May the Road Rise Up to Meet You: A Novel (19 page)

Hello, is Mr. Hadley around? he asked them.

That’s the fella what takes th’pictures, yeah? the man said, and the young lady nudged him, pointing to the glass window with Mr. Hadley’s backwards name on it.

Yes, that’s him, Ethan answered.

He’s in back, the man said. But we’re next in line.

Oh, I know, I’m just here on business.

Well what d’ya think it is
we’re
here on? the man snapped, drawing a harder nudge from the woman beside him.

No fightin’ on our weddin’ day fer chrissakes, she said, commanding more than asking.

What’d I say? the man asked her with mild protest.

And Ethan decided to take a seat on the other side of the waiting room, offering simple congratulations to them as he passed.

It was a few quiet minutes in that room, with the two soon-to-be-weds looking like they were about to enlist in the army instead of entering marital bliss, and Ethan sat staring out the window at nothing in particular, not wanting to strike up a conversation that might lead to a fight on the day of their nuptials. Then Mr. Hadley came out from the back room with a man and a woman and two children dressed neatly, if not in a Sunday best that’d match most people’s.

Tomorrow, he said to them, nodding his head and sweeping his arm in an arching motion that must represent the sun rising and setting, Ethan figured. Tomorrow it will be ready, he said again, louder this time and holding up one finger.

The woman nodded, and the man looked at her quizzically.

Amanhã
, she said, and the man nodded, taking change out of his pocket as if to hand it to Mr. Hadley.

No, no, the rest you pay me tomorrow, Mr. Hadley insisted, arching his arm again, then saying,
Aman
 … before looking over at the woman.

Amanhã
, she said, and smiled. To-morrow.

Then the man smiled and put the money back in his pocket and the two of them nodded their heads to Mr. Hadley.
Obrigado. Amanhã
. The man tapped the children on the shoulder and pointed to Mr. Hadley.
Obrigado
, they said, dutifully. And Mr. Hadley nodded back and smiled as they walked out the narrow doorway.

Just off the boat from Lisbon, he said to the couple in the corner,
then spotted Ethan. Mr. McOwen, he exclaimed, did you see the
Brooklyn Daily Eagle
this morning? Did you see your picture?

No, Ethan answered, a little puzzled.

Well it’s there, on page eleven, next to the article on the baseball match.

We was here
first
, the man in the corner interrupted, causing his beloved to slap him across the top of his arm.

What, I’m just lettin’m know!

They were here first, Mr. Hadley, Ethan offered. I don’t want to interrupt, I just—

You just came by to learn some more about the camera, yes?

Well, yes.

Listen, can you do yer learnin’ a little later, the man said, trying his best to be calm and gracious. We gotta be at City Hall by one.

Of course, of course, come right in, Mr. Hadley said, fully accustomed, it seemed, to all sorts of clients. He opened his hand toward Ethan as if presenting him to them. This is Mr. McOwen, my new
apprentice
.

And much as the word surprised Ethan, he did nothing to refute it. Mr. Hadley smiled at him, tilting his head as if asking whether the arrangement would be acceptable. And Ethan nodded in reply, smiling at the idea of it, of him, no longer a man of leisure the way Seanny sometimes teased him.

That night he slipped out of the house after supper, after all the congratulations and questions from his family, and walked, still dressed in his suit, down to Red Hook. The cabin he and his Da had first stayed in was gone now, replaced by something a little larger and more permanent looking. But there was still the nook of land that stretched out just a little farther than the rest of the shoreline, the place he’d gone to on his first night in America to tell Aislinn he’d made it. Of course, since that time he’d learned that he was facing west, away from Ireland, but by then it had become their spot, and what did it matter anyway with Aislinn looking down from the Ever After?

So he went back there from time to time, always on Aislinn’s birthday and sometimes on his, on every Christmas too, and always on the anniversary of the day she died. And he’d talk to her just a little, letting her know how Mam and Da and Aunt Em and Seanny were all getting on and introducing her to the important people in his life through the
stories he’d tell, out loud, in a whisper. And that was where he stood again that night, dressed as he’d never been before on such occasions, feeling the pride that comes with looking like such a gent, and letting the breeze tussle his hair as he stood with his top hat off, held by his two hands behind the small of his back. He smiled a little, knowingly, waiting to tell her the news he’d wanted to tell
her
most of all ever since he’d left Mr. Hadley’s shop.

I’m gonna take pictures Ais’, I’m gonna be a photographer
, he said, in a voice louder than he usually used when speaking to her, as if he were making a formal pronouncement.

And he allowed himself to smile for a moment or two more, basking, as if waiting for a whisper of approval bestowed from the Ever After. Then, with only the breezes for an answer, he pulled his hat into one hand and used the other to sit down on the patch of sand and grass, the way he always did, Sunday suit or not. He bent his knees out in front of him and wrapped his arms around them, hat dangling from one hand in the space between, and the whisper returned though the smile remained. It was, since the very first night he’d sat here and spoke to her, the first time he would speak mostly of himself. It was the first time he had something worthwhile to report, something he felt might one day justify the fact that it was him who’d been given this chance to come to America and not her. And the words spilled out from him, with all the once-upon-a-time exuberance of that twelve-year-old boy.

The speech is a decidedly different thing than he could hear anywhere near the Points. And for the almost two hours Mr. Lincoln talks
about the pressing issues of the day, Ethan feels as if he’s been lifted from his common origins into another world altogether, the one he’d once hoped to be a part of when he’d ventured into the hallowed halls of New York University and sought to become a verified scholar. But when it’s over, and Mr. Lincoln seems to have become a leading candidate for the Republican nomination for President, Ethan steps outside and it’s as if the moment is lost. Anywhere familiar he goes, he realizes, will inevitably be more of the same sort of reverence for the mundane that drew him here in the first place. And he yearns to follow the well-dressed crowd spilling out of the Great Hall, hoping to find someone amongst them who will discuss Emerson and de Tocqueville and … Lincoln.

Ethan!
he hears a vaguely familiar voice call out to him as he stands by the front entrance. There y’are. I been lookin’ all over th’bleedin’ place for ya!

The yelling draws attention from much of the well-dressed crowd still milling outside Cooper Union, and Ethan follows their stares as if down a funnel all the way to the imposing figure of Cormac Toomey, his brother’s
Associate
. In the Points, Cormac’s been known as a thug for going on twenty years, but five years ago Seanny dressed him up in an overgrown suit, tossed a derby hat on his head, and took him over to Tammany Hall where he became an
Associate
of great value. He was particularly effective at getting out the vote on Election Day, employing a political strategy that mostly consisted of free beer and physical threats, and generally produced anywhere from two to six votes from every man he’d persuaded, dead or alive. Tammany loved his effectiveness, and loved even more that Sean could keep him on a leash far away from Wall Street and City Hall.

Jaysus Ethan, whatta crowd here t’see da tall fella, eh? Cormac asks as he approaches Ethan, with the men around them still staring. Seanny said you was here, but I been standin’ by th’door fer da las’ five minutes an’ I ain’t seen ya.

Cormac had taken to him from the first day Sean introduced them, when Cormac shook Ethan’s hand and was impressed with his strong grip, then challenged him to some arm wrestles once they’d had a few pints. Ethan beat him once in five tries with his right hand, and two out of five with his left, and Cormac had liked him ever since. As Seanny
always said, and Ethan agreed, it was nice to have a man like Cormac on your side. But he’s not the type to be here after such an important political speech as this, and Ethan’s more than a little ashamed of his affiliation with him just now.

Yeah, it was some crowd in there Cormac, Ethan replies, speaking softly now, trying to diminish the attention being paid to them. I didn’t know you’d be interested in the speech.

Oh, I ain’t interested in what da fella’s got
t’say
, Cormac answers. It’s jus’ dat Seanny sent me up dis way t’see if you was still here. He ahhh … 
requests your presence at the Astor House hotel …
is what he told me t’tell ya, Cormac says, relaying the message from Sean by removing his hat and bowing slightly at the waist, the way Seanny must’ve told him to say it.

He what? Ethan asks.

He
requests—

No, I know whacha said Cormac, Ethan interrupts. What I’m askin’ is … Cormac, y’can stand up straight there, I got th’message. Cormac’s still bowing, intent on fulfilling his mission as if he was Sir Galahad to Seanny’s King Arthur, but Ethan guides him back upright.

You an’ Seanny been at th’Rose all
night
Cormac, huh? Ethan asks.

See … now he
figgered
you was gonna say dat an’ he told me t’tell you dat he was … Cormac doffs his cap and bends at the waist again … 
somewhat more’n bit by a barn weasel, but not quite altogetherly
.

Ethan can’t help but laughing, partly from the terminology his brother always has at his disposal, partly at seeing this ox of a man, in a suit bursting at the seams, holding his hat over his heart and remaining in a bowed position. And he knows there’ll be no dodging this invite.

All right, all right, Ethan says, lifting him again. Let’s get on wit’ it.

Alas, Squire, Cormac begins in a formal tone again, I am
t’pass on th’invitation an’ find me way home … for I’m more’n bit by a barn weasel meself
.

Ohhhhh no, Ethan insists. Yer just the man t’help me carry Squire Seanny back to his house. You owe me that much!

Ethan knows there’ll be no danger of his brother talking politics on this night. Seanny, as a Tammany man, is by definition a Democrat, while Ethan has taken to the Republican Party and their stand
on halting the spread of slavery. Seanny’d always laughed at the pie-in-the-sky ideals of Ethan and now lumped men like Lincoln right in there with him. And their debates had grown more pointed, though as inconclusive as ever, over the years. But if Seanny’s in anything like the state Cormac is in, Ethan thinks, he’ll mop the floor with him in a debate now, and since his brother only enters the ring with victory almost assured, there’ll be no serious discussion on politics this evening. Along Broadway they pass Barclay Street and spot Seanny standing a good distance from the front entrance of the Astor and leaning up against a streetlamp.

Ahhhhh, here they are, Sean says as they approach. The Squire and his Associate.

Jaysus, Seanny, Ethan says, you leave
any
whiskey in th’Points?

Sean turns to Cormac, pretending to take offense at the insult.

Sir Cormac
, he says, with as much royal diction as he can muster, my young Squire brudder here has drawn into question th’sobriety of yours truly. An’ this after Oh’ve gone t’ahll the considerable trouble of discoverin’ th’location where a certain Mr. Ayyy Lincoln, Esquire, of Springfield,
Ill-eee-noise
, will be stayin’ for th’duration of his visit t’ahr fair city.

Ethan’s eyes light up as Sean waves his arm toward the entrance of the Astor Hotel and Cormac follows suit. They both bow slightly and move a step to the side to allow Ethan to pass.

Yer on the straight here? Ethan asks. How’d you find out?

My good sir, Sean says, perhaps you wishta withdraw th’insults previous?

I do, Ethan says with a smile, a little too giddy for a man of twenty-five.

They wait in the elegant lobby seated around a table beside the massive fireplace. Ethan’s in a chair facing out to the front entrance while Cormac and Sean each take up occupancy of separate couches facing the fire. A waiter from the restaurant comes out and Sean orders brandy for all of them before Ethan can send him away.

We’re not going up to a presidential candidate completely smashed, Ethan says to Sean.

Oh, there’s no
we
to this operation, Squire, Sean assures him.

No
we
, Cormac repeats, then grimaces slightly and adds, but I do koinda
hafta
wee.

And wee you shall, my good man, Seanny says with his customary formality when he’s in such a state. Sir Cormac here, who hasta wee, has completed th’task of uncoverin’ Mr. Lincoln’s temporary residence, and now it’s all up to
you
, Squire brudder of mine, to carry out actually shakin’ the tall man’s hand. In th’meantime, I believe I shall do some weein’ of me own.

They walk off to the necessary, and so it goes for the better part of an hour. Sean and Cormac, when they return, find considerable amusement in teasing Ethan while they drink their brandy. Just as the two of them are about to break into song, Ethan spots the unmistakable figure of Mr. Lincoln walking through the front entrance. He tips his stovepipe hat to the doorman as well as to the attendant behind the front desk, and walks toward the grand stairway. Ethan is up in a shot and Sean and Cormac stop their joking for a moment to turn around and see what’s caused the reaction.