Chapter Thirty-six
The céilí resumed with enthusiasm after Miss Groves’ interruption.
The family, including the Archers, seemed particularly intent on recapturing the liveliness she’d dampened.
They managed it. But their enthusiasm, as always, tended a bit too much toward chaos.
And, for reasons he couldn’t see well enough to sort out, it meant he wasn’t granted even a moment of Emma’s time for the remainder of the night.
He stepped out of the inn, ready to climb into Tavish’s wagon, he being the one driving Finbarr home that night. But his brother stopped him only a few steps outside.
“While I’ve ample room in my wagon, Finbarr, I’m going to toss you out of it, I’m afraid. A regular heartless cad is what I am.”
Finbarr recognized his brother’s teasing tone, though he wasn’t certain what jest Tavish was tiptoeing toward. “Patrick wishes me to take up residence at the inn?”
“Not that I’ve heard.”
“Stop teasing your brother,” Cecily said. “Tell him the whole of it.”
Tavish chuckled low. “Miss Emma’s sitting atop her da’s buggy, watching you hopefully. I’d not disappoint the sweet lass for anything.”
“Neither would I.”
Tavish set his hand on Finbarr’s back and guided him a few steps away. “Buggy wheel’s directly in front of you. Climb on up.”
He did and was quickly situated. Madra hopped up immediately after and settled herself at his feet. Something warm was laid over his lap. It took him less than half a moment to realize it was a blanket.
“Anticipating a cold drive home, Emma?” he asked.
“It’s cold already,” she said. “I suspect the drive will be absolutely frigid.”
Finbarr scooted on the bench, closing the inches between them. He set his arm around her. “Better?”
“Mm-hmm.” She didn’t say anything more than that.
Emma set the horses in motion and began the drive home. Long minutes passed without her saying a word. It wasn’t a comfortable silence.
“What is weighing on you, Emma?” he asked softly.
“Aidan said something tonight that I can’t free my mind of.”
Finbarr couldn’t believe Aidan would be unkind. “What did he say?”
“You told him a few weeks ago that you had an idea that would allow him to go to St. Louis for medical school, that there was someone he could live with there.” He felt her take a deep breath, one that shuddered a little. “That someone is you, isn’t it?”
He hadn’t discussed that idea in further detail with Aidan, which was likely for the best. He didn’t want to get Aidan’s hopes up if they were simply going to be dashed. But the situation hadn’t left Finbarr’s mind.
“There is a good medical school in St. Louis,” he said. “Dr. Jones has talked with the administration there and Aidan could have his tuition paid for through a scholarship. Having a family member to live with would free him of living expenses.”
“He could become a doctor,” she said quietly. “And it would be impossible otherwise.”
“This is likely his only chance.”
“And it depends on you accepting the job at the Missouri School for the Blind.” She didn’t pose it as a question. She clearly already knew the answer.
“I’ve spent the two weeks of our agreement moving forward as if I’m staying in Hope Springs,” he said. “But the reality of Aidan’s situation has never left my mind.”
“He needs to become a doctor, Finbarr. It is what he was always meant to be; I feel that in my heart.”
Finbarr swallowed against the thickness in his throat. “So do I.”
“And Eimear will have much better treatments with two doctors looking after her, one who has been trained in the latest discoveries and practices.”
“I’ve been thinking that myself.”
“Aidan needs you to go to St. Louis. But . . . but so does Eimear. This whole town needs it.”
“I know.” He’d not admitted that even to himself, but he knew it was true.
On they drove, the frigid wind biting at his face. He kept his arm around her, holding her as close as he could while she guided the horses.
“Things seemed better with your family,” Emma said. “You seem happier with them.”
“I am. They aren’t as overwhelming. And when they are, I know better how to ask for what I need.”
“If not for Aidan’s dilemma, would you go to St. Louis?” she asked. “Would you accept the job?”
“I don’t think I would.” Guilt pricked at his heart at the very idea of abandoning Aidan, even in this pretended scenario. “Not because the job would be miserable, but because I . . .”
“Because you are no longer miserable here.”
She didn’t say anything else as the minutes passed.
He knew the turns in the road and could place them in their journey back through town and past her family’s home.
When she pulled in a tight breath and held it, he knew they were passing Joseph’s barn.
They turned off the main road and drove along the river road.
Only when she brought the buggy to a stop in front of his house did she speak again. “Our two weeks are over tomorrow.” Unmistakable emotion filled the words.
“No more pretending,” he acknowledged. “We’ll have to face the actual future and all the questions hanging over it.”
“Have you been pretending all of it, then?” she asked in a whisper. “Not just that you were staying, but that you—That I—”
Finbarr turned a little, enough to wrap his other arm around her, and pulled her more fully into his embrace.
“None of this has been pretend, Emma. We have been trying to determine if staying was possible, if the weight of this place where we’ve known so much pain could be offset by the joy we’ve found here.
That wasn’t pretending; that was moving forward with hope. ”
She leaned against his chest and set her arms around him. He rested his cheek on the top of her head.
“And this—” He rubbed her back, slowly, tenderly. “This us—was never pretend.”
“What are we going to do?” Her voice quivered, but he knew it wasn’t the exhilaration of a tender and loving touch. It was pure heartache. “So many people need you to go to St. Louis. But I—” She took a quivering breath. “I don’t know how I can endure losing you again.”
He kissed the top of her head, breathing through the answering emotion he felt. He either had to cost Aidan his dream, his future, and take away from Eimear the care of another doctor, or he had to lose Emma. He couldn’t bear the thought of either one, yet he would at some point have to choose.
“Tonight is still part of our two weeks, mo sholas. For tonight, we can let ourselves think about years of céilís and walks along the river.” He ran his thumb gently along her cheek. “And what a miracle it is that we found each other again, and that, for these two weeks, we found home.”
A tear fell warm against his hand. He wiped it away, then leaned closer.
He whispered, “I love you, Emma. No matter what tomorrow brings, know that I love you.”
His thumb traced the curve of her lower lip, guiding him. He bent and brushed the faintest of kisses over her lips.
Then he held her as she cried.