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

by Sarah M. Eden

’Twas not the time to speak of death and loss. “She is. She’s in a little, tiny town near a river.”

  “Does she like rivers?”

  They spoke that way as they walked toward town, the cold wind battering them. Ivy had so many questions. Katie did her best to answer without speaking of things that were too difficult and too raw. As they came within sight of the school, Ivy asked the question Katie had most worried she would bring up.

  “Where are your mama and papa?”

  “They are in a town called Belfast.”

  They stopped in front of the blacksmith shop where the Irish always waited for their children. The area had been shoveled, the snow piled out of the way. Winter had only just begun; those piles would grow taller and taller.

  “Will your mama and papa come see you ever?” Ivy asked, huddling close against Katie.

  “No, dearest. They won’t.”

  Ivy’s brow puckered. “Don’t they miss you?”

  They didn’t, actually. No letter she’d received had ever spoken of missing her or wishing she was nearby. Even the letter Katie had sent after hearing of her father’s illness had gone unanswered, though ample time had passed for her to receive a reply.

  “My papa is very ill,” she said. “He cannot travel this far.”

  Ivy’s expression turned sad. “Do you want to see him so, so much?”

  Katie nodded. She did want to see him before he died. That wish hovered in her mind, though she kept it clear to the back.

  “Oh, oh, oh!” Ivy took a quick breath, a look of pure excitement on her face. “Maybe my pompah could be your papa. Then you won’t be so sad.”

  She only just kept back a laugh. Joseph standing in for her father? That was ridiculous in the extreme.

  “Oh, sweetie.” She bent down and kissed the top of Ivy’s head. “You are a darling.”

  The schoolchildren poured out of the building. Many of the children ran through the drifts of snow, sending the powder flying in all directions. Dismissals had grown more chaotic, and not simply because of the weather. Children wove around each other, trying to find their parents. Parents did their utmost to keep an eye on the little ones while eyeing their enemies across the street.

  Emma found Katie easily—they always met at the nearest corner of the blacksmith shop, directly under the first post.

  “How was your school day?”

  “Fine.” Emma’s answers were usually short. Katie had come to understand that, to know she wasn’t being pushed aside.

  “Pompah is going to be Katie’s papa now,” Ivy declared.

  Emma looked surprised. “Can he do that?”

  “Ivy doesn’t want me to be lonely,” Katie explained. “My father is very far away.”

  “Oh.” That seemed to satisfy Emma. She scrunched her nose up, taking in a loud sniff. She did it again.

  Katie took a noseful of air herself and knew immediately what Emma was smelling. Smoke.

  Panic filled her chest. Smoke meant fire. She looked back over her shoulder. Dark smoke billowed from the top of the blacksmith shop. The entire crowd seemed to become aware of the danger behind them at the same time. Shouts filled the air. People ran in all directions, grabbing their children. So many people tried to fill the small space.

  Katie clutched the girls to her side. She couldn’t seem to get away from the smithy. Every step she took only put her in the path of someone else fleeing the flames that had begun to leap from the roof of the shop.

  Ivy and Emma were pleading with her to get them away from the hot air and the smell of cinders. Katie struggled to keep calm. Her feet and legs and back burned with remembered pain.

  “This way, girls.” But she was thwarted by the panicked crowd.

  Tears stung her eyes. Her only thought was escape, to get as far from the fire as she could.

  As the air grew dark with smoke, a figure wove through the crowd to her side. Joseph? She couldn’t tell.

  “Pick up Ivy,” the deep voice instructed, even as he swung Emma into his own arms.

  It was Tavish. She was grateful to have him there. Panic was quickly overwhelming her. Tavish wouldn’t abandon her in her time of need.

  “There’s fire,” she said. “We can’t get away from it.”

  Tavish didn’t waste a single moment with words. Emma latched onto him, just as Ivy wrapped her arms around Katie’s neck. Tavish took hold of Katie’s arm with his free hand and guided them all around the swirling mass of fleeing townsfolk.

  “Please get us away from here, Tavish. Please. Please.” Katie tried hard not to cry, but fear gripped her heart so tightly it hurt. She could feel Ivy weeping against her shoulder.

  The roar of flames grew more ominous. Even the air was hotter. She couldn’t bring herself to look back. She knew what she would see. The blacksmith shop was likely engulfed in flames. Even over the sound of so many shouting people, Katie could hear the girls whimpering. The smell and feel and sound of the fire and the frantic townspeople left her frozen in place.

  “Katie?” Tavish spoke as calm as could be. “We need to get the girls home. Their father will want to know they’re safe. Can you keep going?”

  She took a deep and shaky breath. Could she? Katie didn’t even know. In that moment she didn’t feel capable of movement, of whole thoughts, let alone the strength to calmly walk down the road. They’d been standing so close to the building. The fire must have been burning the entire time they’d stood there. She hadn’t even realized it.

  Each breath came quicker and shorter than the last. Her lungs simply couldn’t take in more air. Had Seamus Kelly escaped his shop before it burned? Merciful heavens, any number of children had been gathered around. They might have been caught, burned, trapped.

  “Seamus?” She mouthed the name to Tavish, unable to find her voice.

  “He is at home today,” Tavish answered.

  Katie held Ivy tightly, so afraid for the girls, for herself, for everyone nearby. Though nearly twenty years had passed since she’d run for her life through a cascade of falling thatch, she remembered it as clearly as though it were happening again in that very moment. She could feel the heat on her face, the searing pain in her feet.

  Hot tears ran down her face as she struggled for composure.

  Tavish set Emma on her feet and took Ivy from Katie’s arms. He extended a hand to her. “I’m taking you away from here, Katie. All you need to do is put one foot in front of the other. I’ll do the rest.”

  Katie nodded. “And the girls?” she managed to ask.

  He tipped her a whisper of a smile. “I don’t intend to leave them behind.”

  She couldn’t think clearly, otherwise she’d not have even wondered if he meant to look after Emma and Ivy. He shouldn’t be left to care for them in the first place. That’s your responsibility, Katie.

  “I’m falling clear to pieces, Tavish.”

  Tavish pulled her close. “I’ll hold you together, Sweet Katie. All the way back up the road.”

  He took the situation firmly in hand. Ivy was instructed to hold Katie’s hand. Emma took Tavish’s. They were on their way up the road, trailing most of the rest of town.

  Katie’s breaths poured out of her. She walked, but hardly recognized the road or the landmarks she passed. Tavish’s arm remained firm around her, guiding her so she need not even think of what they’d left behind or the memories it had conjured. She concentrated on breathing in and out, on calming herself, but found the task beyond her abilities.

  The girls shivered in the cold. Katie held Ivy as close as she could, but her mind couldn’t seem to think of what else she might do to help them. Tavish’s eyes darted about as if searching for something.

  The rumbling of feet and voices echoed all around them. From both sides of the Archer home came a full mob of people. They glared from across the way, eyeing each other with accusations and anger and fear.

  “Have they come to put out the fire?” Emma asked.

  Tavish didn’t answer. Katie co
uldn’t. They’d likely come fully intending to brawl.

  Was this it, then? The feud would end in a fire, both sides jumping into the fray and destroying themselves?

  Fire always destroyed. It broke and it burnt and it killed. Always.

  “Girls! Katie!”

  At the sound of Joseph’s voice, both girls broke free and ran to their father. Katie felt an almost overwhelming urge to do precisely the same. The exact feeling of relief she’d tried to describe to Biddy and Granny swept over her at his approach. Even knowing he hadn’t been in town, emotion swelled inside at the simple reassurance that he was safe.

  He reached her in the next moment, an arm around each of his girls.

  “Katie?” He looked at her with growing concern. “Are you hurt?”

  “She is afraid, Joseph,” Tavish whispered.

  Joseph looked her over. “Pull yourself together, Katie. There is no time for this.”

  Tavish took half a step between them. “Be a little understanding. With her history—”

  “I know her history perfectly well. I know she is terrified.” His piercing gaze returned to her. “But in this moment, right now, you need to keep going. We will have a war on our hands unless cool heads can prevail, and if Tavish and I don’t return to town, there won’t be enough voices of reason.”

  His words brought tears to the surface again. She needed a hug or a kind word. She needed a place to hide away from it all. Until Joseph spoke of her continuing on alone, she hadn’t realized how much she’d hoped for a comforting embrace.

  Tavish jumped into the conversation. “Leave her be, Joseph. She is—”

  “What she is, is stronger than you are giving her credit for.” Joseph’s eyes darted between her and Tavish before settling on her face. He seemed unconcerned by her tears, if he noticed them at all. “I won’t leave the girls with Mrs. Smith, not when they are already this upset, and I cannot leave them on their own. Can I trust you, Katie, to keep them safe and hold them together until I return? Can I trust you with that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He stepped closer. Tavish did as well, facing Joseph as though they were foes locked in combat.

  “All I am asking is that you stay strong long enough to look after them. When I come by to claim them, you can fall to pieces all you want. You only have to stay standing until then.”

  “I don’t know if I can.”

  “There is no time for indecision,” Joseph said. “The people in this town will kill each other if we don’t stop them. Tell me yes or no, so I can do what needs to be done.”

  There would be no sympathy from that quarter.

  “You could take them to Biddy’s,” Tavish suggested.

  She looked to Joseph. The disappointment that flashed over his features cut her deeply. There is no one in the world I trust more than you. He’d told her that behind Granny’s house. He trusted her, and she was letting him down.

  Katie bit back a new wave of tears. ’Twas little wonder he was disappointed in her—she was disappointed in herself. “Come fetch them at Mrs. Claire’s when you’re ready.” Her voice didn’t remain entirely steady, but she’d summoned the strength to make the declaration, and that was something.

  He gave a quick nod, instructed his girls to stay with her, and he and Tavish walked quickly toward town.

  Though in her heart she was still weeping, outwardly she found a place of calm. She would see to the girls, look after them until their father returned. Then, and only then, would she let the weight of fear and memories break her down.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Even on his way to stop a brawl, Tavish was a breath away from throwing a punch at the man walking by his side. He’d not have thought Joseph Archer the kind of person to toss harsh words at a woman so clearly suffering as Katie was. Joseph had brought fresh tears to her eyes, something Tavish wasn’t sure he could forgive.

  “You might have been a little easier on her,” he said.

  “Not if I wanted her to stay standing through this.”

  “She was doing fine before you came.” Tavish had, after all, led her from town. He had supported her through the entire ordeal. She had been holding up—struggling, yes, but holding up.

  “I, for one,” Joseph said, “couldn’t ever be satisfied knowing Katie was doing merely ‘fine.’”

  “That is not at all what I meant, and you know it.”

  They were quickly approaching the edge of town. Raised voices could already be heard.

  “Katie needed a push,” Joseph said.

  “What she needed was compassion.”

  They’d nearly reached the town and the line of people on either side of the snow-dusted road, staring each other down. It was one fight after another in Hope Springs.

  Joseph didn’t look at him when he spoke, but there was an inarguable challenge in his tone. “It seems Katie will have to decide what she needs.”

  They were no longer speaking of her response to the fire. “Katie’s already made that decision.”

  “Has she?” Joseph spoke with infuriating calm.

  Tavish loved Katie and was certain she loved him in return. He could make her laugh when tears hovered in her eyes and bring a smile to her face when she was burdened. He’d never seen Joseph do that. And yet, Joseph seemed so certain of his own claim on Katie’s heart.

  “The troops have already assumed the formation.” Only when Joseph motioned toward the gathered townspeople did Tavish realize he wasn’t referring to their rivalry over Katie.

  Tavish knew exactly what was going on ahead of them. The Irish had gathered around the smithy—what was left of it, at least—to show the Reds that they placed the blame for its destruction on the Reds’ shoulders. The Reds had gathered around the mercantile because they fully expected the Irish to retaliate. ’Twas likely only a matter of time before they did just that.

  “So what happens now? Do you start evicting the town?” Tavish and his parents were the only members of his family who would be safe. The rest of his siblings had come up short on their payment.

  “Not if they disperse,” Joseph said.

  Tavish made his way to Seamus’s side. “How bad is it?”

  “I’ve lost it all.” Seamus stood with his fingers shoved into the pockets of his vest, eyeing the charred remains of his business. Each exhaled breath formed clouds in front of him, adding to the desolation of the scene. “’Tis nothing but a pile of ashes and a few salvageable tools. I’ll not have the money to replace this. Not for years, maybe. Longer, more likely. I can’t recover from this.”

  Smoke rose off the charred wood.

  “Everyone will help you rebuild, Seamus. Every one of us.”

  He shook his head. “They can’t pay for their own homes, Tavish. How’re they going to rebuild my business? They haven’t the money to replace my tools or my supplies.” His tone tightened with each word. “This has ruined me. Ruined me.” Seamus spun about and pointed directly at the Reds across the way. “And they know it!”

  The Red Roaders stood with arms folded across their chests, unmoved by Seamus’s anger. He took a step into the road. Tavish held him back with a firm hand on his shoulder. A single thrown fist or shove would set off the entire crowd.

  “Keep calm, Seamus.”

  “Don’t tell me to keep calm.” Seamus’s pulse pounded through the veins in his reddened neck. “There were children about, Tavish. Children,” he shouted at the Reds. “And these would-be murderers started a fire. Someone might’ve been killed.”

  Bob Archibald emerged from the gathering outside the mercantile. “Be careful where you throw your accusations, Paddy. Who are you to say any of us did this? Maybe you were too careless.”

  “You know full well I wasn’t even here.”

  The men had come too close to each other for Tavish’s peace of mind. They’d lunge for each other’s throats any minute.

  Joseph stepped between the men, though he addressed Tavish. “Talk the Irish back.”


  Tavish looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, his countrymen were inching closer to their neighbors.

  “We’ve lost a business, Joseph,” Seamus growled. “Our only remaining one, since they forced Katie to turn her bread business into a charity.”

  “If there’s blood in the streets, Seamus,” Joseph answered, “they’ll lose more than a business.” He turned his glare on Archibald. “The same goes for the Red Road, Bob.”

  “We’ve been accused of trying to murder children. You can’t expect us to stand back and be insulted.”

  “That is exactly what I expect you to do.” Joseph remained calm despite the antagonism crackling in the air. He addressed the Reds. “If you are not here to help clean up the ashes and soot, then I suggest you go home.”

  “Why? So these foreigners”—Bob motioned at the Irish with his stubbly chin—“can burn down the rest of the town while we’re not looking?”

  “Don’t fret over that. I don’t mean to steal your favorite trick.” Seamus leaned in, spitting his words.

  “Are you accusing me of something, Irishman?”

  “Are you feeling guilty?”

  “Not in the least.”

  “Tavish!” He turned about at the sound of Da calling out his name. He, Thomas, Keefe, and Ian were doing their utmost to keep the Irish from rushing at their Red Road neighbors. O’Donaghue could be counted on to be carrying a shillelagh, perhaps MacCormack as well.

  He joined the voices calling for calm. But who was keeping the Reds reasonable? They weren’t used to taking one on the chin in the name of peace.

  He looked back, just as the Reds inched forward as a whole. There’d be a full-on battle any moment. Irish voices shouted right along with American voices, anger filling the air. Tavish tried to make himself heard, at least by those nearest him.

  “We can’t—”

  No one was listening.

  “Da!” But he couldn’t hear him.

  Someone rushed forward, nearly knocking Tavish over. He kept his place, trying to hold the crowd back. His boots slid beneath him on the slippery snow.

  A piercing whistle silenced the mob. Then a voice spoke into the quiet.