Wishes on the Wind (37 page)

    Snapping her lips tightly closed, Meg continued her work, determined to withstand Cook's unwarranted criticism, for her problems were such that she needed no more to add to them.

    "I'll not keep you in my kitchen if your attitude doesn't change, I'm warning you. My word's law in this room, and if I say you go, you g"

    "That's enough!"

    The unexpected intervention of David's voice turned the staff toward the doorway where he stood, his expression livid. Chagrined, Cook took a step backwards, her gaze slipping accusingly toward Meg.

    "The girl hasn't been doing her work these last weeks, Mr. David, and it's my duty to keep her straight."

    "That's not true!"

    Meg's spontaneous denial was met with David's flat response. "You don't have to give me any explanations, Meg, and you don't have to submit to this harassment. Go home for the day. There's nothing to be gained by your staying any longer with Cook in her present state of mind."

    "The girl hasn't finished her work!" Firmly standing her ground, Cook continued. "The mistress depends on me to see to running this kitchen and I"

    "Don't press me any further, Cook!" Turning toward the woman, his tall figure rigid with anger, David continued more softly. "It's only because of my respect for you and the contribution you've made to this household over the years that I haven't said more. But I'm telling you now, I won't stand for your haranguing Meg. I want you to remember, when you abuse her, you abuse me. Is that understood?"

    "If the mistress knew"

        "If my aunt knew you picked on Meg out of petty spite, she'd be more annoyed than I! So if you value a comfortable old age, Cook, mind your words. They can destroy you!"

    Turning away from the old woman, David instructed with indisputable authority. "Go home, Meg. Now."

    Turning on his heel, David left the room. The silence that followed his departure heavier than she could bear, Meg snatched up her shawl, and within minutes she was on her way down the hill.

    Not taking her eyes from the doorway through which Mr. David and the interloper, Meghan O'Connor, had disappeared, Cook muttered a low oath under her breath. It was true! The girl had bewitched him!

    Turning back to the stove, ignoring Mabel's open-mouthed stare, Cook took another deep breath, her old heart breaking. She had loved the dear boy like a son from the first day he came to live with the Langs, him with his winning ways and constant smile, but he hadn't been the same from the first day that O'Connor girl entered the house.

    Fighting tears, Cook remembered the whisperings that plagued her about some of them Irish below. They had a way about them, that bunch, a cunning that came from dabbling in the black arts, and she had no doubt the O'Connor girl had that witchcraft bred into her soul. Them with their Pope and holy mass, and with their hearts as black as the coal they dug, they could charm the birds out of the trees when they'd a mind to! Poor young Mr. David had fallen victim to one of the very worst of them when he'd been too ill to fight, and now the little witch had turned Mr. David against her.

    Cook brushed her tears away with the back of her hand. If the master knew what all of them in the kitchen knew, he'd be fit to kill, he would. Townsend had seen them! The disgrace of it the two of them secretly meeting in that old shack on the other side of the mountain! And Mr. David, vulnerable as he was to the girl's smile and the wiggle of her meager frame, was becoming more smitten with her each day. That Meghan O'Connor would soon have him where she wanted him, and she would be the ruination of the dear young man. She'd drag him down to the level of them drunken sloths below and the smile would fade from his handsome face forever.

    "Cook, is something wrong?"

    Cook turned at the unexpected sound of the mistress's voice. Her throat closed tighter still at the concern in the dear woman's expression. The mistress had always been kind and considerate of them in the kitchen. She owed the mistress loyalty in return. And she owed her the truth.

    Swallowing with visible difficulty, Cook did not respond, but turned to the corner where Mabel still sat, her legs propped up on the stool in front of her. "I've some things to say to the mistress, if you please, Mabel. Be sure to close the door behind you when you leave."

    Waiting only until Mabel slipped out of sight and the door swung shut behind her, Cook turned to Miss Letty's expectant expression.

    His coal- blackened face stiff, Sean stared down at the letter in his hand with disbelief. He had arrived home from the mine a few minutes earlier, his body aching and his mind in a turmoil of agitation at his secret knowledge of the layoffs to come and with acceptance into the Mollies appearing unexpectedly imminent.

    Unlike most days, he had been grateful to walk into Aunt Fiona's kitchen with the thought that after some washing up, he'd soon be upstairs in his room, alone with his thoughts until Meg came home. He needed some time to think and to plan the future which appeared to be fast approaching. He needed time to allow the realization to sink into his mind that he'd soon be freed from impotence, that he'd soon be in a position to affect his future and the futures of all those like him in the anthracite fields who suffered the domination and prejudice of the wealthy few. Anticipation had set his heart to racing until Aunt Fiona held out the letter that arrived for him in the mail that morning.

    Sean glanced around the deserted hallway, grateful that he had had the foresight to step out of his aunt's view before opening the envelope addressed in painstakingly laborious printing. The Philadelphia postmark had caused a tremor of premonition to course down his spine, and as he read the contents of the brief note, incredulity numbed his mind. But his mind was no longer numb. It was filled with rage.

    Lies, all of it! Meg would not break her promise to him!

    Crushing the letter in his fist, Sean was about to cast it aside when the first niggle of uncertainty touched his mind. He remembered the times Meg defended David Lang, insisting he was her friend, and that uncertainty became a tight knot of doubt    inside him. His confidence shaken, Sean suddenly realized that whatever his feelings, he was bound by responsibility to ascertain the truth of the bitter words John Law had written.

    Jamming the wrinkled sheet deep into his pocket, Sean turned toward the staircase, determined. He would do what he must, wherever it took him.

    Breathless from her rapid descent down the hillside path, Meg pulled her shawl tight around her shoulders and stepped onto the dusty road. Glancing toward the colliery a short distance away, she saw the final stragglers from the first shift making their way home. Their lagging steps returned the harsh reality that despite the beauty that had come about between David and her in the past two weeks, nothing had really changed. The world outside the circle of David's arms was still the same bitter place where she and her own were condemned to an unchanging pattern of life that saw no hope of improvement. She knew that if she had come down that hill a few minutes earlier, she would have seen Sean in the midst of that dirty, exhausted, hopeless column of men. And she knew just as clearly that she could not abandon her brother to his fate, for the truth of it was, she was his only hope of escaping it.

    "Miss O'Connor"

    Meghan turned at the sound of her name to face the big, dour-faced man who addressed her. Her heart leaped. The hulking figure was well over the mark of six feet, and his breadth of shoulder and muscle identified him as clearly as the dreaded blue uniform he wore. Unwilling to reveal her trepidation at being approached by Captain Linden of the Coal and Iron Police, Meghan raised her chin and responded in a level voice.

    "Aye, Captain, that's my name, as you well know. What is it you want with me?"

    A hint of a smile touched the big Scotsman's lips, revealing, as he spoke, a glimpse of the devoted family man he was rumored to be when away from the brutality of the coal fields. "You're a wee girl, all right, but your father's in your clear eyes and handsome features, and it pleases me to see him again. Dennis O'Connor was a good man."

    Her throat choking at the policeman's unexpected sentiment, Meg nodded, unable to respond, and Captain Linden took a tentative step forward. All trace of a smile dropped away as he spoke again.

    "I've come to speak to you today because it concerns me that     for all your brother resembles your father as well, there's little of Dennis O'Connor inside him. The truth of it is, your brother is headed for trouble, Miss, as I think you must know. He's taken the wrong path, and he's straying farther each day."

    Meg shook her head, tension knotting her hands. "I don't know what you're talking about."

    "Aye, you do. You know as well as I where his sympathies lie, but I won't press the matter, other than to say he's soon to reach the point of no return. Out of respect for the honest, hardworking man your father was, and because I know your brother's feelings for you are strong, I'm asking you to appeal to him before it's too late."

    "Sean hasn't done anything wrong."

    "Not yet."

    "Then you have no right"

    "Aye, no right at all, except that of a man of good will." His shaggy brows knitting over eyes that softened unexpectedly, Captain Linden continued quietly. "I didn't come to upset you, but to warn you, Miss, for it's all I can do for the last of Dennis O'Connor's brood. I wish it could be more."

    The unexpected softness disappearing as unexpectedly as it appeared, Captain Linden straightened his massive shoulders. "You'll do well to think of what I say and remember that it was said with good intentions." He raised his hand to the brim of his cap in a short salute. "I wish you a good-day, young miss."

    Captain Linden was several feet away before total realization of his words took effect. Her step wooden, Meg headed home and entered Aunt Fiona's kitchen a few minutes later, too distracted to notice her aunt's anxiety.

    Meg's short, "Where's Sean?" deepened her aunt's frown.

    "He washed up and out he went."

    "Where did he go, Aunt?"

    "The boy tells me nothin', Meg, but it's me thought he went to his favorite
 
she been
, for that Lenny Dunne was waitin' for him outside the door."

    "Lenny Dunne."

    "Aye, and he's a bad one, that fellow."

    Her aunt's statement a pronouncement she suddenly could not bear, Meg turned toward the hallway. She was running toward her room when the first tears fell.

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    Her pale eyes bright with tears, Letty paused at the study door to take a deep breath. Martin had arrived home a short time earlier. She could hear him moving within, and she briefly closed her eyes as she made a silent admission that weighed heavily on her heart. With the most benevolent intentions, she had wrought a terrible turmoil in her household, and now it threatened the future of the young man she loved as a son.

    In an uncharacteristic swell of anger, Letty clenched her small fists and silently cursed the day she had gone down to the valley to see the priest. And then she cursed Meghan O'Connor, whom she had so often blessed for restoring David to them when he was almost lost. But the girl had gone a step too far in casting her shadow in the beautiful future David had in store for him. Making an effort to control her trembling, Letty raised her chin with determination. She had been a buffer between David and Martin in the past, but she would serve in that position no longer.

    Her back stiffening with resolve, Letty raised her hand and knocked lightly on the paneled door as she called softly, "Martin? It's Letty."

    "Come in, dear."

    Martin stood as she entered the room, his congenial expression fading at the sight of his wife's pale face. "What's wrong, Letty?"

    Letty took another strengthening breath as she approached him. "That acceptance you received in the mail yesterday, Martin I’ve changed my mind. You see, you were right all along, and I was wrong." Her facade suddenly crumbling with a sob, Letty moved into her husband's arms with a whispered, "Oh, Martin, I hope it's not too late."

    An ominous silence hung over the Lang study as David stared at his uncle, darkly incredulous. His expression stiff, he finally replied, "I have no intention of going along with these ridiculous plans. I don't know how you thought I'd consider them for a moment!"

    "I don't see how you have any choice in the matter, David."

    Pausing again in response, David looked at his uncle. Martin Lang's wiry frame was stiff, his thin face hard, and his gaze intense. Aunt Letty stood a few steps to his rear, her face void of the usual concern in evidence whenever his uncle and he were at odds. He was suddenly aware that his staunchest ally had turned against him, and he would be receiving no aid from Aunt Letty in this dispute. Somehow that realization brought the gravity of the    situation more clearly to fore, and David prepared himself for battle.

    Uncle Martin's small eyes sparked with controlled anger. "You're behaving childishly, David. I should think you'd be honored to be accepted at Oxford! You've been availed of a rare opportunity for a superior education at the same college your father attended. The advantages of this exposure are endless. The travel involved will be as broadening as the formal education you will receive. You'll thank me when you finally realize how wide the world is beyond this isolated section of Pennsylvania."