A Girl Like That (13 page)

Twenty-two

Katie snuggled into the downy soft bed. She closed her eyes, and a satisfied sigh escaped from her throat. Wonderful.

The hot, sudsy bath had relaxed her tight muscles, and drowsiness washed over her. Could Bridget and Mrs. Thornton and that poor young mother be in as much heaven as she was? The kind housemaid who’d drawn her bath had laid a soft nightgown on the bed and told her she’d be back to help her out of the tub. Katie had almost laughed but didn’t want to seem rude. She’d been taking her own baths since she was three and was quite capable of getting herself out of a bathtub.

Someone tapped on the door, but she was too tired to call out. She heard it open.

“Dear, do you mind if I come in?” The door closed.

Katie started and jerked from her reverie. Wide awake now, she glanced across at the white-haired woman standing by the door, her gentle smile resting on Katie’s face. Katie drew in her breath sharply. She’d know those eyes anywhere. “Yes, of course.” Her voice shook a little, and she cleared her throat.

Sam’s mother stepped across the carpeted floor. “I hope you found your bath and bed to your liking.” Her voice rippled like water over stones, gentle and singing.

“Oh yes, ma’am. Everything is wonderful. Thank you so much.” She swallowed. “Please, would you like to sit down?”

The lady stepped to the wingbacked chair beside the bed and seated herself, smiling brightly at Katie. “I’m Mrs. Nelson. Sam’s mother. And you are the lovely Miss O’Shannon.”

Katie blushed. “Please call me Katie.”

“Thank you. I believe I will.” Wrinkles formed between her eyes. “I know you’ve been through a dreadful ordeal. Sam thought you might be concerned about your friends, so I came to tell you they are being cared for.”

Relief washed over Katie. “Thank you. It’s very kind of you to take strangers into your home.”

“Nonsense. Any Christian soul would do the same.” She gave a little nod. “The servants brought Sam’s old cradle down from the attic, and our doctor has been here to care for the young mother. Lucy? I think that’s her name. He says she needs bed rest but otherwise seems fine. Your friend Bridget and her little sister are sharing a room. Their mother is across the hall from them. They’re all well but exhausted, with a few minor burns.”

Katie felt the worry that had been nibbling at the back of her mind fade. “That’s wonderful. I was a little worried. And the little girl I carried from the Patch?”

Mrs. Nelson lowered her eyes. “The doctor says she needs food and rest. She seems to have suffered neglect for quite some time.” She sighed and looked into Katie’s eyes again. “We’ve requested a nurse to care for her until she’s well again. In the meantime, my husband and Sam will attempt to locate the parents. Then we shall see.”

“The poor child. How old do you think she is?”

“The doctor says not more than two. Don’t you worry. She’ll be taken care of. And now you’d probably like to know your father has had his supper and is on the front porch with my husband, drinking lemonade. I think they might become fast friends.”

“What about Rosie?” Katie had lost count of the times she’d thanked God for keeping her friend safe.

“Miss Riley has accepted the invitation of a member of the troupe whose home was out of the fire’s path.”

“Sam?”

A dimple appeared in Mrs. Nelson’s cheek as she smiled. “My son has cleaned up and eaten an enormous dinner. He plans to join the men on the front porch after a while, as his father requested. But only after I assured him I would guard you with my life.”

Katie gasped and blushed.

Laughing, Sam’s mother stood. “My dear, you’re just as precious as Sam told me you were. And now that I’ve made you blush, I’ll get out of your way. Nancy will be here shortly with your tray. And you may sleep as long as you like.” She stood and looked down at Katie, mist forming in her eyes. “It’s quite easy to see why my son has fallen in love with you, my dear. And I must say I couldn’t be more pleased.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Nelson,” Katie whispered, barely able to make any sound at all.

Mrs. Nelson gave her one last smile. “Good night, my dear. Tomorrow, we shall get to know each other.” She walked softly to the door and left the room.

Sam had spoken of her to his mother. Not only that, Mrs. Nelson said he loved her. A thrill washed over her, and a spontaneous giggle sprang from her throat. Then another thought crossed her mind, and she sobered. What would his father think of her?

❧

“Everything was black. The buildings. The ground. Ash falling all around.” Sam’s voice cracked. How could anyone convey the reality in words? He sat in a chair by his father on the front porch and watched the rain almost with disbelief. If it had only come earlier.

He gathered his thoughts and continued. “Father, you can’t imagine what it was like. In moments, buildings, trees, everything incinerated.”

He paused, reliving the horror. “We could feel the heat by the lake and had to dodge flaming debris as we watched Michigan Avenue demolished block by block.”

He stopped and took a deep breath. Pain tore at his singed throat. “I’m sorry. Our building was reduced to rubble along with the others.” Most of the factories along the river, including those belonging to Jeremiah Howard, had burned to the ground. No one had heard from him since the fire, not even his wife, so he was assumed dead.

“A lifetime of work for us and so many of our friends—gone in an instant.” His father sighed loudly. “However, we have other things to attend to for now. We’ll talk about rebuilding in the days ahead.”

“I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about my bringing my friends home with me.”

“I’m not totally heartless, Sam.” He frowned. “Did you see any sign of the Flannigans?”

“None. Katie said they left their home at the same time as she and the Thorntons. They got separated somewhere along the way. I can only hope they made it to safety.”

“We’ll find them.”

Sam relaxed. They’d find them.

“I’m pleased that Miss O’Shannon is safe.”

Sam darted a look at his father.

“Harrumph.” His father cleared his throat loudly. “She’s welcome here. As your friend. As your bride.”

A heavy weight lifted off Sam.
Thank You, Lord.

“I can’t tell you how happy you’ve made me, Father. I plan to speak with her father. With his blessing, I’ll ask her to marry me at the earliest opportunity.”

“I suspected as much. Let me be the first to congratulate you.”

Sam laughed. “She hasn’t accepted me yet.”

Hooves pounded up Prairie Avenue. A horse and rider galloped up the driveway and stopped in front of Sam and his father. The horse’s wet sides heaved.

“Mr. Nelson, I’ve a letter for you, sir.” He reached into a saddlebag and produced a long, thin envelope.

“Thank you.” Sam took the letter and handed it to his father. “Can you give us any information about the damage?”

“Reports are starting to come in. Just about everything on the southeast side of town is gone. Then a mile-wide path from the river all the way to the far north. Seventy-three streets, that’s what I’m hearing. Many of the bridges are gone. The business district is all but gone. Post office, Palmer House Hotel, just about everything.” He shook his head, and his eyes looked dazed. “Don’t know what’s gonna happen.”

“We’ll rebuild, of course.”

Admiration for his father rose up in Sam. He just hoped when he saw the devastation with his own eyes he’d remain optimistic. “Do you know how they finally stopped the fire?”

“Some buildings had to be blown up. After that, there wasn’t anything left but a little prairie grass. The fire still tried to keep going. But when the rain started, it kind of burned itself out in the old graveyard.” He sat up straight in the saddle and stretched. “I have to go. More of these to deliver.”

Sam watched his father rip open the envelope and scan the letter. “They’ve already started making plans to help the homeless. The mayor has called a meeting for in the morning to discuss the situation. Homeless are our priority. Of course, the city waterworks is gone. It’ll take awhile to get it operating again. Those of us with wells should consider ourselves very fortunate.”

❧

Katie looked over her shoulder at Bridget as she pinned a sheet to the clothesline. “Would you bring me that basket? This one’s empty.”

Three weeks after the fire, the Nelsons were now hosting over a dozen people, including the babies. Which made for a lot of meals, dirty dishes, and of course, dirty laundry. The servants couldn’t keep up with it all, so all the women except for Lucy, who was still weak after months of nearly starving while trying to keep her unborn child alive, insisted on helping.

Sam had initially protested when he saw Katie bending over a washtub, but when his mother walked up and plunged her manicured hands into the rinse water, cheerfully singing at the top of her lungs, he threw his hands in the air and walked away.

Katie finished hanging the sheets and went inside. Sarah Flannigan was coming out of the door with rugs slung over her arm. She smiled and ducked her head as she passed Katie.

Fred, the coachman, had found the Flannigans three days after the fire, living in a tent among rows of others. Mr. Nelson insisted the man who’d cared for Sam the night of the attack wasn’t living in a tent and they must accept his hospitality until a proper house could be constructed for them.

The gesture solidified Katie’s love for the man who raised Sam. It was easy to see the man she loved came by his kindness naturally.

That evening, she headed for the kitchen to help with dinner when Sam walked in the front door. A lock of hair had fallen onto his forehead. His eyes lit up as they met hers. He smiled that smile that made her knees go weak. Her heart pounded. Why did it have to do that every time he was near? Hastily she reached up to rescue the curls that had slipped from the long braid that hung down her back.

“How’s the building coming along?” A nice safe subject. She hoped her father wasn’t working too hard on the construction that had provided jobs for all who wanted to work. He wasn’t getting any younger and wasn’t used to that kind of work. But what was he to do? The troupe had disbanded until the theater could be rebuilt, and as he’d told her sternly, he wasn’t about to be anyone’s charity case.

“I can’t believe how much has been accomplished in less than a month.” He smiled. “Maybe Chicago will thrive again.”

Mrs. Nelson came into the hall. Her eyes sparkled as she glanced from Sam to Katie. “How would you two like to share a pot of tea with me on the porch?”

Katie nodded as Sam threw a questioning glance her way. She went to get the tea then joined Sam and his mother on the porch. She set the tray on a small wrought iron table. Sam motioned her over to the swing where he sat. His mother rested on a wicker chair across from them.

“Doesn’t the air feel lovely?” Excitement trilled in Mrs. Nelson’s voice.

“Yes, ma’am.” In spite of everything, the autumn air was now crisp and fresh. Katie smiled. “Sam told me how much you love autumn.”

Mrs. Nelson nodded and smiled. “It’s my favorite time of the year. You know, I’ve been thinking we should have a party.”

“A party? With the city in shambles?” Sam lifted an eyebrow. “Who would come?”

“Don’t be foolish. Everyone will come. We’ll do a benefit auction with a ball to follow. It will do wonders for the citizens of this city.” Mrs. Nelson picked up her cup and stood. “Well, I think I’ll have my tea inside after all. It’s getting a little cold for me. You two stay.”

Katie stared in astonishment as Sam’s mother went inside and closed the door, leaving them in the dark. Katie glanced at Sam.

He gave her a tender smile and took her hand, rubbing his thumb across it.

She shivered.

“Sweetheart, don’t mind her. She’s always wanted a daughter.”

Warmth washed over her. He’d called her “sweetheart.” And “daughter”? What was he saying? Did he mean. . .

“Katie, I’d planned to do this differently, in a more romantic setting, but. . .”

Her heart raced, and she looked into his warm brown eyes. Eyes filled with love for her.

“I spoke to your father last night and received his blessing.” He swallowed, slid off the swing, and knelt down on one knee in front of her.

“You must know how I feel about you. From the first moment you lifted those big blue eyes in the train station, I’ve been unable to think of anything but you. I love you, sweetheart. And it would give me the greatest joy if you’ll agree to be my wife.” He reached into his pocket and removed a small velvet box. The lid sprang open, and she gasped.

“Katie, this ring belonged to my maternal grandmother. I hope with all my heart you’ll wear it. Will you marry me?”

“Oh, Sam,” she whispered, “I love you, too. And to be your wife would be the most wonderful thing I can imagine. It will be an honor to wear your grandmother’s ring.”

Her hand tingled as he slid the ring on her finger. She held up her hand and looked at the sparkling gems as he sat beside her. “It’s the most beautiful ring in the world.”

“When I told Mother of my intentions, she insisted that you must have it.”

“Oh, I must go and thank her!” Katie shifted but found herself locked in a warm embrace as Sam’s arms encircled her, pulling her close.

“There’ll be plenty of time for that,” he whispered, lowering his head.

Katie’s stomach dipped, and she raised her head willingly for his kiss.

About the Author

FRANCES DEVINE spent most of her childhood, teen, and young adult years in Dallas, Texas, but lived for five years in a little co

untry community called Brushy Creek among the beautiful pinewoods of East Texas. There, she wrote her first story at the age of nine. She moved to Southwest Missouri more than twenty years ago and fell in love with the hills, the fall colors, and Silver Dollar City. Frances considers herself blessed to have the opportunity to write for Barbour. She is the mother of seven adult children and has fourteen wonderful grandchildren. Frances is happy to hear from her fans. E-mail her at
[email protected]
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