Chapter Seven

Two weeks in the Adams household slipped by like soft butter on hot biscuits. Finola’s attention to detail and dedication to the art of housekeeping turned the neglected house back into a home. Young Liam glowed with restored health, and his bright young face shone with excitement.

“Finola, Finola,” he called to her one morning. “Guess what? Father says I can return to school in the new term.”

“Wonderful, Liam.” She joined in his excitement and gave him a hug.

“And it’s all because of you. If you weren’t so smart and such a good taking-care-of-people kind of person, I would have died,” he added with solemn words.

“Ach, go on with you now. Old Finola is just here to help. It’s me job.”

Liam nodded. “But still, I was very lucky that you came here when you did.”

“It weren’t luck, Liam. It was God’s will.”

“Then I’m glad. I thank Him and you both.”

“Me, too,” she agreed. “Now, we’re going on an adventure today. Get dressed and meet me downstairs.”

Liam jumped up and down on his bed. “Hurrah! An adventure with my favorite Finola.”

The young Irish woman smiled to herself as she descended the stairs to serve the child his breakfast. He was so spry and full of life now. And there was no denying that her fondness for him was returned in spades. His laughter, his intelligence, his affections—all these made Liam more precious to her. Her maternal instincts and the endless love in her heart had been stirred to life by this child, feelings that she thought had died with wee Siobahn.

By the time she had a hearty breakfast of oatmeal, cinnamon toast, fruit, and milk to the table, Liam was there waiting with a mischievous glint in his eye. He eyed the food like a starving wolf.

“Just a minute now,” she warned him. “Don’t be forgetting to thank the good Lord above for all this fine food you’re about to eat.”

“Oh, yes. Lord, bless this food and the bounty of your enduring love. Amen.”

Tears caught in her eyes. He never failed to surprise her.

“Where are we going today, Finola?” he asked between bites. “May I have some more?”

She took his empty oatmeal bowl. “Well, we are going for a long walk, since Carmine is no longer here to drive us. After the last bout of my driving the carriage, I fear your father would faint dead away should I do it again.”

Liam nodded in agreement as she brought him a refilled dish. “This is delicious. And yes, I think you are right about my father. Although, I do see women driving carriages and doing more and more things without men. I think it is a good thing.”

“I do, too,” she agreed, nodding her head. “But we may have to give your dear da a little time.”

“So where are we going on this walk?”

“I’ve been here nigh on to a month, and I don’t even know where the church is. I thought I’d like to find it.” Taking her small hand into hers, she patted it with affection. “I’d like very much to thank the Lord who helped me find my way to you.”

“Yes, that is an excellent idea.” Liam nodded. “Can we pack a lunch?”

“I’m beginning to think you are a bottomless pit, lad.”

He grinned and bit into his third slice of toast.

****

Frigid and clear, the December day lifted her spirits ever higher as the two set out for the eight-block walk to the Cathedral of the Assumption. As they strolled, Finola and Liam remarked on the beautiful green wreaths tied with red ribbons adorning the homes they passed.

“Christmas is coming on soon.” She blew a cloud of steam into the air. “I always get so much more homesick at Christmas.”

“Just wait and see, Finola. This will be the best Christmas you ever had.” Liam kept up with her steady pace without so much as a wheeze. “We will all be so happy.”

A poster on the brick wall of a clothing store caught her eye, and she paused to read it. A holiday concert featuring singers who had appeared in New York, London, and Paris. Her heart thudded as she read the names. “Mary Louise Rankin.”

“Ach! It’s me friend from the train.”

“You know her?” Liam was incredulous that his very own Finola should know a stage star.

“Oh, yes. Remember when I first came here? I told you about the lovely young woman I met on the train? She was traveling alone, just like me. We sat together, and she lent me a book.” Her heart suddenly felt as though it would beat out of her chest with excitement. “I’d love to see her again.”

Liam smiled. “Well, it is Christmas. Perhaps you will.”

The two resumed their walk and within minutes arrived at the church.

She stared up into the blinding December sun, losing the tall building in the light. “It’s like something from Heaven,” she gasped. “I’ve never seen such a fine church!”

Liam shrugged. “It’s a nice one, I guess. Let’s go inside. I’m freezing.”

She took his hand as they climbed the stone steps and went inside. Dipping her fingers delicately in the holy water by the door, she crossed herself and stepped down the main aisle into the quiet cathedral. Others knelt at benches, some with rosaries in their hands, praying for their many individual needs. A woman wept in one of the pews next to the wall. As she sat under the stained glass window, Finola watched as the winter sun shone through St. Mary’s blue robe and danced on the desolate stranger’s shoulders.

Liam followed her as she genuflected at a pew and slipped in. They both knelt and began the litany of prayers for thanksgiving and praise. The air around them was charged with murmured prayers, and then a pipe organ in the loft began a low, mournful hymn.

Finola steadfastly kept to her knees until her apologies to God were complete for having missed mass since she came to Louisville. “And I will be a much better housekeeper, woman, and Catholic now that I’ve settled out,” she promised Him. “Oh, and I want to be thanking Ye again for saving my sprite. I’ve come to love the little man, and I praise Your Holy Name for keeping him here. And his da too.”

Timothy’s face danced behind her closed eyes. She clenched them tighter to block him out, but her mind was having none of that. Finola’s mortification at having less than employer/housekeeper feelings was bad enough, but in church? She’d bring the wrath of the ages down upon their heads.

“Are you unwell, Finola?”

“Yes, no, I mean I’m fine,” she whispered to Liam. Saints preserve us, she thought with desperation. I’d even forgotten for a moment the lad was here.

After her prayers were finished, she sat beside her quiet charge and lost herself in contemplative solitude as the organ played hymn after hymn.

“Can we go now?” Liam begged at last. “My legs are antsy.”

“Yes, we may go now.”

The two walked in silence, their scarves and hats bundled into place against the freezing wind. As they rounded a corner, she pulled at Liam’s arm. “Let’s go in this café and get something hot to drink.”

“Yes, ma’am!” The child’s eyes shone with excitement and with something that Finola could only put down to love.

“You’re a fine lad, do you know that?” she asked.

“Ahh, go on with you.” He said it with such a dead-on likeness of her own accent that she laughed.

“What am I going to do with me time when you return to school?”

Liam opened the café door for her, and her heart swelled with pride. Such a gentleman, just like his father. Timothy’s return to her thoughts made her heart skip a beat.

They took a table in the back of the crowded café and ordered mugs of hot chocolate and a plate of cinnamon buns. Liam’s red cheeks looked as if they were stinging from the cold wind. Perhaps, she thought, they should get a cab home instead of walking. The last thing she wanted was for the boy to become ill again.

The waiter brought their chocolate and cinnamon buns with a small pot of fresh butter. Liam eagerly reached for his share, but Finola stopped him and reminded him of their pre-meal prayers. With that done, they divided the buns and sipped their hot chocolate.

“My, but these are good,” Finola commented.

“Yes, but not as good as yours,” Liam replied, wiping the mustache of foam away from his lips.

Before she could thank him for such a grand compliment, someone placed a hand upon her shoulder. Finola looked up and could not believe her eyes.

“I thought I recognized that Irish brogue.”

Finola stared in shock. Who should be standing there in front of her other than herself, Mary Louise Rankin. The actress was bundled in a dashing black cape with fur trimming around the hood that framed her lovely face in a halo. Her cheeks were a vibrant pink, and blond curls tumbled out around the hood.

“Miss Rankin,” Finola cried. “As I live and breathe!”

The blonde beauty laughed heartily and hugged her friend “That’s Mary Louise to you, my old friend. Oh, it’s so good to see you.”

Finola returned the hug, breathing in the rich aroma of fine perfume. “Aye, and for me too. This is me charge, Liam. Liam, this is me friend, Miss Mary Louise Rankin.”

“The actress?” asked Liam, his eyes shining bright. He rose and took her hand like a true gentleman. Finola’s heart again swelled to bursting with pride for the lad.

“Why, yes I am. You’ve heard of me?” The actress fluttered her eyelashes in coy teasing.

Liam pulled a chair out for her. “Oh, yes. I’ve heard all about you. Please, join us.”

Mary Louise winked at Finola with surreptitious humor. “I see someone has learned their manners and social graces.”

The waiter brought an extra cup and a fresh pot of hot chocolate. Mary Louise removed her cape and handed it to him to store. Finola patted her friend’s hand as she admired the emerald green satin of her dress and the cream tatted lace around the neckline and sleeves.

“And what are you doing, Miss…Mary Louise? I’ve never been so surprised in me life.”

“I’m in town to do a Christmas show. Oh, I hope you can come. I’d love for you to be there.” Mary Louise’s curls bobbed as her enthusiasm captured their attention.

“Well, I’d have to ask Mr. Adams,” Finola hedged. She, Finola McNamara, in a theater? The idea was far too grandiose to even consider, but…maybe.

“The three of you should come on opening night. I have a very nice part in this one. I’d love to have you as my guests. We open on the twentieth. Please say yes.”

Liam and Finola looked at one another with desperate hope. Could they? Dare they?

“Yes.” Liam accepted with sudden bravado. “Yes, we shall. Thank you, Miss Rankin.”

“You are welcome, Master Adams. And I shall look forward to seeing all three of you there. Now, I must run. Finola, I’ve missed you. We can’t slip away from one another again. Here, take this.” She handed a small card to her.

As the stunning actress motioned for her cape and made her way to the door, turning every head in the café as she did so, Finola looked at the card in her hand. It read: Mary Louise Rankin, 30 Pomeroy Lane, Louisville, Kentucky.

“Liam,” Finola said, “we need to be getting home. The day’s growing long and your da will be expecting his meal.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered. “That was rather odd, don’t you think?”

“Yes, lad. It was.”

The two caught a cabriolet and rode back to the house in time to straighten up and get supper on the table. Liam was in the kitchen helping Finola when Timothy arrived home.

“What’s this? Are you turning into a houseboy?” he asked, wrapping the lad into his arms.

“I’m just helping out. Finola and I went into town today, so I thought she might need a little help.”

“And what good help he is, too, sir. Did you know he can peel potatoes like a professional chef?” She beamed at her charge with pride.

“Is that right?” Timothy asked, his eyes dancing with amusement. “And what did you two do in town?”

Finola cleared her throat and said, “We went to noonday mass, and then we stopped for hot chocolate.”

“Wonderful. You didn’t get too cold, did you?”

“No, Da. But wait until you hear who we saw…”

She again coughed a bit.

Timothy frowned. “Are you getting sick, Finola?”

“No, sir. Not at all. Do you remember me telling you about the lady I met on the train coming here from St. Louis?”

“Yes, an actress or something,” he said, browsing through the newspaper while Liam fetched his coffee.

“Yes, sir. That’s her. Miss Mary Louise Rankin. Well, it was none other than herself that we saw today.”

“Is that right?” Timothy’s eyes scanned the columns of newsprint, only half listening to her.

“Yes, ‘twas. And she’s starring in a Christmas show. She invited the three of us to go.”

“Well, that’s nice.”

Silence permeated the kitchen, mingling with the smells of ham and potatoes. Finola and Liam exchanged confused looks. Well?

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“May we go, sir?”

Timothy looked over the edge of his paper. “Go? Where are you going?”

“To Miss Rankin’s Christmas show at the theater. She invited the three of us.”

He wrinkled his brow and thought for a moment. “You and Liam may go. I have no interest in that sort of thing.”

Finola didn’t know whether to sigh with relief or cry with frustration.

“Da, you must go. It will be something to see.” Liam took the newspaper from his father’s hands. “Miss Rankin is very beautiful, and she’s Finola’s friend. The tickets are free. Please go, Da. Please?”

Timothy looked at his son with amusement. “Beautiful, eh? You’re noticing such things now, are you?”

Liam blushed and nodded his head.

“All right, we shall all go. But for now, may I have some supper before I fade away?”

Finola smiled with great relief. “Yes, sir. You may. After the both of you wash your hands. Scoot!”

Timothy turned back toward her with a smile. “So now I’m Da?”

She nodded and watched them go, feeling for all the world as if she were more highly blessed than any other woman on earth.