After that day, my mood grew lighter, and I was suddenly eager to explore more of New York; I wanted to swallow the city whole. On my days off, I ventured farther and farther away from the O’Hanlon house on swanky Fifth Avenue and into the areas where the Chinese lived, and the Italians, and the Jews. I inhaled the aroma of exotic foods and spices. I marveled at the black and brown people I saw, some in foreign dress and speaking languages I had never heard. I thought about my village back in Ireland and realized, for the first time, that everyone there looked alike. Not so here. At times I must have stared too much because every now and then a stranger would wave a threatening hand at me, and more than one spat at me. Still, my delight in such new and heady moments knew no bounds.

But one day, when I wandered to the area known as Hell’s Kitchen, where many Irish immigrants lived, I no longer marveled. Instead, my heart sank at the sight of ragged children and scarred, sooty buildings crammed together row after row. Children in tattered clothes ran after me, chanting insults while their mothers looked on with faces of stone.

Where were the streets paved with gold that the Irish sang about? The people in these tenements, as I learned they were called, were under no such illusions. What a disappointment America must have been for them after a long, arduous sea journey filled with hope.

That evening, Aidan O’Hanlon came into Lily’s bedroom where I sat reading to her. He stood for a moment watching us, a faint smile on his face. Lily looked up from the book and put her arms out to greet him. I got up from the bed, allowing him to sit in my place, and made for the door.

“I thought this was your day off, Miss Sweeney,” he said.

I did my best to hide my nerves at finding Aidan O’Hanlon in such an intimate place. But my stutter betrayed me. “Y-yes, but I still like to read to Lily at bedtime, especially when y-you’re not home.”

He lowered his head. “And I am not often home. But tonight, I decided to escape from a business meeting early.” He looked at Lily. “I miss you, Lily, when I’m not here.”

Lily cuddled up to him.

“Perhaps it’s impertinent of me to ask, Miss Sweeney, but I’m curious as to what you do on your days off. You don’t have to tell me, of course.”

His question prevented my quick escape, and his direct gaze increased my discomfort. I realized my hands were shaking and hid them behind my back as I leaned against the bedroom door.