Lara could visualize the thousands of desperate, forlorn people robbed of everything they possessed, stunned by what had happened to them. She could hear the crying of the mourners and the screams of the terrified children.
“What finally happened to the people?” Lara asked.
“They left for other lands on ships that were deathtraps. The crowded passengers died of fever or frae dysentery. Sometimes the ship would hit storms that delayed them for weeks, sae they ran out of food. Only the strong were still alive when the ships landed in Canada. But once they landed here, they were able to hae somethin’ they niver had before.”
“Their own land,” Lara said.
“That’s right, lass.”
Someday, Lara thought fiercely, I will have my own land, and no one—no one—will ever take it away from me.
On an evening in early July, James Cameron was in bed with one of the whores at Kirstie’s bawdy house when he suffered a heart attack. He was quite drunk, and when he suddenly toppled over, his playmate assumed he had simply fallen asleep.
“Oh, no, you don’t! I have other customers waitin’ for me. Wake up, James! Wake up!”
He was gasping for breath and clutching his chest.
“For Gude’s sake,” he moaned, “git me a doctor.”
An ambulance took him to the little hospital on Quarry Street. Dr. Duncan sent for Lara. She walked into the hospital, her heart pounding. Duncan was waiting for her.
“What happened?” Lara asked urgently. “Is my father dead?”
“No, Lara, but I’m afraid he’s had a heart attack.”
She stood there, frozen. “Is he…is he going to live?”
“I don’t know. We’re doing everything we can for him.”
“Can I see him?”
“It would be better if you came back in the morning, lass.”
She walked home, numb with fear. Please don’t let him die, God. He’s all I have.
When Lara reached the boardinghouse, Bertha was waiting for her. “What happened?”
Lara told her.
“Oh, God!” Bertha said. “And today is Friday.”
“What?”
“Friday. The day the rents have to be collected. If I know Sean MacAllister, he’ll use this as an excuse to throw us all out into the streets.”
At least a dozen times in the past when James Cameron had been too drunk to handle it himself, he had sent Lara around to collect the rents from the other boardinghouses that Sean MacAllister owned. Lara had given the money to her father, and the next day he had taken it to the banker.
“What are we going to do?” Bertha moaned.
And suddenly Lara knew what had to be done.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll take care of it.”
In the middle of supper that evening Lara said, “Gentlemen, would you listen to me, please?” The conversations stopped. They were all watching her. “My father has had a…a little dizzy spell. He’s in the hospital. They want to keep him under observation for a bit. So, until he comes back, I’ll be collecting the rents. After supper I’ll wait for you in the parlor.”
“Is he going to be all right?” one of the boarders asked.
“Oh, yes,” Lara said with a forced smile. “It’s nothing serious.”
After supper the men came into the parlor and handed Lara their week’s rent.
“I hope your father recovers soon, child…”
“If there’s anything I can do, let me know…”
“You’re a braw lassie to do this for your father…”
“What about the other boardinghouses?” Bertha asked Lara. “He has to collect from four more.”
“I know,” Lara said. “If you’ll take care of the dishes, I’ll go collect the rents.”
Bertha looked at her dubiously. “I wish you luck.”
It was easier than Lara had expected. Most of the boarders were sympathetic and happy to help out the young girl.
Early the following morning Lara took the rent envelopes and went to see Sean MacAllister. The banker was seated in his office when Lara walked in.
“My secretary said you wanted to see me.”
“Yes, sir.”
MacAllister studied the scrawny, unkempt girl standing before him. “You’re James Cameron’s daughter, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sarah.”
“Lara.”
“Sorry to hear about your father,” MacAllister said. There was no sympathy in his voice. “I’ll have to make other arrangements, of course, now that your father’s too ill to carry out his job. I…”