Destiny - The Callahans #1 (11 page)

Noting his daughter’s obvious delight, Lars
Hansen mistook her feelings for those of a young girl pleased to
have a suitor call, and Mr. Hansen’s intention—to bring this young
couple together as quickly as possible—seemed well within his
grasp.

“Katrina, sit and join us. Elder . . .” Lars
paused and smiled at his continued use of the missionary term,
which Stromberg had advised was no longer necessary, “I mean,
Harold, has been home for a few days and has come to express his
pleasure at our safe arrival and to see if he can be of any
assistance in our settling into Utah.”

Seated on the divan next to her mother,
Katrina smiled at Harold. Her two younger sisters sat on the floor
at Stromberg’s feet. Anders, out since early afternoon, had not yet
become aware of Elder Stromberg’s visit.

“Sister Hansen, it is indeed a pleasure to
see you again,” Harold opened.

“Thank you, Elder Stromberg. I’m so glad you
could come to visit. What will you do now that you are home?”

“I plan to enjoy the summer while it lasts,
and then re-enter the university. I’ll study the law and work in my
father’s law office downtown.”

“How exciting,” Katrina exclaimed.

Lars Hansen, whether from his impatience at
waiting for Katrina to arrive home, or from his long standing
thoughts concerning the matter and his discussions with his wife
about Katrina’s need to marry, then made a social blunder on that
fine summer evening in the parlor of his home in Salt Lake City—one
that deeply offended and embarrassed his daughter. Mr. Hansen
announced to all present, that Mr. Harold Stromberg had asked
permission to formally call on Miss Katrina Hansen, and that he, as
father, had given his permission.

Without considering the effect it would have
on Katrina, or on Harold, Mr. Hansen stated his opinion that
Katrina would do well to pay strict attention to Mr. Stromberg’s
merits, and offered too his advice that her prospects for a happy
life would be enhanced if she were to find Mr. Stromberg a suitable
candidate for a husband. It was his considered opinion as her
father, that such a marriage would be highly beneficial to both
parties.

Katrina’s look of complete surprise and
shock, her plaintive cry of “Poppa,” and her departure from the
room in tears, only served to convince Mr. Hansen of her
happiness.

Even Mrs. Hansen, who would later come to
acknowledge this moment as the point at which Katrina had formed
her independence from her father, was shocked at the statement
delivered by her husband. Barely twenty minutes after Mr. Harold
Stromberg entered their home, and less than ten minutes after
Katrina had sat to welcome him, her husband had succeeded in
pushing Harold Stromberg into a corner and completely humiliating
his daughter.

As for Harold, he was also flabbergasted by
Mr. Hansen’s blunt declarations. That he was to be accepted as a
suitor did not surprise him, for he had visited privately with Lars
Hansen several days earlier to speak of his interest in Katrina. He
was astounded, though, by the tactless way Lars Hansen had gone
about the fatherly formalities of accepting the first suitor to
call upon his eldest daughter. While Elder Stromberg was, in all
respects, an excellent candidate for young Katrina’s hand, within
twenty minutes of his arrival, the course of what might have been
true love had been thwarted by her thoughtless father. Moreover,
Lars had succeeded in reinforcing Katrina’s determination to escape
her father’s heavy-handed guidance. Katrina was being forced to
declare her independence.

Thomas Matthew Callahan, still struggling to
make his way west, continued to work each and every day, unaware
that in spite of his determination to do otherwise, Lars Hansen had
opened the door a crack for the young Irishman, when he had meant,
instead, to slam it shut for all time.

18 July 1895

Dear Nana,

I am so humiliated tonight Nana. Poppa has done the
most unbearable thing. The young man who taught us the gospel in
Oslo has returned to Utah and came to visit us tonight. Without a
word to me, Poppa announced to all that he thought it would be a
good idea if I seriously considered Mr. Stromberg as a suitable
marriage candidate. Momma was mortified, and even poor Harold,
(that’s his name Nana) was shocked. I ran from the room in
tears.

Oh Nana, what can I do. If Poppa insists, I . .
.

Please guide me Nana. Help me to understand Poppa. I
know he only wants what’s good for me, but I felt like I was being
sold on the block.

Jeg elske du,

Katrina

The one member of the Hansen household who
was not happy with their new life in Utah, was Anders Hansen.
Unsure of his feelings from the beginning of their investigation of
the church, Andy went along with the family decision, first to keep
peace at home, but also because his father had been dogmatic about
the decision, not allowing any room for discussion. As long as the
family was in Norway, it hadn’t really been a problem because the
small branch that they attended only had eleven members, and they
came together only on Sundays. Since coming to Utah, however,
religious activity was more pervasive. That brought Anders face to
face with decisions he needed to make.

The first sign of overt rebellion came as a
result of Ander’s refusal to be ordained to a priesthood office.
Baptized with the family in Norway, his early ordination to the
Aaronic Priesthood came as a matter of course, even though he was
already seventeen at the time. Since learning of the
responsibilities that accrued to a Melchizedek Priesthood holder,
and having developed a respect for, if not a belief in, the office
which Harold Stromberg had explained to him, Andy refused his
father’s demand that he become an elder.

Coming home late, the same evening that
Harold Stromberg had visited, and finding Katrina distraught over
the evening’s developments was the final straw for Andy. He
declared to himself that his father would play no more of a role in
his life than was absolutely necessary as they worked together each
day. Sitting on the edge of her bed in tears when Andy knocked,
Katrina buried her head in his shoulder when he entered the room
and sobbed her story to her closest friend. The disparity between
Katrina’s absolute commitment to the church and her unshakable
testimony of the message Elder Stromberg had delivered in Norway,
and Andy’s less-enthusiastic reception of that same message had
done nothing to dispel the close-knit bond they shared as brother
and sister, friend, and confidant. This evening was no
exception.

“He’s gotten even more controlling since we
came to Utah, Klinka, and it’s only going to get worse,” Andy
vented. “I’ve a good mind to move out and take an apartment of my
own, that is if I was sure he wouldn’t fire me just to bring me
under his economic control again.”

Katrina winced at the thought. “Please,
Anders,” she sobbed, holding on to him in her confusion, “please
don’t leave the house. You’re the only one I can talk to.”

“I know, Klinka,” he replied, using the
nickname he had assigned her when she was only four years old.
“We’ve got to face this together. Have you spoken to Mama?”

“No, but she didn’t approve of his behavior
either. I could tell,” Katrina responded.

“Do you like Harold?” he asked.

Katrina sat upright, wiping her eyes with a
tissue. “Ya, I do, Anders, but . . .”

“But you don’t think you can love him?”

“I just don’t know, Anders. Really, it’s just
too soon to know my feelings. I don’t know how I feel.”

“Maybe you should give him a chance, in spite
of Poppa’s meddling. I like him,” Andy volunteered. “He’s always
been very nice to us. I think he’s smart, his family is secure here
in Salt Lake City, and well, you know he’s always taken a liking to
you.”

Katrina smiled thinly. “I know. But I’m so
embarrassed. It’s like Poppa put me on the selling block.”

“Ya,” Andy replied, “but I’m sure Harold
would understand. He has parents too, you know,” Andy laughed,
making Katrina smile.

“Anders,” she said, hugging him tightly, “I
love you so much. You always know how to make me laugh. I’d like to
see Harold again, but there’s still . . .” she hesitated, not sure
what to say.

“There’s still Tom Callahan,” Andy finished
for her.

Katrina stood, going to her dresser and
looking at herself in the mirror, wiping away the remaining tears.
“I don’t know if there is a Tom Callahan, Anders,” she
answered.

“Ya. Maybe not. Let me see if I can speak
with Harold and explain how you feel about Poppa’s actions. I know
he’d like to see you, and he doesn’t want you to feel like a
package, either.” Andy stood and moved behind Katrina, both
reflected in the mirror as he placed his hands on her shoulders.
“Harold or Tom,” he smiled over her shoulder, “I should be so lucky
to have a woman like you feel that way about me. They are lucky
men, ya, so they are.”

Katrina raised her hand to her shoulder and
covered Andy’s hand. “She’s waiting for you, Anders, and I’m going
to see that you find her,” she laughed again.

“Hurry, please, Klinka, I’m sick of living in
this house, and it’s time I moved on.”

“Not too soon, Anders, please, not too soon,”
Katrina pleaded.

Bayonne, New Jersey proved slightly less
crowded and confusing than New York City, and Tom quickly settled
in to his routine, actually enjoying his new job as apprentice
oilier on an engine crew. His crew leader, a German engineer whose
job was to maintain six steam engines, took a liking to young
Callahan and made Tom his assistant.

Teaching Tom the ins and outs of the heating
and ventilating system in the large repair facility, Heinrich was
pleased to see that Tom took quickly to mechanical things and
within several weeks was able to keep the warehouse and repair shop
equipment running. The job, however, kept Tom in the roundhouse at
the switching yard, and he could see that while the job was
interesting, paid fairly well, and offered good working conditions,
it would take him no farther west. In light of his living expenses,
six months was not enough time to save enough money to buy a ticket
to Utah, even at the better rate of pay.

Heinrich Hostetter, the lead engineer,
learned all of this from Tom over their first two months together,
and so it was no surprise to Heinrich when Tom volunteered for the
winter rail crew when the company posted the job.

The organization of a winter rail crew was a
company maintenance strategy that had been in effect for two years.
Forming a crew of about twenty, and outfitting two railcars—one for
new rail storage, and one for crew quarters—the plan called for the
two cars to move with regularly scheduled trains heading between
Bayonne, New Jersey, and Omaha, Nebraska, placing the work cars on
sidings in each successive region as rail repair was accomplished.
Rather than outfit crews from each area of the region, the one
crew, specialized in their job, followed the major rail lines and
accomplished repairs along the way. Most New York, Baltimore, &
Ohio employees did not volunteer because it took them on the road
for months at a time and in the case of the more difficult winter
run, they would leave in late September, be gone through the
holidays, and not return until approximately February, after making
the run to Omaha, then south to Kansas City and, finally, back east
to Bayonne. Family men abhorred the assignment, and so the company
tried where possible to take all volunteers. Tom saw it as his
chance to move west at the railroad’s expense, as Father O’Leary
had suggested. So even though Heinrich had been easy to work for
and helpful, nothing he said to Tom could deter the young Irishman
from signing on for the winter run.

The third week in September, five months and
four jobs after Tom’s arrival in America, the repair crew pulled
out of the Bayonne switching yard. The twenty men settling into
their claimed bunks in the crew car began grousing almost
immediately about the quality of the food, which was prepared by a
cook who operated a kitchen at one end of the car, alongside the
small room occupied by the road foreman, Mr. Sutherland.

A few days before Tom’s departure, he took
the opportunity to return to lower Manhattan to pay a visit to
Father O’Leary. A priest who was considerably younger than Father
O’Leary, whom Tom hadn’t previously met, answered the rectory door,
and Tom introduced himself, asking to see Father O’Leary.

“Mr. Callahan, did you know Father O’Leary
well?” the priest asked.

“Not well, Father, we only had a brief
acquaintance,” Tom responded, aware that the priest spoke in the
past tense.

“Father O’Leary has passed on, my son,” he
said, crossing himself. “He had a heart attack about six weeks
ago.”

“Oh, I see,” Tom mumbled. “I’m sorry to hear
it, Father. Did he have any family?”

“None. Father O’Leary has been alone for
quite some years now. His family,” the priest said, with a sweeping
gesture of his arm, “were the people in this neighborhood.”

“Aye,” Tom said. “When you visit with him,
Father, you can tell him that one of his sons will say a rosary for
him.”

“I understand, my son,” the priest said,
smiling at Tom. “Can I offer you a cup of tea before you
leave?”

“No, thank you, Father, but you could put
this in the orphans’ box if you would, please, in Father O’Leary’s
name,” Tom said, handing the priest a five dollar bill.

“Thank you, my son. God’s blessings on
you.”

“Thank you, Father, I’ll be needing ’em. Good
day to you.”

“And to you, my son.”

During his return trip across the river to
New Jersey, Tom thought back on the two occasions when he had been
with Father O’Leary. It hadn’t been a long association, as he’d
told the other priest, but very significant, to Tom’s way of
thinking. “Six months will tell the tale, lad,” Tom recalled
O’Leary warning him about the path he was on. Well, Father, I’ve
used up two of ’em, and the future looks better than it did. I
thank you for that, Tom thought.