Chapter Fourteen
“Your Ma’ll likely come all the way here after church tomorrow and drag you over the coals if you don’t make an appearance at the céilí tonight.” Thomas offered the warning against the backdrop of Keefe chopping wood. “Or, maybe worse even, she’ll come here weeping.”
“She’ll be too pleased to have Da back from the wood gathering to be much bothered about me missing another céilí.”
“Care to make a wager on that?” Keefe had, apparently, overheard between strikes of the ax. “Because, if you ask me, I’d say your ma’ll weep while dragging you over the coals.”
“There’ll be a few more céilís before winter sets in,” Finbarr said. “I’ll go to one of those, then she can weep with joy instead of disappointment.”
“It won’t fadge, Finbarr,” Thomas said. “You’ve not been in weeks. And you didn’t go to the last family dinner, either. You’re setting yourself up to have all the O’Connor women descending on you here, fussing and fuming and refusing to leave until you explain yourself.”
Thomas wasn’t wrong. He was actually understating how the scene would likely play out.
“So tell my sisters and sisters-in-law—”
“And your ma,” Keefe added quickly.
“—that I’ll be at dinner tomorrow, and they’ll simply have to be happy with that.”
“They won’t be.” Thomas sounded entirely convinced.
Truth be told, Finbarr agreed with him. But what could he do? “I really can’t go to the céilì.”
“Why not? Your cow’d miss you too much?” Keefe pressed. “Your house is flooding? You’re secretly dying of dysentery?”
“Close,” Finbarr said dryly. “A combination of smallpox and the plague.”
“That’ll be a tragic end,” Thomas said with a laugh as he slapped a hand on Finbarr’s shoulder.
The gesture would have startled him at the céilí or a family dinner.
There were simply too many people moving around far too much.
“Think about wandering over to the céilí tonight. The family’ll be over the moon if you do. ”
“Thank you for bringing me wood and chopping it. I’ll praise your names through the next snowfall.”
“The only reason we did it,” Keefe said.
After his brothers-in-law left, Finbarr took a moment to rummage through the scraps of wood scattered around the chopping block.
Those that were big enough could be used for carving.
He found some the right size for his small carved hearts.
A few bits were large enough for a dish or carved animal.
The rest he didn’t know what he’d make into, but he’d have all winter to decide.
Finbarr lugged the large canvas bag he’d dropped the wood into back to the house. He poured the scraps of wood into the chest he’d built a few years ago for exactly that purpose.
He’d sorted out that, if he kept himself to a quick pace, he could have enough carvings to sell to the depot to pay for a train ticket to St. Louis when spring came.
He hadn’t decided for certain that he was going to accept the job at the school.
But if he waited to make preparations until he was sure, he wouldn’t have time to pull together the resources he’d need.
There was a lot to take into account with Mr. Spitz’s job offer.
His entire life would change. Those changes swirled chaotically in his mind every time he considered the possibility of going to St. Louis.
He was tempted to take up his River Lady’s offer and talk it through the next time they were walking together.
It might prove helpful. That it would mean a longer gab than usual wasn’t a terrible thing.
Madra didn’t lie down on her blanket as she usually did, but circled Finbarr with a particular type of urgency that always meant she needed some time outside.
“You could’ve seen to this while I was gabbing with Keefe and Thomas,” Finbarr said with a laugh.
He pulled the door open again, and Madra darted out. Finbarr stayed in the doorway, leaning a shoulder against the frame. The snow that had fallen the night before would have melted off.
It was darker than it had been lately. They hadn’t yet reached late afternoon, but Finbarr could only see as much as he usually did at the approach of dusk, which was very nearly nothing.
Winters were difficult. There was never enough light. Never. It was months of darkness, and he struggled every year to get through it. Maybe he ought to go to the céilí while it was still being held. The winter put a halt to those as well.
No. This was the last céilí that Emma would be in Hope Springs for. She had gone to such lengths to avoid him that he knew, without question, she didn’t want to see him or talk to him or be anywhere near him. He could give her this final town party free of the discomfort of him being there.
It broke his heart that the pain he’d caused her was still so fresh and so acute after nearly a decade.
But he’d known then that he didn’t get to choose the consequences of his hurtful words and inexcusable treatment of her.
He hoped she would eventually forgive him, but her visit was making it harder to keep hold of that hope.
Madra bumped up against his leg, but she didn’t trot past back into the house.
“What’s caught your attention, girl?”
An excited couple of barks answered. That was her way when someone she knew was approaching the house. Finbarr remained in the doorway, listening.
A moment later, he heard the telltale swish of a dress. Had Ma come to do her weeping before he missed the weekly party?
Madra barked again, tail tapping Finbarr’s leg eagerly.
“You always give me away, Madra. No one can sneak up on Finbarr.”
Ah. “People sneak up on me all the time, Ivy.”
“I’ve never managed.”
He smiled. “You’ve never been quiet enough for an ambush, not in your whole life.”
“Sometimes, Finbarr, it’s very irritating to be surrounded by people who have known me my ‘whole life.’” The laugh in her voice did his heart good. “I might not be a good ambusher, but someone else is. I’m not the only one here.”
“Who else is here?”
Had Emma come by at last? Perhaps the teacher had wandered past the river and all the way to his house.
But it was Eimear’s sweet, tiny voice that answered. “It’s me, Finbarr.”
He felt her little hand grab his. He hunched down so he’d be on her level.
“Eimear, have you come to visit me?”
“You don’t come visit me.”
“I saw you yesterday at your house,” he reminded her.
“It feels longer than that.”
Oh, bless her. Finbarr put his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. He’d once done the same with Ivy when she was the same age, younger even. He picked her up and stood once more. Eimear leaned more heavily against him than she usually did.
“Are you feeling poorly again, mo mhilis?”
“She’s been tired the last couple of days,” Ivy said. “And she wants to be held all the time.”
Finbarr rocked Eimear a little. She’d had recurrent fevers the past few months and felt awful through each bout.
But he’d heard from his brothers and sisters that young ones sometimes grew a bit needy after the birth of a baby brother or sister.
Eimear might simply be feeling upended by little Finn’s arrival.
“Katie’s staying home from the céilí,” Ivy said. “So Pompah will be there without her, and Emma and Sybil will spend the whole night being danced with.” Ivy sounded sufficiently annoyed at the anticipated turn of events.
Finbarr thought he understood what Ivy was hoping for. He bent his head a bit closer to Eimear. “Do you want to stay here with me, mo mhilis? We can have supper and play with Madra. We’ll have a grand time.”
“I want to go to the céilí.” The hint of petulance in her voice was undermined by the beginnings of weariness he heard underneath it.
“Your papa will be driving to the inn any minute now. You’ll have to hop back home if you’re wanting to go.”
She wrapped her arms more firmly around his neck. “I want to go to the céilí with you.”
“I tried explaining to her that you might not want to go,” Ivy said, “but that just made her cry. She wants to go, but she wants to sit on your lap so you can hug her. She’s said it over and over again.”
Finbarr moved his hand so it covered Eimear’s ear; her other one was already pressed against his shoulder. He whispered to Ivy, “Emma won’t want me there. I’m not looking to ruin her last céilí before she leaves Hope Springs.”
Ivy answered in a whisper as well, and from closer to him than she’d been standing an instant earlier. “Emma wouldn’t want Eimear to be unhappy, even if it meant she was.”
“But I don’t want either of them to be unhappy— any of you to be unhappy.”
“Then it sounds like you’re going to the céilí.”
“And it sounds like you’re laughing at me.”
She actually did laugh at that. “I was only thinking that I accidentally managed to ambush you after all.”
“Thank you for this, Finbarr,” Joseph said as they walked toward the inn.
Emma and her friend Sybil had already made their way to the céilí when Finbarr, holding Eimear, had arrived at their house. He still didn’t know how Joseph’s oldest daughter would react to Finbarr being at the town party.
“Eimear and I will have a grand time.” Finbarr squeezed the little hand he held in his. “Won’t we, mo mhilis?”
“We are going to sit together.”
“Yes, we are. You pick a place for us.” He swept the ground with his cane, and Madra was bumping up against his side. So he felt safe enough to let Eimear lead the way.
She pulled him around, then tugged his hand downward, a signal that he didn’t need help interpreting. He sat on a chair conveniently located behind him, and she climbed onto his lap. Eimear curled against him. He set his arms around her.
“When is the music going to start?” Eimear asked.
“Soon, I’m sure.”
For Eimear’s sake, he really did hope the musicians would begin without much delay. But the gathering was already loud and a little chaotic. The music would add to that.
“Finbarr!” Ma sat beside him without warning. “Keefe and Thomas said you weren’t coming tonight.”
“I wasn’t going to. But my sweet Eimear, here, asked me to be her fella for the night, and I couldn’t say no.”
“He is going to hug me while we listen to the music. Finbarr said so.”
“I did say that.”
Ma lowered her voice and spoke from nearer by. “Is she feeling poorly again?”
“Beginning to.” Joseph had confirmed to Finbarr what Ivy said she suspected.
“Sweet girl. You just let Finbarr snuggle you while you listen to the music. He’ll look after you.”
“Finbarr, you’ve decided to show your mug after all.” Tavish.
“Either you told Keefe and Thomas a whopper or they told us one.” And Ian. Which meant Patrick was likely nearby as well.
The usual O’Connor sneak attack was underway. There was a reason Finbarr had told Ivy that people often snuck up on him.
Eimear twisted in his arms. Her little hands took hold of his face, and she whispered in his ear. “They talk too much, Finbarr. We won’t be able to hear the music.”
“I’ll sort them, mo mhilis.”
She sat once more, leaning back against him.
Finbarr turned his head in the direction of his brothers’ voices. “I am here to snuggle with my sweet little Eimear while we enjoy music and tales, all at her request. And the lot of you are interrupting.”
“Our apologies, Eimear.” Patrick was there.
The particular combination of footsteps, shadows, and Eimear’s giggles led Finbarr to guess that his brothers had taken turns kissing her cheek as they apologized. And they took themselves off after that. Even Ma gave the little girl a quick hug and left to help Eliza set out food for the town.
The musicians began playing. The town took up dancing.
Yet, in the usual chaos, Finbarr’s little corner of it all was calm.
He didn’t have to guess who was hovering nearby or sift through countless voices.
His family had wandered off, and the town was busy.
The only person he had to keep track of was Eimear.
“Thank you for sitting with me,” he said. “Snuggling and listening to music is the perfect way to spend the céilí.”
“I’m cold, Finbarr.”
He switched her between his arms as he pulled off his coat. He laid it over the both of them. “Better?”
“Mm-hmm.”
He hugged her close to him. “You sound sleepy.”
“I don’t want to go home.” There was a hint of panic in her voice.
“Even if you fall asleep, we’ll stay at the céilí.”
“You promised me,” she said through a yawn.
“Yes, I did.”
The musicians took up a slower tune. That would likely lull Eimear the rest of the way to sleep. He hummed along, rocking her gently. She grew slowly heavier in his arms.
As he sat there, people passed by. Their voices and footsteps added to the cacophony of sounds. Some must have been carrying food; he could smell dozens of aromas, too many for sorting out any specific one.
Someone sat next to him. He couldn’t hear well enough to garner any clues about who it was. Certainly couldn’t see well enough.
“I brought you some shortbread, since you can’t raid the food table yourself.”
Finbarr went perfectly still. It was his River Lady.
His nephews had told him the town’s new teacher attended the weekly parties.
Finbarr ought not to have been surprised.
But he’d been so concerned about avoiding Emma—or rather allowing her to avoid him—that he hadn’t even thought about the possibility of seeing his River Lady.
“Thank you.” He slipped a hand out from under the coat. She set the cookie in his hand.
“There’s an extra piece there for Eimear if she wakes.”
Finbarr spun his mind around, searching for something to say. Talking to her was so easy at the river when there was no one around. He couldn’t summon a single topic just then. And, a moment later, he heard her stand.
“Thank you again,” was all he managed.
“You’re welcome, Finbarr.”
He heard a little rustle of fabric over the voices and movement and music. She’d walked away. A chance to talk with her again, to get to know her even better, and he’d wasted it.
“Can I have my shortbread now?” Eimear asked.
“I thought you were asleep, mo mhilis.”
A piece of shortbread was pulled from his hand in the same moment Eimear laughed a little. “Emma thought so too.”
“Emma?”
“Or she would have given the cookie to me.”
Emma? “Emma gave us the shortbread?
“She knows I like shortbread.”
No. It couldn’t have been Emma. He knew the voice. It was his River Lady. Emma would have told him who she was. Even when the tension between them had been at its height, she hadn’t ever used his blindness to manipulate or fool him. She’d never deceived him that way.
“Emma gave us the shortbread?” he asked Eimear again.
“Yes, silly.”
It had been Emma all along.
She had lied to him.