Chapter 7, His Return to St. Paul

Liam grinned. The sunny weather and his sisters added fun to the trip. His ability to freely travel without any cost fueled his excitement and expectations for his second stop of the day. Their visit with Moira. She must know something about the boys by now. He was almost grown, able, and ready to act after three anxious years with no news of his brothers’ whereabouts. He dug his fingers into his knees.

Cara elbowed Bridget. “Put your hat on, Mount Bridget, it fell on the floor.”

Bridget sniffed. “Cara-mite, put yours in your mouth. I’m not dumb. I simply wanted to look out the window to see what you were excited about. Did you know that St. Paul. . .”

He ignored his sisters chatter and listened to O’Brien as he gave instructions for disembarking in the depot. Liam drummed his fingertips on the empty bench beside him as he waited for the train to jerk to a stop. He had only one small bag to carry for their brief stay. Two days off should suffice for their needs and Moira’s schedule as well. 

Bridget and Cara argued about the correct position of hats, and he grinned, then straightened his black necktie and checked his black Bowler hat. ‘Cara-mite,’ as Briget nicknamed her, fit his little sister well. Understanding ‘Mount Bridget’ for majestically tall Bridget seemed unneeded. 

“You dropped a hatpin, Mount Bridget.”

“No, I did not, Cara-mite.”

“Bend down.” Cara pointed her forefinger underneath Liam’s seat. “I can see it, silly. There’s a pearl head on it shining for all to see. Right there.”

After the long squeal of brakes ended, and Bridget stuck the retrieved pin into her hat, Liam stood, mindful of the head space above. His frequent and painful collisions with doorways, hanging lamps, and ceilings while he grew to six-foot-three had taught him to be cautious. However, he would rather not be short like their livewire Cara. 

The girls collected their carpetbags and slid off the bench into the aisle while he waited for them.

Bridget stood in front of him first, her head at his chin. “Did you hear what we’re supposed to do? I missed it. Arguing with Cara is so taxing and attention-grabbing that —”

“I did hear.”

Cara handed over her bag into Liam’s outstretched hand. “Why does she always blame me? She’s the one who talks nonstop.” 

“What do you mean?” Bridget gave Liam her bag as well and scowled at Cara.

Liam clenched the handles. “Call a truce. We need our energy for finding things. You two for shopping while not losing each other in the city, and me for searching and asking questions. Deal?”

 They agreed, then hurried down the aisle arguing about which shops to go to first. 

He wagged his head but was glad they agreed to pack lightly. He stuffed his own bag underneath his arm to give himself free hands to carry theirs. 

An unkempt young woman with two small, scruffy children stared up at him from their bench. Something in her dark eyes halted him. Her face was pasty, she had purple circles around her eyes, and her arms were thin. Her lower lip quivered, then she cast her gaze downward.

“Pardon me, ma’am, but do you need some sort of help?” He shifted a bag. 

The children shrank away closer to their mother. They had the same gaunt appearance. No child should look like that.

She shook her head. “No. Thank you.”

“Mama. I’m hungry. Can the man get us some food?” The little boy scooted forward.

Liam smiled at him. “If your mother says it’s fine, I surely can. We’re headed to a diner I know of, not far away from the train. I’ve worked there before. What do you say, ma’am?”

Her eyes widened. “We couldn’t. You see,” she licked her lips, “I’ve no more money left. Spent it on our tickets to get here. I must find work first. A place for us to live. I don’t —” She covered her face and sobbed.

Dear God, please help me to help this family. “All will be fine if you follow us. You’ll see.”

Cara peeked her head through the exit door and climbed a few steps. “Liam? What’s wrong?” Her light blue eyes darted to the woman and children. She climbed the last step with Bridget behind her. 

“This little family is going with us to the diner. Wait for us.” Liam smiled at the children gripping their mother’s arms. “Who likes pancakes?”

Their young faces lit up with eagerness. 

“Me, me!” The boy slid off the seat and hurried past Liam toward the sisters.

The boy’s mother lifted one tattered bag, and slowly stood, embracing the girl. She darted anxious glances at her son and Liam’s sisters. “I suppose we could. I don’t know what to do. I only had a plan to get us here. That’s all. I shall carry my own bag, thank you.”

Liam turned toward the exit. “Then, please join us.” He went forward with a tight grip on the traveling bags. “Watch the last step,” he called back to the woman. I can feed these three.

What was money for, if not for buying food? He had never lacked. Although his father had many times as a boy. I’m happier than a puppy to survive to manhood.

Automobile engines, honking, and yelling, all increased the moment they disembarked into the depot building. Memories rushed in of Liam’s first adventure here. Oil fumes, exhaust, and metallic aromas sent him back to his boyhood trip, yet without the fear. This time, he was in control and making the decisions. He knew the way.

Cara turned in a half-circle with her mouth open. “Goodness. I’ve never seen so much humanity and metal crowded into one place.”

“It’s a bit confusing, isn’t it?” Bridget stared upwards and bumped into her sister. “Sorry about that. Do we follow the people going toward those big doors? Oh, look at that—”

“Let’s keep moving ahead, sisters. And keep watch on our friends, will you? I know where to go, and I’ll lead us there.” He glanced behind him to be certain the young family followed, then stopped. “Pardon us, but we don’t know your names.”

The brunette woman shifted her daughter to her hip and lay her hand against her chest. “Yes, well, I’m Mrs. Dulles, and my children are David and Mary. They’re three and five.”

Cara smiled at Mrs. Dulles. “It’s our pleasure to meet you. You’re in good hands with our brother, Mr. Liam Muldoon. I’m the youngest, Miss Cara Muldoon, and this is Miss Bridget Muldoon. Oh, and my tummy is rumbling, too.” She raised one brow at Liam.

“The diner is where we’re headed.” He resettled the three bags and trod forward. 

Passengers scattered in all directions, and to and from trains, yet the cacophony ebbed and flowed around him. Most of the crowd parted for Liam, some of it bumped into his party with apologies. He spied the way out of the depot to his left. “Turn.”

When he approached the tall doors, he swung around. No one was there. He waited a moment. Where could they be? Setting down the bags, he wiggled his arms, then folded them. 

Bridget found him first. “Good heavens, Liam. Your stride is too quick, even for me. Good thing I have David. Those people are in such a hurry they would’ve squished him into one of those pancakes we plan to eat. Oh, sorry.” She glanced at David’s frowning, upturned face and patted his back. “I’m teasing, of course. Do you see the others?”

“Yes. I can make out Mrs. Dulles. She’s taller than our Cara.” Liam raised his arm.

“Well, it shouldn’t be long now, David. Pancakes with melting butter, and sweet syrup dripping over them. What about eggs? Do you like them? Maybe we can have bacon. We always have bacon whenever we can, and our father brings it—”

“I don’t have a father.” David’s lip quivered. “Not anymore.”

Bridget grimaced at Liam. “Oh. Well. I’m sure your mother is — Liam?”

“Right. Your mother is taking good care of you now. Here she is.” Liam bent to lift the bags. “Let’s hurry. It should be less crowded on the street.”

He was wrong. It was more crowded than he recalled. The throng forced the group of six to go single file on the walkways, and when they crossed the first street from the depot into the shopping district, Cara nearly got mowed down by an automobile. More fast automobiles drove on the streets than nine years ago. “Impressive. I want one. Someday, I shall.”

Bridget laughed. “Did I hear you correctly? You want to drive one of those scary contraptions? Da will have your head, if you bring one home. Did you hear about that man in a Ford who ran into the river and—”

“Tell me another time, Bridget. We must keep to our schedule.” Liam stopped for the others to catch up. “We’ve been interrupted already. But it’s an honorable one.”

Once together again, Liam tracked the street signs and hoped the name of the diner was the same. He counted the buildings until he got to ten. An aroma of bacon drifted his way. If memory served his count, it was building number twelve on his right with a striped awning. Yes, a sign read, ‘Central Restaurant—Meals at All Hours.’ MacTavish. His heartbeat kicked up. The same name. This is it.

Liam dropped one bag and reached for the brass door handle. He held the door against the large window for his group to enter. The children’s eyes widened to the size of train wheels.

Cara smiled up at him as she brushed past. “Good going, brother, you’re a noble man. You should be proud.”

Liam shrugged. “Doing the right things are easy enough.”

“For you, maybe, but not for everyone. As we had daily proof in our home.”

With the door shut against the city’s bustle, dishes and silverware clinked louder, muffled conversations between patrons sharpened, and the glorious aromas intensified. His stomach rumbled. Now, to find MacTavish. Please, God, let him be here today. He scanned the dining area.

Bridget settled everyone at an empty table for four. “We can hold the children on our laps, surely. Here Cara, take David while I sit down. For heaven’s sake, where’re the menus? Shouldn’t they be on the table? Ruby says all good restaurants do that. . .”

Movement behind the counter caught Liam’s attention. A large man in every way possible guffawed at a customer’s comment. Liam grinned wide and stepped forward. 

MacTavish glanced up and did a double take. His blue eyes sparkled beneath his bushy white brows. He cocked his head to the side. “You, there. You seem familiar.” His rosy cheeks plumped up with his smile. 

“Mr. Liam Muldoon, sir. Returned to visit my rescuer from nearly ten years ago. Have I grown?” Liam stood about an inch shorter than MacTavish.

He chuckled and his belly jiggled. “Bless me. We’re eye-level now. Well, lad, your father fed you well. Never knew if I’d see you again. In all my born days, this is unexpected in the best of ways.” MacTavish extended his broad hand. 

Liam gripped it with both of his. “I never expected this either. But I hoped. I want to introduce my sisters, and I’ve a special request.” He tipped his head toward the table. “We found that young family on the train. The father is absent and the mother is destitute. Please put their order with mine, so I may pay for their breakfast.”

MacTavish leaned back on his heels to stare down his nose. “Pay? Whatever does a cook make pancakes for if not to share with the poor? You’ll not be paying, Mr. Muldoon. I’ll join in on that. And what are a few eggs to a chicken? Now, the bacon? Well, don’t be spilling that news to pig farmers.” He chuckled his deep laugh. 

“Thank you, sir. Mrs. Dulles only had enough to get them here. There’s nothing left. She must find work.”

“Let me think on that.” MacTavish threaded his snowy mustache. “Me wife knows something about that kind of need. I’ll get her working on it.”

Liam led MacTavish to the table, made introductions, and ordered their breakfasts before MacTavish hurried upstairs to his wife.

Cara giggled. “You weren’t joking, Liam. He’s Santa Claus.”

© 2026 by E. V. Sparrow