Chapter Sixteen
“It is said throughout Ireland that Grace O’Malley’s soul still rides the waves of the sea, beckoning to Ireland’s children, wherever they might be, with the promise that they will always be welcomed home.”
Emma sat beside Eimear, lying on her bed, reading from the book Papa had brought home to Hope Springs not long before he married Katie. The stories in that book were interwoven in Emma’s growing up years. She was sharing them with her little sister, hoping to find a way to connect with her.
She brushed a strand of hair out of Eimear’s face. The little girl had slept most of the day. She’d been too worn out to participate in the céilí and hadn’t attended church. The family didn’t seem surprised by it. Though no one had said as much, Emma sensed there was some concern.
Had Eimear been having nightmares too? Emma had been plagued by them since being in Hope Springs. They filled every moment of every night. They’d stopped within weeks of moving to Baltimore. She’d forgotten how exhausting they were.
“Has your sleep been restless, too?” she whispered to Eimear, continuing to stroke her hair.
Eimear was very soundly asleep. That seemed like a good indication that lost sleep wasn’t her difficulty.
“I wish you knew me, Eimear. I wish I wasn’t such a stranger to you.”
But there was no means of changing that when they lived on opposite ends of the country. Eimear’s home was here. Unless Emma stayed longer, she would, in only a few days’ time, be a stranger to her little sister again.
“I love you.” Emma bent and pressed a very gentle kiss to Eimear’s forehead.
Careful not to jostle the girl awake, Emma stood. She took up the lantern that had been sitting on the bedside table and blew it out.
The sun had very nearly dipped below the horizon. It wasn’t fully dark out, but it would be soon.
Sybil and Ivy were sitting on the sofa in the new sitting room, their heads together, as had become quite common.
This time, they were discussing buildings and architecture in Baltimore.
Ivy was sketching what she remembered from previous visits.
Sybil was offering her insights and a few sketches of her own.
When the family visited Baltimore, Emma would have to make certain they visited an art gallery. She suspected Ivy would enjoy that. There were so many there to choose from. And perhaps Emma could even procure Ivy some additional art supplies.
She sat in a chair near them. To her relief, Ivy actually smiled at her. It wasn’t a breaking of the barrier between them that Emma didn’t entirely know how to cross. But it was a little progress. What would happen to that progress when she left in only three days?
I’m going to lose both my sisters.
If only she had a little more time with them. But that would mean more time in Hope Springs. She couldn’t endure that.
Could she?
A few more days wouldn’t be entirely unendurable. The stage stopped twice weekly at the Hope Springs inn on its way south to the train depot. Rather than boarding the stagecoach in three days, she could take the one that would be leaving in a week. That would grant her four extra days.
She could endure four additional days if it would help her have a place in her sisters’ lives.
It’s self-serving to make them grow attached to you because you enjoy their company when you are planning all along to abandon and disappoint them.
Would staying be selfish? Eimear would come to know and possibly even like her a little better, which Emma wanted almost desperately. And Ivy might warm to her. Which she wanted just as badly.
But then she would leave. If her sisters liked her better, they would miss her more, and that would make her departure harder on them.
Your sister needs you.
She hadn’t sorted out that mystery. Remaining a little longer might allow her to. She might accidentally meet whatever need it was she’d been summoned to help with.
That wasn’t selfish. Just a few days more wouldn’t be selfish.
Except, extending her stay meant Sybil would have to stay longer as well.
“Is something the matter, Emma?” Sybil asked.
That pulled her attention back to the present. Ivy and Sybil were both watching her with confusion and curiosity.
“I was thinking—”
“A good way to get yourself in trouble,” Sybil said with a smile.
“What were you thinking about?” Ivy asked. “It seemed very perplexing.”
“What would you think—?” Dare she press forward with the idea? “What would you think if we extended our stay for a few days? The stage passes through often enough that we’d not have to delay by more than a few days. Perhaps a week.”
A heartbreaking hopefulness entered Ivy’s expression, though she clearly did her best to hide it. Hopefulness. Ivy wanted her to stay longer. If anyone had asked her two weeks earlier if Ivy wanted her in Hope Springs at all she would have said no.
“Let’s do,” Sybil said eagerly. “Another day or week would still get us back to Baltimore before the weather turns horrid. And I’d like staying in Hope Springs for a bit longer.”
“Are you still trying to get Aidan O’Connor to be your sweetheart?” Emma asked with a shake of her head.
“All those O’Connor lads,” Sybil said, grinning. “I’m collecting them.”
Emma turned to Ivy, wanting to explain that Sybil was entirely in jest. She was a lovely and thoughtful person, not actually dismissive of people. But Ivy laughed and swatted at Sybil, obviously understanding without needing it explained.
“Is there a way to let my parents know that we’re remaining a little longer?” Sybil asked.
“There’s a telegraph office in the next town over,” Ivy said. “We can ask when Mr. Johnson’s oldest is heading there. He can send it on your behalf.” Ivy looked at Emma. “We should send one to Grandmother as well.”
Grandmother. Emma hoped someone was looking in on her.
“We’ll be here for another céilí,” Sybil said to Ivy. “I need a strategy for getting the O’Connor lads to dance with me.”
Ivy laughed. “No strategy needed. They clamored last week.”
Sybil and Ivy launched into a conversation punctuated by ridiculousness and laughter. Perhaps in the next few days Emma would find a way of joining in.
Emma didn’t know for certain that Finbarr would be walking along the road at the same time she was. But she hoped so. She wanted to talk to him.
The sun had all but disappeared, leaving the air cold.
She likely could have simply waited until the next day to talk to him.
But these moments together had become special to her.
She liked talking with him. She’d told him first about her worries here and wanting to belong.
She’d told him and he hadn’t laughed or dismissed her.
And he liked talking with her. She’d longed for that for so many years.
Emma wanted to tell him that she was extending her stay, and she hoped the lantern she was carrying proved bright enough for her to see that he was happy to have her there a little longer.
He’d smiled a little more in their most recent conversation.
There was strain underneath the smiles, just as Ivy had said, but when he was showing her kindness there was also sincerity in it.
She’d needed that more than she had admitted to herself the last five years.
Emma hadn’t been waiting overly long when she heard Madra bark with excitement. A moment later, the dog and Finbarr were near enough for her to see them.
“I’d hoped you’d be walking this evening,” Emma said. “It is cold, so I wasn’t certain you would venture out.”
Why she was suddenly feeling nervous, she couldn’t say. Perhaps she was just excited that they would have these riverside meetings for an extra week.
“Madra needed to get some energy out,” he said.
There was something odd in his tone. It felt a little formal. Even distant.
Emma shook that off. He was probably tired and cold.
“It was nice seeing you at the céilí on Saturday,” she said.
“Is there a reason you didn’t stay and talk with me longer?” he asked.
Had he wanted her to?
“I didn’t want to interrupt Eimear’s evening with you. I suspect she is very attached to you.”
“You ‘suspect’?” There was a hint of accusation in the question. That didn’t make a great deal of sense.
“Will you attend the céilí again this week?” It was an easy way to introduce the topic of her staying in Hope Springs.
“I don’t know.” And on that, he started walking down the road again, away from her without a farewell. He hadn’t done that before. His wasn’t a posture of petulance or even anger. If anything, he looked like something was weighing on him.
She caught up with him and walked at his side. “I was hoping you would be on the road so I could tell you some good news.”
“There must be someone more fitting for you to tell your good news to.” He kept walking. He wasn’t at all interested in talking to her.
What had happened?
“Are you—? Are you angry with me, Finbarr?”
He shook his head and kept walking.
“Why do you not want to talk with me?”
“Eimear solved a mystery for me at the céilí,” he said with something of a sigh. “One I didn’t even know needed to be solved.”
“What mystery?”
“As it turns out”—he spoke through a tense jaw—“the newly arrived stranger I’d been talking with on the banks of this river wasn’t a stranger after all. Imagine my surprise.”
A stranger. Her heart stopped. “You didn’t know you were talking to me?”
“Can you honestly say you thought I did? You never told me who you were. No one knew you were coming to Hope Springs. There was no reason for me to be able to recognize your voice after five years with no warning that I might be hearing it.”
He sounded angry, frustrated, hurt.
“If I had my vision still, I would have known who you were. But I am, as always, at a disadvantage. And you never told me.”
“I did wonder the first time we spoke if you realized who I was.”
He stopped walking and turned in her direction, almost looking at her.
“If you thought for even a moment I didn’t know who I was talking to, why wouldn’t you tell me?
It’s frustrating having to depend on people for things as basic as knowing who I’m looking at and who is nearby.
I have to trust people. And I have to live my life knowing there are people who will take advantage of that and trick me. ”
“I wasn’t trying to trick you.”
“You knew there was a chance I didn’t know. And you didn’t even do me the basic courtesy of making sure.”
Her heart dropped to her feet. He must have known who she was.
She’d watched him recognize voices in an instant.
More than that, they’d talked about her family, about her day at the school.
She’d told him she was struggling to find her place now that she had returned. And he had been happy talking with her.
At least she’d thought so.
But he hadn’t known her at all. Conversations that had been hopeful and healing for her were ones he himself described as being with “a stranger.”
She summoned all the self-preservation skills she’d gained during years of struggle and worry. She even kept her voice nearly steady as she asked, “Now that you do know, do you still want to talk with me?”
“I’ve been keeping my distance since your arrival because you didn’t seem to want to cross paths with me. Now, realizing it was actually that you didn’t want me to know I had crossed paths with you, I think it’s probably best to go on as we have. But without these walks along the river.”
He kept walking, but she couldn’t move.
“I thought you knew,” she whispered.
She watched him go until he was too far away for her lantern light to illuminate him. She pushed down the tears that rushed to the surface.
“I thought, after ten years, you had finally forgiven me.”