiness in my marriage?”
“Y-YOUR WHAT?” STAMMERED Peters mother.
“Kathleen and I were married about two hours ago. A preacher performed the ceremony in his office.”
A look of horror flashed over his parents’ faces.
Before either could speak, Peter said, “We rented a house in an upper-middle-class neighborhood on Thursday evening. Kathleen is there now. I told her that once you knew we were married, I believed you would accept her as your daughter-in-law. She’s pacing the floor, waiting for me to return and tell her that you will.”
Maria seemed in the grip of a mighty paralysis, but there was a cold flame in John Stallworths eyes as he jumped to his feet and roared, “We will not accept that peasant as our daughter-in-law! And what’s more, you’re fired! And you’re disinherited!”
Peter took a deep breath. “Social position means more to you than your love for me…is that it, Dad?”
Maria finally found her voice. “Peter, I tried to sav
e you from that girl.”
“I know, Mom, and you lied to do it. You’re my mother, and I love you more than words can ever describe, but you were wrong to tell Kathleen that I said I was through with her.”
“I was only trying to spare you a miserable and unhappy life with her!”
“No, you were trying to spare yourself some embarrassment by keeping your son from marrying a girl you think is beneath you. That’s it, isn’t it, Mom?”
Maria stared at him silently, her lips pressed into a thin line.
Peter sighed as he rose to his feet. “I’d better get back to my bride. I’d hug you, but I guess you don’t want that from me anymore. I’ll come to the office and clean out my desk on Monday, Dad. I’ll take my clothes and personal items here in the house with me now.”
He turned and headed for the library door.
John and Maria exchanged pain-filled glances.
“Wait a minute, son,” John said as Peter reached for the door-knob.
Peter looked over his shoulder and waited for his father to speak.
“I can’t do what I said. I was angry, son. You can keep your job if you want it.”
“Of course I want it, Dad. I love working for you and for the company.”
Relief showed on the senior Stallworths face. He glanced at his wife, then looked back at Peter. “And you can forget what I said about disinheriting you.”
Maria moved up beside her husband. “I’m glad you’re going to stay with the company, Peter. And I’m in agreement with Dad. I don’t want you disinherited. But—”
“But what, Mom?”
“Neither of us want anything to do with Kathleen. You can come here whenever you want, but we don’t want that girl in our home.”
Peter felt a surge of anger and his jaw hardened, but he bit his tongue. “I’m sorry you feel this way about Kathleen…but I’ll still come by the house often. And Dad, I’ll see you at the office on Monday.”
He opened the library door.
“Wait a minute, Peter.” Maria rushed up and put her arms around him.
He hugged her in return and said, “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too,” she said on a sob.
Peter noted the anguish on his father’s face, then went upstairs to get his belongings.
Kathleen was brokenhearted when Peter came home and told her how it went with his parents, but she agreed that he’d made the right decision to keep his job.
Their love for each other deepened and grew daily as the weeks passed. Kathleen kept their home lovely and inviting, and Peter learned that she was an excellent cook as well as a loving, devoted wife.
The wall between Kathleen and the Stallworths was a heavy burden on her heart, but she was finding happiness in spite of it with the man she loved.
They had a few friends in the neighborhood, but no one they were especially close to. They seemed happiest when they were alone together.
Spring faded into summer, and summer was soon giving way to autumn. Nothing changed in how the Stallworths felt about their daughter-in-law.
Kathleen had sent personal birthday gifts to both John and Maria, trying to show them she cared about them. Both times Peter returned home with the rejected gifts.
Soon the leaves fell from the trees, the grass turned tawny, and cold weather returned to Chicago.
In early November, there were a few days in a row when Kathleen felt light-headed and seemed to run out of energy. She kept it to herself, not wanting to worry Peter.
Then came a Monday morning when she sent Peter off to work and started washing the breakfast dishes. The smell of bacon grease was suddenly repulsive, and Kathleen had to run to the “necessary,” where she lost her breakfast.
When she returned to the kitchen her head began to swim, and the room seemed to whirl around her. Perspiration coated her brow, and she used the wall to brace herself as she edged toward the bed-room.
Gingerly she eased onto the bed and closed her eyes to make the room stop swirling.
Suddenly a tiny smile crept across her pale face, and she patted her midsection. Could it really be?
She rested for a few minutes, then went back to the kitchen. Four weeks ago she had suspected she might be pregnant. Now she decided it was indeed quite possible. However, she’d wait a few more days before saying anything to Peter.
Morning sickness prevailed for four more mornings, each time after Peter had already gone to work. By Friday morning, Kathleen was sure there was new life growing within her. It was time to share this heaven-sent news with her husband.
When Peter came home from work that evening, he was surprised to see candles on the dining room table and the lanterns in the dining room turned low. Looking a bit puzzled, he took his wife of seven months into his arms and said, “Hey, darling, what’s this? Supper in the dining room…and by candlelight?”
Kathleen giggled and kissed him. “Mm-hmm.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“Oh, it’s a very special one.”
Peter noticed a glow about his wife that he’d never seen before, and there was a hint of mischief in her beautiful Irish eyes. “All right, Mrs. Stallworth,” he said, laying his hands on her shoulders, “what’s this all about?”
“Darling, I was going to make you wait all through the meal and then tell you, but I can’t put it off any longer. We…we—”
“Well, come on. Out with it! We what?”
“We’re going to have a baby!” she exclaimed, throwing herself into his arms.
“What? A baby! Really?”
“Yes!”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!”
“Me…a father! Wow!”
Kathleen giggled again. “I knew you’d be happy about it.”
“Happy! Sweetheart, I’m ecstatic! When?”
“If all goes as I’ve calculated, it’ll be in early June.”
Peter kissed her, then held her close and whispered words of love and endearment. This was the greatest moment since the day of his marriage.
The next day Peter drove to his parents’ home, sat them down, and told them about the baby. They had a hard time knowing how to act. They wanted Peter to know they were happy they would soon be grandparents, but they couldn’t forget who their grandchild’s mother was.
When Peter was gone, John said, “Honey…our only child. He’s the only one who can give us grandchildren. I don’t want that child growing up without knowing us.”
Maria shook her head slowly. “Yes, we might have to change our approach here. Let’s think on it some more.”
On June 9, 1873, Kathleen Stallworth gave birth to a beautiful baby girl they named Megan Kathleen and called “Meggie.” Peter was the typical proud father and wanted desperately for his parents to know her. When he informed them they had a new granddaughter, they asked him to bring her to the house.
Peter said the only way Meggie could come was if Kathleen came too. The Stallworths readily agreed, saying they had been discussing it. Kathleen could come to their home.
Peter was elated and rushed home to tell Kathleen. An hour later, the proud parents were on the doorstep of the Stallworth mansion. John and Maria were cool toward Kathleen, but they were instantly captured by little Meggie, who had a head of thick black hair and big blue eyes the same shade as Kathleen’s.
After that, Peter and Kathleen brought Meggie to the Stallworth mansion twice a week. With each visit it was obvious that John and Maria only tolerated Kathleen, but they adored Meggie and showered her with gifts. The more the Stallworths saw of their grand-daughter the more they doted on her. Though it hurt Kathleen to be treated coldly by her in-laws, for Peter and Meggie’s sake, she endured it.
Four years passed. It was a warm afternoon in May 1877, in Virginia City, Nevada, when a very pregnant Loretta Harned sat holding a glass of lemonade and watched Hilda Jensen dust the furniture in the parlor.
Tom and Loretta now lived in a real house instead of a miner’s sha
ck. It was small compared to some of the houses in town, but quite comfortable. The Comstock Lode was still producing silver, and though Toms wages had increased somewhat over the years, they still had only a small amount put aside for Tom to stake his own claim on a gold mine.
Loretta had suffered two miscarriages since giving birth to Caleb, losing both babies in the last stages of pregnancy. The first miscarriage had taken place nearly three years ago, and the second a little over a year and a half ago.
Hilda Jensen’s husband, a silver miner, had died five years previously in a mine accident. When Tom learned that Loretta was expecting another child, he hired Hilda to do the housecleaning. It was enough that Loretta insisted on cooking the meals, but Tom would not hear of her doing the washing or the housework. This new baby must live.
The old clock on the mantel began chiming almost as soon as Hilda touched it with the dust cloth. When it chimed the third time, Loretta worked her way out of the overstuffed chair, picked up the half-full glass of lemonade, and said, “Well, Hilda, its almost time for my boy to get home from school.”
Hilda smiled as she watched Loretta make her laborious way to the front porch. Then she picked up her broom and dustpan and moved from the parlor to the bedroom down a short hallway.
Loretta eased herself into an old rocking chair on the porch and sipped at the lemonade as she kept her eyes on the road. A few minutes later, she saw some children coming her way, and among them was her six-year-old son.
She set loving eyes on the boy who ran toward the porch. The afternoon sunshine gleamed on his golden hair. To Loretta it looked like a halo.
“Mommy!” he called, bounding up on the porch and into her arms.
Loretta squeezed him tight. “I love you, Caleb!” She kissed the top of his head and said, “You’re Mommy’s little angel boy!”
Caleb giggled as he looked into her eyes. “You’ve called me that before, Mommy Why do you say I’m your little angel boy?”