by Al Lacy
“Sometimes you wish what, Kathleen?”
“Oh, nothing. What’s done is done.”
Hennie’s brow furrowed. “Kathleen, I need to know one thing…”
“Yes?”
“Did you ever become a Christian?”
“I’ve certainly thought a lot about it. I mean, some of the words Mr. Moody preached keep coming back to me, and lines of the song Mr. Sankey sang often echo through my mind.”
“But you’ve never opened your heart to Jesus?”
“Well…no.”
“Honey, the greatest need you have is to be saved. Nobody knows when they’ve seen their last sunrise, but we’ll all have our last day on earth, and many people die young.”
Kathleen nodded in little jerky movements. “I know. I know. Well, I really shouldn’t detain you, Hennie. You need to meet up with your friends. It sure was nice to see you again. I…I hope we run into each other again sometime. Come on, Meggie, let’s go.”
Hennie felt burdened for Kathleen as she watched her hurry away, tugging at Meggie’s hand.
When they had reached another department in the store, Kathleen said, “There are some things I need to get right here, Meggie.”
“Okay,” said the little girl, cuddling her doll.
While Kathleen was picking out new linens, Meggie said, “Mommy, what’s bein’ saved? What’s a Christian?”
“Oh, look here Meggie!” Kathleen said. “Here’s a new quilt that will just fit your bed! Would you like to have it?”
The quilt was of soft pastel colors and trimmed with a white eyelet ruffle. “Oh, yes!” said Meggie. “It’s real pretty, Mommy!”
It was almost ten o’clock that night when junior vice presidents Peter Stallworth, Derek Walton, and Jack Ballard finished the project they had been working on in the offices of the Great Lakes Railroad Company.
While the other two men closed up their briefcases, Peter said, “You guys go on. I’ve got some papers in my office I have to put in the safe. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Ten minutes later, Peter emerged from the building and headed down the deserted street toward the stables where his horse and carriage were kept. Street lamps flickered along the way, pulsing with tentative light like dim ghostly beacons.
Peter was just passing the dark alley between the office building and the stable when he heard the kick of a small rock from somewhere in the deep blackness and heavy footsteps on the boardwalk.
He wanted to look over his shoulder but thought it would look foolish to whoever had moved out of the alley. He was halfway to the stables already and could see the lantern light in the small office.
Suddenly a male voice directly behind him said, “Hold it right there, mister!”
Peter looked back and saw a short, stout man holding a revolver pointed at his chest.
“Gimme your wallet!” the man said, stepping up close.
Peter’s initial panic turned swiftly to determination. His fist shot out, connecting with the man’s jaw and making the gun fly out of the man’s hand.
Before Peter could do anything else, a dark form came out of the shadows and swung a heavy club. The blow to the back of Peters head was a glancing one, and he went down stunned but still conscious.
The man Peter had knocked down was shaking his head to clear it as he said, “I’ll get his wallet. If he makes a move, hit ‘im again!”
When the robber reached inside Peter’s coat for the wallet, Peter grasped him by the hair and slammed his face against the boardwalk. The other man swore, and before Peter could avoid the club, it struck his head again.
Kathleen glanced at the clock on the mantel for the hundredth time. Twelve midnight, and Peter wasn’t home yet. She was still in the dress she’d put on that morning. Every few minutes she went to one of the front windows and peered out into the night, looking for the carriage that would bring her husband home to her.
It wasn’t like him to be late.
Kathleen had a passing thought of wishing Hennie was there to pray for Peter. She resumed pacing the floor, then heard footsteps on the porch, followed by a knock on the door.
Kathleen’s heart lurched. She could see that whoever it was had a lantern, and she could make out two shadows against the curtains as she turned the knob and opened the door a crack. Peering out, she saw a pair of men in blue uniforms with badges on their chests.
“Chicago police, ma’am. Are you Mrs. Peter Stallworth?”
“Y-yes,” she stuttered, opening the door wider.
“I’m Officer Jason Wells, ma’am, and this is Officer Beaudry Compton. May we come in and talk to you?”
Kathleen’s knees turned watery. “Something’s happened to Peter, hasn’t it?”
“We will explain, ma’am, but we’d like to come in and have you sit down.”
Kathleen drew a shuddering breath. “What’s happened? Tell me!”
Wells took her by the arm and guided her to the nearest chair while Compton stepped inside and closed the door.
“Mrs. Stallworth,” Wells said in a low, level tone, “your husband was struck down by robbers on the street in front of the Great Lakes Railroad Company building. They took his money and threw the wallet on the ground beside him. The identification in the wallet told us who he was.”
“You’re telling me that Peter was unconscious when you found him? Where is he now? Is he all right?”
“Mrs. Stallworth—” the officer began. “Ma’am…we rushed your husband to Central Hospital, and—”
“And what?” Kathleen’s heart was pounding.
“Well, ma’am, apparently your husband resisted the robbers. They beat him severely. He…died…about twenty minutes ago.”
Kathleen’s breathing grew labored as the reality of Peter’s death came over her. She could no longer see for the tears flooding her eyes, and the cry trying to escape her throat remained there. The delay was only momentary. Suddenly she wailed and broke down, sobbing her anguish.
After some time her shuddering sobs began to diminish, and Officer Beaudry Compton hurried to get her a cup of water.
“Here, ma’am,” he said. “This should help.”
Kathleen raised the cup to her lips, drinking deeply.
“Do you want some more water, ma’am?” Compton asked as she handed him the empty cup.
She shook her head.
“Mrs. Stallworth,” Officer Jason Wells said, “we’ve already sent officers to the John Stallworth home to advise them their son has been killed. Would you like us to take you to your in-laws’ home?”
Kathleen felt numb in mind and body. She wondered if the Stallworths would want her there, but right now she needed to be with somebody. Peter’s parents would have to do.
She wiped at her tears and said, “My…my four-year-old daughter is asleep in her room, sir. I’ll get her up, then you can take us to Peter’s parents.”
Wells helped Kathleen to her feet. “Is there anything we can do to help with your daughter, ma’am?”
“No, thank you. I’ll only be a few minutes. Please, sit down.”
As Kathleen slowly made her way to Meggie’s room, she felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. She reached out to steady herself against the wall for a few seconds until the feeling passed, then entered the room and lit the lantern on the small table next to Meggie’s bed. Her precious girl was curled on her side, tightly clasping the new baby doll.
How will I ever explain this to Meggie? How can I make her understand when I don’t understand it myself?
Kathleen leaned over and gently caressed Meggie’s cheek. The little girl stirred.
“Sweetheart, Mommy needs you to wake up.”
It took Meggie a moment to come awake. She rubbed her sleepy eyes and set them on her mother and instantly knew something was wrong.
Kathleen pulled back the covers and took Meggie onto her lap.
“Mommy, you’re crying. What’s the matter?”
“Honey…” Kathleen stopped abru
ptly and made a great effort to control her trembling voice. “There are some policemen in the parlor. They came to tell us that…that Daddy has gone to heaven. He won’t be coming home.”
Meggie’s lower lip began to quiver. “Daddy won’t be coming home… ever?”
“No, honey. When people go to heaven, they don’t come back to earth anymore.”
Meggie broke into tears, repeating over and over that she wanted her daddy to come home. Kathleen held her close and tried to comfort her, but all she could do was clasp the child close and rock her.
After several minutes, Kathleen took a deep breath and said, “Meggie, the policemen are going to take us to Grandma and Grandpa’s house. We need to get you dressed.”
Meggie looked up at Kathleen and said, “Will Daddy be at Grandma’s house?”
“No, honey. He won’t be there. But Grandma and Grandpa need us right now, and we need them. Come on. Lets get you dressed.”
As the police wagon made its way eastward through the dark streets of Chicago, Kathleen sat in the back, holding a sniffling Meggie on her lap.
Kathleen’s thoughts ran back to the beginning of the day when Peter had stood at the window, marveling at the beautiful sunrise. Then, like a cold wind striking her face, she recalled Hennie’s words: “Nobody knows when they’ve seen their last sunrise, but everybody has their last day on earth… and many people die young.”
Kathleen forced her thoughts back to Peter, gazing through the window at the sunrise, not knowing it was his last day on earth. A flame of anger toward God leaped in her heart.
First God had allowed her family to die in that horrible fire, and now her husband had been taken from her. As of this night, she was a widow with a child to raise. Dwight Moody called Him a loving God, but why would a loving God do this to her?
Kathleen’s mind went in circles as she frantically tried to make sense of it all.
She would have to get a job and find someone to look after Meggie while she worked. The weight of this sudden tragedy, and the total responsibility of providing for Meggie seemed to crush her.
Why God? Why?
They arrived at the Stallworth mansion to find two police officers in the huge parlor, and John and Maria trying to comfort each other. When they saw Kathleen and a sleepy-eyed Meggie, they rushed toward them, and Maria took Meggie from Kathleen, hugging her close as she began weeping anew. John stayed close to Maria, patting her shoulder.
Maria, still holding Meggie in her arms, turned to Kathleen and said, “This has to be very hard on you, Kathleen. I’m sorry.”
“Yes, Kathleen,” John said. “I know Peter was a good husband to you, and he loved you very much.”
Still they made no move to physically include Kathleen in their grief.
The officers informed the Stallworths and Kathleen that a man-hunt was on, and the Chicago police department would do all they could to find and punish the men who had robbed and killed Peter.
When the police had gone, Meggie’s grandparents poured their love on her, trying to comfort her with the words that her daddy had gone to heaven.
The more Meggie squirmed, the tighter Maria held on to her. Finally, the child broke loose and dashed to Kathleen, who folded her in her arms.
As the Stallworths and Kathleen and Meggie sat in the parlor, the older couple spoke to each other in low whispers, saying nothing to their daughter-in-law.
When Meggie’s eyes began to droop and she fell asleep in her mother’s arms, John rose from his chair and said, “Meggie needs to get some rest, Kathleen. Lets take her up to Peters room. I’ll carry her.”
Meggie stirred as she was transferred to her grandfather’s arms but did not awaken.
Maria walked alongside him as he carried her up the stairs, and Kathleen stayed a couple of steps behind.
When they reached Peter’s old room, Kathleen hurried ahead of them and turned down the covers on the bed. John laid Meggie down and pulled the covers around her, patting her little cheek, then turned to Kathleen. “If she needs anything, you know where our room is.”
Kathleen nodded.
“Good night, darling,” Maria said, bending low over the little girl. “Grandma will see you in the morning.”
The Stallworths left the room without another word.
Kathleen made sure Meggie was covered snugly, then sat down in a soft chair that faced the rooms large window. She curled her legs underneath her and stared out at the blackness that reflected her sore and aching heart.
As the long hours of the night passed, Kathleen O’Malley Stallworth reached deep within herself for strength. She was a strong and determined young woman, and before dawn she came to grips with the situation and resolved to make a good life for Meggie, somehow, some way.
JOHN AND MARIA STALLWORTH SAT in their bedroom, talking occasionally, but mostly just contemplating the future without their only son.
John sat hunched over in his grief and looked at the floor. After a while, he sat up straight and said, “Maria, we’ve got to take Meggie away from Kathleen.”
Maria turned her gaze from the blackness beyond the window. “I was thinking the same thing. But how could we do it?”
“We can have Kathleen declared an unfit mother. I’ll talk to our attorneys. Kathleen’s not going to be able to make enough money as a cleaning lady to support herself and Meggie. She sure won’t be able to afford that house she and Peter are renting. She’ll have to move somewhere cheaper.”
John and Maria knew that Peter had used the excess funds left over from his salary each month to purchase additional stock in the company. They also knew that Peter had meant to set up a will to provide for Kathleen, but he hadn’t done it yet. Now he never would.
“Kathleen knows about Peters stock in the company, John. Certainly when the shock of his death wears off, she’s going to think of it and ask for her money. We can’t have her declared unfit to provide for Meggie if she has that.”
John waved her off. “Don’t fret, Maria. I’ve already figured a way to take over Peter’s stock and put it in our names. Nobody will ever know. If Kathleen makes trouble over it, she’ll never be able to prove a thing.”
“I don’t doubt you can do that, John, but this whole thing will have to go to court. And even though Kathleen will be dirt poor, there aren’t too many judges who will take that little girl from her mother because of it.”
“I know. But let me tell you something else. There aren’t too many judges who have much money. If we can’t get Meggie legally because of Kathleen’s poverty, there’s another way. One way or another, very soon our granddaughter is going to live in this house with us, where she belongs, and her mother is going to be out in the cold.”
At breakfast the next morning, Carlene Simms waited on the grieving Stallworth family, her heart heavy for them. Kathleen had no appetite but ate a small portion to keep up her strength. Meggie sat next to her at the table.
Kathleen waited until they were almost through eating before saying, “Mr. Stallworth, would you have time this morning to take me to the hospital? I would like to see the body. And then I’ll need you to take me to a mortuary to make funeral arrangements.”
John wiped his mouth with a napkin, shook his head, and said, “No need for you to worry about the funeral arrangements, Kathleen. I’ll take care of it. You certainly don’t have the money to give Peter the kind of burial he deserves. And as for seeing the body, it would only upset you worse.”
“But I—”
“Don’t argue, Kathleen. You just stay here with Maria and Meggie. Leave everything to me.”
“Then would you do this for Meggie and me, Mr. Stallworth…would you take us home on your way downtown?”
“You don’t want to stay here?” Maria said hollowly.
“It’s best that Meggie and I go home, Mrs. Stallworth.”
Maria’s eyebrows arched. “Oh. Well, all right. John will drop you off at your house.”
John delivered Kathleen and Meggie to
their house, then headed downtown. His first stop was at the hospital to view the body, then he drove to Chicago’s finest mortuary to make funeral arrangements. From there he drove to the office of his attorneys.
That evening, on his way home from the office, John stopped by Kathleen’s house and told her what mortuary was handling the funeral and informed her that the services and burial would be on the following Monday. He offered to come by and pick her and Meggie up so they could sit together, both at the funeral home and at the graveside service.
The next evening, Kathleen persuaded a neighbor family to drive her to the mortuary so she could view Peter’s body. She left Meggie with them and entered the mortuary alone, identifying herself as the widow of Peter Stallworth, and was given private time before the open coffin. The undertaker had informed her that John Stallworth had decided the coffin would remain closed for the services.
Kathleen’s small frame shook as she stood over the body Peter’s head was severely damaged, and the morticians could hardly disguise it.
He had been a wonderful husband, and she loved him with all her heart. She couldn’t imagine life without him, but seeing his body made the fact of his death more real. He was gone, and she would have to raise Meggie alone.
As she looked down through a wall of tears at the cold, ashen face, she lovingly clasped his folded hands then leaned over the coffin, her tears falling on his still features, and kissed his cheek. Her constricted throat permitted only a whisper as she said, “Oh, my darling…Good-bye, Peter. I love you.”
Seth O’Banion pulled the family buggy up in front of the Peter Stallworth house just as Kathleen and Meggie were getting out of the neighbors’ vehicle after returning from the mortuary.
Hennie slid from the buggy, telling her husband she wouldn’t stay long.
When Kathleen recognized her friend, she began to cry. Hennie explained that her husband would wait in the buggy while she came in for a few minutes. But as Kathleen clung to her, Hennie excused herself and ran out to Seth, telling him to come back in an hour.
“Hennie,” Kathleen said brokenly, “how did you know?”