She didn’t know what she could possibly say that would help. All she could offer them was the full and honest truth. “I don’t know why he is so elusive, or why he didn’t eagerly share word of his survival with you. But . . . he is different than he was before the war. I will admit that. Yet, I saw soldiers who returned broken—burdened and fractured—but he wasn’t like that. I don’t know the answer.”
“Ten years.” Ian stood with a jerk. “Ten years without a word. To any of us.” He shoved the leather frame into his da’s hands. He stepped back, nostrils flaring, jaw clenched. “He made us grieve for years. Knowingly. Purposely.”
“Darling.” Biddy reached for him, but he walked away, shaking his head, not looking back at any of them.
He walked right out of the house without closing the door behind him.
“I hadn’t meant to cause him pain.” A heaviness settled on Maura as she looked into the faces around her. “I’d not hurt any of you for the world.”
Mrs. O’Connor reached over and patted her hand gently. “We know it, Maura.”
“If I’d known, I would have told you years ago.”
Mr. O’Connor nodded. “You didn’t cause this pain, so don’t you burden yourself with it.”
How very like this caring and compassionate family to comfort her in their own distress. She’d needed this support and love and kindness over the past ten years. She would need a great deal of it over the months and, if she were lucky, years to come.
Joseph Archer stepped inside the open door, a frantic look on his face. “The weather is threatening to turn,” he said. “And it looks to be a terrible storm.”
Still reeling from all they’d just learned, the family could only stare at him, not understanding.
“The last of Ryan Callaghan’s hay is still drying in the fields,” Joseph said. “If it’s out there when the storm breaks, he’ll lose it all.”
In a flash, the family was on their feet, rushing about, snatching up coats, even as they dried their tear-stained faces.
“Finbarr,” Joseph called over the cacophony. “Come along. You’re with me.”
Maura stopped Mary with a hand on her arm. “Can I do anything?”
“We’ll need all the hands we can get,” Mary said. “Everyone who can will bring wagons and equipment and gather up the hay. If we can get it in barns or hay sheds, tucked away out of the rain, we might be able to salvage it.”
“And we have only until the clouds burst?”
Mary nodded, worry in her expression. “It’s a tall order, but we’ll do all we can.”
If everyone was saving Ryan’s hay, what about theirs? “Does the family have hay to salvage as well?”
Mary pulled her coat on. “All of ours and a good bit of Ryan’s is stored already. But he grew so much this year, it can’t be brought in as quickly.”
Maura looked over at Cecily as Mary slipped through the door. Mrs. O’Connor and Ciara hadn’t left yet. Cecily sat with her hand resting on her rounded middle, a look of concern on her face.
Ciara met Maura’s eye. “I don’t imagine Cecily ought to even attempt to help.”
She shook her head. “Simply walking about starts her labor pains. She would do best to stay exactly where she is.”
Ciara hung her coat up once more. “I’ll stay here.”
“Send word if she needs me,” Maura said. “There’s no saying just when her labor will begin in earnest, and I’ll not leave her to face it alone.” Maura grabbed her own coat and slipped outside as well. With several people helping hitch Tavish’s wagon, they’d have it ready to go soon enough.
Maura stepped up near Tavish. She spoke quickly, not wishing to distract him from his work. “Ciara is staying here with Cecily.”
“Thank you,” he said as he continued working.
“Hop in,” Mary pointed to the wagon bed. She was helping with the hitching.
Maura climbed up, sitting beside Aidan.
“I wish I knew how to help hitch the team,” Aidan said.
“So do I.” She felt rather useless, sitting there, waiting.
Aidan leaned a bit closer and whispered, “What happens if Ryan loses his hay?”
“He’ll be ruined,” Maura said.
“We can save it though,” Aidan said, but with the uncertainty she felt. What did they know of these things? Perhaps the efforts of Ryan’s neighbors were little more than an exercise in futility.
The sky overhead was, indeed, threatening. Layer after layer of thick, gray clouds hung low, rumbling and shifting about. The air was heavy with moisture, though none fell. The light was growing dimmer with the approaching sunset. Without the clouds, they’d’ve had more light to work by.
After a time, Mary climbed into the wagon bed and sat by them. Tavish set the team in motion.
“How are we to gather the hay after it grows dark?” Maura asked.
“Lantern light,” Mary said. “There’ll be lanterns on the wagons and a few people standing about holding more aloft so we can see well enough to work.”
That Mary didn’t even have to ponder told Maura there’d been more than one frantic nighttime harvest in the thirteen years since the O’Connors came west.
This town looks after its own. Just as Maura’d hoped they did. Just as Ryan had insisted they must.
The wagon pulled to a stop outside the barn. Katie Archer met them there, lanterns hanging from her arms. “The remaining hay is all in the west fields.” She handed up the lanterns. “Joseph’s headed that way now.”
“Da and Thomas’ll be here in a flash,” Tavish said. “They’re fetching their wagons.”
Katie nodded. “I’ll send them your way when they arrive,” she said, setting a box of striking matches in Mary’s upturned hand. Her gaze fell on Maura. “I’m glad you came. Ennis Callaghan’s in the house. Her baby’s on the way.”
Maura turned to Aidan. “Heed your aunt and uncle. They’ll know what you can do to be of help.”
“I will, Ma.”
She gave his shoulders a squeeze. “You come back safe to me.”
“I will, Ma.”
As quickly as she could safely manage, Maura climbed down from the wagon.
“Are you clear of the wheels, Maura?” Tavish asked, his words tense and rushed.
“I am.”
Tavish flicked the reins, and the horse obeyed with fervor. Even the animals seemed to recognize the urgency of the situation. The wagon took off like a rock from a slingshot.
“How’s Ennis faring?” Maura asked Katie.
“Well enough.” She made her way back toward the house, Maura following close behind “Having a midwife, though, will set everyone’s mind at ease.”
As they stepped inside the house, they found Mrs. Callaghan at the stove, likely boiling water. She looked up. “Oh, Maura. Thank the heavens. Ennis is in the room you used.”
“And James?”
“I don’t know. She was to visit without him, only with Nessa.” Mrs. Callaghan motioned to the fireplace, where the little girl sat on Emma Archer’s lap near the fireplace and Sean sat on Ivy’s lap.
“Has he been sent for?” Maura asked.
Mrs. Callaghan nodded.
Maura turned to Katie. “Would you be willing to take Nessa to your home? It’d give us one less worry. And Nessa would not be distressed at hearing her mother in pain.”
“Of course.” Katie took Sean in her arms, instructing Emma and Ivy to each take one of Nessa’s hands. She spoke cheerfully, likely not wishing to alarm them.
Maura went to the bedroom to find Ennis. The calmness of her expression was reassuring. She was likely between pains.
“It seems we’re to pass an eventful night,” Maura said.
“I hope the eventful bit doesn’t last too long.” Ennis said.
“For your sake, I hope so as well.” Maura sat on the bed and laid her hand on Ennis’s.“Are you ready to meet your little one?”
A small smile touched her face. “Very mu
ch ready.”
“Well, then. I look forward to making the introduction.”
Chapter Thirty-four
Ryan stepped from his barn out into the downpour. By some miracle, all of his hay had found shelter before the skies tore open. Neighbors up and down the road had made room for his harvest in their barns and sheds. He’d be able to claim it in the days to come and deliver it to the ranches, as promised.
The rain pelting him was little bother. His hay was safe. His future was secure once more. Words were insufficient to express the relief he felt. He’d tried to express his gratitude to Mr. O’Connor for bringing his clan, but his thanks had been waved off.
“You’ve helped all of us reap our own hay with that mower of yours. Saved us time. Helping you finish up yours is the least we could do.”
Some of those who’d helped lived far enough away that they likely hadn’t reached home before the downpour. He felt bad about that. There’d be warm fires burning in homes throughout Hope Springs that night.
Joseph stepped onto the porch just as Ryan reached it.
“Are you for home?” Ryan asked. The roof of the porch protected him from the ongoing rain, but the wind cut into him something fierce.
“I am.” Joseph buttoned his coat against the frigid weather. “Are you still interested in buying this house and land rather than paying rent?”
An unexpected topic. “I am. I don’t know that Tavish and Cecily will sell to me, though. Maura and Aidan have moved out, but her family may yet give it to them in the end.”
Joseph tucked his hands in his pockets. “I’ve made an exchange with them. They owned this land, and I owned theirs, so we traded. Why we didn’t think to do so before, I can’t say.”
“You own the place now?” No matter that he was wet and shivering, Ryan stood rooted to the spot.
Joseph nodded. “But I’m not interested in being a landlord. I’d far prefer to sell.”
A surge of excitement went through Ryan at being so close to a lifelong goal, but it ebbed quickly. Trading the land with Joseph meant Maura lost any hope of claiming it. “Maura wouldn’t be able to make payments. Why would Tavish and Cecily keep her from owning the place?”
“They didn’t.” Joseph set his hat on his head. “It was Maura’s idea.”
Ryan couldn’t find his voice. Maura’s idea?
“She knew Tavish and Cecily needed the security,” Joseph said. “And that you were the one best suited to this land, that yours was the stronger claim. She was quite firm. I’ve been married to a fiercely determined Irishwoman for more than two years now. I know better than to argue when I hear that tone.”
Maura had arranged for him to have the land. She’d given up her claim on it. Mercy and grace, she’d given up her home as well as the future she’d meant to give Aidan. Saints above.
“Give some thought to the terms you’d prefer: how quickly you want to pay it off, what size of payment you can safely assume,” Joseph said. “We’ll discuss the details later this week or next.”
After that, he was gone quickly, back into the continuing rain. Ryan stepped inside, his mind spinning.
He stopped in the middle of the room, dripping. His eyes took little note of his familiar surroundings. Too many thoughts seized his attention. Aidan was getting his farming education from Finbarr and Joseph. Maura had given up her claim on this land and house. She had no reason to stay. None Maura could see, anyway.
This is why she left.
The door to his bedroom opened. Ma shuffled out. Her gaze fell on Ryan. “What a night we’ve had,” she said.
Ryan took a calming breath. “We got all the hay in.”
“I’m very glad entirely to hear it. And you’ll be pleased to hear your sister-in-law’s had her baby.”
He was pleased for Ennis indeed, and surprised. “Word’s come of a safe delivery, I hope.”
Ma smiled. “None needed to be sent. She’s in the room just here, with James, and Maura as midwife. I never saw a soul so calmly assist a new baby into the world. She’s a wonder.”
“Maura’s here?”
Ma moved toward her own room. “I’m fetching her something to change into. Delivering babies isn’t a tidy business.” She stopped short of her door and looked him over. “You’re soaked, son. You’d best change as well.” She peeked inside his bedroom. “James, fetch your brother a change of clothes and send them out with Maura.” Ma closed the door and slipped into her room.
A moment later, Maura stepped into view. The sight of her bloodied clothes would have alarmed him if he’d not known how she’d passed the evening. He worried instead about her sagging posture and the slowness of her steps. Her eyelids were heavy and edged in the redness that came of exhaustion.
She brought him a shirt and trousers. He’d wager James had included some underthings as well, tucked in between less personal items.
With a feeble smile, she said, “If you’re done playing in the rain, I think your brother would like to introduce you to your nephew.”
He reached out and touched her pale face. “You look worn thin.”
“I’m exhausted,” she confessed. “But at least I’m not shivering. You really ought to change into dry clothes.”
He took the pile from her. “You’ll not run off?”
She shook her head. “I’m too tired.” As if to emphasize her words, a cough seized her, shaking her entire frame with its intensity.
“Maura,” Ma called from her doorway. “I’ve found you something to change into.”
Maura slipped away and through the bedroom door, which Ma closed behind them.
Ryan climbed into the loft and made quick work of changing. Soon he was back in front of the fire, his wet clothes hanging to dry. Ma emerged from the bedroom, Maura’s dress in her arms.
“She was heaven-sent tonight,” Ma said. “But m’anam, she looks done in. And that cough of hers . . .” Ma shook her head, concern tugging at her mouth. “I don’t know what’s behind it, but it sounds worse than it has in weeks.”
Ryan thought so too. “We’d best find a place for her here tonight. She’d only grow worse going back out in the wind and rain.”
Maura stepped out of Ma’s room wearing Ma’s nightdress, which fit her rather enormously, yet was likely still quite comfortable.
“Over here, dear,” Ma said, motioning to the fireplace. “You warm yourself. I’ll see to the washing of your dress.” She crossed to the sink, Maura’s dress in her hands.
Maura crossed to where Ryan stood. She looked dead on her feet. A shiver shook her frame. Ryan pulled a quilt from the chair he often sat in at the end of the day. He slipped the blanket about her shoulders. She grabbed it with one hand, holding it closed in front of her. Ryan rubbed her arms, hoping to warm her.
Her gaze met his. “The quilt smells like you.”
“Sorry about that.”
“I wasn’t complaining.”
The woman liked that the blanket smelled like him. He couldn’t have prevented the smile that answered that realization.
“Were you able to save your hay?” Maura asked.
“I was.”
She looked utterly relieved. “Thank the heavens.”
“And thank you for helping Ennis.”
Joy tinged with weariness filled her expression. Without warning, she began coughing again. Deep, rattling, bone shaking coughs. She couldn’t seem to fully catch her breath between bouts. The violence of them threw her off balance. She slowly lowered herself to sit on the floor in front of the fire.
Ryan sat beside her and put his arms around her, holding her as her lungs seized and her body shook with the effort to breathe.
“It sounds worse than it has,” he said, once things had calmed down a bit.
“It feels worse too,” she confessed. A few more coughs shook her as they sat there.
“What can I do?”
“There’s nothing that can be done.” She leaned into his embrace. “We haven’t the right medicine
here or a doctor.”
“There’s medicine for brown lung?”
“Medicine that helps,” she said slowly. “No medicine cures it.”
He kept her in his arms, though she was breathing better. “This medicine can be had in New York, I’d guess.”
Again, she nodded. She’d grown a bit heavier against him.
“Why did you leave, then? You might’ve gotten the care that you needed.”
“I needed Aidan to be happy more.” She spoke slowly. “I chose what was best for him.”
“Who’s choosing what’s best for you, Maura?”
When she didn’t answer, he looked down and found her eyes closed. She felt limp against him.
Ma crossed to him. “Is she sleeping?”
“I think so.”
“Let’s lay her down,” Ma said. “The floor isn’t the softest place, but it’ll be warm. Cold air makes coughs so much worse.”
Maura wasn’t fully asleep, but she did not object, vocally or otherwise, when Ryan moved and eased her to down to lie on the floor. She lay there without a word, eyes closed. He tucked the blanket more firmly around her. A short moment later, everything in her position and expression relaxed.
“I hope she sleeps well,” Ma said. “While she was living here, I heard her cough all night long. I worried for her. I still do. She’s said it’s nothing but a cold, a little tickle in her throat, but it can’t be that, not to have lasted as long as it has.”
Ryan had vowed not to reveal what Maura had told him of her true situation. He simply nodded. “She’d likely be horrified if she knew she’d kept you awake at night.”
“’Twasn’t as bad as all that. She never woke me, but I heard it when I wasn’t sleeping. It sounded better toward the end of their time here, but tonight reminds me of the sound early on. I don’t like hearing it again.”
“She ought not to have pushed herself so much tonight.”
Long Journey Home (Longing for Home Book 5) Page 28
