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“She’s our sister,” Shannon said. “We can’t leave her here and go to Ireland to be with family we don’t even know.”

Nora had started to cry silently. My heart ached for her. She didn’t want to lose more of her family.

“Show Miss Josephine your hands,” Mrs. Cassidy said.

Shannon put out her hands. A defiant look came to her eyes. “I’m not ashamed of working hard.”

“Nor I.” Nora held out her hands for us to see. Tears streaked her thin face.

Both sets of hands were red and chapped. Broken and bloodied calluses marred the palms.

“They’re doing the work of two men,” Mrs. Cassidy said. “Do you see why we can’t stay? If I sell the farm, I can pay back the debt and maybe have enough for fare home.”

“I didn’t know how bad it was for you,” Josephine said. “You should have come to Papa for help. If he’d known, he would’ve done whatever it took. Mama will be furious to think of you out here feeling helpless and alone. This is not how we do things in Emerson Pass.”

“I can’t ask your father to help us,” Mrs. Cassidy said. “It isn’t right.”

“What’s not right about it?” Josephine asked gently. “Don’t we hear every Sunday about what the Lord expects from us? What kind of Christians are we if don’t help our neighbors?”

I knew what

to do then, as if God had reached down to speak to me directly. “Ma’am, I could help you. I’ll be your farmhand. With instruction, of course.”

“Thank you, but as I said, I don’t have the money to pay anyone.” Mrs. Cassidy’s gaze dropped to her lap. I knew as sure as I knew my own heart that she was ashamed of being poor and at the mercy of charity to survive. Worry had caused her headaches. If her financial situation improved, so would her health. Grief and desperation made it impossible for her to get better. I must convince her to allow me to help. “The Barneses have invited me to stay in their home until I can find a place of my own, which at this rate will be a while. They’ve been very kind to me. I’d be honored to repay them for their kindness by helping you. I don’t have a lot of experience on farms, but I’m sure these girls can teach me.”

“Yes, we can show you what to do,” Shannon said. “Nothing hard, but it requires strength.”

“And grit,” Nora said.

“I’ve a bit of that.” The furniture shop would have to wait. This was what I was meant to do for now and a way for me to pay the debt of kindness owed to the Barneses. “Please, Mrs. Cassidy, allow me to do this for you. Someday, you’ll show someone the same kindness and they’ll pass it along.”

“Yes, that’s it exactly.” Josephine’s eyes shone with gratitude and affection—all directed toward me. To evoke that expression again, I would have worked a hundred farms for a hundred years. “He’s learning to drive the horses. Papa will lend you the smaller of our sleighs to come over to the farm.”

“I can repair the barn first,” I said. “That I know how to do.”

“How many cows do you have left?” Josephine asked.

“Only two,” Shannon said. “And the bull.”

“Hardly a herd,” Mrs. Cassidy said with a bitter edge to her voice. “I told your dad the same thing when he moved us here, but he was as stubborn as they come.” Despite the regret in her words, I detected love too.

“America is about dreams,” I said, surprising myself. “We can’t give up on them, even when things are hard.”

“Dreams don’t feed hungry daughters,” Mrs. Cassidy said. “We’re running out of supplies, and it’s not yet Christmas.”

The girls were both thin. I hadn’t thought about it much, assuming that girls that age tended to be slender. Now, however, I looked at them with more care. Nora had a pinched look to her face, as if she were gritting her teeth against hunger. Shannon’s cheekbones were too prominent. She was seventeen, already grown, and yet had no evident curves. Compared to Cymbeline, who was two years younger but robust and glowing with health, Shannon would appear sickly.

The nuns had made sure we were never hungry. Some of the children who came to us over the years had shared tales of near starvation on the streets of New York. They’d had a hungry look in their eyes even after months of being well-fed at the orphanage. I could remember one boy who slouched over his food as if shielding it from a predator.

“For now, we’ll focus on repairing the barn and getting that bull to do his job,” Josephine said briskly.

Nora giggled as she wiped away her tears.

“We’re not sure how that’s done,” Shannon said. “Dad didn’t tell us anything about…how all that works.”

“Poppy’s coming home soon from her apprenticeship with the veterinarian,” Josephine said. “Perhaps she’ll have some ideas for us.”

“Mrs. Cassidy, will you allow me to come out tomorrow?” I asked. “Even if you were to sell the farm, you’ll get more for it with a good roof on the barn.”


Tags: Tess Thompson Emerson Pass Historicals Historical