Page 14 of Calling on the Matchmaker
With a prayer of thanksgiving at the forefront of his mind, Riley trotted down the narrow stairway of the tenement, the sour waft of cabbage and fish a permanent scent embedded into the thin walls of the building.
At midday the tenement was fairly quiet, the crying of a babe coming from behind a closed door and the squeal of little tykes at play from another. Most children—including his sisters—were at school. Dad and Eleanor, like many others, took full advantage of the free education offered by the city. Jefferson School over on Wash Street wasn’t fancy, and the classrooms were crowded, but it was a fair share better than no education at all.
Not only were most children absent from the tenement, but the majority of adult residents toiled long hours each day to provide for their families. Largely unskilled, they took whatever employment they could find. Many of the men labored as stevedores, loading and unloading cargo from the dozens of steamships that carried goods to and from St. Louis. Others worked in factories or in construction.
Some of the lucky Irish like his father had a trade and wereable to establish a profitable business for themselves. But most struggled not only to provide the basics for their families, they also faced an increasing hostility among the non-Irish of the city. Just recently on one of his excursions into the wealthier shops and businesses, he’d noticed a Help Wanted sign in a window that said:No Irish Need Apply.
Such discrimination set Riley’s stomach to churning worse than a summer storm blowing off the river. At times like that, he wished he could do more for people than just rescue them from danger and death. It was why he’d so easily agreed to running for mayor. Because he hoped the position would allow him to make a difference for not only the Irish, but for all those who were struggling in a city stretching at the seams.
Tucking his coat lapel closed and pulling down the brim of his hat, Riley pushed open the front door of the tenement and stepped out into another gray winter day with no sunshine in sight. Today, he wouldn’t—couldn’t—complain about a single thing. His dad was alive and that was all that mattered.
A bitter gust of wind greeted him as he paused at the top step of the building his family had lived in for ages. Even though his dad had grown prosperous and could afford to move into a better place, he’d chosen to stay in the Kerry Patch and live a humble life among the Irish community. Not only that, but the residence was close to the wagon shop.
Riley pulled in a deep breath, the chill in the air filling his lungs and clearing his head. After the past two days and nights spent by his father’s bed in the dark room, he was not only tired, but he also needed a breath of fresh air. And though he’d been reluctant to leave his dad’s bedside, Eleanor had finally all but pushed him out the door, telling him to go to his apartment or go to work or go do anything besides worry about his dad.
Riley glanced west past the rows upon rows of dingy tenements that lined the street, some of them with nicknames like Clabber Alley, Wild Cat Chute, and Castle Thunder. In thewarmer months, the view would have been congested with the clothing hung out to get a blow from lines that stretched from the upper windows of residences on either side of the street. But during this time of year, most women didn’t do laundry, or if they did—like Eleanor—they strung up lines inside so the garments wouldn’t wear out from so much freezing.
He shifted his sights to the east and could see all the way to the river through the dark haze that came from the nonstop exhaust pumping from the city’s many coal-powered factories and smoke billowing from dozens upon dozens of steamships that docked along the levee. The loud bellows of the smokestacks were so common, he almost didn’t think about the noise.
But the stench? With the tallow factories, slaughterhouses, and tanneries nearby, the smell of hot fat, blood, and rotting flesh was constant. In addition, many places didn’t have proper sewer systems, so people were dumping sewage into creeks, ponds, and the Mississippi River. If that wasn’t bad enough, privies were being erected without any direction, and some were too close to wells and cisterns.
In one part of St. Louis, an engineer had developed limestone sinkholes to form a natural sewer, but Riley had heard that during heavy rains the sinkholes backed up, forming large ponds of human waste that only added to the stench.
When he became mayor, he’d find a better solution.
“Well, young Riley Rafferty,” called a stoop-shouldered man shuffling up the steps. “Good day to you.”
At the mention of his name, one of the nuns entering the tenement across the street halted, and her back stiffened.
“How’s your father getting on?” the older man asked.
“Rightly, we think.” Riley cast a cursory look at the neighbor before focusing his attention on the nun. “He seems stronger this morning.”
“Good, good.”
The nun paused, allowing the others to enter the buildingahead of her. Riley couldn’t see much beneath the black robe and bonnet she was wearing, but the petite size fit the profile of Finola Shanahan.
Riley’s heartbeat picked up speed. It couldn’t be her.... He was only wishing it was so because he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since Bellamy’s visit yesterday. No, Riley hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Finola Shanahan since the day he’d met her. And Bellamy’s suggestion that she was the one Riley was going to marry had only made matters worse.
Riley willed the nun to turn around.
As if sensing his beckoning or his stare, she glanced over her shoulder in his direction. He barely had time to glimpse bright blue eyes and a freckled nose before she started through the door.
“Finola!” He hopped over the iron stair railing, then leapt to the ground, landing with the nimbleness of an alley cat.
She hesitated—had clearly heard him call her name—but continued inside, letting the door close behind her.
With a burst of renewed energy, he darted into the street, dodging the traffic coming from both directions. Heedless of more greetings being tossed his way, he made a direct line to the tenement Finola had entered. He took the front steps two at a time and tossed open the door to find her already nearing the landing of the second floor.
“Finola, wait.”
With her back facing him, her steps faltered. It was clear she wasn’t keen on seeing him again. Was she embarrassed from their interaction in the livery stall? Or perhaps Bellamy McKenna had already approached her father and begun the discussion regarding a possible match. What if Mr. Shanahan didn’t want to give his daughter in marriage to someone of Riley’s station?
Even so, with or without the matchmaking, he wanted tosee Finola again. In fact, now that she was within his sights, he wasn’t sure he could walk away without talking to her.
“Hope you’re not making plans to roll in the mud again today.” He climbed to the bottom step, ready to bound after her if necessary. He wasn’t used to having to chase after women. Usually it was the other way around.
She held on to the rail a few seconds more before she pivoted. Although the brim of her bonnet cast a shadow over her face in the dimly lit stairwell, he found himself finally getting a full view of her pretty features, her pert nose, well-rounded lips, the adorable dimple in her chin. And the freckles. They liberally sprinkled her nose and cheeks, putting her in a class of beauty all her own.
