Chapter Fifteen
Finbarr didn’t sleep well that night. The quiet of his home wasn’t calming like it usually was after the chaos of a céilí.
Navigating an enormous family who overwhelmed him and snuck up on him, struggling to maintain his house and work his fields even with the aid of bells and ropes, having to either walk everywhere he went or wait on someone to let him climb into their wagon .
. . it was a lot to carry day in and day out.
Not knowing what his newest nieces and nephews looked like, wondering how his parents and siblings had changed over the years, knowing that every time anyone looked at him, they saw the scars and the blindness and not the person beneath it all . . . it was a weight on his heart.
But Emma using his blindness to trick him hurt in a way he couldn’t even describe.
The Archers were family to him. He’d often felt safer among them than his own family during the past ten years.
Even while repairing the rift he’d caused, Finbarr had never worried about what they would say or do.
And before Emma’s departure from Hope Springs, he’d wanted so badly to regain her trust.
Never had he even contemplated the possibility that he couldn’t trust her.
All through the night and clear through to the next afternoon, Finbarr wrestled with that.
Emma Archer had deceived him. She’d exploited the vulnerability he couldn’t escape.
She’d been gone for five years, but she understood how defenseless his blindness often made him feel. She knew. And she’d lied.
His family didn’t understand how overwhelming they were.
The seasons themselves thrust him into complete darkness for half the year.
Keeping himself afloat was doable now but not fulfilling.
He was lonely. A little lost. And he could no longer trust that, even in Hope Springs, he could let his guard down.
Emma Archer, of all people, had shown him that.
You would be part of the family we have created here among ourselves.
The employment offer echoed in his mind as he stepped out of his house and climbed into Tavish and Cecily’s wagon—the family hadn’t let Finbarr wriggle out of the family dinner even though he had attended the céilí.
He flipped up his collar against the bitter air. The weather felt a little threatening again. They’d likely have another light snowfall that night, hopefully after everyone returned home.
A little one crawled onto his lap. “Guess! Guess!”
He smiled at her. “Claire.”
“He always knows, Mama.”
“Our Finbarr pays very close attention,” Cecily said from the wagon bench.
“Guess who else is in the wagon bed with us,” Claire said.
“Though he’s being very quiet, I’m certain Matthew’s sitting nearby.” Tavish and Cecily wouldn’t have left behind one of their children.
“You’re the cleverest person ever, Finbarr,” Claire said.
“Your ma taught the entire town how to make braille books. That’s a very clever thing.”
“We have another two books completed.” Cecily managed to introduce the topic on his mind, although she wouldn’t have realized as much.
“Have you ever thought about going back to visit the school?” he asked. “You did like living there.”
“It became home to me during the years I was there,” she said. “I think I would enjoy visiting again someday.”
Home. Hope Springs had whispers of home, but not the heart of it since the fire. He missed that feeling.
“If it was like home,” he said, “then the people at the school must have been like family.”
“A very unique family,” she confirmed. “But unique in a nice way. Most everyone there is blind, so we understood each other in ways few others do. And those who aren’t blind are surrounded by those who are, and accommodating and understanding is so ingrained in everything that, in a way that I’ve never found anywhere else, we are able to simply exist. It is a world built for us rather than one we have to find a way to navigate. ”
That sounded like heaven. But a heaven that was very far from Hope Springs. Although, maybe that wasn’t such a terrible thing.
Finbarr would have asked her more questions, but he didn’t really want to tip his hand.
The winter would be a long one if his family spent it fretting over the possibility of him leaving.
They’d be at the house constantly or insisting he divide his time between all of their homes.
And it would be endlessly loud and chaotic. And miserable.
The interior of the inn was loud and dark. Madra tucked closer to him, which was very helpful. His cane continually bumped against furniture and people. Navigating was going to be nearly impossible.
Voices greeted him from all directions. While it always took effort to sort them out, it didn’t usually overwhelm him as quickly as it did then. If only he could simply turn around and walk back home. But Ma would be disappointed, and he couldn’t bring himself to make her sad.
His sleeve was tugged. “Guess who I am!”
“Grace.”
She giggled. “Who else?”
Finbarr shook his head. “If this mystery person doesn’t talk, I’ll never know.”
A child laughed, but it wasn’t enough to identify the laugher.
“Who is it, Madra?”
Right on cue, the dog gave a single cheerful bark. That brought on a chorus of little laughs. Apparently, there was more than one unidentified niece or nephew hanging about.
“It’s Rigger,” Grace said.
“You can’t just tell him. That ruins the game.” Rigger didn’t sound upset, though.
The O’Connor cousins had a lot of fun together. Finbarr would miss that if he went to St. Louis.
But what Cecily had described might just be worth the trade-off. We are able to simply exist. It is a world built for us rather than one we have to find a way to navigate.
To just exist. To not be constantly overwhelmed by a world that didn’t take into account what he needed. To not have to depend on people he might not actually be able to depend on.
“Uncle Finbarr?” That was Eoin. “I made a treat for Madra. Can I give it to her? Dr. Jones says everything in it dogs can eat.”
“Madra would love it.”
The dog loved the idea so much, in fact, that she left with Eoin. How far the two went, Finbarr couldn’t say. If history was any indicator, it was probably no more than a few feet. Madra always stayed close.
“There’s an open chair under the window to your right.” Aidan had arrived at some point.
Eoin and Madra were somewhere nearby. Grace and Rigger had probably run off. Finbarr’s siblings’ voices were swirling around the room. Aidan was next to him. Everyone else was there somewhere too. Somewhere.
A world built for us rather than one we have to find a way to navigate.
“Eoin stole your dog,” Aidan said. “And he doesn’t look at all ashamed of it.”
“If you went to medical school, would you miss the chaos of this family?” Finbarr asked Aidan as he made his way, with the occasional helpful nudge, to the chair his nephew had suggested.
“Not the chaos,” Aidan said, “but the family, yes. I wasn’t surrounded by family in New York.”
“I’ve never been away from the family, so I don’t know if I’d miss being surrounded or not.”
“Are you thinking of going to medical school?” Aidan asked, a smile in his voice.
Finbarr could smile at that too. “I’ll leave the schooling to you.” He found the chair with his hand and sat.
“Maybe someday.” Aidan’s words were hopeful, but his tone wasn’t entirely.
“Don’t give up on the possibility,” Finbarr said. “Chicago, St. Louis, even Baltimore aren’t impossible for people in Hope Springs to get to.”
“Dr. Jones did say that he thought I could qualify for a scholarship to cover tuition at his school in Chicago. He says he knows people at the medical college in St. Louis too.”
“That’s something.”
“Doesn’t resolve the ‘where do I live and how do I eat’ question. I don’t have anyone in either city who could help me. Although, Baltimore is an option I hadn’t thought of. Emma’s grandmother might know of something.”
Emma. Finbarr pushed aside the hurt and frustration that rose at the mention of her.
“Joseph might inquire in his next telegram to his mother,” Finbarr suggested.
“A good idea.”
“I have them sometimes.”
Aidan laughed and wandered off.
A good idea. Finbarr didn’t have them as often as he wished he did. A few more of them might help him sort out how to be truly happy in Hope Springs, or make it clear once and for all that happiness wasn’t something he was likely to truly find here.