Long Journey Home (Longing for Home Book 5)

by Sarah M. Eden

  “I’ve not had the opportunity in nearly twenty years. We didn’t bring them with us from Ireland.” She mourned that loss, but they’d been able to bring only what they could easily carry. Clothing and food had been more important than her precious pipes. “Can’t say I’ve heard pastoral pipes more than a couple of times since leaving Ireland, and not at all in the last ten years.”

  “You are in for a treat tonight,” Mrs. Callaghan said. “My Ryan plays like a dream.”

  “And the others?”

  Mrs. Callaghan shrugged a little. “They do their best to keep up.”

  Was this the pride of a mother speaking, or an accurate description of his talent?

  Ryan strapped the bellows to his right arm with the ease and familiarity of one who’d been doing so a long time. Maura hadn’t played in so long, she’d likely have needed a moment to remember where all the bits went. Ryan talked with Thomas Dempsey, the O’Connors’ son-in-law. Though she couldn’t overhear their words, the conversation appeared to be a jovial one.

  Every instrument that she associated with the Emerald Isle appeared to be accounted for. She also spotted a banjo and guitar, which she’d first seen in this country, as well as a small metal instrument close in size to a pennywhistle, but rectangular and flat. She wasn’t at all certain what it was.

  A man Maura hadn’t met yet, which was an accurate description of most everyone there, stood in the midst of the open area between the musicians and the chairs. He called out but wasn’t heeded. His pulled his lips in tight and let forth a shrill whistle. That went unnoticed as well.

  Into the din of voices, the sudden loud drone of pipes called everyone to attention. Pipes were good at that.

  The man who’d attempted to catch everyone’s notice turned back to the musicians. “My thanks to our piper.”

  Ryan pressed the remaining air out of the pipe bladder, emitting a sound closer to that of a dying bird than any kind of music.

  The man turned to the crowd once more. “We’ve new arrivals amongst us this week, and we all know what that means, don’t we?”

  The crowd enthusiastically agreed. Trepidation tip-toed over Maura. As one of the new arrivals, was something expected of her?

  The man, whose name she still did not know, but who was clearly something of a leader amongst the people of Hope Springs, looked directly at her. “Where’s your lad, then?”

  She managed a shrug and a slight shake of her head. She’d not seen Aidan since he’d run off with his cousin.

  “He’s over here, Seamus!”

  Everyone turned toward the voice, including Maura. Her boy stood beside a man she knew on the instant: Ian, the O’Connor brother nearest in age to her Grady. He still had his ginger hair, though it now contained a few strands of white. And he was smiling the same quiet, understated smile he’d so often worn in New York, though strain lay beneath it, and an unmistakable dose of weariness.

  Beside him, Aidan stood with his hands stuffed into his trouser pockets, his shoulders hunched forward. She knew that posture well: he was not happy at being the focus of so many eyes. Her lad wasn’t unfriendly, but he was bashful and far preferred quiet anonymity, something he’d not often been granted since their arrival in Hope Springs.

  “Ah, yes. There’s ‘Tavish Jr.’” Seamus, as Ian had called him, likely didn’t realize how unappreciated that nickname would be. He looked back to the musicians. “What do you say, lads and lasses? Shall we favor our newest arrivals with ‘The Gallant Tipperary Boys’?”

  Odd that he’d choose that one in particular. She hailed from Tipperary, but this stranger didn’t know that. Perhaps he’d asked her in-laws. She liked the thought of the town putting in effort to welcome her and Aidan. And, as any self-respecting Tipperary lass, she quite liked the tune they’d chosen.

  A moment later, Ian stood in front of her, Aidan at his side.

  His gaze was kind but uncertain. “Did Tavish warn you about the traditional ‘Welcome to Hope Springs’ ritual?”

  She shook her head. “He did not.” This had been expected by the others, but she’d not been told about it. She’d also not been told about Ryan, either. How many other things had they neglected to tell her?

  “Then you’re likely unaware that the song isn’t the entirety of it,” Ian said.

  Begor. “There’s more?”

  “You’re meant to lead the dancing.” Ian, bless him, appeared apologetic. He always had been one of the most considerate people she’d known.

  “Do I have to?”

  “No one will force you, but it is tradition. That part has been intentionally skipped but once, and then only because that welcome wasn’t truly a welcome.”

  Her heart froze for just a moment. “Is this one a welcome?”

  Though he and Grady hadn’t looked a great deal alike, when Ian smiled, as he was doing now, the resemblance was there. “This is absolutely a welcome, Maura. From the town, and from us.”

  She needed a welcome from this family she’d once felt such a part of. This past week had held too much silence and distance. As had the past decade.

  “Am I permitted to dance with Aidan?”

  Ian shook his head no. “Aidan has to lead out the dancing as well, but separately.”

  That brought wide-eyed panic to her poor lad’s face. “I have to dance?”

  Ian nodded. “Best pick a partner quickly.”

  Aidan turned to his mother, pleading in his expression. She knew perfectly well how difficult this was for him. His was a quiet nature. This degree of attention would send his tender heart into a panic.

  “If you can’t think of anyone you could endure asking, I’ll insist you be excused.”

  He thought a minute. The musicians struck the opening notes of “The Gallant Tipperary Boys.” Something passed over Aidan’s features, a mingling of hope and relief. He looked over the crowd and, after the tiniest of moments, crossed to one side of it.

  Before him little Ivy Archer, the wee girl who’d insisted he be her friend. How Maura hoped he meant to ask the sweet child to be his partner for this welcome dance. She was too young for any embarrassing whispered speculation involving a romantic interest, which would save Aidan some potential distress. And Ivy would be endlessly entertaining, keeping what could’ve been a difficult moment lighthearted instead.

  “What of you, Maura?” Ian asked. “Are you needing me to scout you a partner?”

  Whom could she ask? This might be a nice opportunity to spend time with one of the family members she’d not seen in ages. Would any of them welcome an invitation? Would offering one simply be awkward?

  Of all the brothers, one in particular had always been very fond of dancing. She took a risk on that still being true.

  “Is Finbarr near about?” Only after she asked did she remember that he could no longer see. She hadn’t the first idea if he was able to dance.

  Sadness touched Ian’s face. “He’d begun attending again at the end of last summer, but he’s stopped again. No one’s certain why. Life’s laid a heavy burden on him.”

  The song was in full swing now, but no one was dancing. Aidan stood watching Maura, Ivy bouncing with excitement at his side. She could not leave him to undertake this welcome entirely alone, no matter that she wanted to ask Ian question after question.

  “Would Biddy begrudge me asking you?” She hoped not.

  Ian dipped his head. “Not in the least.” He motioned to the open area.

  She stepped out, and Ian kept at her side. She met Aidan’s eye and, to her relief, saw less fear there than she would have expected.

  The evening hadn’t gone as she’d planned, but neither was it proving a misery. She’d seen a few more of her extended family members. Aidan seemed surprisingly pleased to be there. They were being welcomed to the town.

  For the first time since arriving in Hope Springs, she felt truly hopeful.

  “I don’t know how we’re meant to dance to this,” Aidan admitted.

  “I
do.” Ivy’s eyes were lit with anticipation. “We hold hands and spin in a circle.”

  Maura looked to Ian.

  He shrugged. “Everyone in Hope Springs knows better than to argue with Miss Ivy.”

  “I feel I should warn you,” she told Ian, “I’ve a bit of something in my lungs just now.” The just now was a lie, but she wasn’t ready to tell anyone what lay in her future. Time enough for that once there was no hiding it.

  “We’ll move as slow and easy as our instructor will allow,” Ian assured her. Ivy assumed control of the situation quickly. They linked hands as she told them to and moved in a wide, fast circle. Quick as a flash of lightning, the townspeople flooded the dancing area, taking up the lines and intricate weavings one generally saw in group dances. Ivy pulled Aidan over to a gathering of dancers, tugging him through the motions.

  Ian, bless him, didn’t insist Maura do the same. She’d begun wheezing, something he couldn’t have helped but notice, but didn’t mention. He simply walked back with her to the chair she’d abandoned.

  “’Tis good to have you among us again, Maura,” he said. “Too many years have passed.”

  And too few remain. For now, though, she’d think only on the welcome they’d received and the near miracle of Aidan making two friends so quickly. This would be a good place for him, she was certain of it. And that certainty eased a bit of the too-heavy burden pressing on her too-oft broken heart.

  Chapter Eleven

  “The roof ought to be right as rain, now.” Thomas Dempsey looked up at his barn. “If the wind in these parts would stop acting as though it has something to prove, I’d not need to mend things so often.”

  The wind was little more than a breeze at the moment. Ryan set his hat on his head. “Mother Nature certainly keeps us on our toes, doesn’t she?”

  “I believe that’s the job of any woman.” Thomas grinned. “Don’t go telling my wife I said that.”

  “I’m not one for landing a man in the stew.”

  They walked together toward the road. Ryan had been on his way to his land when he’d spied Thomas climbing onto his barn roof. A couple of questions had revealed the man’s predicament: a roof in need of repairs that he had to make on his own. Ryan understood all too well the struggle to maintain a farm alone. He’d happily insisted on helping. But now, half the day was gone; he needed to get to his own work.

  “How’s Maura faring?” Thomas asked.

  Ryan shrugged. “I don’t see much of her.”

  Thomas rubbed at his stubbled chin. “Word around the family is she’s needing a job, but none of us knows of any. Without an income, she’ll be in a tough situation right quick.”

  Most people hereabout subsisted off the land, but the land Maura lived on was worked by Ryan, and he claimed the profits. If Maura grew desperate enough, the O’Connors might find themselves in the difficult situation of deciding between keeping him on and supporting their kin. Maura might soon be granted ownership of the land. Ryan had no desire to be relegated to the role of worker, assuming she even wanted to keep him on at all; he’d not have money enough for a place of his own.

  “Thank you for your help, Ryan.” Thomas shook his hand.

  “Any time.”

  He walked on, down the road, toward his fields. He hadn’t yet pieced together a plan that accounted for the possibility of the O’Connors giving Maura the land as well as the house. Without the land, Ryan had no real future here. But leaving Hope Springs would mean losing everything he’d worked for. Ma would have to choose between going with him, which would also mean leaving behind the remainder of her family, or continuing to live in an often-miserable arrangement. And, to add urgency to the situation, Ma hadn’t been doing well. Her health was uncertain on the best of days, but she’d had fewer good days lately.

  How am I to adjust this time? What solution could possibly exist if Maura’s chosen over me?

  He’d not yet reached the turnoff that lead to the house and barn when he spotted young Aidan moving with a swift, panicked step onto the road.

  “Lad!” he called, drawing the boy’s attention.

  Aidan crossed directly to him. One look at his face told Ryan that whatever had happened was no small thing. “I don’t know what to do,” Aidan said.

  “Tell me what’s happened. I’ll help you sort it.”

  Aidan took a quick, deep breath. “School let out early because the teacher wasn’t feeling well. I came home, and Ma was out by the barn, crying. She doesn’t cry. Something awful must’ve happened.”

  “Did you ask her what?”

  “I—” Another deep breath did not calm him any more than the first. “Ma doesn’t cry. I can’t remember the last time. She just doesn’t.”

  Ryan thought he knew what Aidan said between the words. He’d seen his mother’s apparently rare tears and had panicked, running for help rather than talking to her. Ryan scratched at the stubble just beginning to form on his jaw. He likely ought to send the lad to his uncle or grandparents. Yet, he, himself, was headed to the barn and would be there in only a moment. He couldn’t simply walk past someone in distress.

  “I think our first task should be discovering why your ma’s crying,” he said.

  “How do we do that?”

  Heavens, had the child never attempted to soothe his mother? Surely he’d seen her sad or upset before.

  “Well.” Ryan pointed the lad toward the house once more. He set his arm around Aidan’s shoulders and walked with him. “I thought we’d begin by sneaking about and trying to catch her talking to herself about all that’s ailing her. If that doesn’t work, I’d sort of figured on just asking.”

  Aidan smiled a little. “If she tears anyone to strips, I mean to make certain it’s you.”

  He and Aidan turned the corner and walked up the narrow footpath toward the house and the barn just to the side of it. Sure enough, there stood Maura, eying a collection of posts and a bent, half-unspooled roll of wire netting. Ryan wasn’t near enough to see if she was, indeed, crying, but her posture spoke loudly of frustration.

  “She’ll give you a mighty tongue-lashing,” Aidan warned in a whisper.

  “I’ll take m’ chances.” Ryan sauntered over to her, assuming a greater confidence than he felt. He didn’t particularly care to press himself into Maura’s private concerns, but Aidan seemed to need an ally in that moment. “Good afternoon to you, Miss Maura.”

  Her eyes shifted to Aidan then to Ryan. Though she was not crying now, he could see enough red edging the rims of her eyelids to know that she had recently.

  “What’s this project, then?” Ryan motioned toward the wire.

  She squared her shoulders. “A chicken coop. At least, it will be once I’ve sorted what’s wrong with it.” Her voice held more than frustration. He heard the tension of pain. Was this from the lingering cough he’d heard time and again, or had she injured herself somehow?

  “You’ve managed to set two posts.” He eyed the planks of wood leaning heavily to the side. “In a manner of speaking.”

  “I couldn’t sort out how to dig deeper without also digging wider.”

  He looked around the area, at the hammer and nails, the wire and posts laid out there. “Where’s your post-hole digger?”

  “I am the post-hole digger.” The woman spoke with such firmness. She was no shrinking violet, that was for certain. But she was also lacking some vital information.

  “’Tisn’t a person I’m referring to. I mean a tool designed specifically for digging post holes.”

  Her mouth turned down sharply. “That can go deeper without going wider?”

  He nodded.

  She closed her eyes in a show of exhausted frustration. “Next you will tell me there is a tool for straightening wire netting so it can be stretched between posts.”

  “That requires brute strength,” he answered.

  She looked at him once more, an eyebrow raised. “I’ve been trying that, but it hasn’t worked.”

 
He smiled back at her. “You might be the Goliath of our day, and you’d still struggle with it. Stretching wire netting between posts is done by at least two people working together. You’re attempting the impossible.”

  She took a breath, though it turned to a cough. As always.

  “Ma, why are your hands bleeding?” Aidan’s question pulled Ryan’s gaze to Maura’s hands. Blood had seeped between her fingers.

  “What’ve you done?” Ryan asked, closing the distance again.

  “The wire was uncooperative,” was all the explanation she gave.

  He took her hand in his, carefully, and turned it palm up. Scratches and cuts crisscrossed her palms and fingers. None appeared to be terribly deep nor dangerously long, but she’d certainly done damage.

  “Merciful heavens, woman.” He met her eyes once more. Beneath her determination, he now clearly saw the pain and misery. “Why’d you not wear gloves?”

  “I don’t own any,” she said.

  “I do,” he said. “And I’d not begrudge you them. Better yet, I’d’ve helped you with the posts and netting. Rather, I’d’ve explained to you how people in this town get coops made and fences laid and barns raised. Neighbors gather and work together and manage the thing in no time.”

  “I’ve only newly arrived. I can’t ask them to do that.”

  The stubborn colleen was, though she likely didn’t know it, tugging at his heart something fierce. He’d felt just as alone when he’d first come to Hope Springs. He and James and Ma were the new arrivals, hardly acquainted with anyone. He and his brother had labored for so long building the home James now claimed for his own. They, like so many other new arrivals, had made do in a drafty, dirty, tiny sod house while they slowly pieced together something more lasting. He’d watched others with family and friends in town get the help they needed quickly and escape much of the suffering he’d endured. To hear she felt the same, despite having more family here than nearly anyone, made his conscience niggle ever more uncomfortably. He couldn’t wage battle with a fellow sufferer.

  “You’d best bandage these,” he told her.