“But that’s because you’re an O’Rourke,” Phoebe protested.
“So are you,” Mary said, a determined gleam in her eyes.
“I didn’t know I was one until a year ago,” Maggie said with a shrug. “Acceptance and trust can heal so many hurts, Phoebe. But you have to open yourself up to such gifts.”
Biting her lip, Phoebe whispered, “I’m not sure I’m strong enough.” She frowned as the two O’Rourke women burst into peals of laughter. “I didn’t say anything funny.”
“Oh, lass, of course you did,” Mary said, wiping at her eyes. “You’re so much stronger than you give yourself credit for.” She reached forward, gripping her hand. “Why are you afraid of Eamon? What has he done?”
“Nothing,” Phoebe whispered, in an instant battling tears. She sniffled and firmed her shoulders. “He shouldn’t be forced to live with a cripple.”
“Cripple?” Maggie asked with a shake of her head. “You are far from crippled.”
“I can’t walk without a limp. I don’t have the strength to do anything!” She pointed into the living room. “You saw what happened when I tried to walk farther today.”
“You won’t heal overnight, Phoebe.” Shrugging, Maggie stared at her, nonplussed. “You fell. You’ll fall again. It’s what we do when we are trying to push ourselves to improve, Phoebe.” Her eyes filled with remorse. “I fear I failed you. I did the best I could, but I should never have presumed I could heal you.”
“No!” Phoebe gasped, gripping Maggie’s hand to prevent her from rising and leaving the kitchen. Phoebe knew she could never race after her. “No, Maggie. From the little I’ve heard during whispered conversations at the dinner table, I’m most fortunate you attended me and not the doctor. I know you did everything possible to help me. I’m feeling sorry for myself.”
Mary laid her palm over the two younger women’s clasped hands. “Nonsense. Maggie did her best, and you will recover as best you can. If you have a limp, ’twill never detract from who you are, Phoebe.” She paused a moment, squeezing the hands under hers, her focus on her son’s wife. ‘‘’Tis normal to mourn what has been lost or what has changed. It means you are sensible, and I like to believe my son married a sensible woman.” She waited for Phoebe to speak, but, when Phoebe remained silent, Mary sighed.
“You must trust Eamon,” Maggie murmured.
As the back door opened, Phoebe jerked her hand away from the two women and sat with a prim posture. She half smiled at Eamon, one hand rising to fiddle with her teacup.
“Are you well, Phoebe?” he asked, as he poured himself a cup and stared at her. He waved a hand around his head. “Your hair’s a bit wild.”
Gasping, Phoebe patted at her head, discovering her braid had loosened, and strands hung loose down her back. Mary and Maggie chuckled as they slipped from the kitchen. “I’m fine. I had a … tumble while walking around.”
“Tumble?” Eamon asked, sitting across from her. “Are you well? Did you hurt yourself?”
“I might have a bruise, but my scar is fine.” Keeping her gaze averted, she whispered, “You shouldn’t trouble yourself.”
Her husband gently took hold of her chin, tilting it up so she would meet his gaze, now filled with concern. “And who should I concern myself with? Winnifred? Lorena?” His eyes flashed his displeasure. “I worry about my wife.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t want you to feel a duty …” Her voice broke.
Sliding his hands around her face to cup her cheeks, he stared deeply into her luminous green eyes. “Of course I feel a duty. To protect, to honor, and to cherish you. How could I not? You are precious, Phoebe. To me.”
A tear dripped down her cheek. “I fear I’ll never be what you want.”
His bright smile caused her breath to catch. “How can you not realize you’ve always been exactly what I desired?”
* * *
“Am I interrupting?” a soft voice called out, early the next morning.
Phoebe looked to the door to see Aileen, Kevin’s wife, staring at her. Although, at first appearance, she seemed rather plain and plump, her smile and quiet confidence enhanced her subtle beauty and natural charm. “No.” Phoebe set aside the book she was reading and squirmed around in the bed in an attempt to find a more comfortable position. Her leg ached, but she knew she was hours away from drinking any more tea to soothe the discomfort. Maggie was strict on the dosing of her teas. “Thank you again for the beautiful gowns you made me. You went to such trouble for me.” Her voice held a note of uncertainty, as she stared at the young woman with gleaming chestnut hair tied back in a soft knot.
“You are my sister,” she said with a broad smile. “It’s never trouble to aid a family member.” She set a basket beside her in the empty chair. “I had thought you might be bored and desired company. If you don’t, I’ll sew in the kitchen with Maggie and Mary.”
Phoebe stared at her basket and the woman offering her friendship, the silence lengthening between them. Finally she said in a hesitant voice, “I’d like the company. But I fear I have little by way of conversation. I haven’t been outside this house in far too long.”
Aileen laughed and pulled out what looked to be a chemise to hand sew. “But you just arrived from Saint Louis. You’ve been out of the Territory more recently than I have.” She smiled engagingly, her brown eyes lit with delight. “I’m certain you have news I’d find interesting.”
Phoebe gaped at her and shrugged. “I fear you’ll find me a disappointment.”
Aileen shook her head. “Never.” She smiled as she overheard Maggie and Mary singing together. “How are you settling in to being an O’Rourke?”
Startled, Phoebe shrugged. “Fine. Why wouldn’t I?”
Aileen bit the needle with one side of her mouth and tried to smile with the other half. “Oh, I know how welcoming they can be. But they are also a little intimidating and overwhelming. There are so many of them!” She chuckled. “I find having my own home with Kevin helps. We are here for meals, but we have our own refuge. It’s the perfect balance.”
“Are you an orphan?” Phoebe asked, flushing as Aileen stared at her. “I beg your pardon. I shouldn’t be so impertinent. It’s just that I’ve never seen any of your family here.”
Aileen grimaced. “Well, part of that reason is that my aunt, Mrs. Davies, who traveled to Fort Benton with me, is not welcome here. She is an intimate friend of your uncle.” When Phoebe blanched, Aileen nodded. “Yes, not the most charitable of women. My mother died when I was quite young, and my aunt raised me. My father has an inveterate need to wander. I met him last summer for the first time since I was a girl, and he attended my wedding. After a few weeks here, he set out on another adventure.” She focused on her sewing for a moment before meeting Phoebe’s gaze. “I pray every night he’ll decide to winter here.”
“Oh, Aileen,” Phoebe breathed, reaching her hand out to clasp one of the other woman’s. “I hope he returns soon.”
Aileen nodded. “I receive a letter here and there. And Cormac will give me an update, if he sees or hears something about him as he travels about the Territory. But it’s not the same.” She grimaced, embarrassed by her show of emotions. “I should be used to his absences by now.”
“Perhaps. But now you’ve seen him again. And seen his regard for you.” A wistful sigh escaped. “That must be lovely.”
Aileen squeezed Phoebe’s hand, before returning to her sewing. “It is.” She frowned. “I’m sorry about your uncle. I can only imagine what a shock it was to arrive and to be confronted with the type of man he is.”
Phoebe shivered. “He’s the opposite of my other uncle. Uncle Harvey was generous and kind and supportive. He was protective. The exact opposite of Uncle Uriah.”
Aileen smiled. “Well, now that you’re an O’Rourke, you’ll never lack for family. They’ll be as loyal to you as they are to each other.”
“I had never really expected such a possibility,” she breathed. At Aileen�
��s nod, Phoebe rested against her mound of pillows, considering all Aileen said. For the first time, Phoebe allowed herself to envision that she could have the family she’d always dreamed of. If only she could learn to trust in Eamon.
Chapter 14
As was now his custom, Eamon took breaks from the warehouse to poke his head into the room he now considered his and Phoebe’s, smiling when he saw her sitting in a comfortable chair he had moved into the room. The window was opened, and a breeze fluttered the curtain. She looked up from her book, and he hoped he detected a flash of pleasure in her composed gaze. “Hello, love,” he murmured as he entered, kissing her softly on her forehead. “How are you today?”
“Frustrated and bored,” she blurted out, before regretting her blunt words. “I shouldn’t complain. I know how fortunate I am.”
He pulled out the wooden chair he had sat on for nights on end, waiting patiently for her to say something else. When she stared at her book cover, her fingers tracing over the title, he murmured, “But …”
“Everyone scurried the moment Aileen arrived with the news Niamh was having her baby,” she said in a rush. “I offered to help, but your mum and Maggie insisted I remain here.” She looked around the room, as though it were a prison. “I would have been in the way.”
“Oh, darling,” Eamon murmured, as he scooted closer to pull her in his arms. “They never meant to hurt you.” He kissed her forehead again, as he smoothed back her hair that had slipped free from its loose braid. “They were trying to follow what I’d asked them to do.”
“I don’t understand,” she whispered.
“I didn’t want you to leave the house without me.” He shrugged. “It’s silly, I know, but I wanted you here, protected in the house.” He looked around and smiled with embarrassment. “Although I should have realized an empty house is no true protection.”
She fell forward against his chest, sighing with pleasure when his arms tightened around her. “I must be on my own some of the time, Eamon, even though we are married.”
Running his knuckles down her cheeks, he gave her a chagrined look. “Until we are properly married, Bee, I won’t run the risk of your uncle believing he can push for an annulment.” His eyes flashed with anger and fear. “I won’t risk him putting you in danger again. Ask anything of me but that.”
She stared in wonder at the impassioned plea in his gaze. After a long moment, she nodded. “Will you do something with me?” At his soft smile, she ran a finger over his chest. “Will you help me make supper?”
“Supper?” he sputtered out on a huff of air. “Forgive me,” he muttered. “I had thought, with the empty house, and the likelihood they’ll be gone for hours …” His gaze flitted to the bed and then back again, a wry smile forming.
“Eamon! It’s the middle of the day!”
He chuckled and pulled her against him. “Aye, ’tis,” he murmured. “Someday you won’t protest about the time of day.” He kissed her forehead and rose, holding his hand out to her. “Come. Let’s raid my mum’s pantry and see what we can make.” With a sardonic smile, he murmured, “I hope you can cook better than I can, or the family’s in trouble.”
Laughing, as she giggled and called him incorrigible, he eased her to standing, sighing with pleasure when she leaned against him as she regained her balance. All felt right with the world when she was in his arms. After she pushed away from him, he winged out his arm, and she slipped her hand through it, as she walked with him into the kitchen.
After poking around in the icebox and the pantry, they decided to make a stew. “Not very original,” Eamon muttered with a chagrined shrug.
“If they want original, they can visit Deirdre,” Phoebe muttered. “She’s the chef in the family.” Gasping, she quickly said, “Besides your mum and Maggie.”
“And Niamh,” Eamon said, as he chopped vegetables. “Niamh’s an excellent cook, but she’ll be too busy with her babe to cook for a while.” He sighed. “Have you heard about your sisters at the café?”
Phoebe sat with a huff of relief and shook her head. “No. They sit far away from me at supper and never speak with me. They are taking your edict seriously.” She smiled at him, as he set a chopping board, knife, and vegetables before her and then set up the same for himself at the table across from her.
Eamon smiled wickedly. “Ardan told me that they’ve had a hard time adjusting to working. Especially Winnifred.” At Phoebe’s wry smile, he chuckled. “Seems they always want to take a five-minute break or offer their opinions on Deirdre’s cooking.”
“Oh, that would be awful,” Phoebe breathed, wide-eyed, as Eamon stared quizzically. “Neither of them have a good sense of taste. Everything they cook is too sweet or too salty.”
He shared a conspiratorial grin with her and nodded. “It seems Deirdre has discovered just that and is refraining from asking for their opinions.”
Giggling, Phoebe gazed deeply into his beautiful eyes. “I know how much they will resent working there.” Phoebe focused on peeling a carrot, her mouth scrunched up as she concentrated.
“Why?” Eamon asked. “Everyone should work to help out the family. ’Tis what we do.”
“I’ve come to realize that’s true for you, but our mother raised us to believe we should be waited on.”
He gave a grunt of disagreement. “You mean, that they should be waited on. You’re used to working.” When she shrugged, he reached out to still her hands’ erratic movements. “Calm yourself, love, or you’ll harm yourself and need Maggie’s tending again.” He smiled tenderly as she blushed. “You’ve always allowed them to treat you differently, haven’t you?”
Setting aside the knife, she firmed her jaw as it quivered. “You don’t understand, Eamon.”
A scraping sound filled the room as he pushed aside the cutting board in front of him and reached across the table to clasp her hands. “Aye, you’re right. I don’t. Help me to?”
Gazing deeply into his curious, loving gaze, she whispered, “Our house was filled with shame. I did what I could to alleviate it.”
“Shame?” He shrugged in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
Phoebe bit her lip and whispered, “I never thought I’d tell you this, until we were fully married. Until I knew you couldn’t leave me.”
Eamon leaned across the table, one of his strong, callused hands rising to caress her silky cheek. “Even after we make love, Bee, I can leave. In myriad ways. Nothing can make me stay.” When he saw the panic in her gaze, he continued to stroke his fingers over her skin. “No law, no preacher’s incantation, nothing will make a man stay who doesn’t want to.”
“What are you saying?” Her green eyes were luminous and were filled with trepidation.
“I’m here because I want to be, love. There’s nowhere else I’d want to be. No one else I’d rather be talking with.”
“Why?” she whispered.
“Because of you,” he murmured. “Remember that as you worry about talking about shame. Nothing you say would ever make me”—he broke off, choking on a word—“esteem you any less.”
She looked deeply into his eyes, the vegetables and the stew forgotten, as she attempted to fathom the depth of his emotions. Taking a deep breath, she marshaled all her courage and whispered, “My mama was gorgeous. One of those women the poets imagined as they wrote their sonnets and odes. She was said to have been the beauty of Saint Louis.”
When Eamon squeezed her hand, she relaxed marginally and lost herself in storytelling. “She learned from an early age that all she was valued for was her beauty. And she despaired of anything that she considered a flaw.” Phoebe fingered her freckles on her nose. “These were seen as the Devil’s mark. And I was overly serious and never mastered the art of flirtation with ease, as Winnie did. Nor did I have my sisters’ curves.”
“You’re gorgeous,” Eamon breathed, holding a finger to her lips and shaking his head. “Don’t argue with your husband.”
She bent her head and smiled,
kissing his finger. “I won’t argue with a man who’s clearly so wise.”
“And you claim you can’t flirt,” he teased, lowering his finger. “I still don’t understand your talk of shame, Bee.”
“I know you’re astute, and I know you’ve wondered why the three sisters don’t look more alike.” She brushed at imaginary crumbs on the tabletop before meeting his gaze. “We have different fathers. The one trait we share from our mama is her eyes.”
“And her smile,” he murmured.
“Yes,” she whispered. “When Winnie isn’t conniving and Lorena hiding, when we are truly happy, we have the same smile.”
“Again, I don’t understand the shame.”
Phoebe reached forward, clasping his hand, taking strength from his presence. “Our mama was a beauty, but she also feared poverty. We were never meant to have servants or to live in a fancy house, but that was my mama’s goal. She thought it her right. She did not believe she could be so attractive and suffer the life of a maid.” She cleared her throat. “Thus, she found men to protect her, although each of our fathers left when he found out she was with child.”
Eamon nodded, murmuring, “How did you survive after Winnie’s dad left? That must have been years ago.”
Phoebe squirmed in her seat and sighed. “Mama had successive friends who cared for her and her household. We were never to be around when they called, especially as we got older.”
He smiled tenderly at her. “I imagine she feared the competition. And I hope she did not desire such a life for you and your sisters.”
“She wasn’t maternal, like your mother.” She cleared her throat. “Uncle Harvey was generous, when he could be, although he passed away a few years ago.”
Pioneer Longing: The O’Rourke Family Montana Saga, Book Four Page 17
