The Family Way (Molly Murphy, #12)

“That’s what I wondered. At least she’d be a middleman along the chain and through her we might be able to find out where they meet and what exactly they are planning.”


Sid looked at Gus and shook her head. “She never gives up, does she? Now you want to go from one dangerous situation to the next. What are we going to do with you?”

“Oh, I’m not intending to do this myself,” I said. “But as Sister Jerome lay dying she did ask that somebody send a message of her death to her sister. So I thought that I could legitimately do that, find out where her convent is, and then pass along the information to my husband. There is no harm in that, is there?”

“With you there is always the potential for harm,” Sid said. “But to be on the safe side we’re coming with you. From now on we’re not letting you loose in the Lower East Side alone.”

“We are not letting her go anywhere alone,” Gus added firmly.





Thirty-one

We spent the rest of the afternoon beside the river, sitting in the shade, watching Bridie splash about at the edge of the water—in short exactly what I should have been doing all the time I was here. I couldn’t help thinking how pleasant it was and wondering why I felt so driven to put myself in difficult situations and get involved in other peoples’ problems. And for what? I asked myself. What exactly had I achieved? I had found out what happened to Maureen O’Byrne and I could now write to her family, but I would be bringing them only heartache. I had stopped Sister Jerome’s money-making scheme, but I would now be depriving the Republican Brotherhood of funds when I was really all for their cause. At least I had stopped girls who came to the convent in the future from being abused by Sister. I hoped I had prevented any future tragedies like Blanche’s suicide. So a little good was done then. Something achieved.

I turned my attention back to Bridie who was now standing on a rock, waving her arms. “Look at me, Molly,” she called.

“Mrs. Sullivan would have a fit if she saw you showing your arms and legs like that,” I called back. “And getting freckles to boot.”

“Then we won’t tell her, will we?” Bridie said with a cheeky smile on her face, and I read into her expression that she was hinting, “I won’t tell about you if you don’t tell about me.” The child was growing up fast!

We had a lovely dinner of locally caught fish out on the porch, under the stars and stayed up late watching lights dance on the water as a pleasure craft made its way upriver. Then the next morning Sid and Gus came with me to take Bridie back to my mother-in-law and pick up the rest of my things. Bridie was bursting with enthusiasm and couldn’t stop talking about the splendid time she had had with the ladies. I noticed she carefully avoided mentioning those things that might have distressed my mother-in-law.

“My goodness, child, you’re going off like a steam train.” Mrs. Sullivan put a hand on Bridie’s shoulder. “It’s not polite to hog the conversation when there are adults present. I think we need to get you back to some good honest hard work as soon as possible. I’ve the silver waiting to be polished in the dining room. On with your pinny and get to it.”

“Yes, Mrs. Sullivan,” Bridie said meekly and went off.

My mother-in-law turned back to us. “I can’t let her get too uppity, can I?” she said. “But I’m so glad she was able to let her hair down and be a child for a while. She’s been worrying so much about her father and brother.” She moved closer. “And between you and me, I’ve just heard a report from Panama that the conditions on that canal they are building are deplorable. Men are dropping like flies.”

“Let’s pray for the best, shall we,” I said.

She looked at me critically. “I can’t say the stay by the river has done you good, my dear. You look positively tired and pale. Never mind, a few days of rest and feeding you up will do the trick, I daresay.”

I couldn’t look her in the eye. “Actually I’m going straight back to New York with Miss Walcott and Miss Goldfarb,” I said. “I’m feeling guilty about leaving Daniel alone when he’s been working so hard. A man should have a good meal waiting for him when he comes home from work, don’t you think?”

She had to agree to that one. “I always made sure there was a meal in the oven waiting for my man,” she agreed. “But don’t you think he’d rather that you stayed up here and I took care of you?”

“I’m not an invalid, Mother Sullivan,” I said. “He worried about me in the heat wave but it’s cooled down remarkably, wouldn’t you say? Besides,” I added before she could answer, “I’ll maybe only stay down there for a few days, make sure he’s well-stocked up with food and come back here again—if you’ll still put up with me, that is.”