Long Journey Home (Longing for Home Book 5)

by Sarah M. Eden

  “Of course you can’t,” Eliza said.

  Taking Aidan far from the city, giving him a chance to start new, was the only real option, the only right thing. She’d have to sell Grady’s treasured offering, the link he’d forged between them through sacrifice and love. But she would do it to save their son. She was risking her very life to save Aidan’s. Grady would have understood. He had risked his life, after all, fighting alongside his brother to try to save a nation, so she and Aidan would have a future. He’d given everything for them; he would forgive her for having to do the same.

  “Will you write to me?” Eliza asked. “I’ll be far less lonely if you do.”

  Maura squeezed her hand and nodded. “And you’ll write to me?”

  “As any pretend sister would.”

  Maura was grateful for a reason to smile after everything had crumbled around her in the past moments.

  “Once I’m settled, if my health holds, and if I can save a bit of money,” Maura said, “would you consider coming West, joining us there?”

  “That’s a lot of ifs.” She spoke with hesitant hopefulness.

  “I’m afraid I can’t change that.”

  Eliza squared her shoulders. “You work on those ifs. I’ll work on setting a bit aside to help. If I can get Lydia out of this city, I’ll do it.”

  Maura hugged her friend fiercely. “It’ll all be grand in the end. You’ll see.”

  She hoped Eliza believed it. She hoped, in time, she would as well.

  Chapter Four

  May

  Maura was even more nervous than she’d been the day Grady first introduced her to his parents fifteen years earlier. On this day, like that one, she desperately hoped the O’Connors would open their hearts to her and make room for her. She’d doubted they would then because they’d been strangers. She doubted they would now because ten years of deafening silence stretched between her and them.

  “What if I can’t remember all their names?” Aidan had been peppering her with questions all the way from New York. Now, as they walked along a dirt road, following the directions they’d been given when dismounting the cramped stagecoach, she had no more answers for him than she’d had the day they walked away from the only home he remembered.

  “They’ll not begrudge you,” she said.

  “You’re certain?”

  “Full certain.” She’d told her son a few lies of late, all to save him worry. She only hoped the heavens would forgive her for them.

  “What if there aren’t any jobs for us?”

  “We’ll find something.” She hoped that didn’t prove another lie.

  On they walked. The town of Hope Springs, the stage driver had told her, was just over the hill they were climbing.

  “What if no one has a place for us?”

  If Maura hadn’t been struggling to breathe, she’d likely have begged the lad to stop with his questions. His doubts fueled her own, and she could ill afford to lose her nerve now, when she’d sacrificed so much and come so far to offer him this new beginning.

  Her letter asking if the O’Connors could make room for her and her son had been answered quickly but briefly.

  Received your letter. We’ve ample room. Come as soon as you’re able.

  The rest had been devoted to explaining how to get to Hope Springs, with a blessed amount of detail that had helped her tremendously. But she hadn’t the first idea how she and Aidan would be received, or what “ample room” truly meant.

  If the heavens chose to be kind—and she prayed that proved the case—the family would be happy to see Aidan, at least, and they’d be willing to help her sort out a more permanent arrangement than being a guest in one of their homes. ’Twould all work out in the end, and it’d all be grand, just as she continually promised her boy; it simply had to be. They’d nowhere else to go and no one else to turn to, and she’d nothing to her name beyond the contents of their carpet bags and the tiniest bit of money for living until she found work.

  “Stop a moment, lad.” She set a hand on his arm. “I need to catch m’ breath.”

  His worried gaze darted to her. “The stage driver should’ve dropped us closer to town.”

  “I’d’ve appreciated that.”

  This stage route, they’d been informed, was a new one, and there wasn’t an official stop established at Hope Springs. They’d switched trains a dozen times. And those trains had taken them only as close as a two-day stage journey away from a town that apparently few ever visited and, it seemed, few ever left.

  “I know you’re nervous, Aidan. Starting over worries a soul.” She paused for air. “Do you remember when we first moved to the Widows’ Tower?”

  He shook his head no. She wasn’t overly surprised; he had been very young.

  “I was a ball of nerves, I’ll tell you. What if we weren’t wanted? What if we never made any friends? What if the whole thing was a disaster?”

  He scuffed the toe of his shoes against the dirt and nodded.

  “Do you know what I did?”

  He shook his head once more, eyes on his boots.

  “I decided to make a place there for myself, to help where I could, to do good for the people around me. Then it would feel like home because there was love there.”

  He eyed her. “Did it work?”

  The answer was clear if he’d give it but a moment’s thought. “Was it home to us?” she asked, hoping to help him reach his own conclusion.

  He smiled, a little nostalgic, a little sad. “It was.”

  She took a wheezing breath, wishing her lungs weren’t so heavy. Her breathing had not improved since they’d left New York. Did that mean her lungs were more damaged than even Dr. Dahl suspected? Or had she simply not been away long enough for a noticeable difference?

  Before they left New York, she’d seen the doctor one last time. She’d regretted the expense, but she’d needed to be certain she was strong enough to make the journey. Had her condition been rendered critical by the strain of travel, and, heaven forbid, she’d succumbed to her illness, Aidan’s situation would have been beyond dire. She’d needed to know it was safe to go, even though the expense would make things harder for them now when they needed every penny to live on.

  Dr. Dahl had reiterated his warning that she might not ever improve at all. She might simply discover that she’d waited too long. She’d not allow herself to think on that possibility.

  “Should I run ahead?” Aidan asked. “I could find someone to come back with a wagon or a buggy or something like that.”

  She shook her head, then set down the carpet bag she carried. Aidan laid his two larger bags beside hers. Hands on her hips, posture a little slumped, she attempted to settle her lungs into an easier, less painful, rhythm.

  “Ma?”

  She waved off the worried, unspoken question. “I only need a moment, love.”

  He nodded and watched, face still creased with worry.

  Perhaps she could distract him from the question of her health. They would have to face it soon enough. Distractions proved a bit hard to come by. Looking about, she saw little beyond a vast emptiness. “’Tis an odd thing, not seeing any buildings.”

  He looked out over the horizon. “Or any people.”

  “You’ll not be lonely, will you?”

  He shook his head. “It’ll be nice. I won’t have to fight for a corner.”

  How she hoped that proved true. The world had far too many “corners.”

  Another round of coughs halted their conversation for a drawn-out moment. She tried to smile through the onslaught so he wouldn’t worry. “Are you excited to see your grandparents?” she asked once she had air enough.

  He kicked a pebble. “They’re strangers.”

  Unfamiliar people always made him nervous. She could help with that, at least.

  “Let me tell you what I remember of them while we walk on. Then they’ll be better known to you.” She squeezed his fingers. “Though we’d best move slowly. I don’t kn
ow that I’ve air enough to walk very fast and talk at the same time.”

  “We can wait some more if you need.”

  She shook her head and took up her bag once more. He grabbed both of his as well. One painstaking step at a time, they moved closer to their destination.

  “The O’Connors love to laugh.”

  “So did Papa.” Aidan had no actual memories of his father. Everything he knew of Grady had come from Maura’s stories and recollections.

  “Your Papa was the oldest of seven children. Five of them live here now.”

  Aidan nodded. He knew all of this, yet hearing it again, she hoped, would offer a bit of the comfort that came of familiarity.

  “They like to sing and dance. They tell wonderfully funny stories.” The time she’d spent with them had been amongst the happiest of her life. How she hoped that part of the family’s interactions hadn’t changed. “The youngest brother, Finbarr, is only five years older than you are.”

  “He lives here?”

  “He does.” At least, she hadn’t heard otherwise. “They all do.”

  “Will they—?” Aidan pressed his lips closed, apparently not wanting to ask whatever hung on his mind.

  She took a wheezing breath. “You’d best ask whatever is on your mind, lad. Unanswered questions are a heavy thing to bear.”

  “Will they be glad to see us?” he asked, almost a whisper.

  She had decided they would be. She depended on it. “They were always happy when we would drop in for a visit. Your grandmother, in particular, was very fond of you.”

  “Was she fond of you?” He’d picked up on what she’d not said. He always had been a bit too insightful.

  “She was.” ’Twas an honest answer. What she didn’t know was if her mother-in-law was still fond of her. So much time had passed. So much lay between them: Grady staying behind for Maura’s sake, dying in a war he might otherwise have avoided. Maura laid a great deal of the blame for Grady’s death at her own feet. Mrs. O’Connor might very well feel the same. The whole family likely did.

  Make a place for the two of us. Help where I can. Do good for the people around me. She repeated her own words of advice. She knew how to make the best of a less-than-ideal situation. And the Tower had, in time, become home. This new place could as well.

  She and Aidan slowly crested the hill. Her heart pounded from exertion, nervousness, and the continued struggle in her lungs. She hoped the O’Connors didn’t live too much farther. She hadn’t the endurance to continue on much longer.

  At the top of the hill, she paused, looking out over the valley in front of them. Vast lengths of fields spread in all directions, with homes dotting the expanse. A river wound its way toward the edges. The distant mountains added a majesty to the scene.

  “It is beautiful here,” she said.

  “And quiet.” That seemed particularly pleasing to him.

  Maura’s gaze slid to the only collection of buildings in any proximity to one another, what must have been the town of Hope Springs itself. Except it seemed to consist of only three buildings. Three. She had never seen a town so small. Even her childhood village in Tipperary was larger than this.

  “Is that all of it?” Aidan looked as confused as he sounded.

  “Eliza would never believe such a tiny place even existed, would she?” She smiled at the idea of their friend’s reaction. “She’d think we were telling her a tale.”

  “Do you know what this town needs?” Aidan said.

  She eyed him, curious.

  “A factory,” he said, not quite hiding his grin. Aidan had his father’s odd but delightful sense of humor.

  “Perhaps we could suggest one.”

  Aidan’s smile lasted only a moment. Bless him, he was so nervous.

  The road took them down the hill and over a wide, wooden bridge spanning a river, which appeared to wind back again on the other side of the shockingly small town, crossed by yet another bridge. The short walk left her struggling for air once more.

  “That is all of the town.” Aidan looked behind them, as if half expecting to realize he’d somehow overlooked rows and rows of houses.

  The first building they came upon appeared to be a shop of some kind. Dry goods were visible through the windows. Up ahead was a smithy’s. Farther yet was a building she couldn’t identify. A small house. A church, perhaps. The shop seemed her best option for getting directions.

  “We’ll ask here,” she said. “I’m sure someone will help us.”

  “You always think so.” Aidan shook his head in amusement.

  “And, generally, someone does.” She ruffled his hair. “You have to believe there’s good in the world, lad. And you have to be willing to add good to it.”

  “I know, Ma. You say that all the time.”

  She kept Aidan at her side as a small group of people just stepping out of the shop passed by. They eyed her with confusion, but their focus quickly settled on Aidan. They stared, making no effort to hide their curiosity. Whispers were exchanged. Gazes returned again and again, even after the strangers had passed. Maura put a protective arm around her boy, though he was every bit as tall as she. In time, her sweet little Aidan would tower over her.

  “Why are they all looking at me?” he whispered.

  “I’ve no idea,” she admitted. She’d hoped he hadn’t noticed. He could be quite bashful, unsure of new places and people. This level of scrutiny would unnerve even the most unshakable of people. Aidan moved closer to her. His shoulders grew so tense they practically touched his ears.

  A woman hovered nearby, a wee one on her hip. Her gaze, like everyone else’s, continually returned to Aidan.

  Maura faced her straight on. “Begging your pardon, ma’am.”

  The woman met her eye. “Forgive me. I’d not meant to stare, I swear to you.” She was Irish. That was a promising thing. “’Tis only that your lad . . .” Her dark brow pulled low. “He looks very like . . . a man who lives here.”

  A painful squeezing seized Maura’s heart. “A man named O’Connor, by chance?”

  The still unnamed woman grew wide-eyed. “Tavish O’Connor, in fact.”

  Tavish. One of Grady’s younger brothers. Dear, kind Tavish. She’d missed him fiercely. Would every family name she heard pierce her with the pang of loneliness? “Would you point us in the direction we’d find him, or any of the other O’Connors. We’ve come here looking for them.”

  Realization lit the woman’s eyes. “You’re their kin who’ve come from New York, aren’t you?”

  The O’Connors had mentioned their anticipated arrival to others in town. That, she hoped, was a good sign. At least, nothing in the woman’s expression indicated the O’Connors had grumbled about the burden of providing for distant family.

  The milling crowd had begun to disperse. That would set her poor boy more at ease.

  “I’m Maura O’Connor, and this is Aidan.”

  The woman offered a dip of her head. “I’m Katie Archer. This wee’un is Sean.”

  “A pleasure to meet a fellow Irishwoman,” Maura said.

  Katie smiled broadly. “You’ll meet a great many around here.”

  ’Twould be wonderful having a bit of home to comfort her in her difficulties. Some of Maura’s unease melted away.

  “The O’Connor women are having their quilting day today,” Katie said. “They’ll all be at Ciara’s.”

  Little Ciara was old enough to have a home of her own? That change was difficult to imagine. When the family left New York, Ciara had been Aidan’s age. She would likely be nearly unrecognizable now.

  “Would you point us in the right direction?” she asked.

  “I’ll take you up there my own self,” Katie said. “Won’t they be surprised? Last I heard, you weren’t expected for another week or more.”

  “I made my best guess about how long the journey’d take. Having never attempted to cross this vast country, I didn’t do a very good job of estimating.” This was not the sure footi
ng on which she’d have preferred to undertake the coming reunion.

  Katie stepped away from the shop and back onto the dirt road. Maura followed, motioning for Aidan to do the same.

  “When I first came to Hope Springs,” Katie said, “I estimated wrong as well, though I was wrong in the other direction. There was no stage line this way back then. I simply had to wait at the depot for someone, anyone who was coming this way.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  Katie smiled as they walked on. “I’d come to take a job. You can imagine the impression I made arriving late as beggar desperate for a wagon to ride in. Heavens, but things were difficult in the beginning. It turned out well in the end, though.”

  Maura looked to Aidan. “You see there, lad? It turned out well.”

  “Hope Springs has a way of managing that,” Katie said. “We have our share of troubles, but somehow, it all ends grand.”

  Aidan adjusted his hold on both bags. His eyes darted about, studying the wide expanse of land. She couldn’t be certain he was even listening. He’d dreamed of open spaces and life away from the chaotic bustle of the city. This tiny place fit the bill. Perhaps having this bit of his dream fulfilled would make up for her uncertainty.

  “Such a tiny town, Hope Springs” she said quietly.

  “Especially when one has lived in the cities back East,” Katie agreed. “Takes some getting used to.”

  “You lived in America’s East?” Maura asked. How easy she found conversation with this chance-met stranger. Even if her late husband’s family wasn’t particularly keen to see her again, she might at least have a friend here in Hope Springs.

  “In Baltimore for a few years,” Katie said. “It’s not as large a city as New York, but vast just the same.”

  Katie shifted little Sean to her other hip. Doing so freed her left hand, giving Maura a glimpse of it for the first time. She hadn’t a single finger on that hand, only the palm and her thumb. Maura had seen similar horrific injuries on the hands of former factory workers. Had Katie worked in one?

  “School is held there in the church during the week.” Katie motioned with her fingerless hand behind them at the building they’d just passed. “Aidan, you’ll be right welcome there, I’m sure of it. We’ve a number of children your age in town. My oldest is but a couple of years younger than you are. Ian and Biddy’s oldest is as well.”