The crowd surrounded Aiv and Carla, with some people singing and others heading toward the small chapel. After all, it was a wedding; how could there be no priest to bless it?
America may no longer have a king, but it certainly has capitalists. Capital belongs to capitalists, and what's God's should still go to God.
The county commissioners were relieved that they had resolved the matter and followed Judge Edward as he left. Meanwhile, Niall had organized all the transcripts of the case and handed them to Frederick, who still needed to type them up for the records.
"You're quick on the uptake, kid!" Frederick said, taking the record and looking at the newlywed couple in the crowd.
"It's better than letting someone end up alone and miserable," Niall replied. He couldn't accept the situation, but under these circumstances, it was the only option.
"Of course."
"Let's go, let's go."
The two turned to head back to the administrative building, not only to print the documents but also because it was almost lunchtime. Although they hadn't worked hard that day, it was still time to eat.
As they were heading up the stairs, a clerk called out to Niall, asking him to go to Judge Edward's temporary office. It wasn't anything urgent—just needed to deliver the marriage certificate. After all the trouble he'd caused half the town of Irishmen, the judge clearly didn't want to face anyone to hand it over himself.
Niall nodded and quickly walked to the office on the left side of the second floor, where the door was open. He knocked gently before entering.
"Wait a moment," Judge Edward said, lifting his head from his writing and signaling for Niall to sit.
"A sharp young man like you is rare," the judge added once he finished the document, signed it, blew on the ink, and handed it to Niall.
"You flatter me," Niall said, quickly standing and stepping forward to accept the document.
Although West Virginia was thriving due to the coal industry, the miners didn't necessarily require much education. A basic elementary school education was the limit for most. Being illiterate didn't stop them from working in the mines, and often, the mine owners preferred miners who didn't read too much—especially those union leaders and activists who stirred up the workers.
Because fewer people had formal education, there weren't many sharp minds around, otherwise, the clerk job wouldn't have landed on Niall. But when someone compliments you, you accept it.
"I heard your father passed away; I'm sorry. But he must have left some inheritance. Why not use it for college? I'd be happy to write a recommendation letter for you," Judge Edward said kindly, offering a smile.
It was a small favor. If he could help a young man without a background, without a good family, or even without a father, and that man succeeded, it would reflect well on him. After all, it was just a recommendation letter, not a scholarship.
"Thank you very much, but the money wouldn't be enough to cover all my college expenses," Niall replied. The judge meant well, but Niall truly couldn't afford it.
To give a famous example, Harvard University currently charges around four hundred and twenty dollars in tuition per year, excluding books, accommodation, and living costs. Buying books alone could add dozens or even hundreds of dollars to the cost, not to mention extracurricular activities and social expenses. To attend college in America today, a minimum of seven hundred to eight hundred dollars per year is required.
In a land of opportunities, where everyone is supposed to achieve the American Dream, the poor have no right to attend college.
"It's unfortunate," Judge Edward said, his sympathy fleeting, before he fell silent.
Niall, understanding the situation, left. When you're an outsider, you don't take others' words too seriously, and you don't consider yourself important when you're away from home. That's just the way it is.
When he emerged into the square, Aiv and Carla saw him and waved eagerly.
Aiv, looking grayer and no longer showing the joy of youth, had a more "spirited" appearance now, his eyes filled with hope for the future. When he saw Niall, he immediately took off his hat and smiled, though his yellowed teeth somewhat spoiled the charm of the gesture.
"Congratulations, Uncle Aiv," Niall said, handing over the marriage certificate.
"I don't know how to thank you, may God bless you," Aiv said, passing the certificate to his wife before shaking Niall's hand.
"It's just a small thing, but you'll still need to pay two dollars for the document fee."
It was a bit of a downer to say this at such a moment, but it was the rule. The courthouse operates by the principle that if you don't have money, don't come in, no matter how right your case is.
"Right, right," Aiv said, quickly pulling out the money and paying the fee.
A full week's wages were just ten bucks, and here he was, paying two for a piece of paper. It's a different fate for different people. In other places, the paperwork would probably already be printed, and the judge would just sign it, but here, it still cost two bucks.
With that, Niall handed the money to the court clerk and returned to Frederick's office to wait for lunch.
It was clear that today's lunch would be something better than usual—shepherd's pie, a favorite dish among the local Irish.
Though it was called a pie, it was actually made by sautéing onions, carrots, and butter, mixing in a lot of lamb, seasoning it, and then piling it up. The top was covered with mashed potatoes and baked until the surface became slightly crispy. It was filling and tasty, much better than just eating porridge or steamed potatoes.
The building had a small meeting room, which also doubled as a dining hall. Niall and Frederick sat at the end of the table—it didn't matter where, since the food was the same for everyone. The meal included lots of white bread, baked with cream and sugar, as well as loaves of bread made from local wheat and oats.
The court's lunch was simple, with no appetizers or cold dishes. Each person had a plate, and the cook served up bean soup from a large tin pot.
Cold soup!
Niall just treated it like green bean soup, not bothering whether it was chickpeas or peas. He slowly sipped his soup, while Frederick, with a knife, sliced the bread and spread a bit of jam, handing some to Niall. The big shots in the front were talking amongst themselves, while the two of them simply ate in peace.
"Want a drink?" Frederick asked, holding up a bottle of wine.
"Sure," Niall said, nodding toward the cups in front of them.
It was common in Brook County, known for its apple production, to have a small glass of cider with lunch. The alcohol content was low, and many people treated it more like a beverage than an alcoholic drink.
But as soon as Niall took a sip, he immediately knew something was off. The taste was absurd.
There was alcohol in the wine!