turned on Kathleen.
“You are most ungrateful,” she had accused, the tears welling in her eyes. “After all these years of giving you a home and shelter—and you reward me in this fashion. How could you? You—you are a most—most unreasonable, unworthy wench !” She had spat out the last words, seeming to strain to find something bad enough to say about the slight girl who stood trembling before her.
Only Bridget had been genuinely sad to see Kathleen leave her. “I shall miss you dreadfully,” she had said through unchecked tears.
“And I you,” replied Kathleen, holding the young girl close. And Kathleen’s tears had trickled down her face and fallen in the younger girl’s tumbling hair.
“You will write?” Bridget had begged.
“As soon as I have an address to send you,” Kathleen had promised.
Bridget had pulled back and studied Kathleen’s face, the shock showing in her own. “You mean you don’t even know where you are going?” she asked in a whisper.
Kathleen had shaken her head. “I signed up too late,” she confessed. “There was no time to—to be matched—with an American. But Mr. Jenks said not to worry. He will make all those arrangements once we arrive.”
Bridget’s face had still reflected astonishment as Kathleen pulled her close one last time and patted her shoulder.
“Sure now, and take care of yourself,” Kathleen had managed, her accent heavy with her concern.
Bridget had managed to nod her head as she wiped at tears and then whispered conspiratorially, “When I get a bit older, I’m coming to America too.”
Kathleen had stepped back and looked at her sister.
“I am!” Bridget had declared vehemently.
Kathleen had given Bridget one more hug. “I’ll be waiting for you and that’s the truth of it,” she had whispered against the girl’s hair.
“There you are!”
It was Erma who interrupted Kathleen’s thoughts. Reluctantly she turned from the rail to attempt a smile for her newfound friend.
“Are you still watching jolly ol’ England?” asked Erma, teasing in her voice.
Kathleen shook her head. “There is nothing to see now but fog,” she replied and had a hard time trying to disguise the tremor in her voice.
“Come. We are having a party,” invited Erma.
“A party? What—”
“A celebration really. We have all gathered in a small room down below, and Mr. Jenks is serving wine and cheese.”
Kathleen felt that she would rather stay where she was, the salty sea wind flecking her cheeks and tugging at her hair, but reluctantly she followed the other girl.
She had been more than pleased when they had gathered for boarding to find Peg and the robust Erma chatting and giggling in their excitement over the new venture on which they were about to embark. She and Erma seemed to respond to each other immediately, and Kathleen was glad to discover that she was to share a cabin with Peg, Erma, and two other girls by the names of Nona Paulsen and Beatrice Little.
It was crowded, for sure, but Kathleen was glad for the companionship, at least until she made some adjustments to leaving behind everything that was familiar.
Now she allowed Erma to take her hand and lead her hurriedly along the ship’s polished, slippery planks. They went down a short flight of steps, took a turn down a narrow hallway, a right into another hall, a few more steps, another hall, up five steps, and again a right. Kathleen was beginning to feel dizzy.
“Wherever are we going?” she asked breathlessly.
“This is a special occasion,” laughed Erma. “Mr. Jenks has reserved a special room. This is not where we normally will take our meals.”
“I should hope not and that’s for sure,” responded Kathleen. “I would never find it a second time.”
Erma laughed. “You’ll get used to the ship,” she promised. “They are all laid out generally the same.”
Kathleen was surprised. “You’ve sailed before?” she asked the girl, who was still tugging her
“You are most ungrateful,” she had accused, the tears welling in her eyes. “After all these years of giving you a home and shelter—and you reward me in this fashion. How could you? You—you are a most—most unreasonable, unworthy wench !” She had spat out the last words, seeming to strain to find something bad enough to say about the slight girl who stood trembling before her.
Only Bridget had been genuinely sad to see Kathleen leave her. “I shall miss you dreadfully,” she had said through unchecked tears.
“And I you,” replied Kathleen, holding the young girl close. And Kathleen’s tears had trickled down her face and fallen in the younger girl’s tumbling hair.
“You will write?” Bridget had begged.
“As soon as I have an address to send you,” Kathleen had promised.
Bridget had pulled back and studied Kathleen’s face, the shock showing in her own. “You mean you don’t even know where you are going?” she asked in a whisper.
Kathleen had shaken her head. “I signed up too late,” she confessed. “There was no time to—to be matched—with an American. But Mr. Jenks said not to worry. He will make all those arrangements once we arrive.”
Bridget’s face had still reflected astonishment as Kathleen pulled her close one last time and patted her shoulder.
“Sure now, and take care of yourself,” Kathleen had managed, her accent heavy with her concern.
Bridget had managed to nod her head as she wiped at tears and then whispered conspiratorially, “When I get a bit older, I’m coming to America too.”
Kathleen had stepped back and looked at her sister.
“I am!” Bridget had declared vehemently.
Kathleen had given Bridget one more hug. “I’ll be waiting for you and that’s the truth of it,” she had whispered against the girl’s hair.
“There you are!”
It was Erma who interrupted Kathleen’s thoughts. Reluctantly she turned from the rail to attempt a smile for her newfound friend.
“Are you still watching jolly ol’ England?” asked Erma, teasing in her voice.
Kathleen shook her head. “There is nothing to see now but fog,” she replied and had a hard time trying to disguise the tremor in her voice.
“Come. We are having a party,” invited Erma.
“A party? What—”
“A celebration really. We have all gathered in a small room down below, and Mr. Jenks is serving wine and cheese.”
Kathleen felt that she would rather stay where she was, the salty sea wind flecking her cheeks and tugging at her hair, but reluctantly she followed the other girl.
She had been more than pleased when they had gathered for boarding to find Peg and the robust Erma chatting and giggling in their excitement over the new venture on which they were about to embark. She and Erma seemed to respond to each other immediately, and Kathleen was glad to discover that she was to share a cabin with Peg, Erma, and two other girls by the names of Nona Paulsen and Beatrice Little.
It was crowded, for sure, but Kathleen was glad for the companionship, at least until she made some adjustments to leaving behind everything that was familiar.
Now she allowed Erma to take her hand and lead her hurriedly along the ship’s polished, slippery planks. They went down a short flight of steps, took a turn down a narrow hallway, a right into another hall, a few more steps, another hall, up five steps, and again a right. Kathleen was beginning to feel dizzy.
“Wherever are we going?” she asked breathlessly.
“This is a special occasion,” laughed Erma. “Mr. Jenks has reserved a special room. This is not where we normally will take our meals.”
“I should hope not and that’s for sure,” responded Kathleen. “I would never find it a second time.”
Erma laughed. “You’ll get used to the ship,” she promised. “They are all laid out generally the same.”
Kathleen was surprised. “You’ve sailed before?” she asked the girl, who was still tugging her
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