“There now,” said Erma, giving Kathleen a forced smile, “this feels better.”
Kathleen nodded, watching the rise of distant waves and feeling the pitch and roll of the sea.
“We’ll be docking tomorrow,” said Erma. “Have you seen Jenks yet?”
“In the morning,” replied Kathleen.
“He sure has held you off,” observed the other girl. “Yet at the same time, he’s been almost courtin’ you the whole passage.”
“Courting?” echoed Kathleen. She had not felt courted—only harassed.
Erma nodded. “Why do you think the teasing from the others? They noticed all the attention. The ‘How are you? Can I get anything for your comfort? Would you join me for dinner?’ ” Erma chuckled softly at Kathleen’s shocked look.
“I don’t think—” began Kathleen. Something about Mr. Jenks made her feel dreadfully uncomfortable. But she couldn’t put it into words. Not even to Erma.
“Well, no matter,” went on Erma briskly. “We’re almost there now. Not much chance for courtin’ from now on, is there?”
Then, to Kathleen’s relief, Erma changed the topic. “See all the gulls? That means we’re getting near land.”
Kathleen lifted her face and studied the birds circling overhead. She could hear their cries and it awoke some deep, distant memory. Had their Irish farm been by the sea? Then her thoughts were interrupted as Erma spoke again.
“So you still don’t know—?” she began, then stopped, knowing that Kathleen would be able to finish the question.
Kathleen shook her head. “Sure, and the suspense is givin’ me goose bumps, and that’s the truth,” she answered with a shiver.
They sat in silence for a few minutes listening to the cry of the gulls and the swell of the seas.
“If you could wish—and have it come true—what would you wish for?” asked Erma softly.
“That he be Irish,” responded Kathleen with no hesitation.
“And his trade?” asked Erma.
“I wouldn’t care. He can be anything—just as long as he—” She didn’t finish her statement.
“And what would he look like?” asked Erma, seeming to enjoy her little game.
Again Kathleen did not hesitate. “Dark wavy hair coming down at the sides with curling sideburns, with laughin’, teasin’ eyes, and a dimple in his chin.” She had described her father just as she remembered him.
“I’d like a tall blond rancher with broad shoulders and a straight nose and even teeth with a—just a small, carefully trimmed mustache,” laughed Erma.
“Oh, Erma!” cried Kathleen, laughing too, and then adding in sudden anguish, “And what do you think they are hoping for in us?”
Erma shrugged, then answered thoughtfully, “Companions. Cooks. Housekeepers. Someone to share laughs and—and trials. Someone who won’t nag or chatter too much or complain over wet firewood or footprints across the kitchen.”
Kathleen shivered.
“At least—I’m hoping that’s what he’ll want. I could be that, Kathleen. But if he wants more—then …” Erma let the sentence slide away to join the cry of the gulls and the sighing of the wind.
Kathleen reached for her friend’s hand.
“The biggest wish of all”—her voice was a whisper—“is that you will be wherever I am, and that’s the pure truth of it,” she said with feeling.
Chapter Eight
Meeting
The next morning Kathleen went promptly for her appointment. Mr. Jenks rose to meet her as she entered the room and took the liberty of using her first name. “Kathleen,” he beamed, taking her arm and steering her to a chair placed a little too close to where he himself had been seated. He reclaimed his chair, so close to Kathleen that she feared they would bump knees. She drew back in her seat as far as she could.
“And are you feeling quite well now, my dear?” he asked solicitously.
Kathleen assured him that she was fine.
“You are such a delicate little thing,” he said smoothly, “that I feared for you on this arduous journey.”
“I’m stronger than I look, sir,” Kathleen responded a bit curtly.
He nodded and changed the subject. “We dock this afternoon.”
Kathleen nodded her head.
“I was hoping that we would have some time to—to enjoy each other’s company on the voyage, but the heavy seas—”
Kathleen shifted uncomfortably and broke in. “I’m anxious to hear where I’ll be going, sir,” she dared to say.
“Oh yes.” He came back to attention and placed his hands on his knees. “Well—that, my dear, is still a matter of concern for me, as well.”
Kathleen did wish that he would stop calling her his dear.
“As a matter of fact,” he went on, “it has still not been decided.”
Kathleen frowned.
“Oh, never fear,” he said reaching to take her hand. “You will have a place, I can assure you. Even if I have to take care of you myself.” He winked and grinned and Kathleen felt terribly annoyed.
“Why am I here?” she asked boldly. “Why make an appointment just to tell me that there have been no arrangements?”
“There have been arrangements,” he said, and reached to give his mustache a twitch. “I would like you to take dinner with me tonight at my hotel. I’m staying at a rather elegant place downtown. I think you will like it. Perhaps without the tossing of the sea we will have better opportunity to—”
“That is unthinkable,” said Kathleen, standing to her full five feet two inches. Her face flamed with her disgust. “I will stay with the others—wherever they are staying.”
His face grew dark with anger. “You are a proud one, aren’t you!” he spat at her. “And after all I’ve tried to do.”
“Sure now, and I was of the impression that my passage was paid by an American gentleman,” Kathleen reminded him heatedly.
“Yes, Miss,” said the man, his anger now matching her own. “And he shall have you—pity him, whoever he is. I wouldn’t want to deal with such a temper every day for the rest of my life.”
Kathleen spun on her heel and left the room.
“Stay with the others,” he called after her. “I want you around to take the orders of where you are to go.”
Kathleen didn’t answer. She needed to get into the wind to cool off her hot cheeks.
But she would be there when it was time to find out where she would be going. And she hoped with all her heart that it was a long, long way from Boston and Mr. Jenks.
There was much commotion when the ship finally pulled in and docked in Boston Harbor. The women milled around, squealing and shouting and clutching belongings. Kathleen crowded close to her cabin mates, her dark eyes big, her face pale. As crowded as the cabin had been, she wished for just a few more days of feeling secure there.
Their names were called out and they walked the gangway by groups of four. As her feet touched the firm dock, Kathleen nearly lost her balance. Erma, close beside her, giggled.
They were all placed into carriages and taken through the streets to a large hotel. It felt strange to be back in a city again. Kathleen noticed that it was much newer, much cleaner, than her familiar section of London. She wondered if it would be possible for her to stay on here. She felt a drawing to this new American city. A feeling that she might soon be able to “belong” here.
But the very next day they were called to a drawing room where Mr. Jenks presided.
“Ladies—we are about to the end of our journey together,” he informed them as though this were a matter of deep sorrow to all. “You will be heading west—to one point or another. From here to Chicago you will share a train. There you will be met by a gentleman by the name of Mr. Henry Piedmont. He will give you your final tickets and send you on the last leg of your journeys. From Chicago on, you will be fanning out and heading in different directions—though still westward.