Free Longing for Home by Sarah M. Eden Page A

you’ve changed, and we’ll lay it all out by the fire to dry.”
    “Thank you, Biddy.”
    A moment later, she was alone. What a day. Handed off to strangers, let go from a job twice, drenched, cold, and embarrassed into a blush by a man she felt certain she’d do best to dislike. She’d expected Wyoming to hold the answer to all her difficulties, not simply create an entirely new set of worries.
    Katie changed quickly. She shivered more with every layer that came off. How she wished she yet had the quilt. She made quite an effort at rubbing the water from her skin, though doing so only added to the puddle she left on the floor. She hoped Biddy O’Connor didn’t prove too stubborn to allow her to clean the mess.
    Truth be told, Katie fully intended to offer to do any chores the family might need done. Tavish insisted the family would not begrudge her the kindness she needed, but she hadn’t experience with such charity.
    During those horrible weeks between their eviction and Katie being given away in Derry, she and her family pleaded everywhere possible for shelter from the weather or a crust of bread. She would never fully forget one man she’d asked help of. He’d told her God took care of good girls. If she were starving and cold, it meant heaven was punishing her.
    Katie had stood on his porch for what felt like hours, weeping. Her sister had been dead only three days, the guilt and grief of that loss still painfully fresh. What right had she to go begging kindness of others after doing such a terrible thing? That argument rang in her head even eighteen years later.
    What right have you to be asking charity of these people?
    “Is the dress too long for you?” Biddy sounded as though she stood just on the other side of the curtain.
    “Only a bit.” Katie closed her eyes tightly, doing her utmost to push away the memories. She’d find a way to repay their kindness, and then she needn’t be indebted to any of them. “I’ll be but a moment more.”
    She heard Biddy’s footsteps retreat. Katie sat on the chest. Without looking at her feet, she peeled off her sodden stockings. Over the years, she’d developed quite a knack for changing her shoes and stockings without so much as glancing at her feet. She didn’t need to look to know what she’d see. The skin would still be melted in twirling, twisted scars. She’d still be missing her smallest four toes and pieces of most of the others. ’Twas the only scar from those horrible months that wasn’t tucked safely away inside.
    She stood up. Best not keep the family waiting on her. She quickly finger-combed her wet hair. Her hairpins had all fallen out somewhere between Mr. Archer’s house and the O’Connors’. There was no helping the state of things.
    Katie pulled back the curtain and stepped out of the small bedroom. The O’Connors’ two children were yet in the room, though they did little more than glance at her as she stepped out. In eighteen years Katie had seldom encountered children, perhaps only from across a room she was cleaning or playing in a park she passed when out walking. Between the Garrisons’ wagon, the Archers’ kitchen, and there in the O’Connors’ home, she felt absolutely surrounded by them.
    “There now. That doesn’t fit too poorly,” Biddy said, drawing Katie’s attention to her.
    Katie shook her head. “Not poorly at all.” She was, in fact, rather grateful the dress was a touch too long. Her stockinged feet remained tucked out of sight. “I thank you for the stockings. They are quite warm, and my feet were mighty cold.”
    Biddy smiled at her husband. “Does she not sound so very much like home, dearest?”
    “Aye, that she does.” Ian tipped the newly repaired chair upright once more. “Joseph Archer caught Ireland in her voice within three words or so. I wondered if he’d send her off for it.” Ian looked at her once more. “He didn’t, did he?”
    The reminder of her very short-lived employment