Chapter 3
“I hope the thunder doesn’t wake the boys,” Meggie O’Hara said as she lit the candle on the table.

“I know ma, but I like it when it rains,” Charlie said. “It sounds so soothing when it hits the roof.”

His mother smiled.

“Let me look at your handywork,” she said, admiring the socks Charlie was knitting.

Charlie loved knitting time. He and ma would settle down in the family’s two rockers, both brought from Ireland. Robert, Samuel and Eli were always sound asleep.

Lucas and pa were working late at the mill. If pa knew Charlie and his mother still had “knitting time”, he would be furious. He didn’t want any of his sons doing “women’s work”, although he allowed Charlie to help out his mother doing her chores.

“That’s very good,” she said. “Grandma Sullivan would say you’ve inherited the family the family gift.”

His great-grandma Sullivan had a dress shop in Dublin. Each mother in the family felt like it was her duty to pass down the talent to her daughters. It was that way for generations.

“I have no daughter, so I’m passing it down to you,” his mother said. “I want you to pass it down to your own daughter, so the chain will not be broken.”

Charlie blushed. He loved hearing about family history, especially the women of the family. He didn’t want to admit it, but he felt some kind of connection to them.

And knitting time was also a time Meggie O’Hara liked to talk about “woman things.”

“You are the only one in this family who appreciates such things,” she told Charlie.

She enjoyed listening to Charlie talk about his first-day adventure at Windham manor. She told him she wished she had a garden like the one he and Mrs. Windham worked on.

She also told him she was envious of the bath he took.

“Most women here would kill to have a bath like that,” she said. “You’re father would have been furious to have smelled the perfume you had on.

Charlie blushed again.

“Ma, am I different?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” she said, although she had an idea what was going on in his head.

“Well, pa calls me little Charlotte because I like to help you with your chores,” he said. “I like knitting time….I liked the bath at Madame Windham’s and she said I was almost too pretty to be a boy. And I don’t know if I really act like a boy.”

His mother at first didn’t know what to say.

“Come here,” she said. She led him to her bedroom. She pulled a trunk out from underneath the bed.

He knew the trunk contained her personal belongings, most of which she brought over from Ireland.

His eyes opened wide when she opened it.

“Beatrice!” he said, pulling a doll out from the trunk. “I thought you threw her away!”

He hugged her close. Beatrice was his mother’s doll. She made the journey across the ocean. Charlie played with the doll when he was little. He loved her.

But his father didn’t want him to play with it. He ordered his wife to throw the doll away, which was something she could not do.

“Are you different?” she said with a smile. “No, I’d say you’re special, Charlie John O’Hara. God made you a beautiful child, inside and out. You are my son, sweet boy, but at times, I think of you as my daughter.”

Charlie was stunned. He didn’t quite know what to say.

“Are you angry at me for saying that?” she said as she brushed his hair out of his face.

He shook his head no. She had never forced him to like women’s things, or to do women’s work, as his father called it. It was something that seemed natural to him.

“I’m glad you don’t,” she said. “That was the reason I passed the knitting skill down to you. It is the reason that everything in this trunk must be passed on to you.”

It contained a locket and her diary that he didn’t know she had. It contained jewelry that had been passed down from generations.

She put the locket around his neck. In it were portraits of his grandmother and his mother when she was a little girl.

“Wear it under your clothes so your father won’t see it,” she said. “You know how he is.”

Charlie hugged Beatrice before placing her back in the trunk. His mother smiled when Charlie gave the doll a kiss.

*****
“Is something bothering you? You seem a little distracted today?” Mrs. Windham asked Charlie while they worked in the garden.

“No ma’am,” he said as he hoed the dirt row. He couldn’t possibly tell her of his conversation with his mother the night before. But he couldn’t get the thoughts out of his head.

“What is that beautiful thing hanging from your neck?” she asked, noticing the locket.

“It’s a locket my ma gave me,” he said as she grabbed it to look at the portraits inside.

“It’s too beautiful to be wearing when we’re out here with all of this dirt,” she said. “Go take it to Mirilla and tell her to put it up for you.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said as he ran up to the house.

“I’ll put it on the dresser in Emily’s room,” she said. “You can put it back on after your bath.”

“That didn’t take you very long,” Mrs. Windham said after Charlie ran back to return to his work.

He enjoyed listening to Mrs. Windham’s plans for the garden. She talked about constructing a gazebo and hiring a band to play concerts for the community near the fountain.

Charlie liked the idea. No one in town really knew what beauty lied within the gates of her state.

“Well, I guess we are finished for the day,” she said.

Charlie was disappointed. They were finishing way too early. He wasn’t ready to go back to the slum.

“Charlie, take those flowers, will you?” she said. “And follow me.”

They walked over to the family graveyard. She had him place some of the flowers on her late husband’s grave. They placed the rest on Emily’s grave. He looked at the dates. His mother was right, she was his age when she died.

“Emily Windham, March 23, 1850-May 1, 1862. Beloved daughter and angel.”

“She must have been very special, ma’am,” he said.

Mrs. Windham smiled.

“Yes she was very special to me,” she said. “Just as I know you are to you’re mother and to me.”

“To you?” he said. He couldn’t help but think he had only known her a few days.

“I think an angel led King George through those gates,” she said with a laugh. “Because the angel knew you would follow him.”

“I never thought of it that way,” Charlie said.

She grabbed his hand as they walked up toward the house.

“Charlie, what do you want to be when you grow up?” she asked him.

“I dunno,” he said. “I thought about being a soldier. My uncle John is in the Irish Brigade fighting against the rebels.”

“You might make a good soldier,” she said. “Hopefully, the war will be over before you are old enough to join.”

“My pa said I will work at the mill like he and Lucas,” he said. “But I don’t want to do that. But my pa picks on me. He says I’m going to be a dressmaker like my great-grandma Sullivan.”

“And what’s wrong with being a dressmaker?” she said. “They make a lot of money in New York, Boston…or Paris.”

“I dunno, I never thought about it,” he said. “But my ma says I have the family gift.”

He went on to explain how he and his ma have their special knitting night.

“Emily and I had nights like that, too,” she said as they entered the house.

“His bath is drawn ma’am,” Mirilla said. “Helen has yours drawn, too.”

*****
“I’m glad you’re not giving me any trouble this time,” Mirilla said as Charlie handed her his work clothes. He felt a little chilled as before he hopped into the tub. But once he crawled in, he felt nice and warm.

“I swear, you got dirty today,” Mirilla said as she scrubbed his behind his ears. She made sure his neck got a good scrubbing. Then came his arms. He was a bit surprised as she worked on his hands.

“Those gloves must work pretty good,” she said, admiring his hands. “Your hands are as delicate as a girl’s hands.”

Charlie blushed again.

“I didn’t embarrass you, did I?” she asked.

“Oh, maybe a little,” he said.

“We’ll work on those feet when we get you out of the tub,” Mirilla said.

Charlie was even more embarrassed when Mrs. Windham walked into the room wearing a house coat as he crawled out and before Mirillia could place a towel around him.

“I want you to put this on our little urchin,” she said, handing Mirilla a bottle of lotion.

“I bought it in Paris,” Mrs. Windham told Charlie. “It’s supposed to make your skin feel soft and smooth. We both need it after working in the garden. It also smells good.”

She then reached into the closet and pulled out a sailor suit.

“I was wrong when I told you the work pants were the only trousers Emily wore,” she told Mirilla. “I had forgotten about this. Put it on Charlie and have him meet me in the parlor.”

Charlie giggled as Mirilla lotioned his body and then put powder on him.

“Oh no ma’am, I’m not wearing that,” he said as Mirilla pulled some of Emily’s undergarments out of the closet. He didn’t know what it was called, he just saw it once in a catalog. His mother called it “rich girl’s undergarments.”

Mirilla laughed.

“Your longjohns will look silly under the sailor suit,” Mirilla said. “This will be under the sailor suit, so no one else can see.”

He stared at himself in the mirror with Emily’s undergarments on.

“Lucas and pa would be really mad at me now,” he thought.

Mirilla also gave him what appeared to be a pair of white stockings. She was right. The undergarment was hidden under the sailor suit. The britches were a little “poofed” out, he thought and came down only to his knees. That’s why Mirilla gave him the white stockings.

She also pulled out a pair of shiny black shoes with buckles and told him to put them on.

“There,” she said. “You look like a prince.”

Charlie felt more like a princess as she walked him to the parlor, where he sat until Mrs. Windham finished getting dressed. She walked in looking really fancy. She was carrying a straw hat and a book of poetry.

She placed the hat on his head and grabbed his hand. They walked onto the porch and down the walkway to the garden. She handed him the book as they sat down at the fountain..

Inscribed were the words: “To Claire, with love, mother.”

“My grandmother gave this to my aunt Claire,” she said. “We’re going to use it to help you learn to read and speak properly.”

Mirilla brought them both lemonade as Charlie struggled to read the poetry to Mrs. Windham.

*****
Charlie stared at the nice French dress as he was about to get back into his old clothes. He hadn’t taken off Emily’s undergarments yet. Truth be known, he dreaded putting back on the longjohns and his old rags.

The door was shut. The temptation was a little hard to resist.

“Who will know?” he thought as he pulled the dress on over the “rich girl’s undergarments.”

He stood in front of the mirror. He liked what he saw. It was a very beautiful dress, one his mother had told him about many times that rich girls wore.

He didn’t notice the door slide open.

“Oh my!” were the words he heard Mrs. Windham say.

He was frightened. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t run out of the room, so he ran into the closet and sat down.

“I’m so sorry,” he cried, tears rolling down his face. “I won’t do it again! I know you won’t let me come back!”

“Charlie, my darling, open this door!” Mrs. Windham said.

Mirilla rushed in, wanting to know what was the matter.

They both picked Charlie up and placed him on the bed. Mrs. Windham pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the tears from his face.

She smiled and hugged him. She tapped her finger on his nose.

“Do not apologize,” she said, trying to reassure him. “I think it looks very beautiful on you. Unfortunately, you’ve got to get your clothes back on. It’s time to take you home.”
*****
The carriage ride was a quiet one back home. Charlie was still very embarrassed by what had happened.

Mrs. Windham tried to reassure him there was nothing wrong, that she wasn’t. She rode home with him and held his hand most of the way.

“You won’t tell anyone?” he asked.

“Of course not, darling, your secret is safe with me,” she said.