Chapter 14
Bellamy followed Zaira through the back door of the pub, with Moya in his arms and Seamus on his heels.
Jenny, mixing batter in a large bowl at the worktable, and Gavin, slicing bread across from her, abruptly halted their supper preparations to stare.
As the back door closed and enveloped Bellamy in the heat of the kitchen along with the strong odor of fried fish, he could hear Moya’s stomach growl. She’d fallen asleep during the ride back to the pub, and now she lifted a sleepy head and sniffed the air.
“Jenny and Gavin, this is Moya.” Bellamy nodded at the lass then the lad. “And that is Seamus.”
“Pleased to meet you both.” Jenny wiped her hands on her apron. If she was surprised by their filthy condition, she didn’t let it show. Instead, her eyes held questions.
“We were wondering”—Zaira flashed a bright smile filled with enthusiasm that was hard to resist—“if you might consider letting Seamus and Moya stay in the apartment until we can locate their father.”
Jenny’s eyes widened, the request clearly taking her by surprise.
On the way home from the encampments along the river, Zaira had brought up the possibility of the children staying with his family.
Bellamy had agreed it was the best solution since having the children live at Zaira’s house would tempt her to remain in the city instead of getting away from the cholera.
“Their mam has gone to heaven,” Zaira continued, “and so they currently don’t have a place to live.”
“I see,” Jenny said kindly as she glanced again from Moya to Seamus. “I’m sorry to hear of the loss.”
Seamus studied her in return.
Bellamy had already explained to the children that he was taking them back to the pub. At first Seamus assumed he and Moya would have to sleep in the shed. But Bellamy had indicated that if Jenny and her husband were agreeable, the children would stay in the apartment above the pub.
“We do have plenty of room, so we do.” Jenny shared a look with Gavin.
He nodded.
Jenny smiled at Seamus. “We’d be happy to have you for as long as you need.”
“I’d be happy too.” Moya was now looking at Jenny, her eyes filled with hope.
Seamus didn’t smile back, but the stiffness fell from his shoulders.
Bellamy allowed himself a full breath. He hadn’t necessarily been worried, but a part of him had wondered if having the orphans might be too much for Jenny—a glaring reminder of the children she’d never been able to have for herself.
“Do you have work for me?” Seamus peered around the kitchen, which was as untidy as usual.
Zaira tsked. “Of course not—”
“I’ll not be staying nowhere for nothing.” Seamus straightened to his full height, which wasn’t much taller than Bellamy’s waist. “I’m used to working hard and can do a lot more than you’d expect.”
“Oh aye,” Bellamy spoke before Zaira could turn down the boy’s offer. “Naturally, we’ll have work for you.”
“Bell-amy.” Zaira shot him a narrowed look. “We’re not placing conditions on him.”
“No, of course not,” Jenny added, speaking directly to Seamus. “God’s blessed us with a good home and plenty of food, and we can do nothing less than share our bounty.”
Zaira started to nod.
“But,” Jenny continued, “we’ll not be turning down the help if you’ve a mind to offer it.”
“I’ve a mind.” Seamus spoke seriously, as though a miniature man lived inside his body.
Zaira’s nose scrunched up with the beginning of more protest. Obviously, she didn’t know what it was like to be poor and to also try to cling to one’s honor. Sometimes honor was the only thing the poor had left, and if Seamus felt better working for his keep, then they needed to let him.
Bellamy crossed to Jenny and held out Moya.
Jenny hesitated for only a heartbeat, then gathered the little girl in her arms. Moya didn’t resist Jenny and instead leaned into her.
“I’ll be back shortly.” Bellamy crossed toward the door. “After I take Zaira home.”
Zaira said her good-byes to the children and promised she’d check in on them from time to time when she could. But she didn’t linger much longer. He guessed she was needing to get back home before anyone realized she was gone and came looking for her.
When she’d shown up at the pub in the early afternoon inquiring if he was ready to go search, he’d already been making plans to head to the river and check among the camps. He should have told her to stay back at the pub.
But when it came to Zaira, he couldn’t say no very easily. Not only was she persuasive in getting what she wanted, but he found himself giving in to her whims so he could make her happy.
When they exited the kitchen, she stopped him with a touch to his arm, which always turned up the degree of heat in his body more than he wanted to admit.
“I walked over here by myself, Bellamy, and I’ll be just fine going home alone.”
“I’ll accompany you.” He broke away from her light hold and started toward the horses. “I’m sure your da will be expecting me to escort you home.”
She didn’t say anything and didn’t move from the shade of the building. Even flushed and damp with perspiration, she was prettier than any woman he’d ever met.
When he reached his horse and gathered the reins, he glanced back at her with a raised brow. He was putting her in an awkward situation where she would have to explain that she’d gone behind her da’s back this afternoon. But Bellamy wanted her to know that he knew the truth.
She met his gaze, a glimmer of guilt in her eyes. “He doesn’t know I’m with you.”
“Is that a fact?” He’d left the horses near the watering trough, and now they swished their tails and flicked their ears to ward off flies. “So he won’t be happy to see me, then?”
“Bell-amy,” she softly chided.
He liked the way she said his name, although he wasn’t sure why. “I’ll still ride with you home.”
“I don’t mind the walk.”
“And I don’t mind the ride.”
She sighed with exasperation. “The truth is, Da doesn’t even know I left the house, and I’ll need to sneak back up the trellis.”
Bellamy stuck his foot in the stirrup and hauled himself into the saddle before giving her a pointed look. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
She was watching him, her head cocked. “What wasn’t hard?”
“Telling me the truth.”
She flushed even more and ducked her head.
“Seems to me you’re not only a grand actor, but you’re the expert at lying.”
Her head snapped up, and her eyes suddenly blazed. “How dare you!”
“How dare I confront you about all your lying?”
“That’s swell coming from someone who’s an expert at it too.”
Was he an expert at it too? He hadn’t considered himself a liar. But he supposed it looked like that to her since he had a pseudonym for his painting and had just agreed to be in a fake match with her. Both were big deceptions.
He’d thought he was justified in making the choices he had. But maybe lying was never justified. Maybe he’d been wrong on both scores, especially in God’s eyes.
Whatever the case, he’d come too far with the deception to change courses now, hadn’t he?
He gave a curt nod toward the other horse. “Let’s go. I’ll ride with you most of the way and then you can walk the last block home by yourself.”
He nudged his horse several steps forward, waiting for her.
A moment later he could hear her climbing into the saddle.
For the duration of the ride, they avoided talking about themselves and instead spoke about Moya and Seamus and all the other children like them. They decided the best plan was to ask Riley if he had any ideas for how to do more to help the cholera orphans.
When they neared Third Street, Bellamy reined in. She dismounted, handed him the lead line for her horse, and gave him a nod before turning and walking away.
He watched her until she rounded the corner. Even then he nudged his horse forward and lingered at the end of her street. She paused at the edge of the Shanahan property, glanced back at him, and gave him a small wave. Then she disappeared into the brush.
As he made his way back to the pub, his thoughts kept circling back to the lying, and all the lying Oscar had done with Mam.
There had always been so much deception between the two, especially Oscar pretending to care about Mam but never loving her enough to accept her for all her quirks and creativity and spontaneity.
How many times had Bellamy heard them arguing? And how many times had he heard Oscar come up with excuses about how she was needed in the pub kitchen or dining room in order to keep her from painting?
Not that Mam hadn’t lied too. But most of her dishonesty had been in response to Oscar’s attempts to control her.
She’d taken to sneaking around and leaving the house at odd hours.
She’d started associating with questionable people because they understood and accepted her better.
In those last years of her life, she’d begun drinking and had to lie about it to Oscar so he wouldn’t get angry with her.
Oh aye, Bellamy knew a lot about lying. It wasn’t a path he wanted to take with his life, but it seemed he’d headed that direction anyway with a woman who was quite proficient at it herself.
All the more reason to make sure to end things with Zaira just as soon as it was viable. She wasn’t the right woman for him, and he wasn’t the right man for her—not when any connection to him would only lead to unhappiness. He couldn’t do that to Zaira.