“Stop mocking me,” she hissed, her eyes flashing with anger.
“I’m not. I’m concerned for Da’s investment.”
She slammed down her book. “Of course that’s all that would concern you. Money. Profit. You never realize there’s more to life than finding a way to earn more and more and more.”
His blue eyes gleamed with warning as he stared at her. “Don’t presume to judge me when you barely know me.”
“Take your own advice.”
Declan sighed and nodded. He ran his hand through his hair, grimacing when he sent the short locks on end. “Aye, I’m sorry, lass. I’m bein’ an ass because I’m upset.”
Letting out a long breath, Lorena studied him. “You seemed surprised when you ran your hand through your hair,” she murmured.
He chuckled mirthlessly. “Aye.” He ran his hand through the short strands again. “I’m always surprised to find my long hair gone. ’Tis as though I lost a part of me when I cut my hair.”
“Then why’d you do it?” she asked, flushing as his penetrating gaze homed in on her again.
“You already know the answer, if you care to consider it.” When she remained quiet, he sighed. “I wanted to fit in. I was tired of being a curiosity among people who I wanted to emulate. Too late I realized they weren’t worthy of my esteem.” He turned away—but not before she saw his chagrin at having revealed too much.
“It’s hard not to give in to the demands of others. Or to delude ourselves into believing giving away small pieces of ourselves will not lead to any lasting pain.” She smiled bravely as she met his startled look, when he faced her again. “I know what it is to want to fit in. To not be considered an oddity. But I’ve discovered the price can be too high.”
“What happened to you?” he asked. “Why do you hide on the margins of life, observing everyone but rarely participating?” He paused before another question burst out. “Why does the shadow of a man frighten you?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know you, Mr. O’Rourke.” She tilted her chin up, as she faced the disappointment in his gaze.
“No, and I fear you’ll never allow me to,” he murmured. “Do your own sisters know you?” At her jerk, as though his question had inflicted bodily harm, he swore under his breath. “I beg your pardon.”
“I don’t understand why you believe you have the right to ask me such questions. It isn’t as though you’re on good terms with your family members. Eamon and Finn are still hurting after you forced them away a year ago. Have you ever spoken with them?”
Declan smiled, a grudging admiration in his gaze. “No, I haven’t. But I will.” His smile broadened. “Like I thought, you’re a keen observer.” He sighed, as he looked around the now tidy space. “As for me, you’re stuck with me and my presence. Da’s worried some of the townsmen and transients are becoming a bit too forward in their treatment of you. Thus I’m to sit here each day, be your Ezra.”
“Ezra?” she stammered. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Ezra’s the man who watches the door and guards the Sirens. The women at the Bordello.” He flushed. “I admit, bad example. I’m to be your watchdog. Ensure none of the men get out of hand.”
She stomped her foot on the ground and glared at him. “You’ll scare away all my customers as you sit there and glare at them!”
“If they’re truly interested in books, rather than gawkin’ at you, then they won’t be intimidated by my presence. Besides, it’s Da’s wish.”
She let out an aggrieved huff, for she knew what Seamus O’Rourke wanted was as good as gospel. Although she would never admit it to Declan, she was silently relieved he would be here. A few of the men who had perused the books the previous day had been a bit too friendly. “Fine. You can stay. But you must be silent.”
“You’ll never know I’m here.”
“So I fervently hope.”
Chapter 6
A few mornings later, Lorena stood on her sister’s porch and took a deep breath. Although near the large O’Rourke family home, it was separate enough that Phoebe and Eamon had their own space. They were able to join in on any of the O’Rourke events that they wanted but could build their own life as a married couple, with the support and love of the extended family. Every day Lorena waited for the news that Phoebe was with child. And every day that she was spared such an announcement, she gave thanks. She feared envy would eat her alive.
Taking another deep breath, she knocked on her sister’s door. Lorena had an hour before she needed to open her store, and she hadn’t spent enough time with her middle sister lately. As the door eased open, her smile faded. “Phoebe? Are you ill?”
Phoebe grimaced, patting at her long blond hair tangled around her shoulders. “No. Not in the way you mean.”
Paling, Lorena whispered, “You’re in a family way.” When Phoebe nodded, staring at her with wide terrified eyes, Lorena swallowed her unwanted emotions, pulling her sister into her arms. “You’ll be the most wonderful mama, Phoebe.”
“How do you know that?” Phoebe cried out, as she clung to her eldest sister. “What if I’m like Mama? What if all I see is fault and something to ridicule?” She pushed away from her sister, swiping at the tears coursing down her cheeks. “What if I look at my baby and wish it were other than it is?”
Lorena fought tears as she saw her sister’s torment. Cupping Phoebe’s face, she whispered, “You’d never do that. You’d never treat a child created out of love with anything other than devotion. You’ll only ever look at your child as the benediction it is. Trust me, Phoebe.” She pulled Phoebe close, as her sister cried on her shoulder.
“I’m so afraid. And no O’Rourke will ever understand. All they do is love and love and love.”
Lorena made a soothing noise. “Of course they’ll understand, Phoebe. You’ve heard about their miserable stepmother. And Maggie’s horrible stepfather. They know what it is to have someone in their life who’s cruel and incapable of caring for them.” She kissed her sister’s head. “Trust Eamon. He’ll understand.”
Biting her lip, Phoebe stared at her sister, her tear-dampened cheeks ignored. “He stares at me as though he’s memorizing the hours he has with me. I think he’s afraid I’m ailing.”
Lorena groaned. “Tell him so he’s not afraid. Let him revel in his good fortune with you. For having a child with a man who adores you as he does is something to celebrate.”
Phoebe smiled at her sister and moved to the stove to set on the kettle. “Will you stay for a cup of tea?” At her sister’s nod, she set out cups and prepared the pot. “What brought you by? Are you well?”
“Of course I’m well. I’m always well.” She sighed. “Although I’m annoyed beyond comprehension.”
“Why?” Phoebe asked, as she found a hand towel to swipe at her face. She sat, combing her hair, before pulling it back in a loose knot.
Lorena wandered the small living space, tidying it up for her sister. She flung the quilt over the bed, smoothed down the tablecloth on the small dining table for two, and then moved to the sink to do the small pile of dishes. As she scrubbed away, she said, “Declan’s driving me insane.”
“Declan?” Phoebe asked, as she sat with a thud on a chair, smiling appreciatively at her sister who helped clean her house. “Why? He’s morose and barely speaks to anyone. Eamon’s losing hope he’ll ever reconcile with his brother.”
“Oh, he speaks. He chatters incessantly.” Lorena dunked a dish in the pail of clean water, then set it aside. “He has an imagination like I never knew was possible, Phoebe. And he’s curious. About everything. Although he claims he should be a backwoodsman, with the hair and clothes to match, I think he should be a professor.”
“A teacher,” Phoebe breathed.
“Yes, exactly. He should share his curiosity and joy for learning with others.” She shrugged, as though what she said didn’t really matter. “Although he’d never take what I had to say seriously.”
Phoebe watched h
er oldest sister work, grimacing as she slammed down dishes with such force she feared she’d crack them. Lorena had always been the most controlled, the demurest of the Mortimer sisters. It was as though she attempted to distract anyone from her red hair—to prove that she was not hotheaded or heedless of consequences. As she studied her sister, Phoebe realized this was the most animated she’d seen her sister in years.
“He promised he’d be a silent sentry,” Lorena muttered.
“If he had been, I doubt you’d have realized how intelligent he was. Or that you’re attracted to him.” Phoebe’s eyes shone with mischief, as her sister squealed and spun to face her.
“Attracted to him? Are you insane? Of course I’m not attracted to him.” She closed her eyes, as though praying for patience. “He’s a good-looking man. All O’Rourkes are. But that doesn’t mean … doesn’t mean …” She stammered to a stop, before she rubbed at her forehead. “I can’t like him, Phoebe.”
Any teasing faded when Phoebe rose to approach Lorena, as though she were an injured wild animal. “Why, Lo? You like him. He likes you. I know there’s so much I don’t understand. But, if the two of you understand, that’s what matters. Isn’t it?”
“I’ve done things, … things that are unforgiveable.” Lorena ducked her head. “And I couldn’t live with his or your or anyone’s disgust.”
Phoebe pulled her close, rocking her side to side. “Stop it, Lo. Stop it right now. Nothing you could have done would disgust me. Would make me stop loving you like the beloved sister you are.” She cupped Lorena’s face, her gaze earnest and wise. “I know what it was like growing up with Mama. I know the expectations she had. And I know we all did what we could to keep her happy. You should feel no shame because you survived our childhood. You should feel shame if you don’t give thanks, every night, that we have a chance for a different life now.”
A tear trickled down Lorena’s cheek. “Oh, I do give thanks, Phoebe. I do. But I fear too much happened during my time away. I fear I’ll never overcome it.”
Phoebe smiled. “You’re strong, Lo. Stronger than any of us. I know you will.”
* * *
Lorena returned to her bookshop, staring into space. Closing her eyes, she attempted to bury images from the past. Memories that had the potential to overwhelm her. She took a deep breath and then another, as she focused on the town noise in an attempt to ground herself.
“If you go about life daydreaming, girl, you won’t have any success,” a snide voice called out.
Lorena’s eyes blinked open, and she stared at Aileen’s aunt, Mrs. Davies, who stood inside her store, sneering at her displays of books.
“Or you’ll be robbed blind, as men sneak in and steal your merchandise. It only proves a woman should never be left in charge of an enterprise.” Janet Davies sashayed into the bookstore, her heels clicking on the wood, as her skirts swirled around her ankles. Rather than the pristine dresses she had worn upon her arrival to Fort Benton some two years ago, this formerly navy-blue dress was faded to a near gray. However, Janet Davies held herself and walked as though she were the master of all she surveyed.
Lorena stood tall, her gaze inquisitive, as she studied the woman rumored to be her uncle’s paramour. Or one of them. “There are plenty of women who run successful businesses.”
Scoffing, she shook her head. “Ha! You’ve had your head filled with mush as much as any O’Rourke. Now you’ll try to convince me what the Madam does is honorable and a decent way for a woman to earn a wage.”
Unable to hide a sly smile, Lorena bit her lip before murmuring, “Well, it seems as honorable a living as a man’s mistress in order to maintain one’s lifestyle.” Her green gaze met and held Mrs. Davies’ gaze, now glowering, for Lorena’s steely strength was no longer hidden within. “Or is it acceptable for you but not for others?”
Janet flushed beet red, her hands on her hips, as she glared at the younger woman. “Oh, you think you can be brave now because you have the backing of Seamus O’Rourke and hope to trap one of his sons into marriage? Mark my words. No man wants used goods. No man wants a woman who is a tease and a flirt but who will never be able to satisfy him.” She took a step forward to poke Lorena in her shoulder, her blue eyes glowing with acrimony. “No man wants to saddle himself with a lifetime’s worth of obligation. For that’s all you’d ever be—an obligation. A duty. A chain around his neck that he’ll only dream of breaking free of.”
Lorena tilted her chin up, standing as stiff as a board, as she fought panic at the older woman’s words that stung as fiercely as anything her mama had ever spewed at her. “You’re jealous because you have no idea what life can be like with a man who loves like an O’Rourke.” She smiled in a cunning way, her smile broadening as Janet Davies stared at her in horror at the thought Lorena had already won an O’Rourke man’s love.
“You do realize you’re his fourth choice?” Janet said with a harsh indrawn breath, her hands clenched at her sides. “First was Aileen, then Ardan’s bride—that witch in the kitchen.” She glowered as she turned toward the café and considered Deirdre. “Can you imagine how much he was unmanned by having two women stolen by his brothers? And then that woman in Saint Louis didn’t even want him and left him with a bastard child.” She looked Lorena up and down and shrugged. “I suppose he’ll take what he can get. You’re better than having to raise his brat alone. Or with his wet nurse.”
Lorena gazed at her, momentarily struck dumb at her hurtful words.
“I can see you didn’t fully think through how unwanted you truly are. It’s always shocking to realize how little value we bring to another’s life. Or how unimportant we truly are.” Glancing around the bookstore, she shrugged. “You’ll fail at this and at your attempt to marry an O’Rourke. Your mother knew you were a failure. Your sister knows you’re a failure, and so does your uncle. No man wants a failure.” She turned on her heels, sauntering away with a breezy wave.
Lorena watched her departure, feeling as though she had just been sucker punched. She turned toward a window and fisted her hands together, digging her fingernails into her palms, berating herself for feeling again. However, the icy numbness she had clung to had melted away, and she was unable to remain impassive, stoic, and untouched by the hurtful comments of those around her. Nor could she ignore her racing heart and rising panic that an O’Rourke would hear about Lorena’s boasting.
A giggle sounded in the doorway, and her gaze jerked in that direction. “That was entertaining, although you should have told her off at the end,” Maggie said, as she stood with a basket. She held it up and shrugged. “You missed the midday meal, and Mum worried you’d go hungry.”
Lorena rubbed at her stomach, shaking her head. “I can’t imagine eating right now.” Flushing, she murmured, “How much did you hear?”
Shrugging, Maggie said, “Enough to know you made her believe you and Declan are a couple.” Her eyes widened. “Are you?”
Lorena closed her eyes in defeat, as her shoulders sagged. “No, of course we aren’t. Your brother has taken pity on me because your father has commanded it of him, by coming here and helping me arrange books. He’s also a bit of a guard dog.”
Maggie perked up at that last sentence. “Guard dog?” A wry smile spread. “I’ve learned my brothers never act like that unless they’re interested in the woman.”
Rolling her eyes and then her shoulders, Lorena began to pace. “Don’t start imagining things, Maggie. Declan’s been kind. Kinder than I thought he would be.” She rubbed at her temples. “Kinder than I deserve.”
The younger woman grabbed Lorena’s arm and held her still, waiting until Lorena met her gaze. “You don’t believe that nonsense that viper spouted at the end? About men and what they want?” Maggie shook her head and let out an exasperated huff of air. “She’s a miserable old spinster, who’s never known love, who now has to put up with your pompous portly uncle so she won’t starve.”
Against her will, a smile burst forth, and Lor
ena giggled. “Pompous portly?”
Maggie shrugged again, looking pleased with herself. “I’ve spent a little time with that captain. He has a marvelous way with words.”
Lorena freed herself from Maggie’s hold to perch on a stool. “I thought you’d have no trouble with Seamus as your father.”
“With tellin’ tales and the like?” For a moment, Maggie sounded as Irish as any member of her family, and Lorena marveled at her ability to mimic those around her. Raising her hands to shove loose strands of her auburn hair back into her bun, Maggie made a noncommittal face. “I can tell a story, but the captain has a way of bringing words alive. And he’s so much fun to listen to.” She smiled again, as she looked around. “Are you ever very busy?”
Lorena paused a moment. “Yes, generally as a stage is about to depart. Dunmore helpfully informed me that there are no bookstores in Helena or Virginia City, and I’m attempting to spread the word. As travelers learn of that fact, they visit to find a new book or two to bring with them. Or they realize they shouldn’t have left their Bibles behind.”
Maggie perked up at the mention of Dunmore. “Dunmore’s back?”
Lorena turned away to hide her smile, on the pretense of dusting the binding of a book. “Yes, he visited last evening, as I was about to close up. I thought you knew he had returned.”
Maggie frowned and furrowed her brows. “No. I hate when he’s away.” She forced a smile as she looked at Lorena, a woman she considered family, although no joy reached her eyes. “If Dunmore told you that, then it’s true. He doesn’t lie.”
Stilling, Lorena watching Maggie in wonder. “How remarkable it must be to have such faith in another.” She watched as Maggie shrugged. “What do you think of my plan? I’m going to write up an announcement and hang it in public places. As long as the proprietors will allow me to.”
Pioneer Bliss: The O’Rourke Family Montana Saga, Book Five Page 6
