Other Side of the Door

By Jean Rossetta

The Other Side of the Door is rich in history. Mary Katherine McCart is an Irish immigrant living in Chicago. Her family and friends think she is going to marry Sean OMalley, but Mary Katherine wants to better her life, and she doesnt think Sean is her ticket to a better life. So all thought she loves Sean with all her heart. When her employer asks her to marry him, she agrees. She is disowned by her family. Sean ends up marrying her friend. WWI breaks out and Mary Katherines brothers and Sean enlist. The Spanish flu runs rampant and kills many people, including Seans wife.

Prohibition is enacted which closes down Mary Katherines husband Josephs liquor distribution Company. Joseph, is gunned down when he refuses to sell his trucks to the Mafia. Eventually Mary Katherine and Sean marry. They move to Miami where they build an Inn. WWII breaks out and soon their children are in the midst of the war. Their son Michael is reported missing in action when his plane is shot down. They turn the Inn into a place where men can come to recoup.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 18, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524650650

Jean Rossetta

Jean has published three other novels and many short stories. She lives in San Jose, California, and has been married to her husband, Len, for fifty years She has one grown son named Jim. She was born in Alaska. She is an active member of her church and is an animal lover. She has two cats and a Yorkie.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

M ary Katherine scowled at the handsome Irishman’s bruised knuckles. Sure, it looks like you’ve been in another brawl; humph! And you think I’ll be marrying the likes of you. Well, I’m telling you Sean O’Malley, I’ll be marrying you the day the Protestants and Catholics drink from the same cup, in other words it ‘twill be a cold day in hell.

Sean’s vivid blue eyes twinkled as a lazy smile crossed his handsome face. Well now I hope the devil owns a pair of long johns, because mark my words one day you will be Mrs. O’Malley. Your feet will bring you to where your heart ’tis.

Mary Katherine’s violet blue eyes narrowed. You always were good with words.

Sean put his brown wool cap back on his head at a rakish angle causing a lock of ginger red hair to fall over One eye. I love you Mary Katherine, sure now that ’tis enough.

Humph! The only thing love ever does is put another baby in your belly, another mouth to feed. She said thinking of her mother and the ten children she had.

Sean wagged his head. Best be careful Katie, or before you know it you’ll turn in to a bitter woman.

Bitter ’tis it? Well I’m tired of being called shanty Irish, tired of not having enough to eat, nor proper clothes to wear. Mark me words Sean O’Malley, I’ll not always clean houses for other people; someday I will own a fine house with fancy lace curtains at the windows.

Aye, I’ll build it for you with me own two hands; it ‘twill be the grandest house in Bridgeport.

Mary Katherine sighed. You’re good at making promises, but that’s all they will ever be.

Her words cut into Sean’s heart; he loved the raven-haired beauty more than life itself. She claimed she would never marry him, but they were meant for each other; everyone knew that, everyone but Mary Katherine That is. He reached out and stroked her flawless cheek. Fate would never be so cruel as to take her from him.

Mary Katherine jerked away as if she’d been touched with a hot poker. Some of us have to work for a living. She spat as she walked off.

Good day to you Katie me love. Sean called after her.

Mary Katherine pulled the frayed blue shawl tightly around her and with head held high marched down the road. Her actions said one thing but her racing heart belied them. Whenever she encountered Sean, it beat wildly in her chest, but as surely as she knew how much she loved Sean, how much he loved her, she was just as Sure, she would never marry him. She knew all too well where that road would lead her down. Her own mother was a perfect example of that. She had ten children and loud mouth drunk that cheated on her and had a ready fist. She watched her mother grow older with each passing day with no hope of anything better. That wasn’t for her, she wanted far more out of life. She knew the women in the neighborhood would think her a wee daft for not marrying Sean. He was a handsome figure of a man, well over six feet tall, with ginger hair, and sky blue eyes. His smile could melt the coldest of hearts, and if Saint Patrick hadn’t charmed the snakes out of Ireland, Sean could have. From wee ones to old hags, they all loved Sean, including her, but love was not nearly enough. Mary Katherine sighed. How was she going to escape from this drudgery? Her sister Helen had become a nun, but that wasn’t her cup of tea; she couldn’t give up her entire life for the church. Her bother Harry was a police officer; she often thought it would be interesting work, but they didn’t allow women, not in Chicago, not in nineteen fifteen. It didn’t seem fair but women had little choice in the work force, and if you were a poor immigrant with little to no education you cleaned houses.

Mary Katherine turned the corner. Bloody hell! She picked up her ankle length skirt and raced for the street car that was just pulling away, waving her hands and yelling for it to stop.

The street car came to a screeching halt. Mary Katherine climbed aboard and thanked the conductor. The car lurched forward causing Mary Katherine to grab for the overhead strap to keep from falling. She scowled at her red chapped hands. She worked so hard cleaning houses for rich people and then went home to the crowded cold water flat, which smelled like cabbage and too many bodies. Counting herself there were five children at home. There was no such thing as privacy, and most of the time there wasn’t enough to eat. It amazed Mary Katherine that it didn’t seem to bother her mother, she believed if you were Irish you were blessed enough; cursed was more like it.

The conductor called out Mary Katherine’s stop; she pushed and shoved her way to the exit, vowing that someday she would own a car.

Mary Katherine stepped off the street car and right into a mud puddle. Oh, bloody hell! She could feel the water seeping through the cardboard in her shoes. Someday she would own a pair of shoes for every day of the week, and nary a hole in any of them, but for now she would have to make do with another piece of cardboard. Make due—how she hated that phrase. Make do with three dresses; one shabbier than the other, darn one more hole in her stockings. Make do with three potatoes for seven people. She sighed, there just had to be a way out of this hopeless situation.

It started to rain and Marty Katherine was reminded of an Irish proverb, ‘it’s no use carrying an umbrella when your shoes are leaking.’ How true.

Mary Katherine had no sooner climbed the stairs of the stately white house when the front door flew open. A heavy-set woman brushed at a stray brown hair. Mr. Bruno took the misses to the hospital; she’s in labor.

Mary Katherine blessed herself. Mother of God, it’s far too soon.

Try telling that to the baby; Mr. Bruno is beside himself with worry.

Oh Rose, the poor man wants this child so much, not to mention Mrs. Bruno. Imagine being married ten years and all of a sudden the misses is with child, and now this.

Rose sighed. I guess all we can do is pray that all goes well. Rose thought of the two miscarriages she’d had, and her heart ached for Mrs. Bruno.

Me Mum never had any problems; I guess that’s why she had so many.

Mary Katherine finished cleaning the clawed foot tub and got to her feet, arching her back. There were three bathrooms in the house, a fact that never ceased to amaze her. At home, they shared a bathroom down the hall with two other families.

Mary Katherine walked into the nursery and before she stated to dust knelt and said a prayer for the mother and child. She got to her feet and looked around the cheerful room decorated with yellow teddy bear wall paper, a maple cradle, and chest of drawers. Imagine a room for one wee baby? She slept on the sofa in the front room; no privacy there. Her brothers slept in a dresser drawer when they were babies.

Next, Mary Katherine cleaned the master bedroom. She dusted the cherry wood dresser, and replaced the sliver brush and comb set, and then she picked up the sterling silver ornate framed picture of Mr. And Mrs. Bruno. They made such a handsome couple. Marie Bruno had soulful brown eyes, and dark brown hair, she had full lips and a straight nose. She was wearing a rose-colored lace dress, which most likely was the latest fashion from Paris. How she envied Mrs. Bruno and her lovely things. Mr. Bruno had wavy black hair, chocolate brown eyes, and a handle bar mustache. For an older man, he was quite handsome. She estimated him to be in his thirties.

Mary Katherine had just started cleaning the pallor, when Joseph Bruno arrived home. He wandered into the room and in a daze slumped into the green over stuffed mohair chair.

Mr. Bruno. How is Mrs. Bruno? Is she okay, and the baby? Even as she said the words she knew something was very wrong. She’d never seen a grown man cry, never seen anybody look so completely devastated.

Jagged sobs tore from Joseph’s throat. "Mr. Bruno, for the love of God what’s wrong?’

Hearing the sobs, Rose rushed into the pallor wiping her hands on the blue flowered apron. She laid her pudgy hand on Mr. Bruno’s shoulder. Please, tell us what happened. She asked fearing the worst.

Gone–Joseph broke into racking sobs. Oh God, they’re gone. The baby was too small. He wiped his hand across his face. Marie hemorrhaged. He wagged his head in disbelief. They couldn’t save Marie or my son.

Rose cleared her throat. I hate to leave at a time like this, but my husband is going under the knife in a couple of hours, and I promised I would be there.

Joseph wiped his hand across his face. Of course, by all means go, I hope all goes well.

After Rose left Mary Katherine wondered if she should also leave; it hardly seemed fitting to finish cleaning the house. Ah, Mr. Bruno, ’tis there anything I can do for you before I take my leave? There was an awkward silence, and she wasn’t sure what she should do or say. Her mother would know. Sir, would you like to come home with me? Mary Katherine’s face turned crimson at the shocked look on her employer’s face. Mother of God, what must the man think? Herself not yet cold and she was brazen enough to invite the man home with her. I—I live with me family, I—I just hate to leave you alone in your hour of need.

Joseph got to his feet and woodenly walked over to the bar in a daze. He owned a liquor distributing company and thus his bar contained the finest of liquors. He poured himself a glass of brandy, gulped it down and poured another. I’m sorry, where are my manners, would you care for a drink?

No thank you sir. Ah is there anybody I can call? You shouldn’t be alone at a time like this.

Joseph shrugged. Marie’s parents are dead, and so are mine.

Are there no brothers or sisters? Mary Katherine incredulously asked. There were so many in her family, in most of the families she knew.

I have a brother in Italy; Marie was an only child.

The grandfather clock chimed three times; her mother would have stopped all the clocks in the house at the hour of death. When people stopped by they would look at the clock and know when the loved one departed.

Mary Katherine picked up her purse and shawl, hesitated and asked. Are you sure there’s no one I can call?

Joseph sighed. Thank you for your concern, but it’s not necessary.

I’ll be taking me leave then.

Joseph reached in his pocket and pulled out his wallet and hand Mary Katherine several bills. Thank you, ah why don’t you come back in a couple of weeks? I’ll still need your services, just not as frequently.

When Mary Katherine entered the cold water flat she could smell veal stew and soda bread. For once they would have a decent meal in their bellies.

Nora McCart brushed a strand of blond hair streaked with gray off her forehead, and smiled at her daughter. Sean stopped by with some veal and vegetables; he did some work for Mr. Coughlin, and he paid him in trade. Sean said there was plenty for both families. Nora touched her heart. The man ’tis a saint; you’re lucky he has his sights set on you.

It wouldn’t do any good to remind her mother that she wasn’t going to marry the likes of Sean O’Malley. Mary Katherine’s mother was best friends with Sean’s mother, ever since the birth of their children the friends had plotted the marriage of their children to each other. The two friends could think of nothing grander then sharing grandchildren.

Wipe that scowl off your face and set the table; you might think you’re better than the rest of us, but I have news for you you’re not royalty.

Jamie grinned. Sure, I’m glad your home, maybe now Mum will let up on me.

Nora swatted her son with a bleached flour sack. I’ll not have a smart arse living under me roof.

William looked up from the paper he was studying and shoved the wire rimmed glasses back on his nose. Mum ’tis that any way to talk to a priest?

Sure now, he’s not a priest yet, and if he doesn’t learn to respect his mum he might not live long enough to become one.

Mary Katherine ruffled her younger brother’s blond hair. Pay Mum no mind; you know she’d rather die than lose the honor of having a priest in the family; ’tis the dream of every Irish mother. She peered over William’s shoulder. How many millions have you made today little brother?

Go ahead and make fun of me, but mark me words, one day I’ll will make millions in the stock market and then we won’t have to live like this.

Nora rolled her eyes. Mother of God that’s just what I need another dreamer in the family.

Mary Katherine glared at her mother. William was very bright; his knowledge of the stock market impressed her. His obsession with the stock market began when he overheard two men on the street car bragging about how much money they had made on the stock market. Mary Katherine squeezed William’s shoulder. There’s nothing wrong with dreaming boy-o, nothing at all.

Nora rolled her eyes. You both should be satisfied with your lot in life.

Before Mary Katherine could answer Patrick, the youngest of the McCart’s walked into the flat. "DA’s still at the pub; I told him super was ready and he told me what you could do with it. Patrick said hanging his head, but not before Nora noticed the crimson blush.

Sure now, don’t go worrying about it; Jimmy McCart ’tis a fine man, but when he starts swilling that bloody whiskey he becomes a wee daft,

Humph! When is the man ever sober? Mary Katherine spat.

Watch your tongue! I’ll not have you speaking ill about himself.

Patrick shrugged out of his jacket, which was a size too small and thread bare from Jamie and William wearing it before him. He hadn’t the heart to tell his mother that when he walked into the pub ‘the fine Jimmy McCart’ had his hand up the skirt of a whore.

Sit down; we’ll eat without himself. Nora said trying to contain her anger. The one flaw her husband had was his drinking, and of late he seemed to be drinking more and more, and when he drank he got mean.

Nora had just finished saying grace when a tall lanky boy walked into the room. Aye, Aaron, go wash up before you join us; you smell like the animals you slaughter.

Aaron ran his hand through his black curly hair. How many times do I have to tell you I don’t slaughter them; I just clean the place?

Mary Katherine pushed her food around the plate as her thoughts turned to Mr. Bruno, and how he was all alone in his hour of need.

What’s ailing you? Nora snapped.

Mary Katherine told her mother about the Bruno’s misfortune, and how Mr. Bruno was all alone.

Nora wagged her head. I will remember the poor man in me prayers.

Aaron came back wearing a clean shirt and pants. Nora beamed at her son. Aye, now that’s more like it. Sit down and eat before it gets cold. Aaron was the spitting image of her Jimmy when he was younger; now his face was bloated from drink, his lean body had turned to fat, and his beautiful black hair was almost go Nora looked around the table at her children; she was blessed with ten of them. They all worked hard, but if the truth be known they were worse off than when they had been in Ireland. Two daughters and a son had remained in Ireland, and she missed them more than she cared to admit. Her son Harry was the first to cross over, and he was the one to convince the family to follow.

Patrick laughed at something Aaron said. Now there was a boy who could go far, but the question was in what direction? He had a wild streak in him.

William was the frail one; he seemed to always be sick, and thus he was puny, but what he lacked in stature he made up with brains; if he would only put them to good use, instead of day dreaming.

Nora didn’t have to worry about Jamie; he was going to be a priest, and a handsome one he would be with his dark blond hair and blue eyes.

Something thudded in the flat above causing the McCarts to look up at the ceiling. Mother of God! One day the Murphy’s are going to drop in on us. Nora grumbled. It wasn’t natural living stacked on top of each other, at least back home they had room to breathe. She never dreamed it would be like this; she missed the green hills, missed the ocean breeze. The stew stuck in her throat as a wave of homesickness washed over her.

CHAPTER TWO

M ary Katherine stood on the front porch and hesitated before ringing the bell; cleaning a dead woman’s house gave her the willies. She considered calling Mr. Bruno and telling him she could no longer clean his house, but she needed the money.

Rose opened the door. What are you doing pacing back and forth? Come in out of the cold, and I’ll get you a cup of tea before you get started.

How is Mr. Bruno? Mary Katherine asked as she took off her hat and worn navy blue shawl.

Rose wagged her head. The poor man is taking his wife’s death very hard; he barely eats, and his eyes are filled with so much pain, it’s enough to break your heart.

The poor man, ’tis a shame the good Lord took his wife, but however long the road, there comes a turning. Mark me words, one day Mr. Bruno will put his grief behind him. Time is a great healer.

I hope so; he barely eats. That reminds me, I have some baked ham, bread and vegetables for you to take home.

Are you sure it’s all right with Mr. Bruno?

I’m sure; I don’t need it being all by myself, and it would be a sin to throw it out.

How is your husband doing?

Rose shrugged her board shoulders. "Not as well as they thought; he doesn’t seem to be healing, so he is still in the hospital.

We’re proud people; we don’t take handouts. Nora said when Mary Katherine showed her the food Rose had given her.

"Well, I