Bolstered by their support, Ryan pushed onward. “I’d have greater confidence if I knew whether James meant to let me use the wagon.” He watched his brother but did his best to hide the hope and worry he felt.
“I can part with it now and then,” James said, “but not on a regular schedule, and I can’t guarantee I’ll always be able to lend it to you exactly when you need it.”
Frustration stiffened Ryan’s posture. “Without a wagon, I’ll not be able to bring my hay in. It’d be a disaster.”
“I need the wagon for my crop as well,” James insisted. “And you’re borrowing my horses to pull your mower as it is.”
“I paid for half that team and wagon,” Ryan tossed back. “Why is it I have to beg for the use of them?”
“Lads,” Ma scolded.
Nessa shifted about, her movements made jerky with frustration. She let out a plaintive cry. Ryan tried adjusting his hold on her, suspecting she was too tired to be comfortable, and too uncomfortable to sleep.
“Come sit with me, sweetie,” Maura urged. Nessa didn’t hesitate but crawled quickly from Ryan’s lap onto Maura’s.
“Maura, you’re not well,” Ryan insisted.
“I’m well enough to hold a child on my lap.”
Ryan hadn’t the energy for two arguments at once. He took a calming breath and addressed his brother once more. “Could I not have the use of the wagon only one afternoon a week for the time being?” Ryan pressed. “Only one, and I’d not have it for long. When harvest comes, we can sort out something more.”
“I must be able to look after my fields,” James said. “Everything depends on the harvest.” As if that weren’t just as true for Ryan.
“Believe me, I understand that. But your harvest covers weeks and weeks as different crops come ready. I’ve one crop, and every bit of it will have to come in at the same time.” Ryan tried to speak calmly, not wishing to upset Nessa or Ma. “Without a wagon, I’ll lose everything.”
James paced a bit away. “We’ll have another mouth to feed soon enough. I’m having to be very cautious.”
Ryan took a slow breath in through his nose, trying to stay calm enough to not tear a strip from his brother. James never saw anyone’s struggles but his own, never allowed Ryan even a moment of consideration.
“How are you faring, Ennis?” Ma asked.
“Well enough.”
The focus of the conversation shifted immediately to James and Ennis and their coming arrival. The question of Ryan’s crop, along with the team and wagon he’d helped pay for, was to be ignored, it seemed.
Ryan leaned forward, his elbows on his legs. He rubbed at his throbbing temples.
“Seems it’s time to adjust your plans again,” Maura said quietly.
“That’s the exhausting part,” he said. “It’s always time to adjust.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Maura considered avoiding the ceílí at the end of the week, knowing she’d be answering one question after another about her health, and not wishing to lie over and over again. But in the end, she knew her absence would only fuel speculation. People would begin thinking too closely on her health since her arrival, and they’d begin being more aware of it moving forward. Attending the party and showing herself capable of participating was her best course of action.
She put extra effort into tidying her appearance and even prepared a plate of scones to add to the table of victuals. The undertaking required her to stop to rest a few times, something that frustrated her to no end. She’d raised a son on her own, worked long hours at a factory, and seen to the needs of dozens of families in the Tower, all without slowing a single step. Now, she couldn’t make a simple plate of scones without being felled by fatigue.
Upon reaching the gathering and watching Aidan dash off to be with his cousins, she found a chair near the dancing. A lighthearted expression, she reminded herself. Upright posture. Chat amicably. If she appeared healthy, hardy, and enthusiastic, then the people around her wouldn’t realize she wanted nothing more than to go back home and sleep for days on end.
Within moments, Katie and Joseph sat beside her.
“I’m so glad to see you here and looking so well,” Katie said. “I’ve been worried over you these past few days.”
Maura had known she would be. “I can’t say what the culprit was on Tuesday. I’ve felt better each day since then, though the trouble is lingering a bit.”
“Ryan is convinced that laundry day is what’s doing you in,” Katie said. “Bless his soul, he tried to convince that brother of his to allow him use of the wagon to drive you home on Tuesdays. Seems he couldn’t talk James into it.”
“Is that why he wanted the wagon?” Maura hadn’t had any idea that was his reason. He’d argued for the use of it once harvest arrived. Was this truly why he wanted it now?
“Ryan Callaghan is a good man,” Joseph said. “Life hasn’t been kind to him, though things have been looking up lately.”
Maura didn’t need an explanation for that observation. Ryan had negotiated a fine arrangement with the ranches, one that would see him and his ma living in comfort with land and a home of his own at last. She, however, stood in the way.
“Finbarr spoke to Tavish,” Katie said, “He’ll happily come by on laundry day to take both you and Finbarr back in his cart.”
Maura shook her head. “Tavish is having difficulty with his crop. He needs to spend his time tending to it, not to me.”
Katie shrugged. “He did offer to send Cecily in his place, but in the end, it seemed a bit misguided setting her and Finbarr to the task of driving a horse and cart.”
“’Twas kind of Finbarr to try to help me,” Maura said. “I’ve wondered these past weeks if he notices much to do with the family, and I’m barely part of it.”
“He notices.” Joseph spoke with quiet firmness. “He simply doesn’t know how to be part of that family any longer. He doubts his value. Something happened earlier this summer—he hasn’t told me what—that strengthened those doubts.”
“He’s afraid of becoming the family’s object of charity.” She needn’t phrase the thought as a question; she knew what Finbarr was feeling. She felt it herself.
Joseph’s mouth turned downward. He rubbed a hand over his chin and jaw. “Tavish is more likely to be the next one in need of their support.”
She turned to look at him. “Is his situation so dire as that?”
“He’s lost almost half his crop. He lost nearly all of it the season before last and hasn’t yet recovered from the blow. He’s already told me he won’t be able to make his land payment until after Ryan sells his hay and makes his payment to Tavish and Cecily. Which means he’s now worried not only over his crop, but also over the hay across the road, all the while knowing that he’ll have a little one to care for and feed and clothe before long. That’s quite a burden to bear.”
“Poor Tavish,” Katie said quietly. “And Cecily’s likely beside herself as well. The land can be a cruel mistress.”
“Tavish is buying his land from you?” Maura was struggling to sort out the tangled web. “And Ryan is ‘renting’ the land he works from Tavish and Cecily?”
Joseph nodded. “When Mrs. Claire lost all her family to the fever a few years ago, I paid off her note on the land, wanting to remove that burden from her. I generally can’t do that; I’d lose my shirt. But I could in this one instance. When she passed on, she owned the land free and clear and was able to do with it whatever she chose. She left it to Cecily.”
“And the income from leasing that land to Ryan helps Tavish and Cecily meet their own needs?”
“It helps them look after Finbarr too,” Katie said. “An extra mouth, one belonging to a nineteen-year-old lad who’s growing and works up quite an appetite each day, is no small thing.”
Maura hadn’t the ability to pay Tavish and Cecily for the land and house. Choosing to let her have the place would mean losing money they desperately needed. The plans Ryan was so bus
y adjusting because of her impacted more than his life. Ryan was the key to many futures. His and his ma’s. Tavish and Cecily’s. Finbarr’s.
“Miss Maura.” She startled to hear Ryan’s voice. He stood in front of her, grinning the mischievous grin he sometimes wore. “The musicians are striking up a tune they don’t care to have a pipe for, and Ma says she won’t dance with me. You’ll take pity on me, won’t you?”
Taken word for word, it wasn’t the most gallantly spoken request, yet the twinkle in his eyes told her he was teasing. “You don’t truly want to dance with me, so stop your mocking.”
To her surprise, he actually looked hurt. “You think I would play such a dastardly trick?”
A surge of heat stole over her. “I’m no dancer. Haven’t been for years.”
He eyed her with confusion. “Did you never dance in New York City?”
She could feel Katie and Joseph’s gaze on her. Confessing to her loneliness had not been on her list of things she meant to do at the ceílí. She’d already told Ryan, and she’d regretted it since. “I was a widow who wasn’t getting younger, raising a child on my own. I had little opportunity for dancing and such things.”
“That child is currently perfectly happy amongst the lads and lasses his age,” Ryan said. “And I’m fond of aged women.”
She ought to have been offended, but there was too much laughter in his voice for that. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-seven,” he said.
“Don’t ask her how old she is,” Joseph warned. “That won’t end well.”
Ryan grinned broadly at her. “I wouldn’t dare.”
Twenty-seven. He was six years younger than she was. Six.
He held out a hand to her. “Will you dance with me? I really would like you to.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t do to shun the younger generation.”
He helped her to her feet. “‘The younger generation?’ You’re not so old as all that, Maura.”
She walked with him out amongst the dancers. “I’m thirty-three.”
He gasped. “Thirty-three. Faith and truth and saints above! I never heard a number so high in all my days.” His expression turned gentler, more heartfelt. “I’ve two brothers older than that, you know, and I don’t consider them ancient.”
The musician struck up the opening strains of “Irish Lamentation.”
“This is a waltz?” She hoped she was remembering correctly. Waltzes were less taxing.
Ryan nodded. “I didn’t know that you were feeling well enough for a jig or a reel.”
“Likely not.”
He slipped an arm around her middle, keeping her right hand in his left. As the music began, he pulled her a touch closer.
“I’d not wanted to say anything when I’d be overheard, knowing you mean this to stay a secret, but how are you feeling, Maura? Truly?”
“I still have my cough, and I wheeze a bit when I breathe, and, blessed fields, I’m tired, but I’m not feeling any worse than I did before that fainting spell.” Having someone she trusted enough to talk with about her struggles was a blessing. She’d felt so alone before meeting him. “I think I need only to give m’self more time to see to the laundry so it’ll not be as taxing, maybe split the chore in half and do it over two days.”
“I hope that helps, Maura.” He kept perfect time to the music as they took a turn about the dance area. “I wish I could do more to ease your burdens.”
She smiled up at him. “You were very sweet to try. I’d’ve welcomed a wagon ride rather than that long walk.”
His eyes narrowed a bit. “How’d you know I was looking to borrow the wagon for that in particular?”
She shook her head. “I’ll not reveal my sources. ’Twas a fine idea you had, though.”
“Well, we young folks are very thoughtful.”
She laughed a bit. She’d done that a lot since coming to Hope Springs, mostly in his company. She appreciated that likely more than he knew.
“Don’t ruffle up at me, lass, but I do think you ought to tell the O’Connors what it is you’re facing.” He held her a bit closer. Her heart simultaneously jumped and melted. “I’ve seen them rally in support of those they care about. They’re a force, that family.”
“The one they need to bolster is Finbarr. He needs their love and strength more than I do. He deserves it more.”
He didn’t argue, didn’t try to convince her to change course. He simply continued with their dance. The movements were slow, which her struggling body needed. Her legs were growing a touch wobbly, but she didn’t want the dance to end.
She found such comfort in being held again, even as part of a dance. She’d not felt truly safe with anyone the past ten years. With Ryan, she did. With Ryan, who was likely to be granted the final claim to the home she needed. Ryan, who sometimes frustrated her like no one else, and more often comforted her to an even greater degree. Ryan, who was . . . twenty-seven.
“Are you truly only twenty-seven?”
He laughed, a deep, rumbling laugh. “Rather shocked by that, aren’t you?”
“That would mean when Aidan was born, you were only fourteen.” Good heavens. “And Aidan is nearly fourteen now.”
Ryan touched his cheek to hers, whispering in her ear. “Leave the cyphering for another time, love, and just relax and enjoy the dancing.”
“I’ve all but forgotten how to relax.”
“Close your eyes,” he gently instructed, “and trust me not to let anything happen to you for the next minute or so.”
“Depend on you, you mean?” She shook her head. “I’m even less adept at that.”
He assumed a more proper dancing position. “I’m not surprised. Old people do get a little set in their ways.”
With a wink, he continued leading her through the dance, but he didn’t say much else. Had he taken offense? Or had his making sweet to her only been teasing? How close she’d come in the soddie to indulging in the urge to kiss him. She’d been lonely, and sharing her worries had forged a link between them.
She’d been right to end things quickly. He had a way of chipping away at her walls. Behind those protective barriers lay nothing but pain and heartache. All the regrets she carried, all the plans he’d had to change, the dreams he pursued, and all the dreams she’d likely not live long enough to realize. Allowing this tug she felt toward him to go any farther than that would only lead to sorrow. She wouldn’t subject either of them to that.
Chapter Twenty-nine
The next Saturday morning, Maura put Aidan’s still-unfinished coat in her basket, as well as her sewing supplies, and set herself in the direction of Tavish and Cecily’s house. The O’Connor women were holding their weekly sewing circle, something they usually did on Wednesdays. ’Twas a rare opportunity for Maura to join them.
Though her first inclination was to keep a distance and remain at home where all was quiet and she needn’t worry about her cough and wheezing drawing attention, she’d come to a conclusion. She could either spend what time remained to her in hiding, or she could seek out bits of happiness and opportunities to do some good in the world around her. Today that meant taking the time to enjoy a morning spent with her O’Connor relatives. She could work to build a relationship of trust between them all, so that, someday, when she needed to depend on them, she could do so with less guilt and as less of a burden.
She knew that going to the gathering was the right course of action, yet she was nervous.
Before she’d taken a single step, Aidan joined her on the porch. “May I come? Finbarr said Cecily made biscuits.”
“I don’t know that she meant any of those biscuits for you,” Maura warned.
Aidan grinned. “Finbarr says she’s soft-hearted when it comes to ‘growing boys’ wanting a biscuit.”
When he was being mischievous like this, he looked and sounded so much like Grady. She saw the resemblance more often lately. He was happier and lighter than he’d ever been. Hope Springs had managed to work
some kind of magic.
Maura motioned him to walk with her. He did so with a bounce in his step.
“When did you and Finbarr talk about Cecily?”
“Yesterday,” he said. “He was outside when I passed by after school.”
“Do you talk to him often?” As far as she knew, Finbarr didn’t generally talk to anyone.
Aidan shrugged. “Sure.”
This was a development. “What do you talk about?”
“Lots of things. How I’m getting on with the kids at school. What I’m learning. How you’re feeling.”
Worry clutched at her. “You discuss my health?”
“He knows you’ve had a cough—he hears it when you’re at the Archers’—and everyone knows you were sick last week. He asked about that.”
Joseph had said that Finbarr paid attention to the family, even if he didn’t interact with them very often. That observation, as it turned out, was quite true.
They had crossed the dirt road and were quickly approaching their destination.
“What else do you and Finbarr talk about?”
“He asks about Emma and Ivy, which is odd, because he sees them as often as I do.”
“Do you ever ask him questions?” Thus far, the conversations sounded rather one-sided.
“Sometimes.” Aidan stuffed his hands in his pockets, a posture he often struck when feeling uncomfortable. “The questions I have are all . . . He knows about farming and living here and all of that. Those are the questions always floating around in my mind. But I don’t want him to think I’m stupid.”
“I will let you in on a secret, Aidan,” Maura said as they made their way up the path to Tavish and Cecily’s door. “Finbarr wouldn’t be annoyed or unimpressed by questions about farming or living in Hope Springs or any of the many things he’s learned over the years. Not at all. I happen to know he’d be eager to share those things with you.”
Aidan eyed her with a mixture of doubt and hope. “How do you know that?”
Because she knew what it was to feel useless and broken. She knew the pain and loneliness of wondering if she had anything at all to contribute to the world. She’d felt that pain deeply in the time between her sister’s death and their move to the Tower. Finding a way to serve, and finding someone who needed her, had made all the difference. She suspected Finbarr needed the same.
Long Journey Home (Longing for Home Book 5) Page 24
