He moved a little closer. I noticed, for the first time, that his boots were cracked and caked with dirt. His trousers were rolled up at the ankles and tied with string. As my eyes traveled up, I saw the stained old jacket he seemed to have worn for as long as I could remember. My gaze lingered on his face. His eyes were sad and watery and the same gray as my own. I realized then that I had never really seen my da, and my heart lurched. I rose to my feet and hugged him, something I hadn’t done since I was a child.

“Do you want to go?”

I nodded my head.

“Aye, Da, I do. More than anything else in the world.” I paused, and all my repressed anger finally erupted. “I do want to go! I want to get away from the misery I’ve suffered here. I want to be free to live my life without being criticized at every turn. I want adventures and, yes, maybe even love. Why can’t I be loved, Da? Don’t I deserve it like anybody else?”

“I love you, daughter,” he whispered.

I looked at him in astonishment. I’d always known that he loved me, but to hear him say it . . . I wanted to throw my arms around him again, but my despair returned.

“What’s the use in talking about it, Da? This will be like everything else. Nora will get what she wants and, as usual, I’ll get nothing!”

He dug his hands into his jacket pockets and nodded his head.

“Maybe so,” he said. “But what if I found a way for you to go, daughter. Would you want it?”

“Yes,” I cried. “Yes!”

“That’s the answer then, so,” he said, and turned toward the door.

I wanted to cry out after him, Why are you doing this, Da? Why are you torturing me with the hope of it? but I kept silent.

* * *

I thought nothing more of it. For the next week I went about my business on the farm and Da went back to his usual silence. Then, one day, he came over to where I sat in the circle of rocks and thrust an envelope into my hands.

“There’s an address in there of a house in New York needs a maid,” he said. “Father McGinty gave it to me when I asked did he know of anybody. He said ’tis a good Catholic family and he’d pray they’d be a good influence on your soul.”

Da’s face didn’t betray what he thought of Father McGinty’s motives, and I decided it didn’t matter whose idea it was.

“Their name is Boyle, and the housekeeper will meet you when the boat docks. Your man O’Hanlon in America sent enough money will buy you and Nora a berth in steerage on that new boat.”

“B-but what . . .”