Shivering against the cold, Mike headed back to his house. There was no point in going over this again and again. If Kelly came back to the canal in the spring with a different attitude toward him, Mike would be glad. If she didn’t, then he would have to accept it as God’s will.
When Mike stepped inside the house a short time later, a blast of warm air hit him in the face. It was a welcome relief from the cold. As he hung his coat on a wall peg, he noticed the calendar hanging nearby. Today was January 5, Kelly’s eighteenth birthday. He remembered her mentioning it before she left for the city. He’d sent her a package several days ago and hoped she would receive it on time. Even more than that, Mike hoped she liked the birthday present he’d chosen.
***
Kelly couldn’t believe how bad her feet hurt. She was used to walking the towpath every day, but trudging through the hilly city of Easton was an entirely different matter. Papa had insisted Kelly get a job to help with expenses, and she’d been out looking almost every day since they had arrived at the boardinghouse in Easton. No one seemed to be hiring right before Christmas, and after the holidays, she was told either that there was no work or that she wasn’t qualified for any of the available positions. Kelly kept looking, and in the evenings and on weekends, she helped Mama sew and clean their small, three-room flat.
Kelly hated to spend her days looking for work and longed to be with their mules that had been left at Morgan’s Stables just outside of town. It wasn’t cheap to keep them there, but Papa said they had no choice. Needing money for the mules’ care was one of the reasons he’d taken a job at Glendon Iron Furnace, which overlooked the canal and Lehigh Valley Railroad. The work was hard and heavy, but pay was better than at many other manual jobs.
Every chance she got, Kelly went to see her animal friends. Today was her eighteenth birthday, and she’d decided to celebrate with a trip to the stables right after breakfast. It might be the only thing special about her birthday, since neither Mama nor Papa had made any mention of it. They’d been sitting around the breakfast table for ten minutes, and no one had said a word about what day it was. Papa had his nose in the
Sunday Call,
Easton’s newspaper, and Mama seemed preoccupied with the scrambled eggs on her plate.
Kelly sighed deeply and drank some tea. It didn’t matter. She’d never had much of a fuss made on her birthday anyway. Why should this year be any different?
Maybe I’ll take some of the money I earned sellin’ paintings and buy something today.
Kelly grimaced. She knew she should save all her cash for that art gallery she hoped to open some day. Even as the idea popped into her mind, Kelly felt it was futile. She’d only sold a few paintings so far, and even if she sold more, it would take years before she’d have enough to open any kind of gallery. She would need to pay rent for a building, and then there was the cost of all the supplies. It wouldn’t be enough to simply sell her paintings and drawings; she’d want to offer her customers the chance to purchase paper, paints, charcoal pencils, and maybe some fancy frames. All that would cost a lot of money. Money Kelly would probably never see in her lifetime.
I may as well give up my dream. If I can find a job in the city, it would probably be best if I stay here and work. Papa can hire a mule driver to take my place. It would serve him right if I never went back to the canal.
A loud knock drove Kelly’s thoughts to the back of her mind. She looked at Papa, then Mama. Neither one seemed interested in answering the door.
Kelly sighed and pushed her chair away from the table. Why was she always expected to do everything? She shuffled across the room, feeling as though she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.
She opened the door and was greeted by their landlord, Mable Flannigan. A heavyset, middle-aged woman with bright red hair and sparking blue eyes, Mable had told them that her husband was killed in the War Between the States, and she’d been on her own ever since. The woman had no children to care for and had opened her home to boarders shortly after the war ended nearly twenty-seven years ago. Kelly always wondered why Mrs. Flannigan had never remarried. Could be that she was still pining for her dead husband, or maybe the woman thought she could get along better without a man.
“This came for you in the mornin’s mail,” Mrs. Flannigan said, holding out a package wrapped in brown paper.
Kelly’s forehead wrinkled. “For me?” She couldn’t imagine who would be sending her anything.
The older woman nodded. “It has your name and the address of my boardinghouse right here on the front.”
Kelly took the package and studied the handwriting. Her name was there all right, in big, bold letters. Her heart began to pound, and her hands shook when she saw the return address. It was from Mike Cooper.
Remembering her manners, Kelly opened the door wider. “Would ya like to come in and have a cup of coffee or some tea?”
Mrs. Flannigan shook her head. “Thanks, but I’d better not. I’ve got me some washin’ to do today, and it sure won’t get done if I lollygag over a cup of hot coffee.”
The woman turned to go, and Kelly called, “Thanks for deliverin’ the package.”
A few seconds later, Kelly sat on the sofa, tearing the brown paper away from the box. With trembling hands, she lifted the lid. She let out a little gasp when she saw what the box contained. Her eyes feasted on a tin of store-bought watercolor paints, a real artist’s tablet, and three brushes in various sizes. There was also a note:
Dear Kelly,
I wanted you to have this paint set for your eighteenth birthday. I only wish I could be with you to help celebrate. I hope you’re doing all right, and I’m real anxious for you to return to the canal.
Fondly, your friend,
Mike Cooper
P.S. Please write soon.
Kelly sat for several seconds, trying to understand how Mike could have known today was her birthday and relishing the joy of owning a real set of watercolors, not to mention a store-bought tablet that she hadn’t put together herself. She would be able to paint anything she wanted now, using nearly every shade imaginable.
An image of Mike’s friendly face flashed into Kelly’s mind. She might have mentioned something to him about her birthday being on January 5. The fact that he’d remembered and cared enough to send her a present was almost overwhelming. No one had ever given her a gift like the one she held in her hands.
“Kelly, who was at the door?” Papa hollered from the next room.
She swallowed hard and stood up. Her dad might be mad when he saw the present Mike had sent her, but she wouldn’t lie or hide it from him. While Papa was at work, and after Kelly got home from searching for a job every day, Mama had been reading the Bible out loud, and Kelly had fallen under deep conviction. She’d strayed from God and knew she needed to make things right. It was wrong to lie or hide the truth from her parents. It had been a sin to harbor resentment toward Papa, and with the Lord’s help, she was doing much better in that regard.
Grasping the box with her birthday present inside, Kelly walked back to the kitchen. “Mrs. Flannigan was at the door with a package for me.” Kelly placed the box on the table.
“Who would be sendin’ you anything?” Papa asked, his eyebrows drawing together.
“It’s from Mike Cooper.”
“The storekeeper along the canal?” Mama questioned as she peered into the box.
Kelly nodded. “It’s for my birthday.” She sank into her chair, wondering when the explosion would come.
Mama pulled the tin of watercolors out of the box and held it up. Papa frowned but didn’t say a word. Kelly held her breath.
“What a thoughtful gift,” Mama said. “Now you’ll be able to paint with real colors instead of makin’ colored water out of my vegetables.”
Kelly felt her face heat up. So her mother had known all the time that she was taking carrots, beets, and onions out of the bin. Funny thing, Mama had never said a word about it until now.
“Humph!” Papa snorted. “I hope that man don’t think his gift is gonna buy him my daughter’s hand in marriage.”
“Mike and I are just friends, Papa,” Kelly was quick to say. She turned to face him. “Can I keep it? I promise not to paint when I’m supposed to be workin’.”
“You’ve gotta find a job first,” Papa grumbled. “We’ve been in the city for a whole month already, and not one red cent have you brought in.”
“I’ll look again on Monday,” Kelly promised.
“Why don’tcha try over at the Simon Silk Mill on Bushkill Creek?” Mama suggested. “I hear tell they’re lookin’ to hire a few people there.”
Kelly nodded. “I’ll go first thing on Monday.”
Papa took a long drink from his cup of coffee, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and stood up. “I need to get to work.”
“But it’s Saturday,” Mama reminded.
He leveled her with a disgruntled look. “Don’tcha think I know that, woman? They’re operatin’ the plant six days a week now, and I volunteered to come in today.” His gaze swung over to Kelly. “You can keep the birthday present, but I’d better not find you paintin’ when ya should be out lookin’ for work.”
“Thank you, Papa, and I promise I won’t paint until all my chores are done for the day, neither.” Kelly felt like she could kiss her dad. She didn’t, though. Papa had never been very affectionate, and truth be told, until this moment, Kelly had never felt like kissing him.
Papa grunted, grabbed his jacket off the wall peg, and sauntered out the door.
Mama patted Kelly’s hand. “Tonight I’m fixin’ your favorite supper in honor of your birthday.”
“Hunks-a-go pudding and roast beef?” Kelly asked hopefully.
Mama nodded and grinned. “Might make a chocolate cake for dessert, too.”
Kelly smiled in return, feeling better than she had in weeks. Today turned out to be a better birthday than she’d ever imagined. Now if she could only find a job.
***
As Kelly stood in front of the brick building that housed the Simon Silk Mill, she whispered a prayer, petitioning God to give her a job. She didn’t know any other kind of work besides leading the mules, but Mama had taught her to sew, and she figured that’s what she would be doing if she were hired here. All the other times they’d wintered in Easton, Papa had never demanded Kelly find a job. That was probably because Mama insisted Kelly go to school. She was older now and done with book learning, so it was time to make some money. If only she didn’t have to give it all to Papa. If she could keep the money she earned, Kelly would probably have enough to open her art gallery in no time at all. Of course, she didn’t think she would have the nerve to tell Papa she wasn’t going back to the canal in the spring.
Pushing the door open, Kelly stepped inside the factory and located the main office. She entered the room and told the receptionist she needed a job. Disappointment flooded Kelly’s soul when she was told all the positions at the mill had been taken.
Kelly left the office feeling a sense of frustration. What if she never found a job? Papa would be furious and might make her throw out her art supplies. She couldn’t let that happen. There had to be something she could do.
Kelly was almost to the front door when she bumped into someone. Her mouth dropped open, and she took a step back. “Sarah?”
The young woman with dark brown hair piled high on her head looked at Kelly as if she’d seen a ghost. “Kelly, is that you?”
“It’s me, Sarah. I’m so surprised to see you.”
“And I, you,” her sister replied.
“Do you work here?”
Sarah nodded. “Have been for the last couple of months. Before that, I was home takin’ care of little Sam.”
“Little Sam?”
“Sam Jr.”
“You have a son?” Kelly could hardly believe her sister had a baby they knew nothing about. For that matter, they hadn’t heard anything from Sarah since that one letter telling the family she and Sam had gotten married and were living in New Jersey.
“The baby was born six months ago,” Sarah explained. “Sam was workin’ at Warren Soapstone, but one day he lost his temper with the boss and got fired. So I had to find work, and he’s been home takin’ care of the baby ever since.”
Kelly stood, studying her sister and trying to let all she’d said sink in. Sarah was dressed in a beige-colored cotton blouse and plain brown skirt covered with a black apron. Her shoulders were slumped, and she looked awful tired.
The fact that Sam Turner would allow his wife to work while he stayed home was one more proof for Kelly that men only used women. Sam was no better than Papa. Sarah had run off with Sam to get away from working, and now she was being forced to support not only herself, but her husband and baby as well. It made Kelly sick to the pit of her stomach.
“Are you and the folks stayin’ at the boardinghouse like before?” Sarah’s question drove Kelly’s thoughts to the back of her mind.
“Yes, we’ve been there since early December.” Kelly gave her sister a hug. “I’m sure Mama and Papa would like to see you and the baby ... Sam Sr., too.”
When Sarah pulled away, tears stood in her dark eyes. “Oh, please don’t say anything to the folks about seein’ me today.”
“Why not?”
“Papa always hated Sam, and when we tried to tell him we were in love and wanted to get married, he blew up and said if we did, he’d punch Sam in the nose.”
Kelly flinched at the memory. She’d been there and could understand why her sister might be afraid to confront their dad now.
“I won’t say a word,” Kelly promised, “but I would sure like to see my nephew. You think there’s any way that could be arranged?”
Sarah gave a tired smile. “I’d like you to meet little Sam. Mama, too, for that matter. Maybe the two of you can come by our apartment sometime soon. Let me talk it over with my husband first, though.”
“How will we get in touch with you?”
Sarah looked thoughtful. “Is Papa workin’ every day?”
Kelly nodded. “Over at Glendon Iron Furnace, even Saturdays now.”