Chapter Thirty-eight
Three weeks had passed since Emma had been given the job of teacher in Hope Springs. Three weeks of joyfully spending her days with the children of this town. Three weeks of continuing to rebuild her connection to her family. Three weeks of spending time with Finbarr.
The stage had made three runs two weeks earlier, during a break in the winter weather. Miss Groves had departed on one of them. But Sybil hadn’t. She’d eagerly asked Katie and Papa if she could remain through the winter, having come to deeply like being in Hope Springs.
Emma had claim on the teacher’s house, but preferred to stay with her family. So, she’d given the use of it over to her friend. The arrangement was proving a brilliant one. And Hope Springs was starting to feel more and more like home.
If only the O’Connors were not making it so difficult to claim a few minutes with Finbarr at their family supper that night. She’d hardly seen him all evening.
“Miss Emma!” Lydia O’Connor tugged at her dress. She was standing with her cousin Grace, as was usually the case. “We have decided to write a story, Miss Emma.”
All the children had taken to calling her Miss Emma after she took over as teacher. The town had called her that all her life, but it had always felt a little too grown up. It was a lovely fit for who and what she was now.
“A story?” She looked at the two of them with eagerness. “What kind of story?”
“We don’t know yet,” Grace said.
“I cannot wait to read it.”
The girls skipped off, nearly colliding with Sean and Rigger. Those two were running around the inn’s public room in precisely the same way they ran around the schoolyard. It was something of a miracle that they managed to sit still during school at all.
Emma wove around them, aiming for Finbarr across the room. He stood beside Papa, holding Finn.
She was pulled aside yet again, this time by Finbarr’s sister Ciara.
“Finbarr’s having supper with us this week,” Ciara said. “You’ll come too, won’t you?”
“I would love to.” She’d been invited to join Finbarr on his rotating evenings with his family members.
The O’Connors had not merely continued offering Finbarr the information he needed to navigate their gatherings; they had begun inviting him to spend time in their individual homes so he could have time with them that was less overwhelming and exhausting.
She’d only just stepped away from Ciara when Sybil caught her eye. Her friend didn’t actually stop her, but she did grin broadly from her place standing between two of the older O’Connor grandsons. Sybil was going to enjoy her winter in Hope Springs.
Without warning, Ivy hooked her arm through Emma’s. “These are a fun bit of chaos, aren’t they?”
“Yes, they are.”
They continued walking around the room, aiming more or less in Finbarr’s direction.
“You asked me the night of the town council meeting,” Ivy said, “why I had stopped writing to you in Baltimore.”
“You didn’t answer.”
Ivy nodded. “I thought if I stopped, you might come back home to find out why.”
Emma had wondered at Ivy’s silence too long. She ought to have come back far sooner. “Worries about you are the reason I came back,” she said. “But not as quickly as I should have.”
“But you did come back,” Ivy said. “That’s the most important thing.”
Emma’s gaze settled on Finbarr, grinning at something Papa said. He was still holding his little namesake, looking content and at peace.
“The two of you are a little nauseating, you know.” Ivy’s tone had just enough teasing to pull a smile to Emma’s face.
“Does it make you wish you hadn’t undertaken your writing drought and brought me home?”
Ivy pulled her arm free and nudged her forward. “I regret nothing.”
At last, Emma was near enough to her darling Finbarr to trust she could reach him without being interrupted. Papa spotted her approach and said something to Finbarr, likely telling him she was walking toward them. Papa took Finn, then stepped away from Finbarr.
Papa gave her a quick hug as he passed, but didn’t stop her. She was able to finally reach the person she’d wanted most to spend time with.
“It’s Emma,” she said as she reached him.
He simply smiled and put his arms around her.
“Ivy has just informed me that we are ‘a little nauseating.’”
Finbarr kissed her forehead. “Someday, we’ll be in a position to return the ‘compliment.’”
“And we will be entirely unrepentant about it.”
He laughed. “Yes, we will. Are you enjoying the family gathering?”
“It’s wonderful. And your family is very welcoming.”
His smile turned a little wry. “‘Welcoming?’ I think you mean ‘exhausting.’”
“Yes, but also lovely. I never thought I’d feel at ease again in a gathering in this town,” she said. “But I do.”
He hugged her more tightly again. “Perhaps, mo sholas, you are beginning to heal.”
“I think I am.”
“O’Connors, and honorary O’Connors!” Finbarr’s father’s voice boomed out over the gathering, capturing all their attention.
“I’ll not interrupt your gabs long. Mary and I only wanted to take a moment to share our joy and our pride in Aidan, in whose honor we’ve gathered here.
Though it means leaving us for a couple of years, he’s to go study and become a doctor.
’Tis all arranged now, and we’re beaming with pride. ”
“He’s not leaving until the spring,” Tavish called out. “Don’t go eulogizing him already.”
That brought out the usual O’Connor laughter and teasing. Aidan took it all in stride. Finbarr kept his arms around Emma, seeming entirely at ease in a situation that had been difficult for him mere months earlier.
“We’ve a bit of a going away present for our Aidan,” Finbarr’s mother said. “And before any of you lads decides to be cheeky about it, I know he’s not to leave us for a few months. Your da and I’ll give him his present now because we want to.”
Finbarr whispered, “She has a way of putting her mischievous children in our place, doesn’t she?”
“Yes, she does.”
The senior Mrs. O’Connor held out to Aidan a carving. “For you to hang in your home in St. Louis, to remind you of where you’ve come from and the family that loves you.”
Emma stretched to get a better look. “It’s a carved bit of wood,” she told Finbarr. “A triangle and a circle woven together.”
“Ah,” he said. “The Celtic Trinity knot.”
She turned a little in his arms and asked in a whisper, “Is it one of your carvings?”
“Most likely. I sold one to the mercantile at the train depot.”
She lightly touched his face. “You really should tell your family.”
Aidan’s mother was looking at the carved Trinity knot he was holding, oohing and ahhing over it along with the rest of the family.
“If you all love it so much, I know where you can each get your own,” Finbarr said.
Surprise froze Emma in place. Was he truly going to reveal this all of a sudden? Had he regained enough confidence in himself and his family to do so at last?
“There was only one at the depot,” Mr. O’Connor said.
Finbarr shrugged without dropping his arms away from her. “You need only ask the carver to make another.”
“The mercantile owner wouldn’t say who the carver is,” Mr. O’Connor said. “I did ask. All the carved things there are beautiful.”
“Like Finn’s rattle,” Katie said.
“And Eoin’s little horse,” Patrick said. “I bought that at the mercantile.”
“Keefe brought me back a serving bowl,” Ciara said. “Beautiful.”
Emma watched a proud, almost smug smile spread over Finbarr’s face.
“I’m glad to hear they’re as lovely as I’d hoped,” Finbarr said. “And it’s good to know my fingers aren’t lying to me.”
A moment passed in confused silence before realization rippled over the room. Voices erupted, too woven together for Emma to make out anything specific. But she could understand the gist of it. They’d pieced together the secret Finbarr had kept from them for years.
“Are you happy now, mo sholas?” Finbarr asked her with a laugh. “They’ll be insufferable.”
Emma kissed his cheek. “That was the goal.”
He looked so remarkably happy. Peaceful. Content. Delighted. She’d missed that the past eleven years. She’d missed feeling it herself.
“It seems dangerous,” Finbarr’s mother said.
“Not much more than the other things he does every day,” Cecily said. “Finbarr has learned to be careful and intentional. That would make carving a doable endeavor.”
“Doable’s not the same as safe,” his mother insisted.
“Nothing in life is entirely safe,” Ian said.
“I suppose that’s true.”
To Emma, Finbarr whispered, “Does Ma actually look reassured?”
“She looks a little nervous,” Emma said, “but not panicked.”
“That’s progress, I suppose.”
“What other things have you made, Finbarr?” Biddy asked.
“Something recently that Emma inspired,” he said.
“Really?” Emma hadn’t heard anything about this.
Finbarr dropped his arms away and reached into his pocket. “Inspired by you and made for you.” He pulled something from his pocket and held it out to her.
She knew it in an instant. “A love spoon. Like we talked about during the blizzard.”
Emma took it from him, amazed at the intricate beauty of it. Hearts and flowers and swirls adorned the handle. At the very top was a sun with swooping rays creating a gorgeous swirl. “A sun?”
“Mo sholas,” he said. “My light.” His arm wrapped around her again. “I was in the darkness for far too long. But you brought back the light.”
She touched his beloved face. “And you helped me see it.”
From somewhere behind her, one of the O’Connor brothers called out, “Love spoons are for courting. Get on with it, Finbarr.”
“Quit your gurning, Ian. I’d manage this better without you lot constantly commenting and interfering.” Though Finbarr had been born in America, he sometimes sounded excessively Irish.
“Just tell the lass you love her,” another brother said. “That’s the front and back of it, after all.”
Finbarr groaned, but there was laughter in it. “Are you willing to put up with this ridiculous family of mine?”
“If you are.”
He smiled. “Don’t tell them, but I enjoy their ridiculousness.”
“Quit talking about us, beanpole,” another brother tossed out. “Kiss the lass.”
“They’re pesky,” Finbarr said.
Emma bent closer. “But they’re not wrong. You really should ‘kiss the lass.’”
“‘The lass’ could always kiss me.” Oh, how she loved when he teased her. Proof that lightness and joy had returned, and that the agony of the past had loosened its grip on them both.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you for my love spoon, Finbarr.”
“Liked it, did you?”
“I love it.” She kissed him softly. “And I love you.”