Long Journey Home

by Sarah M. Eden

  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.

  “Trust me on this one, lad. You’ll both be better for it if you find the courage to ask your questions.”

  He nodded. “I’ll try.”

  Maura squeezed his shoulders. “I love you, Aidan. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Ma.” He colored a bit and pulled away. He was fast approaching that age when shows of affection from his mother wouldn’t be welcomed as often and as readily as they’d once been. She dreaded the time, but also embraced it. This was part of growing up, and she was simply grateful her illness had not progressed so quickly that she would miss this part of his life.

  Aidan knocked at the door. It was opened quickly. Mrs. O’Connor’s eyes pulled wide and she smiled broadly.

  “Come in, come in.” She had a hug for both of them. “Find a seat, Maura. We’re beginning a bit casually this morning. Cecily’s lying down; she’s having a difficult day, I’m afraid.”

  “Is she unwell?”

  Mrs. O’Connor’s gaze flicked to Aidan. “Would you mind terribly, lad, if I asked a favor of you?”

  “Not at all,” he insisted.

  “Finbarr’s out in the barn trying to get the morning chores done, since Tavish is out in his fields trying to save a bit more of his crop. Would you rush out to see if Finbarr has something you can do for him?”

  “I don’t know how to do very much yet,” Aidan warned.

  Mrs. O’Connor smiled kindly. “No matter. I have full faith he’ll find something for you that you either know already or he can explain to you. It’d help your aunt and uncle quite a bit.”

  Aidan left quickly, though Maura saw nervousness in his expression and posture. He would have to ask a lot of questions if he meant to help at all. That would be difficult for him, but it’d be a helpful bit of practice.

  Mrs. O’Connor looked to Maura again. “I know you’ve come hoping to do some sewing, but as I said, Cecily’s feeling poorly. It’s to do with the baby. She says you have experience with midwifery?”

  “Quite a bit of experience.”

  “Would you look in on her?” Mrs. O’Connor asked. “It’d put all our minds at ease.”

  Maura’s sisters-in-law sat in the room, watching the exchange hopefully.

  “Of course,” she told the room in general.

  Relief touched all their faces. They clearly cared deeply for the very proper English addition to the family. As Ryan had said, the O’Connors rallied around their own.

  Mrs. O’Connor led her to a room off the main one. She gave a quick knock before opening the door and stepping inside. Large picture windows filled the bedchamber with an abundance of light. The window framed a breathtaking view of the distant mountains. Cecily lay on the bed.

  “Maura’s come,” Mrs. O’Connor said. “She means to take a look at you.”

  “I suspect,” Cecily said, “you’ll discover this was all a great deal of fuss over nothing.”

  Maura crossed to the bed. “The health of an expectant mother and her baby is never ‘nothing.’ And I told you my own self to send for me if you had even the slightest worry or concern. I meant it, you know.”

  Mrs. O’Connor mouthed “thank you” and slipped from the room, closing the door behind her.

  “How far are you from your time?” Maura asked. It’d be helpful to know that before discussing anything ailing her today.

  “I’d say two months or so. Not very long.”

  “No, but far enough that some things would be more worrisome than if you were nearer the end.”

  Cecily shifted up to a reclining position, pillows behind her back. She set her hand atop her rounded middle. Her eyes were closed, as they had been since Maura came inside. “I have been having pains. They’re an achy and cramping kind of pain, precisely as I’ve so often heard delivery pains described.”

  False labor, perhaps? Maura had known quite a few women who experienced that in the weeks before true labor began.

  “What else?”

  “The baby doesn’t move about as much during the pains or for a little while afterward.”

  “But do things return to normal after the cramping has stopped?”

  Cecily nodded. “If I rest entirely: no working or even walking about.”

  That did not sound like false labor. “Have you had any bleeding?”

  “No.”

  Thank the heavens. “Does anything else seem to contribute to the pains starting or stopping?”

  Cecily’s brow tugged low in thought. “Lifting heavy things. Riding in the cart. I had some difficulty after dancing at the ceílí.”

  That all made perfect sense. “Physical exertion sets if off, seems to me. That can happen with labor pains.”

  “You think this is labor?” Cecily paled further. “I’m too far from my time.”

  Maura understood perfectly the panic in Cecily’s voice. Babies born too early seldom survived, and their mothers did not always fare better.

  Maura set a comforting hand on Cecily’s. “You know what brings on these bouts, and you know what calms them. That knowledge makes all the difference in the world.”

  Eyes still closed, Cecily took a deep breath. Her expression calmed a little. “I can stop the pains from happening again?”

  “You can reduce the chance, at least.” Maura turned a bit, facing Cecily more fully. “That means staying mostly off your feet—fully if you’re having pains—and neglecting the work of your household until after the baby arrives.”

  Cecily shook her head. “Tavish has enough work with his crop without household chores and cooking placed on his shoulders as well.”

  “He is likely as worried about this as you are. Knowing how to help will set his mind at ease.”

  “He doesn’t know,” Cecily said. “I’ve just been telling him I’m tired. He likely suspects it’s more than that, but . . .”

  “Why haven’t you told him?” From all Maura had seen of their relationship, Tavish would move mountains for Cecily’s sake.

  “We’ve lost over half our crop,” she said, heaviness in her words. “The situation is growing dire. As it is, the weight he carries is already nearly crushing him.”

  “Is it nearly crushing you?” Maura asked.

  Cecily offered no verbal response. She didn’t need to. The heaviness in her expression told its own story. Stress and strain contributed to difficult pregnancies. Maura hadn’t the medical training to know how or why, but she’d seen it often enough. Those at the Tower whose losses were the most raw and who struggled the most severely financially or in any other way often had more complications.

  “You need to tell him,” Maura said. “You can’t carry this weight alone. But you’ve strength enough between the two of you to face this, even with your other worries.”

  A bit of regret touched Cecily’s expression. “I likely should have told him about this sooner.”

  “If he’s anything like my Grady—and I suspect he is—he’ll not begrudge you the delay. He’ll simply be relieved to know what it is you’re facing and have the chance to help you feel better.”

  “On the subject of feeling better,” Cecily said, “you haven’t coughed once as we’ve been talking. I hope that means your health is improving.”

  Maura had been so focused on Cecily, she’d hardly noticed. She’d had a few better days mixed in with the difficult ones these past months. The brown lung wouldn’t go away, but perhaps the balance of ups and downs would begin to even out a bit more. “The cough is better just now.”

  Cecily smiled empathetically. “I’m glad.”

/>   “So am I.”

  “Will you come by now and then to check on me and the baby?” Cecily asked. “I’ll worry less if I’m not left to guess how our little one is faring.”

  “I’ll come by as often as you’d like.”

  Cecily leaned back against the headboard. “Thank you.”

  “What can I do to make you more comfortable?” Maura asked. “I notice you’ve kept your eyes closed. I can pull the curtains if the light is causing you discomfort.”

  Cecily smiled a little. “The light doesn’t bother me, but I suspect my eyes would bother you. I lost my sight to a disease; it disfigured them.”

  “Is that why you wear darkened spectacles?”

  Cecily nodded. “Sometimes hiding imperfections is easier than constantly explaining them.”

  ’Twas the reason Maura worked so hard to convince people her cough was nothing more than a lingering cold. She didn’t want to be defined by the disease she grappled with. Cecily understood that as few people likely did.

  As Maura came to know the people of Hope Springs, both in and out of the O’Connor family, she identified with them more and more. She hid the impact of her ill health as Cecily did. She struggled to accomplish all the things she once had, as Katie admitted to experiencing. She wondered if she had anything at all to contribute, as Finbarr so often did. Feeling a connection to them all was comforting. She felt less alone.

  “I am sorry I didn’t have better news for you,” Maura said. “But I do think if you keep mostly off your feet, rest extra when you are struggling, and let Tavish help you carry this worry, you’ll fare far better than you now fear.”

  “Thank you, Maura,” she said.

  She stood and moved to the door. “Do your best to rest. Sleep if you can. Your family will look after everything.”

  “It is a fine thing to have family, isn’t it?”

  Maura was beginning to understand just how fine a thing it truly was. They would help her—she felt certain they would—and she meant to do everything she could to help them.

  Chapter Thirty

  If Maura hadn’t been so certain what she was about to do was the absolute right thing, she might have been more nervous. After a vast deal of pondering, she knew what needed to be done and wouldn’t put it off a moment longer. She placed a plate of sweet biscuits on the kitchen table in front of the Archer girls.

  “I need to talk with your father a moment,” she told them. “You two look after each other, and be good.”

  “We’re always good,” Ivy insisted.

  “Oh, are you, now?” Maura met Emma’s gaze for the briefest of moments, long enough to exchange a bit of amusement. “My Aidan tells me you’re a bit of a mischief maker, Ivy.”

  A gap-toothed grin blossomed across her face. “Aidan likes me.”

  “He likes the both of you,” Maura said. “I have it from his own lips.”

  Emma’s eager gaze captured Maura’s. “Truly?”

  “I swear on Ireland herself.”

  That brought hope to Emma’s face. Aidan had said on more than one occasion that both Ivy and Emma were like little sisters to him. Maura knew with perfect clarity that Emma would not appreciate hearing that particular detail. Enough for the moment to know that she was liked and noticed. The rest would sort itself in time.

  She scooped little Sean into her arms. “I’ll take your brother with me,” she told the girls. “Then you needn’t look after him.”

  “He’ll scream all the while you’re talking to Pompah,” Ivy warned.

  Maura shook her head. “Sean and I have an agreement. He promises not to scream like the banshee for hours on end, and I vow to make certain there’s an extra bit of colcannon for him whenever I make it.”

  Emma smiled a bit. “He does like colcannon.”

  Maura eyed her armful. “You’re an Irish lad, that’s for certain.”

  His big brown eyes twinkled back at her. Grady had always said he fully expected their children to have her brown eyes, but Aidan had his blue. Perhaps if they’d had more children, one would have had brown eyes like this wee, darling boy. So many of the things they’d planned to have in abundance—children, dreams, time—had vanished on a battlefield, gone with the smoke of cannons and the cries of war.

  She held Sean a touch closer and made her way from the house. The sounds of Katie practicing her fiddle floated on the breeze. Maura’s work allowed Katie time for her music. She liked knowing she was helping bring a bit of joy to Katie’s life.

  Aidan and Finbarr stood only a few steps inside the barn door, in a horse stall. Aidan ran a stiff brush the length of a horse’s side. Finbarr followed behind with his hand, using touch to evaluate Aidan’s efforts.

  “Good,” Finbarr said. “Be careful not to miss any spots. A clean coat is important for a horse’s health.”

  Aidan repeated brushing, with Finbarr checking his work. Maura slipped past quietly; Sean was being very cooperative. She found the little one’s da sharpening a tool at the other end of the barn.

  “Maura,” Joseph said, dipping his head in greeting. “Is there something I can do for you?”

  “I’m needing a moment of your time,” she answered.

  He moved to set his tool aside.

  “Please don’t stop on my account,” she said. “This is something I can speak on while you work.”

  He didn’t object but returned to his efforts.

  “I’ve been thinking on what you told me about Tavish and Cecily and their land, and I have a proposition.”

  He paused in his sharpening, giving her a look of deep curiosity.

  “I’ll preface this all by saying I haven’t any experience with business or money dealings, so the whole thing might be a terrible idea.”

  Joseph shook his head. “I am not afraid of hearing terrible ideas.”

  Sean chose that moment to wriggle and quietly fuss. “Come now, little one. I’m attempting to look like a dignified business woman. You aren’t helping.”

  Joseph chuckled. He didn’t do that often, though she hadn’t the least worry he was actually an unhappy person. His nature was simply quieter, like Emma’s. He set down his tools and reached for Sean. Maura handed him over.

  Content in his father’s arms, Sean giggled and popped his fingers in his mouth. Joseph’s attention was quickly back on Maura.

  She firmed her courage and pressed forward. “Tavish and Cecily pay you for their land. Ryan pays them for the land he works. What he pays them helps them pay you when they have a particularly lean year.”

  He nodded.

  “They own the land Ryan works free and clear,” she said. “But they don’t own the land they actually live on and live off of.”

  Another nod.

  “What if you were to trade?” This was the part she wasn’t sure was even possible. “Rather than having a note on the land they work and fully owning the land they don’t, what if they were to give you the Claire land?”

  His golden brow had pulled in thought. “Pay off their note with the Claire land?”

  She nodded.

  “That is an interesting proposition.” He bounced Sean on his hip as he thought it over. “The Claire property is larger than their land. Tavish and Cecily wouldn’t necessarily be getting the better end of the deal.”

  She’d wondered about the relative values of the properties. “But to not owe anything on their own land, to be free of the debt and weight on their minds might be worth it to them.”

  “Or we might be able to work something out to even the exchange,” Joseph countered. “You do realize, though, if we trade that way, I’ll have to collect rent on the Claire land—or payment against a new note if it’s being purchased. I have to. I can’t take a loss on that land without risking everyone else’s land as well.”

  She’d anticipated that. “I know.”

  “Ryan Callaghan could make that payment,” Joseph hesitantly pressed. “But I don’t think you could.”

  She tried to appea
r unconcerned as her heart dropped to her toes. No matter that she’d sorted this part out in her mind; it still wrapped her heart and mind in cold tendrils of worry. “I realize I would have to give up my claim to the house and land. But Tavish and Cecily desperately need the stability. And the Claire land should be in the hands of someone who can make it profitable. Neither of those will happen if Aidan and I are granted the house and land.”

  “What would you do, then?” Joseph asked.

  “I have an idea, but I’d need to talk to Katie first.”

  Joseph kissed the tip of Sean’s button nose. “I’ll give this lad back to you so I can finish my work here. Let me know what Katie says to your proposition. The land swap you suggest is, I’ll admit, rather ingenious, but I’ll not undertake it if it means you’ll be tossed onto the road.”

  She could smile at that. “It wouldn’t come to that either way. The O’Connors would take us in if need be.”

  Maura took Sean in her arms again. He didn’t seem overly happy about the change, but didn’t truly object. From behind them, she heard Aidan.

  “The horse didn’t like that.”

  “What did he do?” Finbarr asked.

  “Flicked his tail at me.”

  “Is he still?”

  “No,” Aidan said. “Just the once.”

  “He was likely flicking at a fly, not you.”

  Joseph lowered his voice. “I don’t know what you said to Finbarr to convince him to work with Aidan, but whatever it was, it’s a godsend. He’s come back to life in a way I haven’t seen in months.”

  “He needed to know he has a purpose,” Maura said. “That he can still contribute. And Aidan genuinely needs someone to help him learn these things. The two will be good for each other.”

  “He has always had a purpose here,” Joseph insisted. “He’s always been needed.”

  “This is different.” How could Maura help him see? “When a person can’t do what he has always done, when a person is facing new limitations, it is important that he feel he is able to offer something, and that what he has to offer is needed.”