Chapter 8
It happened so quickly that she couldn’t have told the story of how, for the life of her.
It seemed as though all she did was blink, and she was transported from that cold, quiet evening in Galveston to the loud, tossing deck of the ship as it steamed into port in Cobh, Ireland, feeling as though her dreams had sprung to life in front of her, like magic.
And Ella, at her side, was there clasping her hand.
“We’re here, Bridie,” she said, voice low and full of awe. “We’re really here!”
It took that reminder of her sister’s presence for Bridie to snap back into the reality of the moment.
Yes, they were in Ireland, just as she had dreamed for so long—and Cobh looked so different, so strange, from how she remembered it, the day they had left Ireland behind!
Well, fifteen years would certainly make a difference, she supposed.
After all, she had changed somewhat since then herself, hadn’t she?
She squeezed Ella’s hand, smiling.
“First thing’s first,” she said. “Telegraph office—we’d better let Ma and Pa know that we’ve arrived safely.”
“And Jed,” Ella reminded her softly.
Bridie felt her heart turn over.
“Yes,” she said. “And Jed.”
Though Cobh was very different from what she remembered, they were still able to find the telegraph office not far from the port itself.
It was busy; the little city was one of the more crowded shipping ports on the south coast of Ireland, with the larger seafaring vessels unloading their cargo into smaller ships that would steam up the coast to the west, accessing more northerly parts of the country, or to the east, and then on up the River Lee to Cork—and to Kinsale.
It wasn’t difficult to arrange passage to their old hometown, though Bridie found herself marveling again and again at how strange it all was.
Strange and intimidating, somehow—though she told everyone she met that she and her sister had been born there and asked again and again whether anyone knew of the Hamiltons, she found no real response other than suspicious gazes.
“Well, after all,” Ella pointed out, “we don’t sound like we’re Irish.”
It was true. They had spent far longer in America than they had here in Ireland, and their accents had been shaped more strongly by their surroundings than by their father's brogue or their mother's softer accents.
But it was a disappointment to Bridie. Somehow, she had imagined that she would be welcomed as someone who belonged from the moment she arrived.
This was evidently not going to be the case.
Another day saw their arrival in Kinsale.
It was far more recognizable, having changed far less over the intervening fifteen years than the larger town of Cobh.
The sight of the little thatch-roofed houses, the sunlight glinting on the waves in the bay, the church steeple glimpsed beyond, all made Bridie’s heart soar.
This was where she truly belonged, she told herself—and being back home, where she belonged, would make it all worth it.
The two sisters found lodging in a boarding house not far from the house where they’d stayed as children. But the owner of the boarding house was unfamiliar to Bridie; when she asked whether the old woman had ever known any Hamiltons, she received only a shake of the head in response.
To make matters worse, it was far more expensive to secure a room there than she had expected.
By the time they were settled in and had had their supper, Bridie and Ella sipped coffee and talked about what they had found so far.
“It’s beautiful,” Ella said, her eyes faintly shining.
“It is beautiful,” Bridie agreed. “But—look, Ella, this is all we have left.” She turned out her pockets; the money that Jed had given her had been exchanged at the port, and now that lodging and food were paid for, it was a worrisomely small amount. “This won’t see us through more than a week!”
“It is very expensive here,” Ella agreed. “But I don’t know what you expected, Bridie—it was expensive when we lived here, too.”
Bridie frowned.
“Surely not like this!”
“Well, I don’t know. I was only a few years old. But I know I’ve heard Ma and Pa talk over the years about how much easier it is to bring up a family in America. Why do you think they left Ireland to begin with?”
Bridie opened her mouth, then, for lack of anything to say, shut it again without speaking. She felt as though a bucket of cold water had been poured over her. It was true—life had been difficult here. She’d just forgotten about it.
No, she’d chosen not to think about it. That was the truth of it.
She’d spent so long dreaming of the shining emerald isle that she’d left behind that she’d built it up into an impossibly perfect paradise.
Of course, it was still going to cost money to live here!
Well, she would just have to get a job, that was all.
She couldn’t expect that Jed would pay for her to carry on forever, when they were nothing to each other now…
Almost as if her sister had heard her thoughts, Ella ventured, “We could always send another telegram to Jed, couldn’t we? And ask him for a bit more money, just to see us through the winter?”
Bridie fixed her gaze on her sister sternly.
“Certainly not,” she said.
“But—but he wouldn’t mind, I’m sure.”
“He doesn’t owe us anything, Ella. He’s done far too much as it is.
” This was why it was ultimately foolish for her to think Jed and Ella would make a good match, she thought recklessly—Ella was the sort to go running back to him as soon as she needed something, lacking the courage to stand on her own.
And Jed deserved someone with courage. Someone with conviction.
Someone with strength—even if it was just the strength to say no.
As ridiculous as it seemed, it was almost as if Bridie’s very stubbornness had made them the perfect match.
Ella sighed unhappily, and Bridie relented after her rather harsh tone.
“We can’t ask anything else of Jed McHale,” she said. “He isn’t a part of our lives anymore, Ella—we must forget about him.”
Ella shook her head.
“I know you ended your engagement,” she said. “But I think you’re wrong, Bridie.”
“How so?”
“He may not be your husband or your groom, and you may not be his bride. But Jed McHale will always be a part of your life, Bridie—and he’ll always be your friend.”
Bridie pressed her lips together. Her sister’s soft reassurance made her heart soar—and yet, at the same time, a pang shot through it, too. The thought of Jed always thinking of her, perhaps even pining after her… it was a hard thing to contemplate.
But the thought of him forgetting her was harder still.
She took a sip of her coffee, welcoming the hot, bitter brew as a change to regain her composure.
“What makes you say that, Ella?”
“Well, he sent you here, didn’t he?” Ella said. “He did his best to make your dreams come true. Only a man in love would do that, Bridie—only a man deeply in love.”
Bridie took a deep breath.
“Jed McHale,” she said, “is too kind for his own good. And that’s that, Ella—it’s nothing more than kindness.”
She nodded firmly to reassure her sister and herself of her own convictions.
Somewhere across the tumultuous sea, Jed McHale might be thinking of her—but his thought would be only momentary, the sort of thought you might give to someone who is little more than a part of the past. They had come too far to be caught up in the possibilities of yesterday—they had tomorrow to think of.
And with a month-long sea journey and thousands of miles between them, tomorrow was a far more pressing proposition than Jed McHale.
Which did nothing to explain why she dreamed of him that night—and all the others.