Page 36 of A New World for the Irish Daughter

She was closest to Wilhemina, whose lively sense of humor was so different from her own, but Wilhemina’s family lived nearby and she was often visiting them on her days off.

While Maggie still visited her family and Brendan, she didn’t feel close to them, either. The longer she trained as a nurse, the more distant the colorful and chaotic life at the parlor house seemed. Her father and brother had continued to involve themselves in some business down by the waterfront that they didn’t go into, but they certainly seemed flush, ebullient with their own success.

The last time she’d visited, her da had brandished a bottle of champagne and a box of Ghirardelli chocolates which he’d insisted Maggie take back to the hospital. She’d shared the chocolates with the nurses, and everyone had been grateful, but eventhathad made her feel alone. They’d all gossiped and chatted together as they’d gorged on the chocolates, and she’d been left standing with an empty box.

Maybe, Maggie reflected, she simply wasn’tgoodat friendship. Her pride always seemed to get in the way, even when she so desperately didn’t want it to. She thought of Tovah, who had been her closest friend back in New York. She hadn’t written her in months. Maybe she needed to.

She could certainly stop with the self-pity, Maggie decided as she left the supply cupboard with a tincture of belladonna. She was very fortunate indeed to be where she was, on the cusp of earning her certification, and hopefully being offered a position right here at the hospital. Wilhemina had already been offered a position in a private home, for a consumptive patient, in Monterey, closer to her family, and she would leave at the end of June. Maggie hoped by then she would have had an offer as well.

Casting off her maudlin reflections, she hurried down the corridor. “Here we are,” she told the asthmatic girl as she proffered the bottle with a warm smile. “You’ll be feeling better shortly, I’m sure of it.”

It was after seven before Maggie was able to head back to the nurses’ residence through a deepening dusk. It was a beautiful evening, the cherry trees in full, blowsy blossom, a few stars just starting to glimmer on the horizon, the evening air still holding the day’s warmth.

“Maggie, you have a caller,” Wilhemina told her excitedly as she came into the residence, shedding her cloak and unpinning her cap.

“A caller?” Maggie repeated, surprised. She could not think who it could be.

“A gentleman caller,” Wilhemina clarified, her eyes dancing, and Maggie gave a little shake of her head, mystified as well as bemused. Philip was in Berlin, and she didn’t know any other gentlemen. “He’s in the sitting room.”

Wilhemina waited in the hall, clearly dying for news, as, with some trepidation, Maggie opened the door to the sitting room.

Brendan stood in the middle of the room, his hat in his hands, his expression alarmingly somber.

“Brendan!” Quickly, Maggie stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. He had never come to visit her before, and she had never even seen him outside the Barbary Coast. It had not occurred to her that he might come here, and the sight of him brought a rush of feeling—surprise, of course, along with happiness, and then a sudden, deep unease as she noted the look on his face. “Has something happened?” she asked, her stomach swooping with nerves.

She could tell from the way his mouth drooped down at the corners, that something had. He wouldn’t have come all this way otherwise.

“Is it Danny?” she asked in a halting voice. “Or Da?”

Brendan’s eyes drooped further as he gave her a look so full of compassion that it nearly made her knees buckle. “I’m sorry, Maggie.”

A gasp escaped her and she covered her mouth with her hand. Were theydead? They’d gotten into trouble again, and this time it had finally caught up with them. She wasn’t evensurprised, and yet…

On watery legs, Maggie lowered herself onto the sofa, her hand still covering her mouth. “You mean they’re…” She couldn’t bear to say it. “What… what has happened?” she asked faintly.

“They’re all right,” Brendan assured her quickly. “It’s not—that.” He came to sit down beside her, and for a second, no more, she longed to lean into him. “But I’m afraid they’re in trouble.”

Again.Briefly, Maggie closed her eyes.

“What kind of trouble?” she whispered.

“With a gang,” Brendan admitted. “And also with the police.”

Maggie tried for a laugh but only managed a rasping sound that threatened to turn into a sob. “Both? That’s quite an accomplishment,” she finally remarked, her voice wobbling only a little.

“Isn’t it, though?” Brendan smiled at her in sympathy, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “They had a good run of it, I suppose. They’ve been at it for almost two years.”

Atwhat? Did she even want to know? Maggie sighed and leaned back against the sofa. She felt bone-weary, both from her ten-hour shift and the news that once again her feckless father and brother had landed in such trouble—and this time it seemed it might have consequences.

“So, what happened?” she asked. “How did they get into thispraiseach, whatever it is?” She used the old Gaelic term for a mess—for it was surely a mess her father and brother were in.

Brendan let out a long sigh as he settled himself against the sofa. “I don’t know all the details, but their business at the waterfront involved a shell game.”

“A shell game?” She’d never heard of such a thing before.

“A confidence trick,” Brendan explained. “People pay to play—there are three shells or cups, with a dried pea or some such hidden underneath one. The magician, or hustler, shuffles the shells and then the poor sap has to guess which one is hiding the pea. It’s almost always rigged.”

“Rigged? How?”