Free A Girl Like That by Frances Devine Page A

good idea.”
    Mrs. Thornton shook her head, a worried look on her face. “I’m not sure everyone is agreein’ with you.”
    “Well, and if they’re not, they should be. Now you be sittin’ down and resting yourselves.”
    Katie felt a glow of pride as she sat on a stool next to Bridget. Finally, someone older was taking her seriously.
    The other women gathered around and found seats then looked expectantly at Katie. Her hands sweaty and breath coming in gulps, she threw a frantic glance at Bridget. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
    Bridget stood and smiled at her friends and neighbors. “I’d like ya all to meet my friend Katie O’Shannon. She’s the one who helped me get my job at Harrigan’s.”
    “And proud we are of you, Bridget, dear.” The gray-haired woman smiled sweetly at Bridget.
    “Sure and it’s a shame on you, Granny Laurie, if you’re proud of one of our own lasses a-workin’ in a devil’s den of iniquity.” A woman, just entering the Bailey yard, flashed a hard look at Katie. “And you a-prancin’ around here callin’ yourself Irish and pretending you want to help us.”
    Katie gasped. Had she heard the woman right? Surely not. Most of the ladies were frowning at the woman who’d spoken, but she noticed two or three nodding in agreement.
    Mrs. Bailey stood. “The shame is on you, Bridie McDermott, for insulting a kind young stranger in our midst, as well as our own Bridget Thornton.”
    Katie stood. “Maybe we should leave, Bridget,” she whispered.
    “No.” Bridget grabbed Katie’s arm and tugged her back to her seat. “We’re not going to let that woman and her bitterness keep us from doing what we came to do.”
    Katie, surprised at Bridget’s assertiveness, acquiesced.
    “I hope you’ll stay and listen to what these young girls have to say, Bridie,” Mrs. Bailey continued. “But if you’re only here to cause trouble, you can be leaving.”
    One of the women who’d seemed to agree with Bridie motioned her over to a chair next to her. With a venomous look at Katie, the angry woman walked over and sat down.
    Somehow Katie managed to get through the meeting, letting Bridget do most of the talking. Bridie McDermott was right. Who was she to think she could help these women? Just because she saw a need and felt compassion didn’t mean she could do anything about the problem.
    Shame washed over her. She’d been proud to think they’d listen to her and thank her and tell her how wonderful she was. She saw that now. Humiliation pounded at her temples, and by the time the meeting ended and she and Bridget left, she had a full-blown headache.
    “Katie, they loved the idea of the day care. Did you hear the excitement in their voices?”
    Katie stared at her friend, who continued to chatter. “Are you sure?”
    “Of course I’m sure. And where were you that you didn’t see it, too?”
    Throwing her friend a sheepish grin, Katie said, “I guess I was thinking about what a failure I was.”
    “Ah, Katie. But this isn’t about you now, is it?” Bridget ducked her head. “I’m sorry. I need to be buttoning my lips.”
    “No. You’re right. This isn’t about me. It’s about the people of Conley’s Patch. Your people, Bridget. And if any credit is due, it’s to you, not me.”
    “Not me, neither. The credit goes to God. Only God.”
    The girls climbed into Harrigan’s carriage, and the driver clicked to the horse. As they rode in silence to Ma Casey’s, Katie thought about her friend’s words. So much like Grandmother’s. She hadn’t thought much about God since the day she boarded the train for Chicago. When she did think of Him, it was as though He were some unreachable, powerful Being, watching over His world from afar. Did God really intervene in the daily worries of ordinary people?
    She didn’t remember Him ever intervening in hers.
    ❧
    Sam stood in the corridor outside Michael O’Shannon’s dressing room, his heart thumping, waiting for