Choices of the Heart, page 3
“She wasn’t entirely by herself,” Burke said. “There is a Miss Kingston with her.”
Looking even more shocked, he sputtered, “Sophie?” Shoulders dropping and sighing seemingly without meaning to, he said, “Did she arrive in one piece?”
It seemed that was not the expected situation. “She did. And quite distraught over your mother’s health.”
“As you do not seem distraught, I have not continued to be,” Joseph said. “Have I interpreted the situation correctly?”
Burke nodded. “I suspect she ate something that did not agree with her, then did not allow herself to rest and recover from the strain of that, coupled with the exertion needed to make such a long journey.”
Joseph shook his head and paced away. “I cannot believe she undertook this without so much as a word to me.”
“She sounds a bit headstrong, your ma,” Patrick said. “Are you fully certain your people aren’t Irish?”
“Katie has asked me that very question more than once.” His pacing took him past Burke’s chair once more. “My mother will be well, though?”
“I haven’t any doubt on that score. Once she is changed into her night clothes and comfortably situated, you can see her and reassure yourself.”
They weren’t made to wait long. Miss Kingston arrived in the sitting room, hair still mussed and fine clothing a bit rumpled. Burke suspected she didn’t usually look so catawampus.
Joseph spotted her before she seemed to notice him. “Sophie.”
She smiled broadly. “Hello, Joseph.”
“What in heaven’s name are the two of you doing here?”
“Your mother missed you,” was the answer. “Not knowing when she might have the chance to see you again, she decided to make the journey herself.”
“And you didn’t talk her out of it?”
Miss Kingston tossed her hands in the air. “Why is it everyone is so convinced today that I could talk her out of something she’s set her mind to? You’ve known her all your life, Joseph. How successful do you suspect I would have been?”
A hint of repentance touched his expression. “She is a difficult ship to turn, isn’t she?”
“Sometimes impossible.”
“Please forgive my graceless welcome,” Joseph said. “I am still in shock and a bit worried. Allow me time to wrap my mind around this, and I suspect I will be far more logical about it all.”
She, too, seemed to soften. “She does seem better. And I’ll do anything I can to help her.”
“I’m going to go look in on her,” Joseph said, making his way to the doorway. “In the meantime, listen to Dr. Jones and do whatever he recommends.”
She tipped her head a bit to one side. Her eyes narrowed. “You trust him that much?”
Joseph paused long enough to answer, “Implicitly,” before rushing up the stairs.
He trusted him implicitly. It was a reassurance Burke needed more than he’d realized. Alexander’s letter had tossed him into deep waters of doubt. He was struggling not to drown.
“Joseph will see to all his mother’s expenses and all of yours,” Eliza told Sophie. “You really don’t need to work off any debt.”
“He made certain I knew that. I’m offering to help because I am miserable when I’m idle. The Archers are visiting with Mrs. Archer, and I’m not needed there. Please put me to work. I’d be indebted to you.”
“There’s always work to do,” Eliza said. “Especially on Tuesdays.”
“Why Tuesdays?”
“The stage stops on Tuesdays, and the local folks come by to play music and entertain the travelers.”
“They do?” She peeked through the kitchen door and out into the public room. Sure enough, people had gathered in a corner, several instruments among them. “Will they be disappointed that I am the only stage passenger here?”
“Not at all. They gather even when there’s no one here. Music has been a healing balm in this town. I suspect it’ll always be an important part of life here.”
Music had been important in Sophie’s life as well, though she wasn’t able to indulge in it often. She liked to sing but had been told any number of times that her talent was only sufficient to render her efforts uncomfortable. She didn’t wish to embarrass more people than she already had during her brief years amongst Baltimore’s wealthy and influential.
“A great many people here in Hope Springs come from Ireland,” Eliza said. “Gathering to play tunes in the local pub is a way of life there. Our little inn, here, has taken on that role.”
“You’re not Irish,” Sophie said. “I’d guess English.”
“You’d guess rightly. My husband, though, is near about as Irish as they come.”
“Does he join the musicians on Tuesdays?”
Eliza nodded. “He plays the fiddle, and quite well too. He also has a fine singing voice.”
“I like to sing.” Why Sophie shared that part of herself so readily, she couldn’t say.
“Do you? You’re welcome to join the musicians tonight if you’d like.”
“Oh, no. I don’t sing in public.” Not anymore, leastwise. “But I will enjoy listening. While I work.”
Eliza laughed. “I suspect you’re a little stubborn.”
“‘Single-minded’ was the term my father always used.”
“The most helpful task I could give you is to look after the little ones,” Eliza said. “Patrick will wish to play with the musicians, and I’d appreciate being able to put away the supplies our merchant’s son delivered earlier.”
“I’d be delighted,” Sophie said. “I like children, and I don’t get to spend much time with little ones.”
On a blanket on the floor, the O’Connors’ two children sat contentedly. They, no doubt, were quite accustomed to the arrangement, growing up in the inn as they had. The older of the two, a girl likely about four years old, played with a doll. Her baby brother lay on his stomach, attempting valiantly to pick up a wooden block.
Sophie had only just arrived at the blanket herself when the girl called out, “Papa!” Her tone was not one of alarm, so Sophie didn’t think she’d caused the girl any distress.
Patrick looked over from his place among the musicians. “What’s the matter, mo stóirín?”
The little girl’s answer was a pout.
“Are you wanting to sit by me during the music tonight?” He sounded every bit as Irish as his wife had declared him to be.
The girl nodded, her pout only growing.
“What of your wee brother? He’ll not wish to be left alone.”
The poor girl looked ready to cry with disappointment.
“I’ll keep an eye on the boy,” Sophie said.
“You needn’t do that, Miss Kingston.”
“It’d be a pleasure, truly. I like children, and I enjoy music. And if it’ll help your wife see to her tasks for the evening, all the better.”
Patrick scooped up his daughter, who smiled at him with absolute adoration in her eyes. As he carried her over to where the musicians were gathered, he rubbed his close-cut beard against her cheek, and she giggled.
On the blanket, poor Eoin watched his father and sister’s departure with utter dejection.
“Have they abandoned you, sweet boy?” Sophie picked him up, smiling and hoping he accepted the stranger who was suddenly holding him.
He watched her closely but didn’t object. With thick black hair and big blue eyes, he was a shockingly beautiful baby.
“Eoin’s taken a liking to you.” Eliza paused as she walked past. “He isn’t always trusting of people he doesn’t know.”
“I suspect he’s not entirely certain of me yet.” She bounced him a little. His expression didn’t change.
“Where’d Lydia get herself off to?”
Sophie felt certain that was the little girl’s name. “She’s with her papa.”
“Of course she is. Those two are regular peas in a pod.” Eliza’s gaze slid to her husband and daughter. “He sure loves that little girl.”
“And he sure looks like this little boy,” Sophie said.
Eliza nodded emphatically. “We ought to have simply named him Patrick for how much they look alike.”
Sophie continued to gently bounce her armful. “Were both your children born in this country?”
Eliza nodded.
“And did you come to Wyoming directly from England?” Sophie asked.
“No. I lived for a time in New York. I don’t know how that city compares to Baltimore.”
“They are likely not terribly different.” Sophie rocked Eoin. He’d stopped watching her with suspicion but was far from truly relaxed. “Baltimore is quite large. There are some who are well-to-do, many who are comfortable, and a great many who struggle. Some people are happy, some are miserable.”
“Which were you?” Eliza asked.
“Happy most of the time. My family wanted to see me turn heads in Baltimore society. Unfortunately, I did so for all the wrong reasons.”
With a barely concealed look of amusement, Eliza whispered, “Oh, dear.”
“Oh, yes. I was something of a disaster.”
Eliza took up a crate beside the front door and motioned for Sophie to accompany her as she returned to the kitchen. “I’ve only known you a couple of hours, but I can’t imagine you were such a failure as all that.”
“I could tell you stories, Eliza O’Connor.”
With a mischievous grin, she said, “I hope you will.”
From the public room they’d just left, a jaunty tune was struck up.
Sophie listened a moment. “They are very good.”
Eliza nodded. “And when one of our pipers joins, they are also very loud. We thought Mrs. Archer might not appreciate the droning of pipes while she’s recovering, so they are not participating tonight.”
“Can they truly be heard in the doctor’s infirmary?”
“They can be heard throughout the valley.”
Sophie wandered back into the public room, Eoin seemingly content in her arms. The musicians grinned at each other as they played. Laughter was ample. One among them would toss out a tune and the rest would jump in. Those who didn’t know how to play it would tap along to the beat or sing if they knew the words.
Little Lydia watched her papa with the sweetest smile. Eoin perked up anytime Patrick sang, obviously recognizing the sound of his father’s voice.
Listening to the musicians was a joy. How tempted she was to join them, if only to tap on a table in time to the music. She even knew a couple of the songs they chose and could have sung along. But she didn’t dare. She’d made a commitment when accepting Mrs. Archer’s offer of houseroom and support. Not being an embarrassment was an important part of that commitment.
Into the gathering came Dr. Jones. He dipped his head to the musicians as he passed but didn’t pause to enjoy the music.
Sophie watched him as he crossed the room. She’d not taken much time to study the man when they’d first arrived that afternoon. Too much had been happening, and she’d been far too worried. Now, with the immediate crisis passed, she could do so.
He was handsome; there was no denying that. He was also quite somber and focused, to the point she wasn’t certain if he ever smiled. She’d known men like that in Baltimore. They’d always made her feel very gauche and graceless.
Dr. Jones stopped directly in front of her; she, apparently, being the person he’d come to talk with. “The Archers will be returning to their home. Emma wishes to remain and look after her grandmother but isn’t certain what needs to be done. I could only offer medical insights, nothing pertaining to Mrs. Archer’s preferences or comforts.”
“Emma doesn’t need to remain,” Sophie insisted. “I’m happy to look after Mrs. Archer.”
“She worries when people are ill,” Dr. Jones said. “Helping her grandmother will ease her mind.”
Sophie could appreciate that. And she wouldn’t argue.
Eoin was handed over to his mother, and Sophie followed the doctor back to his side of the combined inn and infirmary.
“Is Mrs. Archer doing better this evening?”
He dipped his head. “She is.”
“Seeing her family has helped, I’m certain. She missed them.”
“Loneliness takes a toll on a person,” he said.
There was a great deal of truth in that.
“I suspect that is the reason Mrs. Archer was so adamant about making this journey,” Sophie said. “Family means a lot to her.”
They climbed the stairs.
“Do you have family here in Hope Springs?” she asked him.
He motioned her into the room where Mrs. Archer was staying. “I don’t have family anywhere.”
It was not a declaration made in bitterness or anger. It was almost emotionless. Almost. Underneath his indifferent façade, he seemed a little sad. There wasn’t time for pressing further; he walked away without another word or comment. Perhaps she had upset him, after all.
The last thing she wanted was to create discomfort between Mrs. Archer and her current doctor. Back in Baltimore, Dr. Norwood had spent decades building a rapport with her. Until they were back in his care, trust between Mrs. Archer and Dr. Jones was crucial. Sophie would need to do better in future interactions.
“Sophie, have you noticed how very mature my granddaughter is?” Mrs. Archer asked from her bed.
“I have.” She gave Emma a smile. “You really have grown up quite a lot in the last eighteen months.”
Sophie had already been living with Mrs. Archer the last time her son and his family had visited. Emma was fifteen years old now and was growing into a decidedly pretty young woman. Her hair had darkened and thickened. Her brown eyes were soft and lovely. She carried herself with more maturity than most girls her age, but she’d also passed through more struggles than most.
“I’ve finished school since the last time I saw you,” Emma said. “Our preacher’s wife is the schoolteacher, and she said I’ve learned all she can teach me.”
“What have you been doing with your days?”
“I help Cecily O’Connor create her Braille books. And I work sometimes at the mercantile. And the elder Mrs. O’Connor has been teaching me to make Irish food.”
“And now,” Sophie added, “you get to spend time with your grandmother.”
Emma smiled broadly, looking to Mrs. Archer with very real fondness. “I was sad not to be able to come see you in Baltimore this past winter.”
“I was so sad not to see you that I came all the way here.” Mrs. Archer held her hand out to the girl, who took it gently. “As soon as the doctor says I am strong enough to do so, I mean to spend weeks at your house with your family. We have as much time together as we would have in Baltimore.”
“Mama will like that,” Emma said. “If only because you might keep Ivy occupied enough to give her a bit of peace.”
Mrs. Archer laughed. “Your sister always was very spirited.”
“That hasn’t changed,” Emma said with a smile.
“I’ve learned that, on Tuesdays, the musicians in town gather here at the inn to play music,” Sophie said. “We can come sometimes to hear them.”
“Oh, I would like that,” Mrs. Archer said.
Emma sat on the edge of her grandmother’s bed. “And on Saturdays are the céilís. We never miss those.”
“What is a céilí?” Sophie asked, pouring a glass of water for Mrs. Archer.
“It’s a party like they used to have in Ireland, with music, dancing, food, stories. We’ve been going for years.”
“Sounds delightful,” Mrs. Archer said.
“And even more delightful would be you getting some sleep,” Sophie said. She met the girl’s eye. “If you’ll pull the blanket up and over your grandmother, then we’ll be certain she’s not cold.”
Emma obeyed without hesitation.
“Dr. Jones said the room next to this one is available,” Sophie said. “If you’d like to stay in that one, Emma, you’ll be nearby if your grandmother needs you.” She would have insisted on that role herself, but she suspected the girl wanted to stay. Sophie would find a room at the inn.
They left the door to Mrs. Archer’s room a bit ajar and slipped into the next one over. Sophie’s traveling trunk was in there still. That, however, was something of a stroke of luck. She was able to provide Emma with a nightdress to wear, since she’d not brought any clothes of her own.
“It sounded like the Tuesday musicians were at the inn when you left,” Emma said.
“They were and playing the loveliest music.”
“You should hear the music they play when all of the instruments are together. All the town comes to the céilís, and not exclusively for the food.”
“The entire town?” That sounded delightful.
“Well, almost. Sometimes people don’t feel well or are working on other things and miss a week. And, then there’s Finbarr. He’s never there. He’s never anywhere anymore.”
“Who is Finbarr?”
“He used to work for Papa. He was our friend when we were little. But he has his own house now and no one sees him anymore. Not even his family.”
“Is he shy?”
Emma shook her head. “He just likes to be alone.”
This town had weekly parties, talented musicians, a pub-like inn, a wealthy East Coast businessman, a shockingly intriguing doctor, and, apparently, a resident hermit.
Hope Springs was proving more interesting by the moment.
Burke ought to have been working on the needed additions to his infirmary—furniture and shelving and such—but he had a patient convalescing in one of the rooms and her family members trickling in and out. Disturbing her rest was not advisable.
So, he was on the other side of the dividing wall, helping Patrick O’Connor make similar improvements at the inn. Money was hardly abundant in Hope Springs, and this dream of Eliza and Patrick’s was taking time to be realized.
Burke sanded the corners of a chair Patrick had finished piecing together that morning. His friend and neighbor was already building another. From Patrick, Burke had learned to make furniture, a skill he’d not had before. And in return, Burke had taught him more about caring for ailing animals. As the inn was charged with the keeping and care of a team of the stage company’s horses, knowing how to keep the animals in good health was crucial.
