She pushed back, cupping his face in her hands, as her thumbs slid over his cheeks. “These months since I’ve returned have been as a dream to me.”
“Ah, lass, for me too.” A quiet joy lit his cobalt-blue eyes as he gazed at her. “The best part, my Mary, is that we never have to awaken. This is how our life will be for all time.”
She sighed with pleasure, resting her head on his chest, as he kissed the top of it.
Chapter 8
Three days later, Maura improved with the speed and impatience of children. She was already out of bed, playing with her aunts, uncles, and grandparents. Although Niamh worried Maura would sicken again with too much activity, Maura seemed to know when she needed to rest. She would find someone’s lap, curl up, and be asleep within moments. Every time Maura chose someone other than her mother, Niamh had to fight an instinctual jealousy.
This morning, Maura had curled onto the Madam’s lap, as the Madam had found a quiet seat in the living room in the sun. Although Niamh had believed the sight of her daughter nestled on the Madam’s lap would be incongruous; in reality, it was touching.
Madam Nora stroked a manicured hand over Maura’s back and kissed her reddish curls as she murmured soft words to her as she slept. Her expression held a yearning for many more moments like this.
Niamh stood as a silent sentry to Nora’s secret longing, as a tear tracked down Nora’s cheek. Finally she whispered, “I’m glad you have this time with her.”
Nora smiled, although it wasn’t the practiced smile of a Bordello owner. It was a resigned smile of a woman who had had to give up her heart’s desire. “I never thought to have such a moment with your daughter. She’s rather free with her love.”
Stepping into the living room, Niamh sighed. “I’m thankful she doesn’t remember what life with her father was like. She remains trusting and loving.”
Shaking her head, Nora’s eyes gleamed with challenge. “You’ll never accept the truth, will you?”
Stiffening at the perceived criticism, Niamh clasped her hands in front of her. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Nora reached forward and gripped one of Niamh’s fisted hands. “Maura isn’t affectionate and trusting because she doesn’t remember. She’s the way she is because she never had to doubt your love. Nor your family’s love. Your constancy has given her security, Niamh.”
Tears poured from Niamh’s eyes, until they dripped off her chin. “I didn’t know what to do, Madam.” She flushed at the admission and ducked her head.
“Few do in your situation. I remain thankful it didn’t become so dire you were compelled to kill him.” Nora paused. “Or his brother was so driven. For I’d hate for you to lose your chance for happiness.”
Niamh shrugged and stared out the window a moment. “I doubt he’ll return until next year.”
Nora squeezed her hand again. “Be ready when he does. For a man like Cormac Ahern needs to know his woman, the woman he loves, missed him.” She paused and looked down at Maura in her arms.
Ignoring her discomfort to have such a conversation with the Madam, Niamh stared at her with wide-eyed fascination. “What else should I do? Should I know?”
Nora’s lips turned up, as though amused at being considered an oracle as to the ways of men. “He’s a man, Niamh. He needs affection, and he needs to be able to show you his affection.” Her gaze sobered, as she saw Niamh shiver at the thought. “He needs to know you’ll love him, Niamh. As he loves you.”
“How do you know he cares for me as more than a friend?”
Any amusement faded from Nora’s gaze, replaced with irritation. “Don’t be disingenuous. No man claims a child who isn’t his unless he’s mad for the woman. No man curses his own brother, dead in a grave, unless his loyalty lies with her. No man denies himself the joys of my Bordello for years, unless he is hopeful he’ll have a chance with the woman of his dreams.”
“Oh, Cormac,” Niamh whispered, her hand over her mouth, as her eyes shone with wonder. She stared at Nora with a mixture of hope and abject terror. “I … I fear Connor damaged me in ways I’ll never overcome.”
“Trust Cormac enough to share your fears, Niamh. That is one of the ways you can show your love.”
That afternoon, Niamh left Maura napping under the watchful eye of her mother. The sun shone, and Niamh needed a walk to clear her head after speaking with the Madam. Niamh shook her head as she murmured, “Nora.” For, although Nora ran the Bordello, Niamh had come to realize that Nora was much more than the owner of such a place. Niamh had pigeonholed Nora as much as any other townsfolk, so as not to consider her as a person worthy of her notice. Grimacing at her past attempt to make herself feel superior when she had been so vulnerable, Niamh fought guilt that her father had been the only one to see Nora as more than the Bordello’s owner.
Niamh approached the Missouri, watching as the river flowed with deceptive calmness. How like the river she was. Keeping everything bottled up, until it burst from her in anger or tears. She closed her eyes, as she remembered the angry words she had spewed at Ardan the past summer. Even though it seemed he had forgiven her somehow, she knew she had to find a way to fully apologize.
Her gaze turned inward, as an unwanted memory surfaced. The present sounds faded away—of the river gurgling past, of the swallows chirping as they swooped overhead, and of the soft wind blowing.
“Connor,” she whispered, “I don’t understand why you’re so upset.” She jolted as his hand slammed onto the table, rattling the crockery, although thankfully nothing careened onto the floor.
“You expect me to apologize?” he asked in a low and menacing voice, as he stalked toward her.
Niamh whimpered, holding a protective hand over her belly, as though she could guard her unborn child against the man approaching her. “Connor,” she breathed, her eyes wild, as she lost her battle at not showing her fear.
“I had every right to teach you how you had displeased me last night, wife,” he growled in a low voice. “You have no right questioning me.”
“’Tisn’t done,” she whispered, shrieking and cowering against the wall as his hand rose in warning.
He nodded, as though satisfied by her response. “Don’t tell me what is and isn’t done, Niamh. I’m your husband, and I have the right to do whatever I please. If it pleases me that you never see your family again, that is what will happen. If it pleases me that my brother never darkens my doorstep again, that is what will occur. You have no right to question my authority.”
“I don’t understand,” she whispered, tears silently coursing down her cheeks.
“When you married me, you became my property.”
“I’m not a cow.” Instantly she regretted her rash words, as he belted her sharply on her arm. She massaged it and tried to curl into herself.
“No, you’re of less value. At least with a cow, I’d earn money from the milk and the cream. With you, I have to feed you and clothe you.” He shook his head in disgust. “Should have known better than to marry.”
Connor spun on his heel, grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair, and stormed from the house, leaving a devastated Niamh to contemplate her reality.
A man hollering to a friend jolted her into the present, staring at the Missouri again. From that moment in her marriage, her life had been a living hell. She had never known when Connor would find a reason to punish her again, and she lived in constant fear that he would follow through with his threat of keeping her away from her family or Cormac. She realized a deep-seated anger had taken root then, and it prevented her from apologizing for her errors. For, if her husband could never ask forgiveness for his brutality, then why should she for her petty outbursts?
Rubbing at her temples, she bowed her head and whispered, “Because I’m better than him. And worth ten Connor Aherns.”
“Talking to yourself, Mrs. Ahern?” called out a supercilious voice.
“’Tis a finer person than yourself,” Niamh snapped, as she faced
Uriah Chaffee. Today he wore a pumpkin-colored suit with matching waistcoat. An unbecoming look for a man whose paunch continued to grow with Deirdre’s fine cooking. Niamh battled a smile and acted as though she were coughing as she beheld him. “’Tis an interesting color you’ve chosen for a suit.”
He preened in front of her, puffing out his chest and running a hand down the lapel of his suit coat. “It only goes to show how provincial you are. But then I suppose it can’t be helped. When one is raised on a potato farm in a shack in Ireland, one can’t expect you to have any sense of taste.”
“Aye, true enough. Although I’m not color-blind,” Niamh said, as she fought laughter at his affronted look. “I’d be careful if I were you, Mr. Chaffee. Deirdre might mistake you for a lost pumpkin and try to carve you up at Thanksgivin’ time.”
He glared at her, tapping his walking cane on the ground. “Is that a threat?”
“Nay,” Niamh said. “Why should I feel any bitterness toward the man who attempted to steal my daughter away from me?” She shared a long look with the lawyer.
“I did my duty.” He stood tall, his nose in the air, outraged at the implication he had acted with any impropriety.
“Nay, you acted to inflict harm and uncertainty. If not for Nora, I would never have known the full extent of the will.”
He waved away her concern. “That is only ever shared between legal counsel. You should have instructed your lawyer to speak with me.”
Niamh paused, her gaze filled with loathing and contempt. “An’ where was I to find a lawyer in Fort Benton to represent me in October when the steamboats had stopped runnin’? Did you hope I’d have to go to Virginia City or Helena?” Her mind raced. “Or that Da would leave?” She shook her head, as though attempting to puzzle out a riddle that made no sense.
His satisfied smile tinged with cunning put her nerves on edge. “I’m afraid you’ll never know, since that horrible woman interfered in affairs that were none of her business.” He glowered in the direction of the Bordello. “And to think, your family, which is reputed to be the most respectable in town, has taken her in to live in your home. I’d be surprised if any man or woman would ever consider an O’Rourke sibling acceptable to marry ever again.”
Niamh burst out laughing. “You do realize you are a complete hypocrite?” Her hazel eyes sparkled with mischief. “Nora told me all about your visits to see her Sirens.” Her eyes glowed as he flushed an unbecoming beet red that clashed with his pumpkin-colored suit. “I’d think Mrs. Davies would be most interested in discovering your nighttime activities while she is at the hotel, reading her Bible, don’t you?” She raised an eyebrow in challenge.
He clenched her wrist in a menacing grip, tight enough to leave a bruise. “You will leave my business with Mrs. Davies to me.”
Niamh kicked him in the shin, wrenching free of his brutal hold. “Just as you will leave me alone, Mr. Chaffee. As you should have learned by now, you are the outsider in this town. No matter what you may believe about me and my marriage to Connor Ahern, I am well respected, as is my family. Few will take your side in any dispute.”
She let out a deep breath, as she watched him storm away.
Niamh entered her parents’ house, her gaze moving instinctively to her mother. When her mum smiled and nodded, Niamh relaxed. “Maura continues to recover?” she whispered.
“Yes, an’ she’s sleeping soundly just now. She fell asleep on Nora’s lap again, but, after an hour, I thought it only fair to liberate the poor woman.” Mary’s hazel eyes twinkled with humor and a touch of mischief. “We’re having an early dinner tonight, as we would like Nora to be present.”
“I don’t understand,” Niamh said, as she took a deep breath of the redolent scents, closing her eyes with pleasure.
“We’re finally celebrating Maggie’s birthday,” Mary said. “Deirdre is bringing a cake, and I’ve cooked something other than a stew.” She squeezed Niamh’s arm, frowning when she saw Niamh flinch. “Niamh?”
“I’m fine,” Niamh said, as she moved to wash her hands and then to set the table. Soon her younger brothers had joined her, and they told her about their rambles, as they searched for anything of interest. They thought they’d easily find arrowheads used by the native tribes, but they’d yet to unearth one. “Perhaps this wasn’t a hunting ground for them,” Niamh said.
Oran rolled his eyes and sat with a huff. “Why must you be logical? I’m certain we’ll find one. We just haven’t been lucky.”
Niamh smiled and shook her head. “Keep looking. You never know what you might find.” She winked at Bryan and Henri, her smile broadening as they giggled.
Soon the entire family, including Nora and a recently arrived Dunmore, sat at the table for supper. Watching with thinly veiled amusement, Niamh observed how Dunmore participated in the conversation around him, while his focus never wavered from Maggie. Niamh fought envy at such devotion, even though Maggie seemed oblivious to it. After nearly the entire meal, where Niamh had tried to hold back her questions for Dunmore, they finally burst forth.
“Dunmore,” she murmured, smiling as he looked at her. “I trust you left Mr. Ahern well the last you saw him.”
Dunmore smiled cryptically. “Quite well.” With a wry crook of his lips, he said, “Cormac seemed quite pleased with his decision and unregretful of the choices he had made.”
“Oh,” Niamh whispered, as she sat back, the remainder of her dinner unpalatable. “How … fortuitous for him to be so at ease.”
“Yes. Finding peace can be the hardest endeavor for a man,” Dunmore said with a nod, before joining a conversation with Ardan and Kevin.
Niamh sat in stupefied silence, her mind whirling from Dunmore’s words. She dug her nails into her palm, as she knew she should be happy for Cormac. She should revel that he had found peace. That he was content. Instead she was bitterly angry. She wanted him as desperately unhappy as she was. And as eager to reunite with her as she was with him.
Her father scooted his chair from the table, the scraping sound causing conversation to falter, as everyone focused on Seamus. Unbidden, a tremendous pride filled her at the sight of her father, standing proud and commanding the respect of all who stared at him. Even though it was family and a few friends, she knew it was the same for the townsfolk. Her father was a remarkable man, for he was kind and just.
Seamus lifted his glass and smiled at everyone at the table. “I want to take a moment to thank everyone for bein’ here.” He smiled ruefully. “Aye, most of you are family an’ have nowhere else to be.” He paused as they chuckled. “But I’m glad we gather to celebrate our wee Maggie.” His loving gaze turned to his youngest daughter. “We missed your birthday, lass, due to wee Maura’s illness, but we would never want to go without celebrating you.”
Seamus paused again, taking a deep breath. “For by celebrating Maggie, we will always celebrate the return of Mary too. Rather than that day bein’ a day of mournin’ for us, ’twill always be a day of thanksgiving, as it always should have been.” He raised his glass, his eyes glistening with tears. “To Maggie, my beautiful daughter, returned to us.”
“To Maggie!”
Chapter 9
The bright sunlight and crisp fall air beckoned to Niamh the following morning as she battled guilt for leaving Maura in her mother’s care as she continued to recover. However, Niamh needed a few moments to consider all that had transpired in the past weeks. She walked away from her parents’ house, intent on putting distance between her and the gossiping townsfolk. However, she shied away from heading up the small hill toward the cemetery. She had no desire to visit Connor’s grave and knew she would eventually have to force herself to visit his grave for Maura’s sake.
Instead she circled around toward the small stream that ran into the Missouri. Few birds lingered, as winter threatened, although a striking black-and-white magpie flitted from bush to bush. She stared into the gurgling shallow water of the creek and fought panic.
Closing her
eyes, she took deep breaths, although the calm she prayed for remained elusive. How was she to do what the Madam suggested? How could she trust Cormac? Moreover, Dunmore was back, reporting Cormac was at peace with his decision. Anger filled her for a moment that he had so easily forgotten her; yet her anger was quickly replaced by despair.
As she envisioned her life here without him in it, her future was barren and lonely. Acknowledging that Cormac filled her days with warmth and hope, she feared how he would change were they to ever marry. For didn’t men always change? She admitted to herself that the loss of Cormac as he was now would be worse than anything Connor ever did to her. For, without the hope of Cormac, she would feel truly hopeless for the first time in her life.
She dropped her head until her chin rested on her chest and listened to the sweet sounds of nature around her. The wind in the grass, the chirping of a distant chipmunk, the gurgle of water over the rocks. In that moment, she realized all she would continue to lose if she remained unable to marshal her courage. With a sigh, she turned for her parents’ house, determined to find a way through her fear by the time Cormac returned in the spring.
As she walked back, she instinctively glanced in the direction of Cormac’s vacant cabin, tripping on a rock as she saw a plume of woodsmoke emerging from the chimney. Heedless of what she would say when she arrived, she raced to his door, banging on it with her open palm. “Cormac!” she yelled. “Cormac!”
Her breath caught as the door opened, and he stood, tall and stoic in front of her. His hair was longer, beard thicker, and eyes more shadowed. “You came back,” she breathed. “I feared I’d never see you again.”
His blue eyes bored into hers, a glimmer of hope deep within. “You cared that I left?”
She pushed forward, smacking him on his arm. “Of course I did! How could you? After everything, how could you?” Suddenly a sob burst forth, and she held a hand to her mouth, as though she would be able to contain her emotions.
Pioneer Yearning: The O’Rourke Family Montana Saga, Book Three Page 10
