Mail Order Bride Mishap (Into the West #3)

Chapter 2

A/N: Barely made it, but it's still Friday here in lovely California. We're edging closer to a meeting! I used some creative interpretation with my music choice. Hope you enjoy, and vote, follow, and comment!

 She’d wakened in the wee hours of every morning for the last two weeks, unable to fall back to sleep, gnawing on the bone of uncertainty until the first fingers of dawn’s light crept beneath the lace curtains at her window. And even when sleep eventually reclaimed her after sunrise, finally returning her to its sweet oblivion, it only granted Fiona restless slumber where the worries of her waking state invaded her subconscious, parading through her mind like disturbing wraiths.

Fiona O’Toole had found no other employment; nor a smaller home to which she could move. She was running out of time as well as money, and she still had no solutions to her dilemma. She would be homeless and penniless in less than two weeks.

 Stifling the sob threatening to find its release this one morning, Fiona threw the covers off and padded to her window to stare out at the sun’s milky rays finding their way over the rooftops and around the walls of the buildings down here in the West End of Boston.

Whatever was she going to do? Fiona pondered the same question each morning, and every day no answer presented itself. How was she going to survive? Should she go ahead and lead Aengus on, marry the young man, become another housewife like Mary, only without the love, and give up her dreams of independence, just so she could have a roof over her head and food in her belly? Sentence herself to an existence down here in the West End with no promise of escape into a better life? Could she?

 No! Fiona rose from the window sill, like every previous day, shaking her head with a vehemence backed by the knowledge she would find a solution to her problem without settling for less than all she desired. There had to be a better way than selling herself to the highest bidder. She just had to think on it some more. And with that renewed determination, Fiona dressed to meet the new day, and its same problems.

After a meager breakfast of oatmeal and tea down in Mrs. Callaghan’s oppressively dark dining room, where she made desultory conversation with other boarders, all of them avoiding discussing the room rate hike, Fiona swiped the daily newspaper and headed to her room, intent on resuming her search for a job. The opportunity to start her own business had died at the Boston City Bank a fortnight ago, the last possible institution able to loan her money, so now Fiona had to set her sights lower and look for a job. Problem was, prejudice was so great against the Irish here in Boston that finding a job outside of the West End might prove a lengthier task than she had the time!

Just as Fiona settled in the middle of her bed with the want ads spread before her, a loud knock came from her room’s door.

 “Fee, it’s me, Mary! Open up!”

 “’Tis open, Mare!” Fiona sang, a smile crossing her face, and her friend indeed burst through the door, shutting it behind her while tossing her drawstring pouch and shawl onto the one chair in the room. Turning from the door with an answering grin, Mary fairly bounced over to the bedside, blonde curls bobbing about her round face.

 “I’ve come to lend a hand with this job search of yours, Fee! That mean, old Mrs. Callaghan anyway! Did you give her a piece of your mind, Fiona O’Toole?” Mary Keegan, always a staunch supporter of her independent friend, felt righteous anger against the boarding house matron, even as Fiona began shaking her head.

 “How does that help me, Mary? Mrs. Callaghan is just trying to make ends meet like the rest of us. Her mortgage rate was raised, probably because she’s Irish, too. Those lousy Shylocks! They should all be sent out into the harbor on a leaky boat!”