“Any babies on their way?”
I think back to this morning and my grin grows. “Too early to tell, but I am honored to keep trying.” We share a chuckle. “Though, Trinli has four babes from her first marriage.”
“Widow?”
“Aye. She was married to a spineless philandering weasel. He passed in a collapse 8 months ago.” Emil’s dark eyebrows shoot up his forehead in surprise.
“You do not waste any time, do you?”
“Well, truth be told, I would have taken her and the babes away from him if it were legal. However, when he died, the company gave Trinli 5 days to either marry another miner or leave.”
“5 days?!?” He rubs his hand over the back of his head and glares in the direction of the office. “Her husband, weasel or no, died in a collapse of their mine, and they gave her less than a week to remarry or she would be homeless?” I nod, that would be the gist of it. “And tell me, were they giving her any type of compensatory package to assist her financially?” I shake my head and his glare hardens. “You are paid in company money, correct?”
“Aye.”
“Hmm.” He is quiet for a few moments. “This is rather forward, I apologize for imposing, but I wonder if I might join you and your lovely family for supper this evening?”
“Oh.” Well, you could knock me over with a feather, I was not expecting that at all. Yet the idea of conversing with him more is appealing. “Of course, it is Trin’s day to prepare chicken stew for the patch.”
“The patch?”
Smiling proudly once more, I point in the direction of our little patch town. “It is easier to show you, sir. My Trinli will amaze you.”
Trinli 15.
Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I finish dishing out the hot chicken stew into individual pots.
“Jakob?” I call out for my eldest, cocking my head to listen for his response or the stomping of little feet.
“Mutti!” He comes running inside, Riordan right behind him and a couple of the neighbor boys.
“Please ring the bell.” I had Padraig install a simple bell to be rung whenever the community meal preparation is complete. We all take turns baking or cooking something nearly every day, this was easier to let everyone know their portion was ready to pick up. The boys have such a fun time pulling the string to ring it. Noemi puts her hands over her ears because of the noise but still grins or giggles every time.
Half the pots are gone when I feel strong arms encircle my waist from behind. With a contented sigh, I lean back into Paddy’s chest, letting him take my weight. I missed him. It has been hours that feel like days. This is love. In its purest form. And something that has been sorely missing from my life. I have never met a couple more connected than Paddy and I. Longevity does not equal happiness, it does not equal respect, admiration, or love. Paddy and I burn with a passion I did not know existed and can no longer live without. These last eight months have been wonderous. I sleep better, my headaches have lessened, theboys are carefree…we are unburdened. Darragh’s death set us free. To love and be loved the way we deserve.
I pity my parents, my siblings, the other wives of the patch. They will never know how extraordinary love can be. And until Paddy, I was as oblivious as they. Accepting the life I had been dealt, existing by the whims and machinations of others, surviving on scraps. I live in the same patch, I have the same friends, however, the difference in my life from Darragh to Paddy is absolutely remarkable. And I will fight with everything I have to keep it. For my babes. For myself. For Paddy.
“A mhuirnin. You smell good. Like potatoes.” Laughing, I turn in Paddy’s arms and wrap mine around his waist. I breathe him in and melt into his embrace. He is my forever home.
“Has something happened? Why are you home so soon?”
“Wish me gone, do ye?”
I squeeze tighter and make a small, distressed sound. “Never.”
“I brought someone to meet ye. He will be staying for supper.” Unusual, but it is no worry, we have plenty.
I release him and step back, wiping my hands on my towel, then glance up and smile at the man near our front door. He is wearing dirty overalls, but something about him speaks to the finer things in life. If Paddy brought him home for supper, he must be a decent fella.
“Welcome to our home. I am Trinli Fitzgerald, Padraig’s wife.” I reach out a hand for him to shake, he eyes it with a grin, then takes it enthusiastically.
“Emil Laurent. It is a pleasure to meet you, Trinli. Your Paddy has been talking my ear off about you; I just had to meet you.” He inhales deeply, his nostrils flaring, as he releases my hand.“It smells delicious in here. Paddy tells me it is chicken stew night for the patch.”
The longer Emil Laurent is in our home, the more he feels like a long-lost friend. We spend hours chatting over supper, he reads to the boys, helps clean up, all while engaging both Paddy and I in meaningful conversation. He treats Paddy as a friend, and I am no different. My opinions, experiences, my work in the patch and the tenement back in Baltimore all matter to him as he asks question after question.
“A company is only as strong as its employees. If they are mistreated, undervalued, or mismanaged a company has no hope for long term success or loyalty. That thinking has served me well in business, and in life, if I am honest. From our tour, Paddy, and in speaking with you on more personal matters…I am looking to partner with an employee-first company. ‘Miner-friendly’, if you will. Do you consider Magnus Mining Company a company that puts its employees first?”
I bite my tongue and stare wide-eyed at Paddy as he considers his answer. Finally, my husband sags in his seat and exhales shakily. “I do not, sir.”
