Heart of the Lonely Exile

by BJ Hoff

  At Sara’s left sat Michael Burke, a surprise guest. Invited only the day before by her father—at both Nora and Evan’s request—he seemed tense and jumpy, although disconcertingly attentive throughout the meal.

  Sara was glad she had worn her blue satin, for Michael had complimented her at least three times throughout the evening. Still, she could not ignore the fact that he seemed far more intent on watching her father than in talking with her.

  In the library, Lewis Farmington felt as if he were holding court. Not that he minded, of course. The fact was, he was enjoying himself immensely!

  First he met with Nora and Evan—a brief meeting, but one that gave him enormous pleasure. “A wedding gift,” he said, handing Evan an envelope. “From Sara and me.”

  When the two lovebirds tried to express their thanks, he waved them off. Clearing his throat loudly, he said, “The two of you—and the children, of course—have become very special to us. Naturally, we wanted to make you a gift of some sort.”

  He gestured toward the envelope in Evan’s hand. “You can open it later, when you’re alone. But it takes a bit of explaining, and that’s why I wanted to see you for a moment. You’ll find a deed in there,” he said, again pointing to the envelope. “A deed to a house I used to own in Brooklyn. It’s not a large place, but it’s had good maintenance and it’s in a respectable neighborhood. It’s yours. I want you to have it.”

  Good heavens, Nora looked about to faint! And Evan looked little better.

  “Now don’t take on! I understand that you’re not quite ready to assume the financial burden of a home and the support of the children just yet. You’re welcome to use the cottage just as long as you like, and we want to continue helping with the children, if you’ll allow it. The deed is simply your assurance that, when the time comes, and you’re ready for a place of your own, there will be one waiting for you. There’s a nice quiet fellow who works at the yards living in it just now; he’ll take good care of it until you move in.”

  He stopped for a breath, and both Nora and Evan began protesting in unison. He ignored them. “Now see here,” he said firmly, “if you’re serious about providing a home for Little Tom and Johanna, you’ll need a bit more room than what you have in the cottage. This is our wedding gift to you—Sara’s and mine—and you’ll insult us greatly if you refuse it. It’s no mansion, after all—just a nice clean little house, where you’ll have a bit of room and some privacy. It’s for the children, too, you understand.”

  He stopped, and to his dismay felt tears rising to his eyes. Good heavens, he was taking on like a father!

  Clearing his throat again, Lewis squared his shoulders. “I want you to know…that I wish you both the very best, and that Sara and I will be always here for you if there’s ever anything you need. Anything. We’d be proud if you’d consider us your family, here in America.”

  Bless them both, he had to get them out of the room before he started weeping in earnest!

  Next to enter the library was Michael Burke. Lewis hadn’t been the least surprised when Burke caught him alone after dinner and requested a private audience. He’d been expecting it. The last two times he had seen Sara and the Irish policeman together, the sparks flying between the two would have set an iceberg ablaze!

  Ushering Burke into the library, he motioned him to take a seat. When the younger man declined, Lewis chose to remain standing also. Backing up to the cold fireplace, he gave Burke an encouraging smile. “Well, then, Captain—tomorrow is the big day! I trust you and your son will be here.”

  Burke stood near the desk, back straight, hands clasped behind him. “I’ll be here, of course. As for Tierney—I don’t believe he can make it.”

  “Too bad. Daniel will miss him, I’m sure.” Noting the other’s strained expression, Lewis moved to change the subject. “I believe you mentioned wanting to speak with me about a matter of some importance, Michael—you don’t mind if I call you Michael?”

  For an instant Burke’s eyes lit up with what almost appeared to be gratitude. Immediately, however, his expression sobered. “I’d be pleased if you would, sir.”

  Waiting, Lewis sensed the enormous stress the policeman seemed to be under. “Well, then—what can I do for you…Michael?”

  Burke’s prominent Adam’s apple worked up and down with difficulty as he cleared his throat. “When you hear what I am about to ask, no doubt you will think I have colossal gall, sir.”

  Lewis Farmington lifted his eyebrows. “Indeed? And here I thought I had the corner on gall—or so my business acquaintances tell me.”

  The policeman forced a smile. “Still—what I wanted to say—to ask about, that is, concerns your daughter.”

  Lewis fought to keep his expression noncommittal.

  “I…ah—” Again the policeman cleared his throat. “I should explain, sir, that I know it’s a bold thing I’m asking. In truth, I’m in no position at all to be making such a request.”

  Poor fellow. Obviously, he was on unfamiliar ground altogether. Lewis doubted that this strapping Irishman was much accustomed to humbling himself. He sighed. It seemed there was nothing like a woman to bring a strong man to his knees.

  “You see, Mr. Farmington, sir, I’m fully aware you may find my request insulting—because of my being, ah—”

  “Irish?” Lewis finished helpfully.

  Burke’s eyes widened. “Sir?”

  With another sort of man, Lewis might have done nothing to ease the policeman’s struggle—indeed, he might even have prolonged the agony a bit, to test his mettle. But the truth was he found it almost distasteful that a man of Burke’s obvious caliber would need question his acceptability as a suitor.

  Therefore, he decided the captain’s misery had gone on quite long enough. “You’re wondering how I would feel about an Irish policeman courting my daughter. Isn’t that it, son?”

  Burke went white, but to his credit, he never so much as flinched. “Aye, sir, that’s it, right enough. And I’d understand if you think I’m half-cracked in asking.”

  Lewis studied the straight-backed Irishman with interest—and no small degree of admiration. “Perhaps you’d best tell me the nature of your intentions.”

  The Adam’s apple worked again. “The honest truth, sir?”

  “Exactly that, son. Give it to me straight.”

  “I’m looking for a wife, sir. Any woman I end up courting, ’twould be with an eye toward marriage.”

  “I see.” Lewis measured the strong jaw, the dark eyes, the firm chin. “You’re some older than Sara, I believe?”

  “Yes, sir, I expect by a number of years. I’m well past thirty-six, you see.”

  Lewis nodded. “That’s almost ten years’ difference. A significant gap.”

  The policeman’s mouth drew down slightly.

  “But not necessarily a problem,” Lewis added. “There were eight years between Sara’s mother and me and we had a wonderful marriage. The Daltons come to mind as well—she must have been little more than a girl when he married her, and there’s certainly no denying their happiness. Still, you’ve been married before and have a son who’s almost grown.”

  “Aye,” said Michael Burke, his mouth thinning. “And I’ll not mislead you, Mr. Farmington. Tierney’s a bit of a problem these days.”

  An honest man. Straight and direct. “Well, show me a boy his age who isn’t a bit of a problem these days. Still, it wouldn’t do to count on a wife being of much help with the boy. He’s almost a man.”

  Burke inclined his head, his expression somewhat grim. “Aye, I’m well aware of that, sir.” He paused. “Begging your pardon, Mr. Farmington, but Tierney has nothing to do with my reasons for wanting to court your daughter. I’m taken with Sara, and that’s the truth.”

  “You’ve made your peace about Nora, then?”

  The policeman nodded and managed a smile. “I’m happy for her and Whittaker. I can see that it’s best.”

  Lewis regarded him with a thoughtful gaze. �
�I don’t suppose you’d happen to know if Sara is interested in your courting her?”

  The other hesitated. “I’d like to think so, sir. But I can’t say for certain, no.”

  “Hmm.” Lewis laced his fingers over his middle. “Well, I suppose there’s only one way to find out, now, isn’t there?”

  The dark eyes glinted. “Sir?”

  Lewis fingered his watch fob, then locked eyes with Burke.

  “Let me just say this, Michael: Sara is my only daughter, and I’m understandably protective of her. I’d have no qualms about dealing harshly with any man who even thought of taking advantage.”

  At Burke’s red-faced attempt to protest, Lewis waved him off. “I’m not worried about the likelihood in your case. I’m simply telling you I won’t be underestimated when it comes to my daughter. As for finding out if Sara would welcome your attentions, I suppose you’ll just have to give it a go, now, won’t you?”

  The years seemed to fall away from Michael Burke. “With your blessing, sir?”

  Lewis grinned at him. “Godspeed, my boy. Godspeed.”

  The truth was, Lewis was itching to get this discussion over with so he could get back to Winifred Whittaker Coates.

  Later that night, after his father and Aunt Winifred had retired to their rooms in the mansion, Evan asked Nora and the children to join him in the cottage.

  Although Nora was far from easy in her mind—tomorrow was her wedding day, after all—at least her fear about Evan’s family had been vanquished. His father had been sweet, almost shy in his kindness to her. And his Aunt Winnie—well, it was just as Evan said: Nora adored her!

  Wondering what Evan was thinking on this, their last night to live apart, Nora searched his eyes as he took her hand in front of Daniel John and the children. He smiled at her, his gaze going over her face with tender affection.

  “There is something I wo-would say to you,” he began quietly, turning toward Johanna and speaking slowly, that she might better understand his words. “Just b-before we left Ireland, I p-promised Morgan Fitzgerald, who is very d-dear to us all, that I would t-take care of you—every one of you—as if you were m-my own.”

  He paused, giving Nora’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Now that Nora and I…are to be m-married, I feel that, in a very special way, you are m-my own. You have become m-my family…and I love you all. I know I can n-never take the place of your father, Daniel—or yours, Tom and Johanna. But I hope you will at least allow m-me to be your friend.”

  Nora’s heart swelled with pride and thankfulness as Evan went on. “Tomorrow, Nora and I will vow b-before God to love and care for each other for the rest of our lives. But t-tonight, in your hearing, and b-before God, I want to renew the promise I m-made in your behalf many m-months ago. I vow to you all that I will love you and care for you as if you are m-my own. For indeed you are m-my own…and for that, I am grateful beyond all words.”

  That night, alone in his room—the last night he would be alone in his room, Evan reminded himself thankfully—he read the letter that Daniel John had handed him just before leaving the cottage with Nora and the children.

  “It is from Morgan,” the boy had said, handing Evan the envelope. “He sent a gift as well, but asked that I keep back the gift until the wedding day.”

  Now, seated at the table in his room, Evan opened the letter somewhat hesitantly, uncertain as to what he might expect from the great Gael who had held such a deep love for Nora.

  He need not have feared. The first few lines left little doubt as to Fitzgerald’s intent.

  And so, Evan Whittaker, you are an Englishman who keeps his word, after all. For didn’t you pledge to look after my loved ones as if they were your own? And it would seem that indeed you are about to make them your own!

  The letter was brief, but reassuringly warm, filled with the big Irishman’s wishes for their marriage and their future.

  As Evan reached Fitzgerald’s final words, he could only smile. Indeed, he could almost imagine the glint that might have danced in those piercing green eyes when the man penned his closing thrust:

  That you are a noble man, I have no doubt, Whittaker. I believed that when I entrusted you with my family, back in Ireland, and I believe it now. I know, too, that you will cherish Nora and be the devoted husband to her she deserves. Mind that you do, my English friend, for there is no ocean wide enough to keep you safe from me should you ever do less.

  With that in mind, I embrace you both and pray the Lord’s blessing upon your love and your wedding day.

  Evan laid the letter in front of him, on the table. His eyes misted as he sat staring at it. “God keep him,” he finally whispered, touching the letter with gentle fingers. “God keep us all.”

  43

  The Wedding Day

  Hold the gift with reverent hands,

  For it is holy….

  MORGAN FITZGERALD (1848)

  The wedding day dawned with a warm and honeyed May sunrise.

  In the Farmington mansion there was much excitement. Daniel John, who had spent the night there, did all he could to keep Little Tom in tow, but the tyke was spinning like a top by midday. Even Sara Farmington was a flurry of nervous excitement, hurrying from one room to the next, helping Nora dress, seeing to the flowers, nagging her father, and listening to Evan’s Aunt Winifred regale the maid with backdoor tales of wayward British nobility.

  By early afternoon, Sara was quite wild, and had decided that if and when she ever married, she just might brave the scandal of elopement.

  Nora’s fingers were numb, her knees jelly. Only Sara’s timely appearance in the doorway saved her from utter hysteria. Between the two of them, they finally managed to secure the countless pearl buttons of her wedding dress, with time to spare for the veil.

  “I should not have agreed to a veil,” Nora worried. “I am no young virgin bride, after all.”

  “You are still quite young,” Sara said firmly, inspecting the veil and Nora’s hair. “And you are Evan’s bride. It’s entirely proper that you wear a veil.”

  “Such an expense,” Nora fretted.

  “A worthwhile extravagance, surely.”

  “I am going to be ill,” Nora warned.

  “Nonsense! You are going to be married.”

  “Aren’t you listening to me at all, Sara? I am terrified, and that’s the truth!”

  A pearl-studded pin in her mouth, Sara stepped back for a better look at her handiwork, then moved to tuck the pin in one last place. “More to the point, you are absolutely lovely.”

  Brushing a stubborn wisp of hair away from Nora’s temple, Sara met her eyes. “You’ll not faint, surely?”

  “I might. I’m mortal ill.”

  Sara shook her head. “It won’t do. If your groom is even half as anxious as rumor has it downstairs, you will be needed to prop him up. Now, then, take some good, deep breaths and let’s go.”

  “Go?” Nora stared at her.

  Sara patted her arm. “Yes, dear. Downstairs. To the chapel. It’s time.”

  Nora attempted a deep breath, as Sara suggested. A sharp pain sliced the breath into ragged gasps. “It’s as I said.” She put a hand to her heart. “I am mortal ill.”

  Sara laughed at her. “You’re impossible!” she scolded, tucking Nora’s arm securely inside her own. “Now come along. We can’t very well have a wedding without a bride, can we?”

  In the wing off the chapel, Lewis Farmington peered closely at Evan’s silk tie. “We haven’t quite got it yet, I’m afraid,” he said, frowning. “Let’s have one more go at it.”

  Quaking, Evan lifted his chin and suffered his employer’s thick-knuckled ministration.

  “It’s quite all right to breathe, Evan,” his employer remarked, standing back to inspect his work. “Ah! Perfect!”

  “I am qu-quite ill.”

  “Nonsense! You can’t be ill! This is your wedding day!”

  A thought suddenly struck Evan. “Father—and Aunt Winifred?”

 
“They’re already seated. Your father is feeling better. Winifred says he’s fine now. Just exhaustion from the voyage, I’m sure.”

  “The ring?”

  “Daniel has it, safe in hand. Really, Evan, you must relax. You should enjoy your own wedding, son! Besides, if Nora sees you in such a state, it might make her think you have doubts.”

  Evan tightened his jaw. “Yes…y-you’re right, of c-course. I mustn’t let her kn-know how anxious I am. She m-might misunderstand.”

  “Quite right!”

  Evan moistened his lips. “D-Daniel?”

  “On his way. With the ring. Deep breaths, now, Evan. I’ll see you smiling and relaxed before we go in.”

  “Go in?”

  “To the chapel, Evan—into the chapel! You’re about to be married, remember?”

  Lewis Farmington patted Evan on the back. Evan’s knees threatened to buckle, but his employer caught him just in time and prodded him forward to the door.

  At the front of the chapel, Jess Dalton was taking great pleasure in anticipating the ceremony. Every wedding at which he officiated was special to him, of course, for he was a dedicated believer in the blessings of matrimony. But this particular ceremony was going to be a pure delight to his heart. Evan Whittaker was a fine, godly man who loved Nora Kavanagh to desperation. And Nora—a gift of a woman, no less. The two of them had gone through much suffering together, which would only serve to make their joy even sweeter.

  He beamed out upon the cozy chapel with its small scattering of invited guests. On the third row back sat his own wife, the remarkable Kerry, beside a wide-eyed but smiling Arthur Jackson. The boy appeared a bit dazed by all the finery around him, yet he seemed to be enjoying what he called the “goings-on.”