Chapter Thirty-four
Enough time had passed since the blizzard that Finbarr was able to walk most anywhere he needed to go now.
Eventually, the snow would return, and he’d be limited again.
It was an aspect of life in Hope Springs that was difficult to deal with.
Still, he’d managed for years, and it was hardly the most pressing thing on his mind at the moment.
He knocked at Tavish and Cecily’s door, needing to talk with the one person he thought might be able to help him sort through the current question foremost in his thoughts.
The door opened. There wasn’t an immediate greeting, which meant it likely wasn’t Tavish or either of the children. Probably Cecily, then.
“It’s Finbarr,” he said.
“Ah.” Cecily was even more blind than he was and wouldn’t have had even the outline of him or Madra to give away his identity. Did she find the O’Connor gatherings as overwhelming as he did? She must have, yet he hadn’t heard her say anything.
“I was hoping to talk with you about something,” he said. “If you have a few minutes.”
“Come in,” she said. “I always have time for you.”
She was not one to speak in overly flowery ways. When she first arrived in Hope Springs, her bluntness had pricked at him. He was ashamed to look back on his behavior then and realize how poorly he’d treated her. He’d grown a lot since then, and he was a better person than he used to be.
He navigated with his cane and his memory of the house he’d lived in for a couple of years.
It wasn’t laid out in quite the same way anymore, and with little ones in the family, it was more likely to have a toy here or there.
He managed to find a seat, and heard Cecily take one directly across from him.
“What’s on your mind, Finbarr?”
“When you first arrived in Hope Springs, Tavish was struggling. And I don’t mean just with me.
He was grieving for Bridget.” Tavish’s first love, Bridget Claire, had died in an epidemic fever that had killed nearly half the town.
“No one in the family knew how to help him with that. But somehow you helped him let go of not just the grief but the misplaced guilt. How did you do that? How do you help someone who was carrying a burden that never should have been theirs but didn’t know how to let it go? ”
“You’re thinking of Miss Emma?” Cecily always had been incredibly perceptive.
“She’s told me a little more about the pain and worry she still carries from the fire. There’s so much more to it than I think anyone realizes. I want to help her, but I don’t know how.”
“That she shared this with you is significant, Finbarr. Guilt, however misplaced, tends to make people close in and keep people at a distance. They’re so certain others will judge them as harshly as they judge themselves that they don’t dare share any of it.
But if she trusts you enough to tell you how she feels and what she’s carrying, that will help her heal.
Sharing the burden lightens it enough for a person to learn ways of letting it go entirely. ”
“She may very well return to Baltimore, possibly before winter settles in.” He’d not let himself admit it out loud before, but he suspected she hadn’t actually changed her mind about staying.
He felt certain he was soon going to lose her again.
“I don’t want her to leave as miserable as she is, knowing there’s probably no one in Baltimore who can help her.
” He took a deep breath. “What did you do to help Tavish?”
“I listened,” she said simply. “I held him while he sorted through the pain. I let him talk and cry and feel. And I walked with him as he stepped onto that path of healing, knowing it wouldn’t be an easy one.”
“She does seem comforted when I listen to her and hug her when she’s upset.”
“And she’s trusting you to be with her in those vulnerable moments,” Cecily said.
“For someone wracked with guilt and grief, that’s not something done lightly.
Knowing you hear her and care about her will help her feel less alone.
That is one of the most vicious things about guilt.
It isolates the one carrying it, and that isolation feels hopeless. ”
“She talks a lot about being lonely.” He’d not yet tied together that feeling of loneliness with the burden she was carrying, but it made a tremendous amount of sense.
“Then that should be added to your list. In addition to listening when she talks and holding her when she lets you, you need to find a way to help her realize that she’s not alone.”
“Thank you, Ma, for extending an invitation to the Archers,” Finbarr said in the midst of the chaos of an about-to-begin O’Connor dinner. He’d asked if the Archers could be included, and there’d been no hesitation.
“We should have been including them ever since Miss Emma returned,” Ma said. “They’re family to us as well.”
Oh, please let Emma feel that.
“See if Eliza has a larger serving spoon than that.” Ma was clearly speaking to someone else, but Finbarr didn’t know who. There was a great deal of movement already, and so much noise. He’d not have the first idea when Emma arrived. He wasn’t even certain who was there already.
Emma had shown such faith and trust in him. Perhaps it was time he trusted her enough to follow her advice.
“Ma?”
“Yes, Finbarr.”
“These dinners . . . they’re so . . . busy.
While the little ones enjoy seeing if I can identify everyone’s voices, it’s a lot of work having to guess so much.
So many people and so much movement and .
. . it’s exhausting.” He pushed out a breath.
“It’s hard to be part of these dinners. To be with the family a lot of the time, actually. ”
“Really?” She didn’t sound offended, only surprised. And there was almost a hint of realization, as if he was solving a puzzle for her.
“Emma’s started giving me quick bits of information, especially in large groups like this,” he said.
“Just a moment’s warning about who’s approaching and where they’re standing.
It makes for fewer things that I have to piece together and hold in my mind at one time. And that makes gatherings less tiring.”
“Oh, Finbarr, why’d you not tell us ages ago? It’d be the easiest thing in the world to tell you when someone’s coming or who we are when we approach you.”
“I—I did tell everyone, actually. Years ago, when I first started joining the family dinners again.”
“And we didn’t do it?”
“For a little while, you all did. But, then . . . everyone forgot.”
“And you didn’t remind us?”
“It’s a difficult thing, feeling like an oddity. Having to ask to be treated differently only emphasizes that.”
“All of us need different things, mo mhac. There’s no shame in that. And family does for each other what each other needs. If doing this wee thing for you makes your time with us happier and more joyous, we’ll do it every time. And if ever we forget, you remind us.”
“I will.”
She patted his cheek and stepped away.
Was it really that easy? A simple request, and they’d all jump to it?
Ma didn’t seem to think it a reason to pity him, which he’d worried about.
She’d babied and fretted over him so much in the years after the fire.
Maybe she’d finally decided that he was grown and capable, that losing his vision hadn’t made him a child again.
What sounded like a couple pairs of giggles rushed over to him. He could have predicted what came next.
“Guess!”
Claire was usually the one who demanded that, but he knew the little voice.
“Grace, though I’d wager Claire is with you.”
“How do you do that, Finbarr?” Claire said, as amazed as ever. “I didn’t say a word!”
“I’m telling you, sweetheart, I am magic.”
The little girls giggled again. He was relatively certain he heard them skip off.
A shape approached. One of his brothers, he’d guess, stepped over to him. “’Tis Ian,” he said, quick and perfectly matter of fact. “Thought you’d like to know the Archers are here.”
His heart leapt on the instant. “Are they?”
“They are. And you might care for a bit of a warning that your heart is in your expression right now. The whole family will know you’re in love with her if you don’t tuck that away.”
In love with her. He’d always loved her. But was he now in love with her?
And as quickly as he asked the question, the answer was obvious. He was. He was wholly and deeply in love with Emma Archer.
It was quite a realization to have in the midst of a family gathering.
Even with his mind reeling a bit, he meant to make good on his determination to help her in every way he could.
If that meant letting the O’Connors see how much he cared about her, then he’d let them.
If she did return to Baltimore, he’d probably need the efforts of the entire O’Connor clan to put his heart back together again.
“’Tis Thomas,” his brother-in-law said in a whisper. “Miss Emma is headed your way. You have, I’d wager, ten seconds to make yourself presentable.” Thomas slapped a hand on his shoulder and continued on his way.
Make yourself presentable. He really was wearing his heart on his sleeve. Leave it to the O’Connors to tease a fellow about feelings he was only beginning to realize himself.
“Good evening, Finbarr. It’s Emma.”
He couldn’t have helped smiling even if he’d wanted to. Having her nearby lifted him in ways he hadn’t expected, in ways he desperately needed.
“How are you today?” he asked.
“Better. Each day that passes from the anniversary gets a little easier.”
He found her hand and held it. “I’m glad your family could come tonight. These gatherings are fun, even if they’re a little exhausting.”
“It’s a good exhausting, though.”
He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. He likely had an audience while doing so, but he didn’t mind. And she didn’t seem to either.
It seems I truly am in love with her.
“Patrick is walking toward you,” she said.
In the next moment, Patrick said, “Patrick here. Just wanted you to know that Eoin and Matthew are about fifteen feet to your left plotting to bribe Madra with bread. They’re growing more enthusiastic by the moment and might simply run you over in their attempt to get her attention.”
Finbarr laughed a little. “I am excited to discover what form their bribes take as the weeks go on.”
“So am I.” Patrick chuckled as he walked away.
“He told you who he was and gave you hints about what’s happening around you. Did you finally tell your family that doing so would be helpful?”
“I decided to trust your judgment,” he said. “I only wish I’d talked to them sooner. You’d be shocked at how easy it was and how readily they embraced the request. I was worrying over a lot of nothing.”
“When someone’s in the middle of all that ‘nothing,’ it isn’t ‘nothing’ at all.”
Such kindness. It was little wonder she lifted his heart so easily.
“Did you tell them about your carving?” Emma asked.
“One mountain at a time, mo sholas.”
Her hand slipped free of his, then her arm wrapped around him. She leaned against him. “You’ll be able to spend more time with them now that they have a better idea of how to make that less difficult for you. I’m happy for you, Finbarr. I think you’ve needed that for a long time.”
“And so have you. They think of you as family, which means you’re surrounded by it as well.”
“I have needed it. And I intend to enjoy it while I have it.”