Wishes on the Wind (5 page)

    "Yes, Aunt."

    "Get yerself upstairs to check on yer mother now. She was feelin' poorly when she awoke and I sent her back to rest."

    Nodding in response, Meghan left the kitchen, taking the stairs as quickly as she dared. Relief surged through her as she pushed open the door of their room and her mother inquired softly, "Meg, are ye there, m'dear?"

    "Aye, it's me, Ma. Are you feeling poorly?"

    "I'm just a little tired. Aunt Fiona decided I needed a bit of rest and sent me up. She's a good woman, yer aunt. We're fortunate to have her."

    "And Uncle Timothy, too."

    The face Meghan pulled as she spoke those words brought a rare smile to Mary O'Connor's lips.

    "Oh, Meghan, ye mustn't make me laugh at such an uncharitable joke. Ye know Uncle Timothy's not a happy man."

    "Yes, I know, Ma. And he doesn't want anyone else to be happy, either."

    "Meg, darlin', yer not to criticize the man who's put a roof over our heads and food on our plates."

    Regretting the distress she had caused as her mother's eyes filled with tears, Meg took her hand and squeezed it tightly. "I'm sorry, Ma. I'm happy I still have you and Sean, and I'm going to try to understand Uncle Timothy, just like Father Matthew said."

    "Understand him, ye say?"

    "Father Matthew said to look into the eyes of the people you  ha… dislike, and try to understand them." Meg shrugged her narrow shoulders. "I tried it a few minutes ago, but it didn't work. I guess I'll have to try a little harder."

    Her wan smile returning, Mary O'Connor nodded. "I suppose we must all do that."

    Mary paled unexpectedly, her smile disappearing as quickly as it had appeared, and Meghan's heart began a slow hammering. She didn't need Dr. McGee to tell her that Ma was weakening. It was all too apparent in the waxy pallor that was now constant on her face, and in the deep circles that gave her formerly bright eyes a frighteningly sunken quality. And she also knew that beneath Ma's worn cotton dress there was little more than skin covering her fragile frame.

    Ma was dying.

    Meghan squeezed her mother's hand, willing away the tears that had begun to gather in her eyes.

    "Ye have beautiful eyes, do ye know that, Meg? They're yer father's eyes. All of ye children are handsome, like yer father." Mary continued softly, "I know me boys are beautiful angels now, and I think ye know, darlin', that I'll probably be seein' them soon."

    "Ma…"

    "I don't want to leave ye, Meg, but I've no choice, ye see. And if I've to be honest, it's not ye I worry for the most. Yer a good girl. Ye'll be a beauty someday and I know even if yer uncle makes yer days uncomfortable for a while, ye'll be taken to wife by some handsome young man in a few years. Ye'll be a good wife and mother, 'cause there's no real bitterness in ye, despite your heartache. But with Sean, it's different."

    "Sean's unhappy, Ma."

    "And angry. He blames God for the tragedy that befell us."

    "No, he"

    "Oh, yes, he does, Meg! I've seen it in his eyes."

    "No, he doesn't blame God, Ma. He says there isn't any God because if there was, He wouldn't have let Da and the boys die the way they did."

    "Oh, Meg!"

    "Don't cry, Ma."

    "He's too bitter, Meg! I'm afraid for him, and it pains me to know that I'll soon be addin' to his despair." Tears trailed from the corners of Mary's eyes, but she brushed them away with an  impatient hand. "I want ye to make me a promise, Meg. Will ye do that?"

    "Yes, Ma."

    "I want ye to promise me that ye'll keep true to yer brother, and help him when I'm not around to soothe his anguish. I want ye to promise me that ye'll never give up on him, Meg, no matter the path his anger takes. Because the truth is, there's no one in the world Sean loves better than ye, not even me."

    "No, Ma, that's not true!"

    "Aye, 'tis true. There's been somethin' special in his heart for ye since the day you were born, and we all knew it, even your Da. I'm thinking if any two of us are to remain together, 'tis best for it to be Sean and ye."

    "Sean'll be all right, Ma."

    "Sean will want to take care of ye, Meg, and he'll do it the best he can, I know. But the truth is, 'tis ye who'll have to take care of him. The dear boy has a lot of hate inside him."

    "But he might not listen to me, Ma." The terrible secret of the night of the train wreck coming to her mind, Meg repeated, "He might not listen."

    Seeing beyond her daughter's response, Mary nodded. "I know, darlin', but the important thing is that ye don't stop tryin'. Can ye promise me that, Meg?"

    Dull brown eyes fused with brilliant blue in the silent seconds that followed, and Meg felt her mother's determination steel her own.

    "I promise, Ma."

    Mary's painful grip abruptly slackened. Her eyes closed, and fear pounded anew in Meg's chest in the long moment before Mary whispered, "I'm tired, Meg. Tell Aunt Fiona I'm sorry I can't come down to help her."

    "I'll help her, Ma."

    "That's a good girl, Meg. And tell Sean to come up to see me when he comes home. I'm missin' the dear boy, ye see."

    "Yes, Ma."

    When the steady rise and fall of her mother's chest finally revealed she was asleep, Meg drew herself to her feet. She was grateful her mother was only sleeping and she would be with them a little longer.

    The sun shone brightly through the French windows as Millicent Lang bustled around the master bedroom of the mansion, but her mind was far from the gleaming massive furniture surrounding her, the matching satin drapes and bedcover, and the luxurious rug of which she was so proud. Martin had left for the mine a short time earlier, and she had immediately arisen to prepare for the day. She was not usually an early riser, but today she was a woman with a mission.

    It had come to Letty in the middle of that horrible night of the train wreck that there really was very little she could do about the whole, terrible situation that existed in the valley. And then she had broken down and cried.

    She had cried for so many things. She had cried for the deaths of those two poor men on the train, she had cried for her husband's frustration, and then she had cried for the hatred that seemed to be all around them.

    She had never been certain just who or what those Molly Maguires were, except that they were terrible men. The truth was, she couldn't understand why they hated Martin and the colliery so much. After all, the men in the mines owed their livelihoods to Martin, didn't they?

    It had occurred to her, though, there was something she could do. As small a thing as it was, she decided in that moment to do it.

    Her plans now formulated, Letty walked quietly to the wardrobe and drew open the door to scan the vast array of day gowns within. Her pale eyes pensive, she touched a manicured finger to her cheek. It would not do to appear too elaborately dressed. Neither would it do to appear too staid. She withdrew a deep blue gown with front buttons that was particularly flattering to her generous proportions, and which she could slip into without calling for her servant's aid.

    Giving her appearance a last check a few minutes later, she picked up her hat and bag before heading out into the hall and down the staircase in the direction of the morning room. A quick but nourishing breakfast, and she'd be on her way.

    Letty smiled. Martin would be so proud of her. She really was feeling better already.

    Standing at the door of Father Matthew Mulligan's rectory an hour later, Letty listened as an approaching step sounded in response to her knock. The door drew open to reveal the slight, young priest she knew to be Father Mulligan, although she had only seen him once before in passing. Obviously startled by her presence, he stared at her, speechless. True, she was a devout Protestant, but his amazement was almost comical as his small brown eyes widened and his youthful face fell slack.

    Smiling, she addressed him. "How do you do, Father Mulligan? My name is Millicent Lang. We've not met before, but it occurred to me last night that you'd be the perfect person to help me with a small problem that I have."

    Rallying, his young face flushing at his lapse, Father Matthew Mulligan drew the door open wide. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Lang. Please come in. What may I do to help you?"

    Accepting his invitation with a gracious nod, Letty stepped into the small, tidy quarters. "Very much, I hope."

    She was still smiling as the door closed behind them.

    Father Matthew looked down at Meghan's bent head, barely resisting the urge to pluck a dark stray curl out of her collar as she labored over the sheet of paper in front of her. She was such a pretty child, and so bright. He could not help but marvel at her rapid grasp of the letters he taught her. It had taken her no time at all to learn to write the alphabet, coordinate the sounds, and put the letters into words.

    Looking up, Meghan met his gaze with her startling O'Connor eyes, and sadness touched the pleasure he always experienced in the girl's company. She had lost so much. Worrying him still was their conversation several days earlier in the confessional. She and Sean were so close, and he knew only too well the bitterness the boy nourished inside him. He knew Sean's faith had suffered because of the accident, and he feared for the direction in which the boy was leaning.

    "How's this, Father?" Holding up her paper for his approval,     Meghan waited for his nod before adding, "If it's all right, I'd like to try to read again today."

    "Meghan O'Connor, you're a greedy lass. You hardly master one skill before you're grasping for another."

    Father Matthew's teasing did not elicit the response he had intended. Instead, intensely sober, Meghan nodded.

    "Aye, Father. I've a lot to make up, and not much time to do it in."

    Concerned by her sudden seriousness, Father Matthew became as sober as she. "There's no need for such haste, Meg. You're young and you've a quick mind. I've no doubt you'll be reading very soon."

    Meg avoided his eye. "But there
is
a need for haste, Father. I've come here this past week without Uncle Timothy's approval. He's made it clear what he thinks about girls learning to read and write. He has a few more boarders now doubling up in the rooms, and Aunt Fiona's working harder than before. He'd be angry if he thought I was wasting my time here."

    "Wasting your time?"

    "So he says."

    Silent for a moment, Meghan finally raised her clear eyes to his once more.

    "Is it wrong to want to do this because of pride, Father?"

    "Pride, my dear?"

    "Da said it gave a man power to be able to read. He said it wasn't a power that others might see, that it was a power inside that gave a man pride and a will to go on to better things."

    "Your father was right, Meg. A little pride for such reasons never did a person harm unless it went to excess."

    Holding his gaze, Meg finally nodded. "Then I think we must hurry, Father, because I don't know how much longer it'll be before Uncle Timothy finds out I'm still coming here for lessons. He'll not accept it lightly."

    The determination in Meghan's tone solidified a decision with which Father Matthew had been struggling. He touched a hand to her thin shoulder. "We'll do that, dear, but first I have something to discuss with you. I had a visit from Mrs. Martin Lang several days ago."

    Meghan's sudden paling was unexpected and Father Matthew smiled encouragingly. "She's a very nice woman, and she's concerned about the feelings of the Irish in the valley. She thinks   that she may have contributed to the hostility people in the valley seem to feel for everyone connected to the house on the hill by bringing in all her servants from Philadelphia and all Protestants, at that. She thinks we might think she considers Irish Catholics a step beneath them, or that she doesn't trust us in her house."

    Meghan's slender nostrils quivered momentarily, and Father Matthew frowned at her unreadable reaction.

    "She wants to change that kind of thinking. Since she's in need of another servant, she asked if I could recommend someone who might do. She said she'll pay well and provide a uniform, too."