Secrets of the Heart (9 page)

“That would be no problem, Mr. Martin. Would tomorrow be all right?”

“Yes…fine.”

“How much do you think the property will bring, sir?”

“If you’re the rightful heir, I’ll give you $250.”

Kathleen figured the lot was probably worth twice that amount, but with a buyer standing right in front of her, she told him she would take it.

Martin instructed her to bring in three people who would swear before a justice of the peace that she was indeed Kathleen O’Malley. Then he gave her twenty dollars earnest money until the transaction could be completed and had her sign a receipt.

The next day, Kathleen and three women who had been faithful customers at the store went with Ralph Martin to a justice of the peace.

Afterwards, Martin explained to Kathleen that it would take a week or so to get the paperwork done, but when it was all set up
legally, he would pay her the rest of the money She should come back to the Land Office the next Saturday.

Kathleen decided to rent a room near Chicago’s east side, where the rich people lived. That side of the city was untouched by the fire. Her plan was to approach the wealthy people along the lakeshore and seek employment doing cleaning jobs and housework.

After renting a room in a boardinghouse for six dollars a month, which included meals, she walked downtown to a secondhand clothing store and bought two dresses to work in, a shabby black overcoat, and a pair of used shoes. She discarded the lace-up boots in a trash receptacle on the way home.

By the time she reached the boardinghouse, the shoes she had bought were hurting her feet. They were apparently too small, though they had felt all right when she tried them on at the second-hand store.

In spite of the uncomfortable shoes, Kathleen walked to the Killanin home and told Evelyn her room was ready at the house where she would be living, so she would be moving in today. When Evelyn asked where that would be, Kathleen was evasive and managed to get away without giving an address.

On her way back to her new neighborhood, Kathleen stopped at a grocery store and bought a few food items, though her main meals would be eaten in the dining room at the boardinghouse.

The next day, Sunday, Kathleen rested her tired feet. Monday morning would come soon enough when she would have to do a lot of walking and a lot of knocking on doors.

On Monday morning, Kathleen winced as she slipped into her secondhand shoes, but she had no choice but to lace them up and wear them. She was down to only a few dollars. New shoes would have to wait until Ralph Martin paid her for the lot.

She ate a hearty breakfast and left the boardinghouse to see what the day’s search might bring in the way of a job.

The sky was cloud covered, and as she made her way down the street, a wind as raw and cold as her heart assaulted her. Life was a
vacuum of emptiness for her now, but she also felt a strong sense of self-preservation as she mentally prepared to do whatever it took to survive. This was what her parents would have expected of her.

Soon Kathleen was walking down a street in the wealthy section of Chicago. The huge houses on either side stood boldly in massive, tree-filled yards with wrought-iron fences and fancy driveways.

She stopped in front of the first house. The trees were nearly bare, and what few leaves were left trembled in the wind, some of them letting go of the branches even as she watched.

A sign made of iron hung on a wooden post and had bold letters engraved on it:
GEORGE W. WILKINSON.
Kathleen recalled that there was a banking family in Chicago by the name of Wilkinson. No doubt, this was that family.

She pulled her coat collar tightly around her throat and warily headed for the sweeping front porch. Barely moving her lips, she said, “Papa…Mama…help me. I’m a little scared.”

She lifted the heavy door knocker and let it fall, the sound echoing inside the house. Her pulse quickened when she heard heavy footsteps and the rattle of the inside latch. Then the door swung open. A gray-haired man dressed in a swallow-tailed coat with vest and bow tie looked her up and down and said, “Yes, mum.”

Kathleen had heard about butlers and had seen drawings of them, but she had never seen a real one. “Sir, my name is Kathleen O’Malley. My family died in the fire a week ago Sunday night. Our house was destroyed. I…I am looking for work. I can do cleaning jobs of all kinds, and…and I can do housekeeping chores. Would the Wilkinsons be interested in my services?”

The butler shook his head. “No, mum. We have a live-in housekeeper. She does all that is needed.”

“Oh, I see. Well, thank you, sir.”

“Yes, mum,” said the butler, closing the door before she had even turned to leave.

Kathleen held her head high and walked down the long driveway toward the next house.

As she moved between properties, she was surprised that her mind ran to the soul-shaking experience at the Killanins’ church, and the words Dwight Moody had spoken. Moving her lips without sound, Kathleen said, “But if Jesus loved me enough to suffer and die on the cross for me, why didn’t He love me enough to keep my family from dying?”

The sign at the next gate announced that the Alfred Morleys lived there.

The pain of losing her family was sharp in Kathleen’s heart as she stepped up on the huge porch and lifted the knocker. When there was no response after several seconds, she lifted the knocker again. This time there were light footsteps. When the door opened, a middle-aged woman, dressed in an expensive dress and wearing flashy jewelry, looked at Kathleen with disdain and said, “What is it?”

“Are…are you Mrs. Morley?”

“Yes. And we don’t give handouts.”

Kathleen glanced down at her shabby coat, then back at the woman. “Oh, I’m not asking for a handout, Mrs. Morley, I’m looking for work. You see, my entire family died in the fire a week ago yesterday, and I’m all alone. I can do cleaning jobs and household chores. I’m willing to—”

The door slammed in her face.

Kathleen headed for the next house. Her shoes were hurting her feet, but it didn’t come close to the pain in her heart.

By early afternoon, Kathleen had knocked on thirty-one doors. A few people were kind when they turned her down, but most were curt, as if her presence on their doorstep was an offense to them.

Before starting on another street, Kathleen sat down on a tree stump and took off her shoes. The raw wind bit through her stockings as she rubbed her aching feet. “Papa, Mama…” she said, her voice breaking, “I need you.”

She wept for a few minutes, then slipped her shoes back on. As
she was tying the laces, a fancy carriage drove by. A young man with sandy hair was at the reins, and riding alone. He smiled at her, tipped his hat, and drove on.

Kathleen finished tying her shoes, wiped her tears, and said, “Well, at least a few people in this neighborhood are friendly. All right, Miss O’Malley, let’s see what you can find in this block.”

K
ATHLEEN COVERED FOUR MORE BLOCKS
on one side of the street, and after rejections at every house she leaned against a large oak tree and wept. Her feet were hurting too much to go on. She would find a place to sit down, rub her feet good, then head home.

Through her tears, Kathleen looked up the street and saw the fancy carriage that had passed by earlier, the one with the handsome young man at the reins. The carriage was pulling out of the driveway of a large, beautiful brick house a block away. It turned her direction as the driver put the horse to a trot.

Kathleen quickly dried the tears from her cheeks.

The same young man was driving the carriage, and he was alone. He pulled rein when he saw Kathleen. When the carriage had come to a complete stop, he smiled down at her and said, “I saw you earlier today, didn’t I?”

“Yes. I was several blocks over that way.”

“Are you looking for some particular address I could help you find?”

Kathleen looked down at her worn and faded clothing and felt unworthy to be greeted by such a well-dressed and obviously wealthy man. “Ah…no sir, thank you. I…ah…I’m just enjoying a nice walk.”

“Oh. All right. Well, I hope you enjoy it.”

Kathleen managed a half-smile.

The handsome young man tipped his hat, clucked to the horse, and drove away.

Kathleen sighed deeply and headed back toward her part of town and her drab little room. She would come back here tomorrow and
take up where she’d left off. She walked to the tree stump she’d sat on earlier and removed her shoes. A big red blister had formed on her left heel and it burned like fire.

She rubbed both feet to soothe them, put the shoes back on, and limped westward. The cold wind off the lake nipped at her ears and knifed through the secondhand coat.

By the time Kathleen reached downtown the sun was setting, and at the rate she was walking, it was still another thirty minutes to the boardinghouse. She had eaten nothing since early morning, and her empty stomach growled in protest.

While limping across Kedzie, Avenue, Kathleen spotted a small cafe. She forced her cold, weary body up the two steps to the door. As she moved inside, warm air greeted her, along with the fragrant, tantalizing smells of homemade bread and roasting beef. She looked around timidly and spotted an unoccupied table next to a front window. The place was cozy with glowing lanterns and a roaring fire in the brick fireplace.

Kathleen removed her coat, draped it over a chair, and sat down. There were eating utensils on the table, wrapped in napkins, and a pair of tin cups. Behind salt and pepper shakers, menus leaned against the windowsill.

A pert young waitress stepped to Kathleen’s table. “Hello,” she said, smiling. “Cold outside, isn’t it?”

“That it is,” Kathleen said, picking up a menu and placing it on the table in front of her.

“How about some hot coffee to warm you up?”

“That sounds good,” said the weary redhead, pushing a cup toward the waitress.

“Maybelle!” came a male voice from the kitchen. “Order for table five!”

The girl poured the steaming black liquid into Kathleen’s cup and said, “I’ll deliver that order and be right back.”

Kathleen picked up the menu and studied it for a moment. The coffee was five cents a cup. The least expensive food item on the
menu was a bowl of vegetable beef soup with two slices of home-made bread. The soup and bread order was sixty cents. Kathleen let her eyes rove around the room. A man at a nearby table was slurping soup from a bowl and chomping on a slice of bread. It looked good.

“Okay, Maybelle’s back,” the waitress said in a cheerful tone. “What would you like, honey?”

“Would it…would it be possible to order a half-bowl of the vegetable soup and one slice of bread?”

Maybelle’s brow furrowed. “A
half-bowl
of soup?”

“Yes, please.”

The waitress bent down close to Kathleen’s face. “Honey, is this because you’re not very hungry, or because you’re a little short on funds?”

Kathleen swallowed hard. “Well, it’s, ah…it’s—”

“Tell you what. I’ll bring you a
full
bowl of vegetable beef soup and two slices of bread, and you will only pay half price. How’s that?”

“Oh, I couldn’t—”

“Yes, you could. And the second cup of coffee will be on the house.”

“I don’t know what to say, I—”

“Just say, ‘Hurry up with the bread and soup, Maybelle; I’m hungry.’”

Kathleen laughed for the first time since her family had died in the fire. “It’s very nice of you to do this, Maybelle. Are you sure you won’t get in trouble with your boss?”

“Nah-h-h. The boss is that fella back there in the kitchen. He’s my dad. I won’t get in trouble.”

Kathleen nodded. “Thank you.”

As the girl hurried away, Kathleen put the menu back against the windowsill and picked up the tin cup. She studied the other customers in the cafe as she sipped hot coffee. People were talking and laughing, enjoying each other’s company. The only other person in the place alone was the man eating the soup.

Her loneliness felt like a cold hand squeezing her heart. Life would never be the same without her parents…without Donnie and Patricia. What would become of her? Would she find a job or starve to death?

“No, Kathleen,” she said under her breath. “You’re not going to starve to death. You
will
find a job. Someone in that fancy side of town will hire you. Just keep knocking on doors. There’s bound to be someone who could use your services. Like the parents of that nice young man in the carriage. He—”

Kathleen shook her head and continued to mutter to herself. “You really messed up, Kathleen. You should’ve told him the truth. He seemed to like you. Maybe he could have talked his rich parents into—Wait a minute. Why not start at his house tomorrow? Who knows, maybe his parents are as nice as he is. First on the agenda will be 1402 Mockingbird Lane.”

When Maybelle arrived with her order, Kathleen’s eyes bulged at the size of the soup bowl, which actually looked like a large gravy bowl. The bread plate had four slices of bread and four chunks of butter.

“There you go, honey,” Maybelle said. “Eat up. If that doesn’t fill your tummy, there’s more in the kitchen.”