by Al Lacy
When two weeks had passed since losing Meggie to the Stallworths, Kathleen took a walk into the wealthy neighborhood and peeked through the Stallworths’ back fence. After waiting for over an hour, she caught a glimpse of Meggie when the nanny brought her outside for a few minutes. All too soon the nanny took Meggie back inside the mansion, and Kathleen began to cry. It hurt to see Meggie when she couldn’t take her in her arms and hold her, but it hurt worse not to see her.
As time passed, Kathleen was able to pick up more washing and ironing jobs—referrals from her steady customers—in addition to some sewing jobs. She laid aside almost every penny in her “Meggie fund.”
As often as she could, Kathleen made her way to the back fence of the Stallworth yard, hoping to see Meggie. Sometimes the journey paid off, but most times her long walk was in vain.
She purchased a small handcart to pick up and deliver her laundry and sewing. Before long her hands became red and chapped, and sometimes the cracks broke open and bled, but she drove herself to keep working. She didn’t even mind when her clothes became faded and worn. All that mattered was getting Meggie back and ultimately hurting the Stallworths as much as possible.
Kathleen worked long hours every day and became a virtual hermit, going out only to collect and deliver the washed and ironed clothes and to make frequent trips to peek through the Stallworths’ back fence.
As her stockpile of dollars slowly grew, Kathleen began to lose weight for lack of nourishing food. Late in the afternoon on a windy spring day, under heavy clouds, Kathleen hurriedly pushed her cart to get home before it started to rain. Suddenly her head went light and she broke out in a cold sweat.
By the time she reached her dismal apartment, she was shaking with a cold that came from within. Doggedly, she took the dirty laundry into the shed, built a fire, heated water, and put the clothes in the tub to soak. When she returned to the apartment she was so weak and cold she could hardly move. Her head was throbbing with pain.
Kathleen forced herself to build a fire in the cookstove to heat up a small bit of leftover soup and make a pot of strong tea. She huddled close to the stove as she ate. Every muscle in her body ached. She poured steaming, fragrant tea into a cup and added a hoarded spoonful of honey. She sipped it slowly, soothing the rawness in her throat.
When she had finished eating and had drunk all the tea, she went back to the shed, finished the wash, and hung it up to dry. I should do some sewing before I go to bed, she thought, but realized she was too sick to do it. Her headache was almost unbearable, and she was still shivering.
Back inside the small apartment, Kathleen washed her face and slipped into a warm flannel nightgown, then blew out the lantern and wearily crawled into bed, welcoming the warmth that slowly seeped into her body and stilled the shivering.
As she lay in the darkness, Kathleen looked up toward heaven and said, “God, its been a long time since I asked You for help. Please don’t let me get any worse. I have to do my work tomorrow. I have to earn every dollar I can so I can get Meggie back. Please help me.”
Several times during the night, Kathleen awakened in a cold sweat but was able to go right back to sleep. Always up before daybreak, she was shocked the next time she woke and the sun was trying to shine through the grime on her window.
She sat up with a start, and a groan escaped her pale lips as she grabbed her head with both hands. “Oh, please, God,” she whispered. “Help me. I can’t afford to get sick.”
With effort, Kathleen left the bed to start her day. She cooked herself some oatmeal. Though her head was still a bit light and the chill was still inside her, the soreness had left her throat.
By the time she had eaten all the oatmeal she could hold, along with downing three cups of hot tea, her chills were lessening. She was actually feeling somewhat better. She whispered a thank-you to the Lord, and while she washed the dishes, her mind ran to Dwight Moody’s sermons and the one song that kept coming back to her. Were these memories always going to haunt her?
She went to work on the sewing, and when it was done, she did the ironing. As she finished the last piece in early afternoon, she smiled to herself, dreaming of the day when she and her precious little daughter would be together again. She ate a nourishing lunch, then loaded the cart.
By the time she was ready to leave, she was feeling even better. Another word of thanks went to the Lord. Maybe He was going to stop tormenting her now.
Kathleen made her deliveries and picked up more laundry and sewing to take home. Since she was near downtown and needed to purchase some lye soap, along with a few groceries, she pushed the cart to her favorite store.
It was late afternoon when she came out of the store and headed down the crowded street. Children were laughing and playing along the way, and people were bustling about. Kathleen was almost to the intersection where she would turn in the direction of her apartment when she heard a small voice shout, “Mommy! Mommy!”
Some child’s lost her mother, thought Kathleen.
“Mommy!” came the call again.
The voice was closer this time, and Kathleen stopped the cart and turned to find her little daughter running toward her. The nanny was hurrying to catch up.
Tears flooded Kathleen’s eyes. “Meggie! Oh, Meggie!”
“MOMMY, I’VE MISSED YOU!” Mother and daughter came together as Meggie leaped into Kathleen’s arms. “I want to go home with you! I don’t want to live with Grandpa and Grandma anymore. Please! Take me home with you.”
The nanny drew up, agitated and puffing from exertion. She watched mother and daughter for a moment, sympathy for their depth of feeling springing up within her. “Mrs. Stallworth, I’m Alice Downing…Meggie’s nanny.”
Kathleen brushed at her tears as she turned to look at Alice, thinking of the times she had seen Meggie and this small middle-aged woman in the backyard of the Stallworth mansion.
“Meggie, honey, we have to go,” Alice said, laying a tender hand on the little girl. Then to Kathleen: “I’m sorry, ma’am. I…I know this must be very hard for you. But Meggie and I have to meet her grandmother at a certain store in just a few minutes. If we’re late, it will go bad for me.”
Kathleen had an impulse to turn and run away with Meggie, but she knew the police would find them, and she would go to jail. “Meggie,” Kathleen said, her voice choking, “Mommy loves you. I want you to come home with me, but it can’t be, not right now. You have to stay with Grandpa and Grandma.”
“Come, Meggie,” said Alice, her face showing anxiety. “We have to hurry, honey, or Grandma will be very angry.”
Kathleen felt as if her heart would shatter as she kissed her daughter and said, “You have to go now, honey. Please try to understand that there’s nothing Mommy can do about how things are right now.” As she spoke, she handed Meggie to Alice.
“Thank you, ma’am,” the nanny said, hurrying away.
Through a wall of tears, Kathleen watched them go. Meggie was reaching back toward her, wailing, “Mommy-y-y!”
The child continued to call for Kathleen until Alice carried her into the crowd and lost sight of Kathleen.
Meggie was sobbing by the time they reached the store where they were to meet up with Maria Stallworth.
“Meggie, please don’t cry,” Alice begged. “We don’t want to upset Grandma, do we?”
“I want my mommy!”
Alice stopped at the door. Maybe I can get Meggie to stop crying before Mrs. Stallworth—
“You’re late, Alice! Where have you been?” Maria pushed through the door and set stern eyes on Alice and the child.
“Well, Mrs. Stallworth, I—”
“Meggie, what are you crying about?”
“I just saw my mommy,” Meggie said, sniffling. “She said she wants me to come home with her. Please, Grandma! I want to go live with Mommy!”
Maria’s mouth tightened and her eyes darkened with anger.
Several people passing by looked on curiously as Maria snapped t
he words, “What’s the matter with you, Alice? You should never have let Meggie so much as talk to Kathleen!”
Alice’s face flamed with embarrassment, and she dipped her chin. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Stallworth, but Meggie saw Kathleen before I did and ran to her before I could stop her. You…you really can’t blame her. She loves her mother, and—”
“Her mother is a bad woman!” cut in Maria. “Meggie doesn’t understand that yet. But Kathleen is not fit to be a mother!”
Meggie’s little body stiffened. “My mommy is not bad, Grandma! She is not bad!”
“Come on, Alice,” Maria said, her body rigid with anger. “Let’s go home.”
As the days passed, Alice Downing was disturbed to see little Meggie so unhappy, but she realized there was nothing she could do about it. Her first loyalty was to the Stallworths, who paid her well. She was a widow and needed the money. She would do everything she could to comfort the child and show her love and kindness. But she would also keep Meggie as busy as possible so she had little time to think about how much she missed her mother.
One warm, sunny day, Kathleen was concealed from view of the Stallworths backyard, watching Meggie as Alice taught her how to play croquet. Meggie seemed to enjoy it, and a thrill of happiness went through Kathleen to see her little girl having fun and giggling. Alice must truly love Meggie, she thought. The separation would have been unbearable if Meggie’s nanny had been a coldhearted grouch.
When a half hour had passed, Alice took Meggie inside the mansion. Kathleen turned away, unmindful of the tears that flowed down her cheeks. She remembered how it felt to hold Meggie close that day they had met on the street. Mingled with a mother’s longing for her child was a bitterness that made her renew her vow to get Meggie back.
The days continued to come and go.
Kathleen worked hard to please her clients, and some nights she was so weary and burdened down with the cares of life that she almost despaired. But memories of Peter and Meggie and the special family warmth they had shared would come to mind, and her hope and determination to have Meggie back grew strong again.
Though Kathleen’s clothes were faded and worn, she kept herself squeaky clean and neat as a pin. Often when she pushed the cart along her route—heaped high with freshly laundered items—people turned to look at her. Some even stopped her and became new customers. She continued to take on new clients until she realized that if she was going to have any time to eat and sleep, she would have to turn down any new offers for work.
Though Kathleen had gone to the store downtown for groceries and supplies since starting her business, her pattern changed in late May, when a small neighborhood market opened up half a block from the apartment building. It reminded her of the store her parents had owned, and she became friends with the owners, Isaac and Ruth Goldberg. The Goldbergs had five lively children, and when Kathleen was in the store with them, she was taken back to her own happy childhood.
Every Saturday after her deliveries were made, the young widow went to Goldberg’s Market and purchased enough groceries and supplies to last her the coming week. Somehow the Saturday ritual brought comfort to her as she visited with the Goldbergs, who knew a little of her circumstances. Without Kathleen’s knowledge, at times Isaac and Ruth charged her somewhat less than the posted prices.
One Saturday evening in late June, Kathleen returned to her little home, put her meager stores away, and prepared supper. Before she sat down to eat, she put a large kettle of water on the stove to heat and let herself enjoy the memory of Meggie that afternoon, happily playing hide-and-seek with Alice in the Stallworths’ backyard.
Once the dishes were washed and dried, Kathleen took an old galvanized tub off the back porch wall, placed it on the kitchen floor, and poured the hot, steaming water into it. She tested the temperature and added enough cold water to cool it a bit, then set a bucket of water next to the tub to use for rinsing her hair.
When she was ready to climb into the tub, she cautiously poked a toe in, then slowly lowered her tired body into the soothing water. How wonderful it felt as her tense muscles began to relax. She lathered herself, then soaped her long, luxuriant hair. Using a cup, she poured the rinse water over her head to remove the suds. Then she sank down as far as she could in the small, cramped tub and soaked.
When the water turned tepid she stepped out of the tub, briskly dried herself off, and towel dried her hair. Moments later, dressed in a cotton nightgown, she sat in her one comfortable chair close to the woodstove and took up a hairbrush to work the tangles out of her hair.
Soon the heat from the stove had dried her hair enough to brush it, and the light from a nearby lantern cast golden highlights throughout her dark auburn locks. Before her hair was completely dry, Kathleen went to the cupboard to take out a small ornate wooden box, then sat back down in her chair and spilled the box’s contents in her lap—a wad of paper bills and a large number of coins.
She counted out every dollar and every single cent. Her savings was growing slowly but surely, and each week she felt more encouraged. She had looked in newspapers about investments, but every company seemed to want an initial investment of more money than she had yet collected. She still possessed the three hundred dollars in her bank account, but that combined with her saved income was still not enough to open an investment account. Kathleen would just keep adding to her funds until she could find a sure thing that would make money fast.
As she placed the money back in the box, she thought of her daughter. It seemed that every time she saw Meggie through the Stallworths’ back fence, the little girl had grown and changed. Her heart broke anew as she realized precious days were slipping away that could never be recaptured.
When Kathleen’s hair was finally dry she banked the fire in the stove, blew out the lantern, and snuggled down in her small, hard bed. Blessed sleep quickly claimed her.
As July came to Nevada, Tom Harned had exhausted his search to find a caretaker for Caleb. Laurie Humbert’s baby was due in September. At best, Tom had eight or nine weeks to come up with a solution.
Caleb had grown to love Laurie, and their relationship was a close one. It comforted Tom to know that his young son was well cared for when he was at work in the mine.
In addition, Laurie went to the Harned house once a week and gave it a good cleaning. Tom had offered to pay her, but Laurie wouldn’t accept any money. Sometimes she invited Tom and Caleb to have supper with her and Bruce.
On those occasions, Pastor Bruce refrained from preaching to Tom, but he slipped Scripture into their conversations and silently prayed that the Lord would drive the Word deep into Toms heart.
The weather in that part of Nevada was hot and dry, and as Laurie approached her eighth month of pregnancy, her steps were slowed by her girth and her swollen ankles. Caleb was a great help, saving her as many steps as he could.
Every afternoon, Monday through Saturday, Laurie and Caleb sat on the shaded front porch of the parsonage, enjoying a cold glass of tea or lemonade. Laurie had gained Toms permission to read Bible stories to Caleb, and with every story Laurie told the boy of Jesus and His love.
On a hot midweek day, Tom left the mine and walked into town. His route to the parsonage always took him through the business district. As he drew near the office of the Butterfield Stagelines, he saw miner Jess Sherman watching the stagecoach that was rolling into town ahead of a cloud of dust.
Tom was almost abreast of the Butterfield office when the stage came to a halt and Jess stepped up to open the coach door. A lovely young woman emerged. Jess helped her down and they embraced. Tom was a bit surprised, for he knew Jess was a bachelor.
As other passengers alighted from the stagecoach the crew began handing down the luggage. Jess reached for the young woman’s luggage and noticed Tom coming along the boardwalk.
“Howdy, Tom!” he said. “Hold up a minute. I want you to meet someone.”
The young lady turned her gaze on Tom, and Jess said, “Tom Harned, I want
you to meet Betty Thompson. She’s my mail order bride.”
“I’m very happy to meet you, Miss Thompson,” he said, touching his hat brim. Then to Jess: “Mail order bride, eh? All the times you and I have worked together, and you never told me about this!”
Jess laughed. “Betty’s been my little secret, but in a few days she’ll be Mrs. Jess Sherman.”
Smiling broadly, Tom said, “Well, congratulations to both of you! Especially you, Jess. She’s beautiful! And…ah…Miss Thompson, if there’s anything about Jess you want to know.”
“You keep out of this!” Jess said with a laugh. “Betty will learn enough without your help!”
Tom congratulated the couple again and moved on down the street. He had known about mail order brides, but the possibility of advertising for a bride himself had never crossed his mind.
He rolled the idea around, telling himself it might be the only option left to find someone to care for his six-year-old boy.
Chuck Ramsey, editor and owner of the Virginia City Sentinel was at his desk as the sun slanted through the side windows of the building. He looked up as someone opened the front door.
“Well, howdy, Tom! To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Tom smiled a greeting and moved up to stand in front of Ramsey’s desk. “I’m here because of a real need in my home, Chuck.”
“Oh?” Ramsey laid down the pencil in his hand. “You don’t take my paper?”
Tom laughed. “Oh, I most certainly do. What I need is your help in knowing how to place advertisements in some of the large eastern newspapers.”
“I can help you with that. What exactly do you want to advertise?”
“First I have to ask you to keep it confidential.”
Ramsey raised his right hand. “I promise.”
“All right. Do you have time right now?”
“Sure. And I’m all ears.”