After the Storm

by Jo Ann Ferguson

  “Good night, Mama.”

  “Good night, a stór.” She kissed the little girl on the cheek, but her gaze rose again to meet Samuel’s.

  Cailin Rafferty was what his partner Theo would have called a second-looker. Not classically beautiful, but definitely worth a second look. And he gave her one, a slow perusal aimed at admiring every inch of her. She had a quirky smile and a figure that fit perfectly into a man’s arms. Into his arms. Even in a ragged dress that had been patched as best as she was able, she had a regal mien.

  An Irish princess.

  He almost laughed out loud at the thought. She might have a pride that kept her chin high, but she was a ragamuffin who had had to leave her children in the care of people who had turned them over to an orphanage.

  One corner of his mouth tipped up in a rueful grin. Would she be offended if he told her that the freckles on her pert nose had been the one thing that convinced him she was telling the truth? Any woman who did not try to hide them under a layer of rice powder must be honest.

  “Mama!” Megan rushed to her mother again. “When will you be able to tell us some of your fairy stories?”

  “You remember those?”

  “I remember one about a little man with some gold.”

  “A leprechaun?” Cailin wanted to hug her daughter so long that the many months apart would be forgotten. “I’ll be glad to tell you the story in the morning.”

  “You’re dawdling again,” Samuel said with a ferocious frown that brought giggles from Megan. “Off to bed with you.”

  “Will you read me a story tonight, Samuel?”

  “I already have.” He waved his hands toward the stairs. “Time to go to bed so I can get to my meeting in Haven.”

  “For the library?”

  He nodded, then halted Megan by taking her hand as she was about to return to the parlor. “You can tell your mother about it in the morning. If you go to sleep now, she can, too. That way, she may be feeling well enough tomorrow so you can take her outside and show her your rabbit. How does that sound?”

  Cailin did not hear her daughter’s answer, for Samuel glanced back at her. She knew she should look away, but she could not. Her eyes were caught again by his, and her breath clogged in her throat. His build was perfect for denim and leather, but in his fancy clothes he was even more enticing. She thought of how he had asked her who she was. That was a question she should have posed to him. A gentle man and a gentleman. A man who was not afraid of hard work with his hands, but a man who had been a lawyer. Devoted to her children and yet not spoiling them as he taught them as if he were their father.

  But even his good looks and his strong hands and his kind heart seemed incidental when she saw the strong emotions swirling in his green eyes. She was unsure how long they stared before he looked away. With reluctance, she thought. Because he had to look away or because he did not want to admit that the longing she had plainly seen in his eyes and tasted on his lips was dangerous?

  She said nothing as he led Megan up the stairs. Seeing her daughter lean her head on his arm, she clenched her hands on her lap. No one could doubt the love between the two of them.

  Samuel loved all three children, and they loved him. Would he try to keep her from taking her own children home? She looked toward the back parlor with the stacks of books that had been recently uncrated. He was a lawyer, so he knew the law well. Would he fight her for the children and win?

  Six

  Cailin yawned in spite of her efforts to hide her fatigue. She had not done much all day but sit on the porch and talk to the children. She had praised the rabbit’s long ears and listened while Brendan seemed to tell her every detail of his cow’s life. It had been more wonderful than she had imagined to become reacquainted with them. They had changed since she last saw them, Lottie more than the others, and she could not doubt they were happy here in Haven with Samuel.

  “Why don’t you rest, Cailin?” Samuel asked, putting down the newspaper he had been reading since he had come out onto the porch a few minutes before.

  “It’s so early.”

  “You sound like Megan when she doesn’t want to go to bed.”

  The girl made a face at him, and Cailin could not keep from laughing. Putting her hands on the arm of the wooden chair, she pushed herself to her feet. She wobbled, and Brendan jumped to his feet to help her.

  He was too slow, because Samuel was out of the rocking chair and had his hand under her elbow before her knees could fail her. As the children threw questions at her, he said under their fearful voices, “Trying to make up in one day for the time you’ve lost with them is going to make you sick again.”

  She could not argue with the truth, so she nodded.

  “Can you stand on your own?” he asked.

  She nodded again but held on to the back of the chair so she did not prove how uncertain she was. “Hush,” she said to the anxious children. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

  “Not too tired for the bath that’s waiting for you, are you?” asked Brendan, disappointment filling his eyes.

  “Bath?” she asked.

  Samuel said with what she knew was mock anger, “Now you’ve spoiled the surprise.”

  “A bath?” Cailin repeated, then smiled as Samuel and the children laughed at the breathless anticipation in her voice. Knowing there was no need to dissemble, she added, “I can’t think of anything I want more at this moment.”

  Samuel slipped his arm around her waist. “Nothing?” he asked with a rakish laugh that set the children to giggling.

  Cailin stiffened for a minute before realizing the children had no idea what he was suggesting. They were amused by his teasing laugh. Slapping at his hand, she said, “The water is getting cold while you keep me out here.” She eased out of his embrace. She was astonished at how much she regretted that motion; his arm had offered a welcome she had never thought she would feel—or want to feel—again.

  “Mama’s going to have a bath?” asked Lottie, climbing up into the chair where Cailin had been sitting. “Can I wash the rabbit, too?”

  “Rabbits can wash themselves, Quarter-pint,” Samuel said as he swung her up into his arms.

  Lottie whispered something into his ear.

  With a grin, he said, “Folks can take baths when it isn’t Saturday night.” He set her down. “Now tell your mother good night and go upstairs and get ready for bed.”

  Cailin smiled when all three children began to protest. Telling them to obey Samuel, she gave each a hug and a kiss. “Pretty dreams,” she said as they rushed into the house, each one eager to be first up the stairs.

  In their wake, silence settled onto the porch, punctuated only by the chirps of insects. She said nothing while Samuel gathered up his newspaper.

  He turned. “Your bath is going to get cold.”

  “Thank you,” she said softly.

  “For the bath? It’s nothing. I figured you—”

  She put her hand on his arm. “For making my children so happy.”

  “That was even easier than heating up bathwater for you.” He folded the newspaper under one arm.

  He did not move closer to her, but she was as aware of every inch of him as if he had pulled her against him. Her breath caught as her fingers were swallowed by his. Something stirred deep inside her, a sweet pleasure she had nearly forgotten. Pulling back, she clasped her hands behind her. She must not be tempted by a handsome man again. “I should go before the water gets cold.”

  “Yes, you should,” he murmured, raising her hand.

  She clenched her other hand as he brushed her knuckles with his lips. No kiss this chaste should seem so provocative, imploring her to forget her bath and the children and propriety while she let his mouth enrapture her.

  “Good night.” Slowly she drew her hand out of his and took one step toward the door. If he answered, she did not hear him as she hurried inside and to her room.

  The lamp was casting its glow only into the middle of the room, leaving the
corners in shadow. It reflected off the water in the tub that was far bigger than any she had ever used. She would be able to sit in it if she drew up her knees.

  She waited for the pulse of excitement at enjoying such luxury, but it never came. Instead, she sat on a chair next to the tub and stared at the towels and the bar of soap sitting on the bed.

  She had vowed never to let another man into her life, but from the moment Samuel had come out on the porch tonight she had struggled to keep her focus on Brendan’s stories about raising his cow. Her thoughts kept wandering to where Samuel sat, reading his newspaper intently. She had noticed how he pushed his glasses up his nose with an impatient motion, and how his hair dropped down over the back of his collar. When he had rested one leg on the opposite knee, she had listened to little else than the rhythm of the rockers creaking against the porch floorboards.

  Pushing herself to her feet so quickly that her head spun anew, Cailin gripped the footboard and waited for the room to stop rocking like Samuel’s chair. She pushed the thought of him aside. Right now, all she should be thinking of was enjoying this bath.

  She unbuttoned her dress with care, but, even so, another button fell off. It rolled under the bed. She bent to peer down and saw the button had come to a stop nearer the far side. Edging around the tub, she dropped onto her stomach and stretched her hand under the bed.

  She pulled the button out and cautiously got to her feet. This time, her head did not spin. She must be careful until she was completely well. Setting the button on the dressing table, she put her dress on the chair. Just as she was about to lower the strap of her chemise, she heard a click and saw the door open. She grasped her dress, holding it in front of her as Samuel walked in as if there were nothing wrong with him being in her room tonight.

  “What are you doing here?” she cried.

  He tossed something onto the bed. It was, she saw, a man’s dressing robe of dark red material that looked astonishingly like silk. “I thought that, once you were clean, you might want to wear something other than your dress tonight.”

  “I don’t wear it to bed.”

  “You’re wearing my shirt still?” His eyes glistened, and she knew he was imagining how she would look in that.

  But he did not need to imagine. He had seen her wearing it when he came in here to help her while she was sick. She was no longer sick, and he should not be here. “Samuel, I don’t think this is the time to discuss this.”

  “You’re right.” His gaze slipped along her.

  She looked down to see that her legs from ankle to mid-calf were visible beneath the dress. Edging behind the tub, she said, “Thank you for the robe.”

  He held out his hand.

  “What?” she asked.

  “If you’ll give me that dress, I’ll wash it out. It should be dry in the morning when you get up.”

  “This dress?”

  He smiled and turned to face the door. “Put on the robe and your modesty won’t be compromised.”

  “But then it won’t be clean when I am.” That sounded petulant, but she had liked the idea of fresh clothes when she was done bathing.

  Facing her, he said, “You are a troublesome woman. Wait here.” He opened the door and went out.

  Cailin did not move as she heard another door open. The one along the hall nearest to this room. When she heard a drawer opening and closing, she knew that door must open onto Samuel’s bedroom. Only a single wall separated the two rooms. The thought of that intimacy was both unnerving and undeniably delightful.

  Before she had a chance to warn her mind not to wander in that direction, Samuel strode back into her room. He held out a nightshirt that was of a soft gray flannel.

  “This will be hot to wear tonight, but it’ll keep you covered.” He turned his back to her again. “You’d better hurry, or that water will feel as chilly as the ice down in the icehouse.”

  She kept the dress between herself and him and awkwardly pulled on the nightshirt. It dropped to cover the top of her toes. Sweat bubbled along her back, for the nightshirt was just as smothering in the evening’s heat as he had warned.

  “All set,” she said.

  He looked at her and chuckled. “I hope your suffering is worth it.”

  “If you’d leave, I could get into the tub and get cooled off.”

  “Give me your dress and I’ll leave you to your bath.”

  She started to hand it to him, then reached into the pocket and pulled out the battered photograph.

  “Is that a picture of your husband?” he asked quietly, the teasing gone from his voice.

  “Yes.”

  “May I?”

  Giving it to him, she watched as he tilted it toward the lamp.

  He handed it back to her. “I thought he’d look more like Brendan.”

  “Brendan favors mo athair—I mean, my father.” She put the picture on the dressing table. “I see more of Abban in Lottie than the other children.”

  “I hope that gives you some comfort.”

  She picked up the dress and handed it to him. “Thank you for your sympathy, but I don’t need it.”

  “You don’t need it?” His eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

  Cursing herself for speaking so thoughtlessly, she answered, “It’s time for me to think about the future, not the past.”

  “Wise advice. I hope you can follow it better than most people.”

  Cailin wanted to ask him to explain what he meant, but ending this conversation now would be the smartest thing she could do. Otherwise, her fatigue might lead her again into saying something better left unspoken.

  “Bring the nightshirt along with your other clothes out to the kitchen when you’re done bathing,” Samuel continued, and she wondered if he was eager to finish this discussion that seemed to perturb him, too.

  “You don’t have to wash my clothes!” she said, even though she knew she should be silent.

  “Have you been overcome by the heat, or is that a blush reddening your cheeks? I’ll leave the laundry tub in the kitchen if you want to tend to your own laundry.” He laughed as he reached for the doorknob. “Try not to take all night with your bath.”

  Cailin rushed to the door as soon as it was closed and twisted the lock. Now nobody could get in without clambering through the window. She crossed the room and drew the curtains. Moonlight washed through, diffused.

  Peeling off the nightshirt and her underclothes, which were stained with sweat from her fever, she left them on the floor. She picked up the soap and stepped into the water.

  “Perfect,” she breathed as water flowed up around her legs to welcome her. She sat, and the warm water surrounded her. Even with her knees close to her chest, this was going to be the most luxurious bath she had ever had.

  She trickled the water along her skin to savor its freshness, then began to scrub her arms. Soap bubbles surrounded her. She ignored them as she washed herself, then rested back to let the water lap up around her shoulders. This was the first time since she had left Ireland that she could let herself truly relax.

  Being on a ship with three curious children had kept her busy. She had feared that inquisitiveness would end up with them falling overboard. When one of the sailors had offered to show them about, they had enjoyed the tour. She smiled. He had been not more than a dozen years older than Brendan, and he had seemed anxious to talk with her about his plans to ask his beloved to be his wife as soon as the ship docked in New York harbor. A happy ending to a love story.

  Her parents’ own love story had had a happy ending as well. They had not known each other long before they were married, and that marriage had lasted more than twenty years. She had been their only child, born long after they had feared their marriage would not be blessed with a child, and the affection they shared washed over onto her to create their love-filled home. Sometimes, there had not been enough food, but there never had been a dearth of caring.

  She wondered how Athair was faring. She had known she would miss him, bu
t she had not guessed how much. She missed his easy laugh and his love of fiddle music, a gift he had bequeathed to her, although she had had to sell her own fiddle shortly after she reached New York City to pay Mrs. Rafferty for providing for the children. When she had learned that one of the maids who slept in the crowded room along with her and three other women could read and write, Cailin had had her write a note to Athair, telling him of their safe arrival and Abban’s death. The priest would read the letter to her father. She had said nothing of the icy welcome at Mrs. Rafferty’s house, and the fact that she seldom saw her children. Worrying him would gain her nothing.

  She had found her children.

  And Samuel …

  Everyone was astonished when Samuel offered to have the three children placed out with him. Three children for a bachelor!

  Emma’s voice played through her head again, but this time Cailin wondered why anyone had been astonished by Samuel’s bringing her children into his home. His gentle heart was revealed each time he spoke to one of the children. Had he hidden it from the rest of the people living near Haven? He had not been able to conceal it from her. Nor had he taken any trouble to make his desire to hold her a secret.

  Sometime later, Cailin blinked and realized she had almost surrendered to her exhaustion. The water was now tepid, so she soaped her hair and rinsed it quickly. With reluctance, she stood and wrapped the towel around her.

  She drew on the extra undergarments she had brought with her from New York after she had sold everything else to get the last few pennies for her fare. Slipping her arms into Samuel’s robe, she relished the silk sliding along her skin like a cool caress. She tied it closed as she went to the dressing table. Drying her hair, she combed out the snarls. It hung down her back, so she tied it back with a ribbon from the box Emma had brought her. Gathering up her clothes, she left damp footprints behind her as she unlocked the door and opened it.