Choices of the Heart, page 7
“And I think it shows he hasn’t entirely cut himself off from everyone.”
“I worry about that.” Her shoulders drooped a little. “No one sees him anymore. Though Madra is good for him, he can’t be happy tucked away as he is away from every person who loves him.”
“If it sets your mind at ease, he did not seem unhappy.”
She studied him. “But he likely also didn’t seem happy.”
Burke couldn’t disagree with that. “I wish I could offer you a more detailed and expert assessment. I don’t know him as well as you do.”
“Sometimes I’m not certain I know him anymore, either.”
He didn’t like how heavy her expression had become. Easing worries was an important part of his job. “Living on his own is a new experience. He may simply still be adjusting.”
“He has lived there for over a year,” Mrs. O’Connor said. “I don’t think he is still adjusting. I’m all but certain this distance from us is what he wants.”
“When I first arrived in Chicago to undertake my medical education, I fully embraced the life of a hermit. I had lived all my life in a loud and chaotic orphanage. The idea of space enough to breathe appealed more than I’d expected it to.”
She smiled a little. “Our family can be a bit suffocating.”
Burke patted her hand. “Give him time. I believe he’ll come back to you when he’s ready.”
“What if he doesn’t?” Mrs. O’Connor didn’t often slip from her usual optimism. Seeing her struggling now pulled fiercely at the heart.
“I don’t believe this town will give up on him. Neither will this family.”
“I suspect Emma Archer has.” Mrs. O’Connor sighed. “None of us blames her—he caused her such pain, there’s no denying that—but it still breaks m’ heart a little. They’d such a sweet connection. Seeing it still severed is a reminder of how much pain they’re both in. If only he’d let his family love him. We could help him so much.”
“I did, in time, outgrow my need for isolation,” Burke said. “I made some very good friends in school, many of whom I’m still in contact with.”
“Did you?” Seeing a bit of hope re-enter her expression did him good.
“One of them, Dr. Montgomery, is planning to come visit Hope Springs.”
Mrs. O’Connor turned and faced her family. “Dr. Jones has a visitor coming. Another doctor.”
That sent the room into a flurry. Excitement over a new arrival mingled with insistence that the new doctor be brought to the céilí and invited to a family gathering. Questions were tossed out. Alexander might not find Hope Springs impressive, but he would certainly find it enthusiastic.
In the midst of the avalanche of inquiries, Sophie stepped inside the inn. The O’Connors’ focus turned immediately to her. She was forthwith supplied with a place to sit, a plate of food, and words of sincere welcome. Burke was treated to a few too many knowing looks from the O’Connor men.
“The céilí yesterday was delightful,” Sophie declared. “I don’t think I have ever left a social event as exhausted as I did last night.”
“Then we consider the night a success,” Tavish said.
“Don’t grow too confident,” Sophie said with a twinkle in her eyes. “Now that I know exhaustion is your goal, I intend to come fully rested and ready to outlast everyone.”
The family laughed and accepted her challenge. How quickly and easily she fit among them. Burke had needed more than a year to really find his place in Hope Springs. He was bumbling in comparison.
She looked so at home among them. Her lovely smile never wavered. Her beautiful gray eyes danced with delight. Even when she’d arrived in Hope Springs, her appearance a bit scattered on account of her journey and her worries, she’d been startlingly pretty. No one seeing her could think otherwise.
“Are the parties you’ve attended in Baltimore as enjoyable as ours here?” Eliza asked.
“Not remotely,” Sophie insisted. “But only because they do not have Katie’s berry tarts.”
That earned her a laugh. She smiled ever more broadly. The O’Connors liked to tease him about the pull he felt to her, but how could he help feeling it? She was personable and beautiful and clever.
“Did you know our Tavish grows those berries?” Mr. O’Connor said, beaming with pride.
“Truly?” Sophie appeared sincerely impressed.
What would that be like? Having a father who was proud of him? Being impressive to even high society women?
It seemed Burke was confused about more than just his reaction to Sophie. He felt upended about absolutely everything.
While the O’Connors were distracted, he slipped from the inn and across the covered porch to his own front door. The house beyond was quiet. That seemed the way of it: either silent or chaotic, with little in between.
He let himself in and wandered to the sitting room. Alexander’s visit was looming. He had plenty to do before his friend’s arrival and a rare quiet evening in which to work on it, yet he couldn’t seem to summon the motivation.
Through the wall separating his home and infirmary from the inn, a burst of laughter echoed. The O’Connors were always lively when they were together. It was a nice sound. It added something to what was often a lonely space.
He wanted to convince Alexander, when he arrived, that this practice and life he was building was exciting and impressive and satisfying. He wanted to believe it himself.
But he was struggling.
Sophie had visited the inn every day since Sunday. She had found in Eliza O’Connor a ready friend and in Patrick O’Connor something of a brother. How odd it was that she had been in Hope Springs only a week and already felt as welcome as she ever had in Baltimore. She planned her visit on Tuesday to coincide with the weekly music session. There were two stagecoach travelers breaking their journey there that night.
The musicians seemed particularly excited to have an audience. Eliza seemed particularly busy.
“Please let me help,” Sophie said. “I haven’t any experience, but I’m eager to learn and like being helpful.”
“I won’t turn you down,” Eliza said. “Supper is ready to be taken out to the stage passengers in the public room. If you’ll do that, I can go upstairs and make certain their room is ready.”
Sophie took on the task without hesitation. She carefully carried the two large plates, generously filled with Eliza’s famous cooking. She set them on the table where the travelers were sitting. They thanked her, though their eyes wandered quickly back to the musicians.
“Who’d have thought there’d be such talent at such an isolated inn,” the man at the table said.
“They really are remarkable, aren’t they?" Sophie said. “Makes for a nice way to pause a journey.”
“It does,” the woman said.
“There seems to be such a variety of people in this little place. The couple who runs the inn are from England and Ireland, if their voices are any indication. I heard among the musicians someone who sounds as if he’s from somewhere in the South. You sound like you’re from the East.”
Sophie nodded. “I am. I’m from Baltimore.”
“You’re a long way from home,” the woman said.
“Strangely enough,” Sophie said, “I feel like I’ve finally come home.”
The woman nodded and smiled. “It’s a fine thing to find an inn like this that feels less like a lodging house and more like a home.”
It was a good description. Sophie had heard from many that the town, itself, preferred to keep those traveling more or less unaware of the rest of the town. So she chose not to discuss Hope Springs and what it offered. But she had no hesitation praising the inn. “The O’Connors do a fine job here. It’s appreciated by everyone who stays.”
She left the guests to enjoy their meal and listen to the music. She slipped over closer to the musicians. The O’Connor children were nearby, no doubt so Patrick could keep an eye on them while he played. They looked perfectly content.
The musicians’ water pitcher was all but empty, so Sophie snatched it up and returned to the kitchen. The water barrel Eliza filled each morning for use throughout the day was empty, so Sophie took up two buckets and made her way to the pump in the back.
Not far in the distance she could see Burke. He stood under a tall roof, beneath which was a pile of straw. He was putting that straw inside of something, though she couldn’t quite make out what it was.
She’d crossed paths with him each time she’d come to the inn the last couple of days. But unlike at the céilí, he’d been distant and even a little bit cold. She couldn’t make heads nor tails of it. Had she done something to upset him? Had he decided so quickly that her company was not as desirable as he’d thought at first? Others had reached the conclusion in the past, but it usually took more than a week.
She pumped water into one of the buckets as she watched him working. She liked Burke Jones. She’d not known him long enough for that liking to be described as anything bigger, but it was sincere. Why, then, did it bother her so much that he was pulling away? She’d certainly shrugged off rejections before. Maybe it was just that, otherwise, she felt so accepted in this town. She’d let her guard down; rejection now would hurt more.
She had both buckets filled before coming to any conclusions where Burke Jones was concerned. She had jokingly told him the previous week that she was good at puzzles and meant to piece together his. That declaration now felt overly confident.
Sophie took one bucket in each hand and began walking back toward the inn. The load was heavier than she’d anticipated. Perhaps she ought to have done this one bucket at a time. After a few steps, she set them down, allowing herself to rest. But when she reached down to pick them up once more, another hand slipped in the way. Burke had come over.
“Let me carry one of them,” he said. “Water’s heavier than it seems.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I didn’t realize you’d seen me over here.”
“I saw you.”
“Then why didn’t you say something? Offer a greeting?”
“Why didn’t you?”
That was fair enough, she supposed. “Are you going to come listen to the musicians?”
He shook his head. “I need to finish stuffing this mattress and tick. Today’s arrivals came without complaints or concerns, so I’ve a rare bit of time to myself. It’s hard to say when that will happen again.”
“You didn’t have patients last night, either,” she said, “but you still didn’t come over to the inn and spend time with us.”
“There’s always work to do. I was seeing to it.”
They’d reached the back door. She studied him a moment. “If I didn’t know better, Burke, I would think you didn’t want to spend time with me.”
He opened the door and motioned her through. “Ask anyone hereabout. Keeping to myself is an old established pattern of mine.”
“I have asked people, and they’ve said that hasn’t been the case with you in a while.”
He set his bucket on the worktop. “Well, I’m re-adopting it.”
On that declaration, he left.
He hadn’t spoken with any unkindness, and yet she felt the sting. She realized she didn’t know him well, but she felt she understood him enough to recognize that it was a strange declaration for him to make. She had heard from the O’Connors that when Burke had first arrived, he’d been a bit quieter, a bit more withdrawn, and a bit less social, but he’d opened up more over the last year. He still was not the storyteller that Seamus was, or the eager dancer that Ivy had shown herself to be. But he enjoyed the people of Hope Springs, and he interacted with them regularly.
This change was decidedly odd. And it was made even more so by the fact that he had, until the last two days, been increasingly friendly with her. They’d walked out to Finbarr O’Connor’s house, talking about their lives and experiences. He’d been kind and friendly while they danced at the céilí. And now, suddenly, he was firmly embracing his solitude. Was this, truly, the result of something she had said or done?
She dumped the buckets of water into the barrel in the kitchen, then filled the water pitcher. She carried it back out into the public room, setting it amongst the musicians. They thanked her with nods of acknowledgment.
Sophie walked past the table where the travelers were sitting and asked if there was anything else they needed. They insisted there was not, so she sat herself on the patchwork quilt with the little ones. Current Baltimore fashions included too large a bustle—made large by a crinolette worn beneath the skirt—for a woman to even imagine sitting on the floor. But she’d left off the crinolette the last few days, wearing only the smaller and softer bustle supports beneath her dress. None of the women of Hope Springs wore bustled dresses. Joining them in their fashions had given her more physical freedom.
Eoin had grown less distrustful of her over the days she’d been coming by, and he crawled onto her lap. She held him and bounced him about as the musicians continued a jaunty tune. Lydia spun in a circle, singing along, though she clearly didn’t know all the words. It was a lovely sight and wonderful feeling. The musical evenings she’d attended in Baltimore might’ve been more sophisticated, but they didn’t match this one for sheer joy.
The only thing marring it was the question that hung over her mind regarding Burke. Sophie was accustomed to rejection, but she didn’t enjoy it. The experience was made ever more poignant by the fact that, in every other respect, Hope Springs had been a reprieve from the weight and worries of Baltimore.
Eliza returned to the public room. She spotted Sophie sitting on the floor with her children and smiled broadly as she crossed to them.
“Well, wouldn’t Baltimore society be surprised to see you sitting on the floor?”
“Honestly,” she said, “they likely wouldn’t be terribly surprised. I’ve something of a reputation for being odd.”
“Well, Hope Springs has something of a reputation for enjoying people who are a bit odd. I’d say you came to the right place.”
Sophie felt the truth of that.
Eoin reached out for his mother, and she scooped him up. Lydia was perfectly content to continue dancing. Sophie got to her feet as well. She brushed the dust off her dress.
To Eliza, she said, “If there isn’t anything else I can do for you, I think I’m going to go visit Dr. Jones.”
Eliza looked intrigued. “Are you? He seemed a bit unsocial last evening. And the evening before that.”
“And the evening before that,” Sophie added dryly.
“Could be he’s a bear with a sore paw at the moment.” Eliza spoke in a tone of warning.
The Sophie who made her home in Baltimore would have taken that warning and kept a distance. The Sophie she had discovered in Hope Springs meant to take the risk.
She slipped to the back of the inn once more and made her way over to where Burke was. He looked up as she approached but didn’t say anything. She stood near him, set her hands on her hips, and did her best impression of Eliza’s friendly boldness. “What did you mean when you said you are re-adopting your habit of avoiding people?”
“I think the phrase is self-explanatory,” he said.
“Then why are you doing it? No one seems to be able to sort out that mystery.”
“You told me you enjoy puzzles. Perhaps I’m simply choosing to present you with one.”
“The only thing that has changed in recent days is me. You were social and enjoying your neighbors when I arrived, and now you’ve gone back to avoiding people. Did I do something?” Sophie’s temerity was surprising even her.
Burke shook his head as he resumed his work putting straw in the large flat bag. “I simply have a lot I’m working on. I don’t have a great deal of time for distractions.”
She fought a smile but wasn’t certain she was successful. “You find me distracting?”
He looked up at her once more. The surprise there gave way to a bit of amusement. “Yes. Though there are other things too.”
“I don’t have to be the entire list, I’m simply glad to be on it.”
He laughed. She chose to see that as an encouraging sign.
“Can I help you with whatever it is you’re working on?” she asked.
“It’s not particularly hard work, but if you don’t have gloves, you’ll get splinters. And I only have the pair I’m wearing.”
“I could hold the… bag”—she wasn’t certain that was the right descriptor— “while you put the straw in.”
“It’s a tick for the bed in the third room,” he explained. “If you’d be willing to hold it open, I won’t say no.”
She offered to help with something she hadn’t the least experience with, the sort of thing her friends and family in Baltimore would’ve been shocked to come across let alone participate in, and twice that evening her offer had been readily accepted.
She took up the open edge of the tick and held it up. He kept at his part of the effort, moving a bit quicker than he had before. She hoped that meant she was proving helpful.
“Why is it that the things you need to be working on have become so urgent?” she asked. “You’ve been here a couple of years now, and from what I’m told only lately have you become so earnest about fixing it.”
“It’s not so much fixing as finishing. I’ve been slowly accumulating what I needed but wasn’t quite done yet.”
“And have the unfinished bits been causing you difficulties?” she asked.
He shook his head. “But it needs to be done.”
“Why now?”
“A friend of mine is coming to visit, a fellow doctor I met while we were both students in Chicago.”
“And you are required to have a finished infirmary for him to visit?” Sophie wasn’t certain she understood.
“I’d like him to see what I’ve built here, what I’ve accomplished. Arriving to find an unfinished infirmary would be—” He searched around for the word.
“Accurate?” She suggested a bit dryly. “There are challenges to being a doctor on the frontier. You don’t have ready access to supplies. The people you take care of aren’t wealthy. Even with that, you have made tremendous progress.”
