Love Remains

by Sarah M. Eden

  Cecily thanked the heavens that Tavish had his family, and that they all had each other. But the long, quiet hours alone in Granny’s now-empty house had been difficult, a stark reminder that she didn’t truly belong with these people. They weren’t as unwelcoming as they’d once been, but in the days since the funeral, it had never been clearer that she was not, nor ever would be, one of them.

  Finbarr had issued her the invitation to his birthday gathering. Though she’d been hesitant to accept, she was glad she’d come. Hearing Tavish’s voice striking a happy tone, laughing with his loved ones, helped her worry less about how he was enduring this most recent loss. He’d come by to see Cecily twice since losing Granny, but the visits had been short, and he’d been understandably distant, wading as he was through grief.

  “I’ve a present for our man, here,” Tavish called out, bringing the din in the room down once more. “Though ’tis something of a gift to my own self, as well.”

  Something metal clanked on the floor.

  “What is it?” Finbarr asked after a moment.

  “Bring the lantern closer,” Mrs. O’Connor instructed someone.

  “I still can’t say what it is.” Finbarr sounded as confused as intrigued. “Oddest thing I ever saw.”

  “It’s a milking pail,” Tavish said. “Seamus and I concocted one with a wide base. It won’t tip over easily should some milker, whom I’ll not name to protect his reputation, keep knocking into it in the dim barn.”

  Finbarr laughed, something he did more of late. He still kept himself at an emotional distance from others, but he joined conversations, he laughed with his family, he no longer kept to the dim corners of the house, alone. “This’ll save you a great deal of spilled milk.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Tavish said.

  “I have a gift for you as well,” Joseph Archer said. “I won’t make you guess at what it is, though—a pair of heavy work gloves. I fully intend to have you help me repair fences as spring approaches. You’ll need a good pair of gloves.”

  “Do you think I’m ready?” He clearly hoped the answer was yes.

  “I know you are. And as Tavish said, I am looking forward to it.”

  Jeremiah Johnson and his family had come as well. Finbarr’s efforts to save their daughter from the fire that had nearly taken his own life had bonded them to him. “We have something for you,” Mr. Johnson said.

  A few footsteps, then silence.

  “A cane?” Finbarr said after a moment.

  “Miss Attwater said that having one was important for you,” Mr. Johnson said. “We couldn’t send for one, so I whittled this.”

  Finbarr had a cane. Cecily didn’t bother hiding her happiness, but let her smile fully bloom. He’d rely less heavily on the assistance of others now. He could be more independent. More free.

  “The family has a gift for you, too.”

  As Cecily couldn’t see anything indoors any longer, she could only assume Mr. O’Connor had given his son something.

  “A stack of paper,” Finbarr said. Then, after a moment, his voice softened. “They’re notes. In Braille. When did—How did you know how to—”

  “We’ve been learning Braille,” Mrs. O’Connor said. “We’re not terribly good at it yet, but each of us wanted to tell you how much we love you, and we wanted to do it in a way that was just for you.”

  “Just for him?” Ian called out in tones of teasing mockery. “I learned so I can pass m’ sweetheart notes under the table. Finbarr had nothing to do with it.”

  Laughter filled the room once more. The O’Connors truly were a happy group of people. Cecily loved that about them. She envied it a little, as well. Smiles and laughter weren’t as joyous when one was alone.

  “I believe we need a bit of music,” one of the O’Connors’ sons-in-law declared. His suggestion was immediately taken up. The O’Connors were also a very musical family.

  Over the many sounds echoing madly around her, Cecily heard approaching steps. She couldn’t be certain of the person’s identity other than knowing it wasn’t the person she most wanted to sit with her: Tavish. Perhaps he would before the evening was over.

  “Cecily, may I have a moment?” Joseph.

  “Of course.”

  Chair legs scraped as well as the sound of stiff fabric bending as he sat. “This is an awkward topic for a birthday party, but the spring thaw is fast approaching, so you have decisions to make. Granny Claire appointed me the task of—She asked me to make certain all was in order for her house and land to be left to you.”

  Cecily could not possibly have anticipated that declaration. Granny had shown her great kindness. Cecily had loved her and had felt deeply cared about in return. But this was too much, too unexpected. “You must be mistaken.”

  “I assure you, I am not. She was quite clear. She wanted you to have a home to call your own. To be able to stay in Hope Springs if you wished. I was instructed specifically not to force your hand or try to convince you one way or the other, only to inform you of the option and then honor your decision.”

  She could do nothing but sit in mute shock. Granny had given her a choice, a new path to consider. Granny had given her the possibility of a home to call her own.

  “You needn’t decide immediately,” Joseph continued. “There is no urgency. Whenever you are ready to make a decision, no matter what you choose, simply let me know.”

  She nodded. “I will. Thank you for telling me.”

  “Thank you for all you’ve done for Finbarr,” Joseph said. “To me, he is like a younger brother, a son, and a friend all mixed in one. Seeing him lost for so long broke my heart. But now he is slowly but surely coming back to us.”

  “That is always my hope for my students,” she said. “I know what it is to be lost.”

  Joseph’s chair creaked as he shifted position. “I should warn you, a very determined-looking Irishman is headed directly for you,” he said. “If I don’t miss my mark, I believe he means to ask you to dance.”

  Her heart flipped over in her chest. She hadn’t danced with Tavish since that long-ago evening during the snowstorm, but she’d thought of it often since.

  “Cecee, come dance with me.” What the invitation lacked in elegance, it more than made up for in enthusiasm. “’Tis a reel they’re beginning. You dance a reel, do you not?”

  “I never have,” she confessed.

  “No matter.” His hand took hers. “Simply hold on, and I’ll spin you through it.”

  What could she do but laugh and cling to him? Around and around he spun her, the music bright and cheerful and so very Irish. By the way voices swung past her, Cecily could tell that others were dancing, too, moving and twirling as much as she was.

  “Please don’t let go,” she begged even as she grinned ever more broadly. “I have absolutely no idea which way I’m facing, and I’m going to be dizzy.”

  His cheek brushed against hers, and he spoke softly into her ear. “I’ve no intention of letting go.”

  She forced herself not to believe his words meant anything deeper than a reference to the dance, though she wanted to believe it possible. Her admission to Granny had been entirely true. Cecily loved this man. She suspected he might love her in return, but too much was still uncertain and unsettled for her to allow for any thoughts beyond this moment.

  The fast clip of music slowed, and the rhythm changed to the familiar 1–2–3 of a waltz. Tavish’s arm snaked around her middle. “Here’s what I was hoping for,” he said. “Even my difficult family can’t object to me holding you close when we’re dancing to an air.”

  “Perhaps we can convince them to play six or seven of them.” She set her hand at his neck.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  They settled into the movements of this dance with even greater ease than the reel.

  “I am glad Finbarr convinced you to come tonight,” Tavish said. “I’ve not seen you as much these past days as I’d’ve liked.”

 
“Has your family been looking after you?” She didn’t doubt they had, but she wanted to be certain he wasn’t being left to face his grief unsupported.

  “They have been very good to me. I grieved Bridget too long alone. I’ll not do that this time. Not ever again.”

  She sighed with real relief and laid her head against him. “You need them. And they need you.”

  “It’s something I’ve come to understand more over the past year and half than in all the years before that.” His hand splayed across her back, holding her to him. “We’d all be lost without each other.”

  That was the undeniable truth about this family. Their strength came from one another. The loss of that connection would be devastating to them all. It was why Finbarr’s situation had been so dire when she first arrived. He hadn’t been the only one crippled by his injuries and losses. They had all been falling apart under the strain and suffering.

  If she were to stay in Hope Springs, if she and Tavish were to grow ever closer, fall more in love, would she be welcomed into that circle of love and protection? Or would Tavish, however subtly, be pushed out of it? The O’Connors were no longer unkind to her, but an Irishman making a life with an Englishwoman was unfathomable in ways most people outside the tiny British Isles couldn’t comprehend. She’d never quite be part of this family. She had seen these past days how this family turned to each other for strength, but they had not extended that same comfort to her. Her grief was kept separate from theirs, just as her life would always be.

  Tavish would, at some point, be forced to choose between her and his family. No matter who he gave his loyalty to, he would be hurt by having to make the choice.

  Granny had said that she wanted Tavish to be happy. How could Cecily wish for anything less?

  “Cecee?” Tavish snapped her wandering thoughts back to the moment. “The music’s stopped, dear. If you stand here hanging off me like this with no music as an excuse, we’ll scandalize the entire room.”

  He was teasing, of course, but she felt a subtle reality behind the words. How many times had she resolved not to pursue these feelings, knowing that doing so could only end in disaster? He wove a spell, one she needed to slip free of.

  No sooner had he guided her to the side of the room than Finbarr spoke. “Cecily, may I ask a question?”

  Too much weighed on her mind for responding beyond a quiet, “Yes.”

  “How did my family learn Braille?”

  “With great determination.”

  Tavish jumped in, offering his own answer. “Cecily has been spending her evenings and many of her free days giving lessons and creating instruction sheets for us. She’s been neglecting her book project to make it happen. And it hasn’t been only our family, you know. The Archers have been studying it as well.”

  “But why?” Finbarr asked. “Why would all of you learn something you have so little use for?”

  He still did not truly comprehend the depth of love around him. He needed to.

  Cecily pushed aside her own grief and sorrow and spoke with a tender firmness. “They didn’t learn as a convenience to themselves. Learning Braille is important to them because it is important to you. This family . . .” How did she put her thoughts into words? “I have spent time with a great many families throughout my travels, but yours is special. The O’Connors have a strength here that runs deep, but it runs in both directions. You are in as much of a position to help and strengthen them as you ever were. You need them, yes, but they need you just as much. That is a gift, and a reason to keep going. I hope you understand that. I hope you appreciate that.”

  “I am beginning to,” Finbarr said.

  A weight lifted from her heart. Finbarr would recover. Tavish would heal. This family would again be whole.

  And she . . . she wouldn’t do anything to undermine that.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Tavish stood at the cemetery fence after services on a mild Sunday afternoon, watching Cecily lay flowers on Granny’s grave. He’d not seen hide nor hair of her in nearly two weeks. No one had.

  She seldom ventured outside Granny’s house. Finbarr managed most of his lessons on his own and spent a great deal of time working either at Joseph’s house or helping Tavish around his. On several occasions, Tavish had gone to look in on her, but the house was always dark, and she never answered his knocks. No denying it: she was avoiding him. But why?

  Everything had seemed wonderful between them until the night of Finbarr’s birthday. What had gone wrong since?

  Katie stepped next to him. “’Tis a solemn place, this. Are you enduring Granny’s passing?”

  He nodded. “Well enough. How are you feeling? You were a bit poorly at the party a fortnight ago.”

  Katie set her hand low on her abdomen. “This little pea seems determined to make certain I am well aware of who is to be the ruler between the two of us.”

  “Then I’d wager the wee one is a boy. No lad avoids making trouble for the women in his life.”

  Katie’s gaze drifted to Cecily, then she motioned toward her with a quick lift of her chin. “She must miss Granny a great deal. I do, too. No one who lived in that house could help but love that dear woman.”

  “Perhaps it is grief, then,” Tavish said to himself.

  “Beg your pardon?”

  He resumed his normal tone. “I’ve been trying to sort out why it is she’s avoiding everyone, myself included. We’ve none of us truly seen her since Finbarr’s birthday.”

  “’Tis nearly spring,” Katie said by way of explanation. “It must always be a difficult thing to be saying goodbye to places and to people she’s come to care for. What a shame she turned down Granny’s bequest.”

  Tavish looked over at Katie. “What bequest?”

  “Granny’s home,” Katie said.

  That made little sense. “I’m still unsure what you’re speaking of.”

  Katie’s brow arched upward in surprise. “You don’t know, then.”

  “Obviously not.”

  “Granny gave Joseph instructions that he was to offer Cecily her home to have as her own,” Katie said. “Granny worried that Cecily was returning to Missouri only because she’d no other choice. She felt strongly that of all the things a woman ought to have in life, a choice of what to do with that life ought to be one of them.”

  This was all new information to him. “But Cecee said no? She turned it down?”

  “The day after Finbarr’s birthday, she told Joseph that she had decided to go back to Missouri. She’ll travel with the Johnsons to the depot in three weeks’ time.”

  Tavish didn’t know what to say. Indeed, he couldn’t so much as form a coherent thought. Cecily could live in Hope Springs. She could stay, have a home of her own. Live nearby.

  Instead, she was leaving. She had the choice, and she was choosing to go.

  “I was certain you knew,” Katie said. “I assumed Granny made the offer in large part because of you.”

  “I’d nothing to do with it,” he insisted.

  “Not directly,” Katie said. “You must realize not a soul in this town is unaware of how you feel about Cecily.”

  “And now they’re all aware of how she feels—or doesn’t feel—about me.”

  Katie shook her head firmly. “I don’t believe that’s the situation at all.”

  “Then what is it?” He could think of no other reason she’d so easily choose to abandon him.

  “Why don’t you ask her yourself, you stubborn man? She’s nearly here.”

  Sure enough, Cecily was making her way along the fence toward the gate where he stood, her cane tapping the fence posts as she passed them. She was yet a few yards away.

  “Joseph and I were planning to drive her home,” Katie said, “but we’ll happily cede that task if you’re looking for a few minutes of her time.”

  “I’d be grateful,” he answered.

  Katie simply smiled and stepped away.

  Tavish turned his attention fully to Ceci
ly, who’d nearly reached him.

  She took a noseful of air. “Tavish?”

  “Oh, come now. I can’t possibly smell that badly.”

  The light expression she assumed didn’t bring a smile to her lips nor smooth the lines of worry in her forehead. “I was only teasing. I recognized the sound of your voice.”

  “You were listening, then?” That might simplify the unavoidable conversation lying ahead of them.

  “I couldn’t make out what you were saying, but I recognized the timbre.”

  “I’ve been granted the privilege of seeing you home,” Tavish said, “if you’ve no objections.”

  She hesitated. Apparently she did object, at least a little. “I hadn’t intended to inconvenience you.”

  “I suspect what you intended to do was avoid me.”

  “Tavish.” Her tone was scolding.

  He stepped through the open gate in the cemetery fence and slipped his hand around hers. “Will you let me see you home, dear? I’ve no doubt you could manage it on your own if you wish. I simply want a bit of your company, and I hope you’d enjoy a bit of mine.”

  “I always enjoy your company,” she said quietly.

  He slipped her hand through his arm in the way he’d found helped her the most when navigating about. They walked from the graveyard and turned toward the river.

  “You’re leaving for Missouri.” He figured there was no point stating it as a question, as everything was settled.

  “You have known since I arrived in October that I would be leaving.”

  “I thought so only because you had no other option.” He kept his focus on the road ahead, afraid that if he looked over, he’d be defeated by the determination in her voice. “I know about Granny’s house.” Her posture stiffened, but her expression remained neutral. “What I don’t understand is why you turned it down. You could stay here, Cecee. You could have a home.”