“Trin, if you are ready, we can go now. There is no shame in waiting. Or not going at all.” Maeve comforts my wife with a soft smile. The enduring friendship the four of us have formed over the years is just one of many reasons I am forever grateful that Emil chose to visit Magnus Mining all those years ago. My wife had friends in the patch, and they were quite sad to see her leave. Most of the relationships she had in Magnus were built on proximity and necessity. They were all struggling and Trinli made them a true community. They looked to her to lead, to make the hard decisions, to shoulder the burden of hundreds ofmouths to feed. They took orders, but no one besides Margaret took the time to get to know Trinli. To look deeper than the composed persona she shows the world.
Trinli is soft and sweet and vulnerable. She is there for everyone else; I am here for her. Maeve and Emil too. They have shown us what true friendship means, and we are blessed to have them in our lives.
Trin shakes her head with a huff. “No. I am ready. Or as ready as I will ever be. You all do not need to accompany me. I can go on my own.” Several growls of displeasure respond to her absurd suggestion, and she rolls her eyes and stomps off. I catch up to her as the boys trail behind us. Emil and Maeve leisurely taking in the sights as we progress through the city.
“I am proud of you,a mhuirnin.”
“Thank you.” I offer my elbow and she slides her arm through, glancing at me from the side of her eye. “I do not care much of their opinion on me…but my children, you, Emil and Maeve…”
“And that is how we feel about you. I dare them say one cross word to you. We are not here for any purpose other than supporting you, love. I think it is time to put them to rest in your mind, to bar them from taking any time or energy from you again. Tell them what you need to say and be done with them.”
“The only reason I am doing this is because we were coming here anyway to pick up Aunt Olga. They are not worth the train fare to get here. I just want them to see that…despite them, I am someone.”
“You are. A wonderful mother to eleven beautiful delinquents. A wife I thank God every day for putting in my path and giving me the brains to make you mine. A woman of industry, facilitating contracts with world governments, and creating a safe work environment for her employees and their families. He tradedyou for $18 of cheese, but you know you are worth far more than that.”
Clicking her tongue, her top lip stretches into a wicked smirk. “In today’s market, at least $25.”
“I love ye, Trin.”
“I know you do. I feel it in your arms, your kisses, your touch, in your every action. And I love you, Paddy. I hope you know that I do.” She stops us on the busy sidewalk, turns to me and cups my face. I slide my arms around her waist and rest my forehead on hers. “I would go through it all again knowing it would lead me to you.”
I kiss her soundly, always hungry for her. This is not the time or place, however, so I force myself to pull back. “I would have offered at least $22 to your father.”
Her laughter floats on the sea breeze, her eyes less haunted. “Well, now you can offer him a swift kick to his old, wrinkled arse and it will not cost you a cent.”
Trinli 17.
Why am I doing this? Why am I putting myself through this? I have come so far in the last 18 years, why go back? Why am I trying to heal in a place that has only hurt me?
I watch my three eldest sons walk through the crowded streets of Baltimore. The broad set of Jakob’s shoulders, the way Riordan and Gabriel mimic their big brother, though they are smaller in stature and build. When I look at them and Noemi, sometimes, I try to find Darragh in their features, their mannerisms, their demeanor. But he is not there. All eleven of my babes are a perfect combination of me and Paddy. It defies science or logic, but it is true, nonetheless.
We are raising good men and women. Strong. Compassionate. Capable. Intelligent human beings and I am so damn proud of them. And that is the reason I am heading to my parent’s home, facing an ugly past that for all the pain and suffering molded me into the woman I am. And I like who I am. Ilovewho I am. And so do Paddy, my children, my best friends Emil and Maeve, our friends on the estate, my employees. My business contacts respect me, look to me for answers and solutions. I am worthy.
Standing outside the store front that once held my father’s cheese shop, I am surprised to find it filled with candy. A confectionary. Odd. I walk along the side of the building, a small alley that leads to the entrance of my childhood home and knock on the same wooden door I remember from youth. My heartraces, knowing I will be seeing my family in moments, my palms damp with sweat.
A young woman answers the door. She is unfamiliar. We stare at one another in silence for a few seconds before I gather my wits. “Hello. I am looking for the Ebersoles.”
“Ebersoles?” Her brow bunches as she tries to place the name. I thought she might have been a niece or the wife of a nephew. “Oh, the family who lived here before us. Let me ask papa.” She steps outside and walks swiftly toward the mouth of the alley. She turns the corner and enters the store. “Papa! Papa!”
“Eloise, how many times must I remind you not to yell like a fishwife?”
“At least once more. There are people here looking for the Ebersoles who owned this building before we moved in.” A gentleman not much older than I, steps out from behind the counter, wiping his hands on the towel that rests upon his shoulder. He greets us with a warm smile.
“Hello. You are asking after the Ebersoles?”
“Aye, do ye know where we might find them?” Paddy slides a comforting hand around my waist as he steps beside me. I lean into his warmth, a sudden chill running down my spine. Am I too late? Have my parents passed? It would not be unheard of; they are in their seventies now. It just never occurred to me, which thinking on it now was terribly naïve of me not to consider their advanced years.
“Last I heard, they had moved to Pigtown on the southwest side of the city.”
“Pigtown? Whyever would they be living there?”
The man’s expression turns sympathetic. “The elder Mr. and Mrs. Ebersole moved in with one of their children. A son, I believe, who worked in one of the meatpacking facilities.”
“One of my brothers works with meat?” I whisper to myself, flabbergasted at such a notion. My father demanded much from his sons, expecting them to rise above blue-collar work and make names for themselves. Pigtown, while housing in-demand industries like meatpacking and the railroad, was not much better than Fells Point at the port. I am horrified…with a bit of smug satisfaction. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
Stop that, Trinli. Such pettiness is beneath you.
“Trin, I hear the sound of mighty men falling.” I smack Maeve’s arm blindly with a smirk. This is why she and I are such good friends.
