Donnigan shifted the two children on his knees and picked up the letter. He read it all the way through, then read it again. Kathleen waited for his response as she moved about the kitchen getting the supper on the table.

“Sounds like they have fallen into hard times,” said Donnigan at last.

Kathleen didn’t dare make a response.

“How much do you think we can spare?” was Donnigan’s next comment.

Kathleen looked up. Was he serious? Was he actually thinking that Kathleen owed something to Madam?

“Donnigan. Madam has always been in ‘hard times’—only before she had Father—or me—to pay her way. I owe her nothing more. Nothing. Why, if she’d had her way I would still be there, walking those London streets, selling wares for that crotchety old baker.”

Donnigan had never heard such bitterness in Kathleen’s voice before.

He said nothing more—for the moment—but switched his attention to giving his two small daughters horsey rides on his foot.

* * *

When Donnigan felt that Kathleen had enough time to cool down, he brought up the matter of the letter again.

“I was thinking that we might spare a bit,” he said. “We’ve got that extra pig money in the bank.”

“If you start sending money to Madam, she’ll expect it as her due,” warned Kathleen.

“She is kin,” replied Donnigan evenly.

“No kin of mine—she simply married my father—and sent my grandmother to an early grave,” said Kathleen hotly.

“Your grandmother?” Donnigan had never heard that story.

“Sure now—and Grandmother O’Malley left Ireland when we did and settled with us in London. She cared for me after my mother died. Called me her little colleen. We would have been just fine too had not Madam taken a shine to my father. She worked in the local pub and he used to stop by for a pint after his day’s work.

“Before long she had convinced him they should marry—and I guess he was lonely without Mother. But she couldn’t leave Grandmother be. She taunted and tormented and picked on her all the time that Father was at work. Then at end of day when Father came home, she was nice as cream pudding to the old lady. I saw it all myself. Of course, Grandmother never said a thing. She didn’t want to come between a man and his wife. But it broke her heart, and that’s the truth of it. She just gave up and died—pining for my mother—pining for Ireland. I saw it myself.”

Kathleen stopped for a breath. Donnigan reached out an arm and drew her close.

“It was hard for you, wasn’t it?” he said, but it was more a statement than a question.

Kathleen found that she was crying. She had never talked to anyone about her grandmother before.

Donnigan let her cry against him. When she finally moved to dry her eyes and blow her nose, he spoke again.

“Is it too hard to forgive?” he asked her.

Kathleen sniffed and thought a moment.

“You think she deserves my forgiveness?” she asked stiffly.

“I was thinking of you—not her,” said Donnigan. “Unforgiveness is a heavy load to carry.”

Kathleen looked up in surprise.

“You had no choice—in what she did to you,” went on Donnigan slowly, “but you do have a choice in forgiving.”

“One doesn’t just decide to forgive—and make it happen,” said Kathleen with feeling. “You can’t just—will pain away. It goes far deeper than that.”

Donnigan nodded. “But somehow I think that you can choose to hang on to pain—to bitterness—sorta cling to it and coddle it and pamper it a bit so that it grows and grows.”

Kathleen had never thought of that.

“Would you like to talk about it later?” asked Donnigan, and Kathleen nodded her head.

Donnigan saw it as the first positive step.

Chapter Twenty

The Continued Search


Kathleen was not looking forward to the time when Donnigan might again approach her about sending help home to Madam. She had not realized how deep her bitterness ran until she had looked at her life with the London family in light of her life with Donnigan.

“I guess I just took it all for granted when I was there,” she told herself. “When you’re used to a situation, you don’t realize that things should be different. You just—just accept them.”

But now that Kathleen had enjoyed a taste of a real home, of real love, she realized just how much she had been taken advantage of as a child and how Madam had used her for her own purposes.

Kathleen had been unaware of the bitterness she had buried concerning the grandmother she had lost when she was seven years old. It had been bad enough to lose her mother, but she’d still had her Granny to cling to. But when she lost her grandmother as well, she lost her anchor in a hostile world.

Her father had been quite unaware of what went on in the little house in his absence. Yet he should have been able to see that something was dreadfully wrong.

To Kathleen’s surprise, she found that buried very deeply within herself was a resentment toward her father. The father she had loved so much. That was perhaps what pained her most of all. And it all was due to Madam. She had forced Kathleen’s father into the position where he was not free to properly care for his eldest daughter. Still he should have seen. He should have sensed that things were all wrong. Kathleen felt that she could have forgiven the woman of all the sins that she had committed against her—except that one. The one of making her see her beloved father as a less than perfect man.

Kathleen struggled with her pain and bitterness, and Donnigan wisely didn’t press. He knew she wasn’t ready.

* * *

They needed more room to house their growing family. Donnigan decided he could put it off no longer. He began to order and stockpile the materials so that he could begin at the first opportunity.

“What you plannin’?” asked Wallis when he popped by one evening just as they were about to sit down for their supper.

Kathleen moved to the cupboard to get another plate. It seemed to her that Wallis ate more often at her table than he did at his own. But she would not have expressed her feeling to Donnigan.

“Time to add on to this cabin,” said Donnigan as he mashed potatoes for Brenna and covered them with gravy. “We’re about to burst at the seams.”

Wallis nodded, looking around the circle.

“We’re going to build a room for me,” piped up Sean, grinning as he shared the good news.

Wallis accepted his place at the table.

I may as well set for him every night, thought Kathleen. Seems he always ends up being here.

“When you startin’?” asked Wallis as he stabbed a spud with his fork.

“First thing in the morning—I hope,” replied Donnigan.

“I got some spare time right now,” said Wallis around a bit of liver and onions. “I’ll give you a hand.”

That’s just fine! thought Kathleen sourly. Now he’ll think he is entitled to eat here three times a day!

Then Kathleen caught herself. She was getting awfully testy lately. She wondered that Donnigan could stand living with her. Maybe it was just that another baby was on the way. She hoped she would soon get her emotions back under control.

* * *

Kathleen decided not to wait for Donnigan to speak with her. She brought up the matter herself. She hoped that she would be able to keep her composure as she talked.

“About the money,” she began, knowing that Donnigan would know what money she was referring to. “I know we don’t have much to spare with building on to the house and all, but perhaps we could send a little bit.”

“I’ll see to it right away,” said Donnigan, and she thought she read relief in his eyes.

“But that doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven her,” Kathleen could have said. “I’ve tried, but I can’t. But send the money if you like—it’ll make you feel better—and I guess I can grant her that much.”

But Kathleen did not say the words, so Donnigan did not know what was going on in her heart. Instead she said, “And, Donnigan—when you send the money, would you please ask Edmund to send me Bridget’s address?”

* * *

“Do you think there’s a God?” Donnigan asked Wallis at the dinner table.

I thought he had forgotten about that, thought Kathleen, lifting her head in surprise.

Wallis, too, looked startled. He chewed on his bite of bread and butter, his eyes going darker by the minute. At last he swallowed and said in a mumbled fashion, “Used to. Kinda.”

“You mean, you don’t anymore?”

“Nope!” said Wallis, and he took another large bite of the slice he held in his hand.

“But if there is a God—and I’ve got a strong feeling that there must be—then He doesn’t just come and go according to how we feel about Him,” Donnigan said rather boldly.

Wallis seemed to be thinking.

“All I know is—if He’s there—He sure don’t run things very well,” said Wallis.

Donnigan nodded. He knew Wallis was thinking about Risa.

“Do you really think He had a say in the matter?” he asked softly.

“Well—a God is supposed to be a God, isn’t He?” declared Wallis, and there was pain and bitterness in his voice. “What good is He iffen He can’t look after things?”

“Maybe it’s not His business to look after those kinds of things,” said Donnigan.

Kathleen was uncomfortable with the conversation. She rose from the table and sliced more bread.

“Then what is He supposed to look after?” asked Wallis, sounding angry and exasperated.

“Our souls,” said Donnigan.

Wallis met that comment with a sneer.

“If there’s a God—then there is a heaven and hell—somewhere,” said Donnigan. “And I think that His business is getting us to the one and keeping us out of the other.”

“So how’s He do thet?” snorted Wallis.

“I don’t know,” said Donnigan slowly. “I don’t know—but I sure would like to find out.”

Kathleen cast a glance Donnigan’s way and saw the shadow in his eyes. She knew then that he had not forgotten his search. That he was greatly troubled—somewhere deep inside.

* * *

The house was finished before the new baby made his appearance. This boy looked much like his older brother—except that he was dark instead of fair. But from the very first time she heard him cry, Kathleen knew she had a child with a totally different disposition from his brother Sean.

“My, he sounds cross,” she said to Donnigan. “Do you think he’ll ever forgive the doctor for that pat on his little behind?”

Donnigan had insisted on a doctor again for the birth and Kathleen had not argued. There had been time for the doctor to arrive—although certainly no time to spare.

“He’s likely just hungry,” replied Donnigan, handing the baby to his mother. “He’ll settle down as soon as he’s fed.”

Kathleen named the baby Eamon, and Donnigan accepted the name without comment.

* * *

Wallis was back far more often than Kathleen would have liked, but she bit her tongue and served him his suppers whenever he made his sudden appearance at her door.

“He needs us,” said Donnigan with real feeling for the neighbor man, and Kathleen did not try to argue.

* * *

“The more I see of youngsters the less confident I feel as a parent,” Donnigan observed one day just after Eamon had thrown a real temper fit.

Kathleen nodded. She was so weary of fighting the two-year-old. It seemed that Eamon was always upset about something.

“He sure isn’t like the others,” she commented in return, brushing back the hair from her flushed face.

“I think we’re going to have our hands full with that one,” went on Donnigan, “and I’m not sure just how to handle him. Now, if he was a colt and acted like that I’d try gentling, and if that didn’t work I’d lay my whip on him.”

Kathleen winced. It seemed to her that Eamon had already been spanked more than his fair share.

“They are all so different,” said Kathleen, and reviewed in her mind her four youngsters. Sean was the easiest one. Never had he fussed and fought against their authority. He had immediately fallen in love with his father and sought to do everything just as Donnigan did.

Fiona was the spirited one. Bubbly and chattering and always on the go. She mothered and fussed over each family member and giggled and romped her way through each day.