Long Journey Home (Longing for Home Book 5)

by Sarah M. Eden

  “I’m walking back there now,” she said.

  He gave a single, firm nod of his head. “Would you be put out if I walked with you? I’m needing to talk to Joseph.”

  “You’d be no bother.” Though she didn’t know why his need for a conversation with her employer required him to walk with her.

  She took up the basket of Katie’s purchases, thanked Mrs. Johnson, and repeated her promise to send Aidan for her own supplies in the morning. Ryan held the door as she slipped outside. He followed close on her heels.

  “I’m sorry to hear that your mother’s feeling poorly,” she said, once he walked at her side. “My mother’s health was very fragile the last couple years of her life.”

  Ryan paled a little, and she realized what she’d inadvertently implied.

  “I’ve not any suspicion that your ma’s in so delicate a state as that,” she quickly insisted. “I only meant to say that I know the worry of seeing one’s parent ailing, and it’s an experience I’d rather no one have to endure.”

  “Including me?” he asked a bit dryly.

  “Well . . .” She pretended to mull over the possibility of excluding him from her declaration.

  He laughed a little. “You’ve a subtle sense of humor, Maura O’Connor,” he said. “I like it.”

  “And you’ve shown my boy kindness,” she said. “I like that.”

  He nodded solemnly. “A saint, that’s what I am.”

  ’Twas a wonderful thing, feeling herself smile so easily. She’d done precious little of that the past years.

  “And to further prove how upstanding I am, I’ll even offer to carry your basket for you. It looks a bit heavy.”

  It was at that. “Thank you,” she said, and allowed him to take it.

  They walked on at a blessedly slow pace. Her lungs would not have been equal to much else.

  “I don’t know what to do for Ma,” he said. “The daily journey to the house is taking a toll, but I can’t leave her with Ennis—that’s my sister-in-law,” he explained. “She’s a good person; she truly is. But we’ve a difficult arrangement. The house was once ours—my ma’s, my brother’s, and mine—and Ma was once mistress of it. Now it, in essence, belongs to my brother, and his wife has assumed the role that once belonged to Ma.”

  Maura understood that experience well enough. “I lived with my ma for a time. The sharing of a home is a difficult balance to manage.”

  “Harder when it’s a mother- and daughter-in-law. And in so small a house, there’s no way to carve out a bit of space for them both. I’m afraid they’ve come to resent each other a bit.”

  That was, indeed, unfortunate.

  “I’d imagine your ma thinks herself a burden, too. Being poor in health makes a person feel that way. When you’ve less to contribute than you’d wish, ’tis far too easy to feel you’re not contributing at all.” She’d meant the observation to help Ryan understand the hidden struggles his ma was likely enduring beneath the difficulties he could see. Her explanation of the connection between health woes and feeling a burden came too close to a confession, however. A new topic was absolutely necessary, so she said, “How’s Aidan coming along with the milking?”

  “He’s not so nervous around the cow as he was, though I can tell she still puts a bit o’ the ol’ fear in him.”

  “Will he need gloves for the job when the winter comes?” The possibility hadn’t occurred to her until that exact moment. Heavens, she’d never get ahead of expenses.

  “He’ll need a good pair for simply going about outside, whether to school or church or simply wandering about town. He’ll pull ’em off to milk though. Being tucked up against that beast is blessedly warm.”

  A small group of people had gathered outside the blacksmith shop. School would end soon, and parents with very young ones gathered to fetch them at the end of the school day.

  “Would you mind terribly if we waited for the children to come out?” Maura asked. “It’ll be but a moment.”

  “Not at all,” he said. “That Ivy Archer is such a mischievous little sprite; I’d not pass up an opportunity to walk with her apace. She’d lighten even the heaviest heart.”’

  “She’s been a dear to my Aidan,” Maura said. “I can’t put in words how grateful I am to her for her determination to be his friend.”

  An odd, secretive sort of smile touched Ryan’s face.

  “What is that look for?” she pressed. They’d stopped very near the group of waiting parents.

  “I was only thinking that she is not the Archer sister whom your lad’s mentioned most. Leastways, not to me.”

  This was news. “He’s spoken to you of Emma?”

  “Only a mention here and there, but enough that I’ve wondered.” He smiled fondly and with a bit of amusement. “He’s a good lad, more talkative than I expected him to be.”

  So Aidan was speaking with Ryan, and enough to be described as “talkative.” This conversation continued to grow more and more surprising.

  “What did he have to say about Emma?” Maura pressed. She was full dying of curiosity, not only about the possible state of her son’s affections, but also about the oddity of his being so social with a near-stranger.

  “He’s mentioned that she’s very clever and knows the answers at school. I think he likes that about her.” Ryan’s brow pulled in thought. “He told me she’s patient with the younger children, but is a bit shy with those her own age. I imagine he relates to that.”

  Maura knew for a fact he did.

  “And . . .” Ryan lowered his voice. “He even said once that he thought she was pretty.”

  “Truly?” Something about knowing that her lad felt a pull to the sweet girl brought a bubble of excitement to her heart. “Both of them are of so quiet a nature. I can hardly imagine them having a conversation.”

  Ryan’s smile hadn’t slipped. “I remember the first time my heart was pricked by a lass. I was about Aidan’s age. Talking to her was entirely out of the question, as my tongue simply tied itself in knots any time I so much as thought about her.”

  “You, at a loss for words? I don’t believe it.”

  He eyed her sidelong, but with a twinkle of devilment in his eyes. “Are you sayin’ I talk too much?”

  “Might be,” she said with a one-shouldered shrug.

  He went right on grinning. They’d not always had jovial interactions, but she was discovering Ryan Callaghan to be a lighthearted person. He laughed and smiled a great deal. He buoyed her spirits.

  He was also the obstacle standing between her and the future she meant to give her son. She needed to remember that.

  The door of the schoolhouse, which doubled as the church on Sundays, flew open, and a stream of loud, excited children rushed out. Parents gathered theirs up. The older children stood about a bit longer, chatting.

  Ivy spotted Maura and Ryan and ran over to them. “Are you walking home with us?”

  “We are, ceann beag,” Ryan said.

  “Mama calls me that sometimes too,” Ivy said. “But I don’t know what it means. Does it mean ‘mischievous?’ That’s what Pompah calls me.”

  Ryan laughed. “It means little one.”

  Ivy’s shoulders popped backward in a posture of offense. “I’m not little anymore. I’m in school now.”

  Ryan hunched down, placing himself more on her level. “I only mean that you’re littler than I am.”

  She reached out and patted the top of his head, which was in reach now. “You’re older than me too.”

  He laughed. Maura did as well; she couldn’t help herself. Ivy was a delight.

  Ryan looked up at her from his still-bent position. “You’ve a nice laugh, Maura O’Connor.”

  Heat touched her cheeks. “I don’t know that anyone’s ever said that to me before.”

  “Likely because few people get to hear it.”

  There was too much truth in that for her to entirely dismiss the observation. “I’ve not had a great many reasons to l
augh of late.”

  He stood once more, facing her, watching her with curiosity. “Have you missed it?”

  “Laughing?”

  He nodded.

  Had she missed laughing? Without warning, a tear sprang to her eye. She turned her face away, not wanting him to see the emotion she couldn’t quite hide.

  “Oh, Maura.” He set his hand gently on her arm. “I’d not meant to make you cry.”

  “I have missed it,” she whispered. “I’ve been crushed by too many things for too many years.”

  He took her hand. To her own surprise, she clung to it.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Life is seldom easy, is it?”

  She took such comfort in the words of understanding and the friendly support of his touch. Loneliness took more of a toll on her than she would generally admit.

  Beside them, Ivy spun about in a circle, arms outstretched. She didn’t take any notice of them, having lost herself in a moment of simple, childish play. Emma wandered over, far less sure of herself than her sister. Still, she offered a wee smile. Maura offered one of her own to Ryan, then slipped her hand free.

  “I’ve not seen Aidan yet,” Maura said to Emma. “Do you know what’s keeping him?”

  “He’s helping Mrs. Hall. He shouldn’t be much longer.”

  Aidan’s heart had ever been one eager to serve, a trait he’d inherited from his father.

  “Why don’t you come visit us?” Ivy asked Ryan, taking her hand in his. “You did before, when it was winter.”

  “When it was winter, I didn’t need to be out in the fields, working. And I was planning my crop then. I needed your father’s opinion on just what that crop ought to be, and how large, and what to do with it.”

  Ivy didn’t seem fully satisfied with that answer. Her sister, however, was the one who spoke next.

  “Papa says you have a mind for business, that you know when a risk is a risk and when it’s an opportunity.” Emma was clearly speaking the words nearly verbatim. “He talks about Mr. Tavish that way, but you two are the only ones.”

  “’Tis a fine compliment coming from your da.” A mixture of pride and embarrassment filled Ryan’s eyes. Was there anything about him that wasn’t a contradiction?

  Aidan emerged from the schoolhouse in that moment. His eyes darted about, likely searching for Ivy and Emma, since they walked to the Archers’ house together each day. He spied Maura, and, to her heart’s utter delight, he smiled broadly. He hurried across the small distance to where she stood.

  “Ma, why are you here?”

  She motioned to the basket Ryan held. “I was doing some shopping for the Archers.”

  Emma watched Aidan, a smile in her eyes. Perhaps his tenderness toward his sweet classmate was not entirely one-sided.

  Ryan met Maura’s gaze. He motioned subtly with his head toward Emma and allowed a knowing smile. He’d noticed as well.

  Aidan, however, seemed oblivious. “Lead the way, Ivy,” he instructed, grinning at his tiny friend.

  She did not need to be told twice. She marched ahead, snatching Ryan’s hand and fairly dragging him along with her. Aidan walked at Maura’s side, Emma silently on the other.

  In the midst of it all, Maura felt a deep sense of contentment. She wasn’t sure exactly what the future held, but her Aidan was finding his place in this town. He was happier than she remembered him being in some time. Life in the city had taken a greater toll on him than she’d been willing to admit.

  He was free of that now. So was she—a comfort and a reassurance. Even if time proved that they’d waited too long, and that losing access to medical care shortened what time she did have, at the very least, for this moment in this place, she and her son were free.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  It’d been a decidedly awful day. Ma was in pain. Ryan was behind in every chore he had. The mercantile still hadn’t had any powders. And Joseph had thought it too great a risk to invest in building any additional hay sheds while Ryan’s claim on the land remained uncertain. Joseph was right in that, should Ryan lose his claim to the farm, he’d need what few pennies he had left to begin again somewhere else, if that was even possible. But not having storage sheds meant that if the weather turned while his hay was drying, he might lose too much of it to meet the ranches’ orders. He’d be ruined, bankrupted.

  An awful, disappointing day.

  He had to admit, though, that the time he’d spent walking home from school with Maura and the children had been an unexpected highlight. She’d been empathetic when he’d told her of Ma’s plight. She’d laughed with him. She’d confided a few of her struggles and difficulties. He had friends in Hope Springs; he was part of so many lives. Yet he often felt like an outsider among them, not having his own little family or land to truly claim as his own. He appreciated the tentative connection she’d forged with him more than she likely knew.

  Upon reaching the barn, he hung his tools up and set his gloves in their usual spot. He made certain the milking stool and pail were where he’d need them in the morning. Now that he was bringing Ma with him, he started late every day, and usually ended early to fetch the wagon to take her back to James’s. He was far behind schedule today, though. He had too much to do, and he’d lost so much time.

  Ryan quickly returned to the house, needing to let Ma know he’d only then be leaving to get the wagon. She was likely near to starving. He was more than a bit hungry himself.

  When he went inside, she was not, however, in her usual rocker. Aidan sat on the floor near the fireplace, eating from a bowl he held carefully in front of him.

  Maura looked up as Ryan closed the door. “Your ma’s not feeling well,” she said. “It took a bit of doing, but I convinced her to lie down.”

  Ought he to look in on her, or let her rest? He wasn’t at all certain. How often he’d wished Hope Springs had a doctor. “I can rush to James’s and return within an hour with the wagon. She’ll be horribly hungry by then, though.”

  Maura smiled a little. “I fed her already. She’s warm and comfortable. I’d wager she’s asleep by now.”

  Ma’d not been sleeping well at all of late. He hated the thought of waking her, but if she’d finally lapsed into much-needed sleep, what choice did he have?

  Maura crossed to him. She eyed Aidan for only a moment then lowered her voice. “She didn’t look well, Ryan. I think you’d do best to leave her sleeping rather than make her endure the rickety drive and an early morning return.”

  “You’re offering to let her stay?” He was almost too shocked to ask the question.

  “I know what it is to be ill,” she said. “I’d not toss her out while she’s ailing.”

  ’Twas a kindness, but she could not know what she was taking on. “Ma sometimes passes difficult nights,” he said. “I’ll not ask you to give up your own sleep. You’re still fighting a cough.”

  “You know, for two people trying to steal each other’s land, we’re being surprisingly considerate.” She smiled a little then motioned him toward the fireplace. “Have a bowl of soup,” she said. “It’s nothing fine, but it’ll take the edge off your hunger.”

  He knew perfectly well she was struggling for money. Though she would have been paid that day by Joseph, Aidan wouldn’t fetch their supplies from the mercantile until morning, and those supplies were clearly slimmer than she’d hoped. He’d overheard her giving up some foodstuffs to purchase wool for a coat. Still, he was quite hungry and didn’t particularly want to fight with her over a single meal. He could simply return the favor at some point to make things even between them.

  He dished a bit of soup into a bowl. “I thank you for this. I’m not ever back to my brother’s house in time for a hot meal. They’ve always already eaten when I get there, and I’m too hungry to spend time heating anything back up.”

  “Your ma says she’s not had a hot supper at all this week.” Maura glanced in the direction of one of the doors, no doubt the one behind which Ma was resting. “She als
o says she hasn’t been sleeping much.”

  “And you managed to address both today.” Though his conscience pricked at him, he needed to ask another favor of her. “Would you be willing—and, mind you, I’ll understand if the answer is no—to allow me to sleep on the floor in the room Ma’s using? I’d not need anything but a blanket. It’d let me be nearby tonight in case she needs something.”

  She gave his request a long moment’s thought. He could very nearly hear the debate raging in her mind, and he understood it. They were rivals, after all, vying for the same bit of the world. They’d not truly gotten along the past two weeks. Having him in the house might be too uncomfortable. But his worries for Ma were too great to not at least ask.

  “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt for the one night,” she finally said.

  His tension eased in a swift wave from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. Ma wouldn’t suffer unduly that evening, leaving one less worry on his mind. “I’ll get started on chores early so we needn’t be here any longer than necessary.”

  “Do what you need to do,” she said. “We’ve a load of chores to see to ourselves on my day off tomorrow.”

  They’d be back to tiptoeing around each other come the next day. ’Twould be more familiar footing, yet he found himself disappointed. More than once that day, they’d been on friendly terms.

  As the night grew late, little more was said between them. Aidan wasn’t talkative. Had Ivy exhausted his supply of words, or was he simply not as comfortable with Ryan as he’d thought? Again, he felt a twinge of disappointment. He liked the lad and had enjoyed their early morning talks over the milking. He felt like something of a mentor to the boy.

  What a gawm I am, fooling myself. Showing a lad how to milk didn’t make a man important his life. Ryan needed to pull his head out of the clouds and ground himself again. He was a little lonely, and he longed for the day he’d have a family of his own, but letting his imagination run amuck wouldn’t help anyone.