Hope Springs (Longing for Home - book 2, A Proper Romance)

by Sarah M. Eden

  “It seems to me, sir, that someone is going to have to stand up to one or the both of them or someone is going to get hurt, or worse.”

  There was silence on the porch after that. Silence inside the house as well.

  “Thank you, Mr. Johnson, for coming and explaining in person. It takes a bit of the sting out. And please thank Mrs. Johnson and Marianne for their kindnesses to me these past weeks.”

  Kindnesses? Had the Johnsons truly been kind to Katie? Tavish would never have believed it even thirty minutes earlier. But after hearing this conversation, he began to wonder.

  A moment later, Joseph stepped back as the door swung open. Katie’s eyes darted from Joseph to Tavish to Granny, then back through all of them.

  “How are you bearing up, Katie?” Tavish asked.

  She sighed, long and deep. “Sometimes I hate this place.” On that declaration, she walked past them and disappeared down the corridor.

  She hated Hope Springs. Katie had given up her dream of returning to Ireland to stay there, and she hated it.

  Tavish followed her path all the way to the open door of her bedroom. “Katie?”

  She sat on her low bed, shoulders slumped. “I’ve had a hard day.”

  “Would you like to go for a walk?” he asked. “I could tell you a few of those stories that always make you laugh.”

  She didn’t move to join him, didn’t even look up. “I’m not wishing to laugh just now, Tavish.”

  “In my experience, that is often the time when you most need to.”

  She didn’t respond, but simply sat still, her eyes unfocused.

  He sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. For the first time in a long time, he was unsure of his welcome.

  “Perhaps a walk without the stories,” he suggested. “That might at least lighten your heart a little.”

  “I thank you for that, but I just need to sit here and think for now.” She looked over at him. The sadness in her eyes stabbed at him.

  “I can’t bear to see you hurting like this, Sweet Katie.” He took her hand in his. “What can I do to take it away?”

  Her gaze returned to the small window high on her wall. Her brows pulled tight again, a tenseness in her stooped posture. Clearly he hadn’t helped.

  “Katie?”

  “I need to let my heart hurt and my mind fret. If I don’t, the pain and the worry will only grow.”

  He rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand, wishing she would look at him again. “You don’t want me to cheer you up?” The remark was half teasing, half worry.

  “Not right now.”

  The reply settled like a weight on his chest. Cheering people up was who he was, what he did. ’Twas his role in life, the thing he was best at. If she didn’t want that, what did he have to offer her?

  “Do you want me to go?” He hoped the answer was no.

  Her look was apologetic. “I think I would like some time alone.”

  “Ah.” If that was what she wanted, he could give it to her. He rose, but his heart seemed to drop. She didn’t want him there. He didn’t think that had ever happened before. “I’ll see if I can do anything for Granny before I go.”

  She nodded.

  “And I’m right up the road if you need anything.”

  He hesitated at the door. Would she call him back? Would she say she needed his teasing and his smiles after all?

  But she didn’t.

  Joseph stood at the end of the short corridor.

  “Katie says she wishes to be left alone just now,” Tavish said.

  Joseph ignored him and stepped into Katie’s room. Tavish remained just outside the doorway, sorely tempted to step back in and send Joseph packing.

  “Can I do anything for you, Katie?” Joseph asked.

  I offered to help, Joseph, Tavish silently told his rival. She only wants to be left alone.

  “Do you know, Joseph, before coming here, I’d never once been fired from any job.” Her tone was equal parts frustration and sadness. Tavish ached to hear it.

  “I hope, even with how thickheaded we all are around here, that you are still happy you chose to stay,” Joseph said.

  “Oh, I am. I’m only discouraged, is all.”

  Tavish leaned back enough to look through the doorway. Joseph stood by Katie’s window, while she still sat on her bed. They weren’t touching. Katie wasn’t even looking up at him. Joseph didn’t appear to be making any more progress than Tavish had.

  “Is there anything I can do for you before I go?” Joseph asked again.

  Katie shook her head. “I mean to sit here and wrap my mind around this latest frustration. I’ll be right as rain soon enough, I’m sure of it.”

  “If it helps at all,” Joseph said, “you have done more good here than I think you realize.”

  She gave Joseph a fleeting and somewhat forced smile. His reassurance didn’t appear to be entirely believed. But then Tavish’s attempts to lift her spirits hadn’t been successful, either.

  Joseph left shortly thereafter, with a parting word for Granny and a quick nod for Tavish. Hoping for another chance to speak with Katie, Tavish stayed and helped Granny for the next half hour. Katie never came out of her room. Easing burdens had always been a talent of his, the best thing he had to offer others. But Katie was growing more and more weighed down, more and more burdened, and he didn’t know how to help her.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Two days had passed since Mr. Johnson’s visit. Katie had found a bit of calm and a sense of purpose. She’d taken the position at the mercantile in order to help her Irish neighbors through the winter. Though she wanted to think Mr. Johnson had softened a bit during her time there and wouldn’t raise the Irish prices now that she was gone, she couldn’t be completely certain of that. She had little else to offer beyond her bread. If she could use the bit of her savings that wasn’t already going toward the food and fuel she and Granny used from day to day, she could see that her Irish neighbors had bread they needn’t pay for. With the money they saved, they might be able to endure a rise in prices.

  She’d made her first free bread delivery that day. And though convincing her neighbors to accept her offering had been difficult, Katie had held firm. Hope Springs was home, and the people there were family. She would do everything she could to help them.

  Biddy walked at her side, having made the deliveries with her. “Ian is slowly returning to himself. Though his head still pains him, he has much of his strength back. I find myself hopeful I will have my dear Ian back again.”

  Katie smiled. Her heart lightened to see Biddy looking less burdened. “I seem to remember a certain woman telling me once upon a time that ‘hope springs eternal.’”

  “And I was right about that, you know. I only wish this town of ours lived up to its name more often than it does.”

  Katie gave her friend a quick hug. “I haven’t lost faith in Hope Springs. We’ll find our way out of the darkness of this feud, you’ll see.”

  “Katie! Katie!”

  She knew Emma’s voice on the instant and turned to greet the sweet girl.

  “Good day to you, Em—”

  Emma looked worried.

  Katie reached out and took her hands, studying her face for any clue as to what had upset the child. “What’s happened, dearest?”

  “Ivy won’t come out of the barn.”

  “What is she doing in the barn?” Katie knew the tiny girl didn’t have chores to be done there.

  “She’s hiding.”

  “A game, then?” Biddy guessed.

  Emma shook her head.

  “Why did you not tell Mrs. Smith that Ivy’s hiding in the barn?” Katie asked. “Or your papa? Or Finbarr?” To have come all this way seemed a touch extreme.

  “Papa is gone, and Finbarr is with him.” Emma’s frantic look remained. “And I can’t tell Mrs. Smith because Ivy’s hiding from her.”

  Katie did not at all like the sound of that. She exchanged a quick look with Biddy. “
I’d best go check on my girl.”

  Biddy nodded. “Are you still planning on us for supper?”

  “Aye.” Katie stood. “I will see you tonight, Biddy.” She took Emma’s hand. “Come on, then. We’ll coax Ivy out.”

  They walked quickly down the road toward the bridge. Ivy hiding in the barn did not, in itself, seem worrisome. But Emma was so clearly upset about it, Katie couldn’t help feeling anxious.

  “What exactly sent Ivy into hiding?” she asked.

  Emma’s brown eyes were too heavy and worried for Katie’s peace of mind. “She knocked over the flour jar and it broke.”

  “She’s embarrassed, then?”

  Emma only shook her head, not explaining. Katie didn’t press her.

  They reached Joseph’s barn. From the doorway, she heard a voice.

  “This is entirely unnecessary and is taking up far too much time.” The words held more than a hint of scolding. “Stop this tantrum and come down from there.”

  “Is that Mrs. Smith?” Katie asked.

  Emma nodded.

  “Shall we go have a wee little talk with her?”

  The suggestion did not give Emma the bit of confidence Katie had hoped it would. Did Mrs. Smith worry her so much that even having an empathetic adult at her side not make Emma feel any better about confronting the woman?

  “Come down here this instant.” Mrs. Smith’s impatience sharpened the words.

  Emma paled. “May I wait out here, Katie?”

  “If you’d rather remain here, or go up to the house, you most certainly may, darling,” Katie told Emma. “But if you’d like to come in with me, I’ll keep you right at my side where you know you’ll always be safe.”

  Emma took a deep and fortifying breath. A look of determination crossed her face.

  “There’s my brave girl.” Katie squeezed the hand still held firmly in her own. “Let’s go rescue your sister.”

  Mrs. Smith stood at the bottom of the ladder leading up to the loft, her hands fisted on either hip. “If you don’t come down here this instant, Ivy—”

  Katie spoke over the cross words. “In my experience, Mrs. Smith, she responds much better to her name spoken in a kind voice.”

  Mrs. Smith spun about to face her. “This is none of your concern, miss.”

  “On the contrary.” Katie stepped up next to her. “These girls are rather dear to me. Their welfare will always be my concern.”

  The woman only grew more outwardly exasperated. “Their welfare is not in question. Neither of them is in any danger. The littlest one simply refuses to come down, and I cannot leave her up there alone.”

  “Scolding her is unlikely to encourage her to come to you,” Katie pointed out.

  “If you can do a better job of it, please do.” Mrs. Smith motioned toward the loft, stepping back with a look of haughtiness that grated. Clearly she thought Ivy would respond no better to Katie.

  “Why don’t you return to your work?” Katie suggested. “I will attend to the sweet angel in the loft.”

  “She is not being very angelic today,” Mrs. Smith said. “I told her she would not be punished for what was clearly an accident, but it’s as if she cannot understand simple—”

  “Let me stop you right there.” Katie kept her calm only with great effort. “’Tis never a wise thing to speak ill of any Irishwoman’s children within her hearing.”

  “Your children?” Clearly the sentiment surprised Mrs. Smith.

  “Indeed.”

  Emma clutched Katie’s hand in both of hers. Katie slipped the girl just a touch behind her.

  “And, if you would be so good as to give Mr. Archer a message for me, please tell him I’ve taken the girls to spend the day with me, and he can fetch them whenever it is convenient.”

  Mrs. Smith seemed to debate a moment before relenting with a shrug and a look of acceptance. She moved with quick strides out of the barn.

  Katie looked down at Emma and received a tentative smile.

  “Shall we go up after Ivy?” Katie asked.

  Emma nodded.

  Katie climbed the ladder, stopping when her head cleared the floor above. Ivy sat across the loft but within sight, her arms wrapped around her bent knees. Hay stuck out of her braids and clung to her stockings. Sad tears sat on her cheeks.

  “Hello, Ivy, angel. Won’t you come over and talk to me?”

  Ivy stood and dragged her feet as she walked to where the ladder leaned against the loft. She plopped back down, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

  “Why are you up here alone?” Katie asked.

  Ivy’s lip quivered. “Mrs. Smith is mad at me.”

  “I hear you broke the flour jar.”

  Ivy nodded. A tear dripped off her chin.

  “Were you afraid she would be angry?” Katie thought of Mrs. Smith’s sharp words. “Did she yell at you, or scold you harshly?”

  Ivy dropped her head down, her forehead on her knees.

  “Darling?” Katie pressed.

  “She looks at me like she’s angry. I don’t like it.”

  “Does she hit you?”

  Ivy shook her head, and Katie felt some of her anxiety lessen.

  “Does she yell or shout?” Katie looked down at Emma, standing at the foot of the ladder.

  “No,” Emma said. “Not really. But she talks so . . . so hard at us.”

  Poor things. They needed love and kind words; they needed a mother. She understood that need, having spent most of her childhood alone and longing for someone to care about her.

  She turned her attention back to Ivy. “How would you like to come have a wee céilí down at my house, sweetheart?” She reached out and stroked Ivy’s hair. “I might even make biscuits. I know how much you love my sweet biscuits.”

  She heard the tiniest murmur of “Cookies.”

  “Yes. Cookies.”

  Ivy peeked out at her. “With sugar on top?”

  Katie nodded.

  Ivy scooted along the floor of the loft until her feet dangled over the edge. Katie kissed her wet cheek.

  “Can you come back, Katie?” Ivy asked. “Can you come back and make Mrs. Smith go away?”

  Ivy always reminded Katie of her poor sister. In that moment ’twas as if little Eimear were there again, telling Katie how very cold she was, begging her to do something to make her warm again.

  “I made Mrs. Smith go away for now.” Katie knew it was only temporary comfort, but she had nothing else to offer. “And I mean to take you home with me for the rest of the day. Will that do?”

  Ivy looked the smallest bit relieved.

  “Why is it you hide up here, sweetie?”

  Ivy shrugged a single shoulder. “It’s quiet.”

  Katie could appreciate that. She’d often volunteered to sweep the larder at her first place of employment for just that reason. ’Twas a quiet place with no one about to yell at her or hurt her. She could cry there and not be punished for it.

  She looked about the dim loft with its piles of hay. “There are many places to hide,” she said.

  Ivy nodded, another tear trickling down her face. Katie’s heart cracked deeply at the sight. Joseph couldn’t possibly be so inattentive as to not see his girls’ unhappiness.

  “Let’s go up to my house, Ivy. We’ll forget all about Mrs. Smith for the evening. There’ll be no haylofts or hiding or mean voices. Only sugar-topped cookies for my two very good girls.”

  She climbed down the ladder, keeping a close eye on Ivy as she did. With both girls once again on solid ground, Katie held a hand out to each of them.

  These girls would have a pleasant night, one filled with all the laughter and smiles and music she could give them.

  Joseph’s patience was quickly running thin. A man did not like returning home to find his entire family missing. “Katie took the girls?” he repeated Mrs. Smith’s words, trying to make sense of them.

  “Yes. Ivy threw something of a tantrum over a broken flour jar and refused to come down from
the hayloft.” Mrs. Smith spoke as she scrubbed the sink basin. “Miss Macauley arrived in the midst of it and, declaring she could do a far better job of addressing the situation than I could, sent me off with instructions to tell you she had taken the girls to her house for the remainder of the day.”

  He didn’t fully understand what had passed between the women, but he felt some relief in knowing Katie was with the girls. They, at least, would have passed a pleasant afternoon, which was far more than he could say for himself.

  Three hours of trying to talk sense into the thick heads of the Red Road had taken a toll. He was tired, frustrated, and drained.

  “You are certain she took the girls to Mrs. Claire’s house?”

  “Yes. And that is where she said you could fetch them whenever it was convenient for you.” She looked up from her scrubbing. “I realize I didn’t ask your permission before allowing them to be taken, but seeing as you spend so much time there with Miss Macauley and generally take the girls with you when you go, I didn’t think you would object.”

  He didn’t object; he was simply tired. “Make yourself some dinner. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

  By the time he reached Mrs. Claire’s house, he was exhausted beyond reason. He was sick to death of the feud, tired of fixing everyone’s problems. He needed sleep. He needed peace. Neither seemed likely anytime soon.

  He rapped quick and hard on the door. Mrs. Claire waved at him through the window, motioning him inside.

  Joseph stepped through the door, hung his hat on an obliging peg, and unbuttoned his jacket. He told himself not to let his weariness make him impatient. Katie was standing in the middle of the room playing a lively tune on her violin. The girls were dancing about her, giggling and grinning wider than he’d seen in a while—well, at least since the last time he’d come to fetch them at Mrs. Claire’s house.

  And why is it I still think of this as Mrs. Claire’s house and never Katie’s? Katie somehow didn’t fit there, even after all the weeks she’d lived with the older woman.

  Ian sat next to Biddy, his arm about her shoulder. It relieved Joseph’s mind a great deal to see his friend continuing to recover. Ian’s Michael sat in the corner, reading a book even as he tapped his foot to the music. Little Mary sat on the floor, leaning against her father’s legs, grinning as she watched Katie play.