Finbarr answered by walking to the window, his back to the room.
“Isn’t he happy to have us visit?” Emma asked quietly.
“He’s had a difficult morning,” Tavish said. “He’ll be happy as a cat in a fish market soon enough.”
No matter that Emma was only ten years old, she no doubt saw through Tavish’s unwarranted optimism.
“Would you mind, terribly, if we borrowed your table for a bit?” Katie asked. “Emma is helping me with my reading, but Ivy’s being disruptive. We need a quiet place.”
As far as excuses went, it was the most creative Cecily had heard yet. Biddy had explained her arrival at her brother-in-law’s house as a quiet place to get the baby to sleep. Mary had insisted she’d come to do some cleaning.
“A lantern is on the table,” Tavish said. “You are welcome to practice there.”
Whenever he spoke to Katie, an unmistakable discomfort mingled with fondness touched Tavish’s tone. And he kept a noticeable distance. A history existed between the two of them; Cecily was sure of it.
She busied herself searching for the boots Finbarr was supposed to have laced. She found them still under the end table, where she placed them every day. She ran her fingers along them. The laces hung limply from the lowest eyelets.
“Finbarr, come here, please.”
He didn’t respond. His footsteps didn’t draw nearer.
“Do as you’re told, lad,” Tavish said firmly.
“Stop ordering me around.” Finbarr’s lack of independence bothered him. If only he understood that independence was exactly what she was offering him. “I’m not a child.”
“Only a child would throw a fit this way.” Tavish’s patience was growing uncharacteristically thin. Both of these O’Connor men were reaching their limits. Maybe that’s what it would take.
“I don’t throw fits.” Finbarr’s voice grew louder, more angry.
“You are throwing one now.” Tavish’s tone was quickly coming to match his brother’s.
“Tavish, enough,” Cecily insisted. Finbarr’s usual petulance had grown to something more, and she didn’t want to push him. “Finbarr, here are the boots you are supposed to be lacing. You must keep working on them. Once you can manage that skill without difficulty, we can move on to something else.”
He remained firmly on the other side of the room, half of his silhouette illuminated by light coming in the window behind him. He did that a lot, keeping near windows when the sun was up, or near the fireplace when the light outside was dim. He was clinging to what little sight he had, a tendency she understood all too well. But he needed to learn to be comfortable in the darkness also.
Long minutes passed without Finbarr coming any nearer the boots. He remained standing at the window, ignoring them all. Katie and Emma undertook their reading lesson. Up in the loft, Tavish pounded away at the railing he was reinforcing. Cecily kept near the hearth, debating.
What if she was taking the wrong approach this time? Her students almost always fought the need to relearn tasks. But this was different. The famous Irish stubbornness, perhaps? Or was it something bigger she was simply not aware of?
If she didn’t see at least a small improvement soon, she’d have no choice but to plan her departure. Her heart broke at the idea of giving up on someone as lost and afraid as Finbarr. She knew that he would continue to entrench himself ever further in his isolation. He’d never find his way back again.
I can’t lose Finbarr, not when he’s so close. She could sense that his walls were on the verge of cracking; she simply needed to find the right brick to pull out.
The reading lesson was ongoing at the table.
“That’s an odd way to spell the word through,” Katie said. “Seems to me you’ve a few extra letters.”
“English is strange,” Emma said. “Papa told me that.”
“I fear you’ll be reading to me for the rest of forever.” Katie laughed a little. “I don’t know that I’ll ever master this.”
“You will,” Emma said earnestly. “It takes time, is all. And patience.”
Perhaps Emma could give Finbarr similar words of encouragement. She was telling Katie exactly what he needed to hear.
Cecily sat at the table, a bit apart from the visitors, and listened. Emma was quite good at explaining things in clear terms. She corrected without belittling, was patient, and clearly wanted to help. She would make a fine teacher one day if she chose to become one.
“Finbarr, lad,” Tavish spoke from the loft far above all their heads, “you’ve not done the boots as Miss Attwater asked. It’ll not take you but a moment if you put your mind to the task.”
“I could help,” Emma quickly offered. “I could tell you if you’ve missed a hole or done something crooked.”
“I don’t need help from you,” Finbarr muttered.
“But you haven’t finished the boots,” Emma pointed out. “I could help.”
“I don’t want you to.”
“I’m a good helper,” she pled.
“You’ve helped enough.” His earlier mutter gave way to stinging tones. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be like this in the first place.”
The house went utterly silent. Not so much as the rustling of clothing or a single breath broke the moment. What had he meant “if it weren't for you”? What did Emma Archer have to do with Finbarr’s blindness?
Into the tense quiet, Emma whispered, “I am so sorry.” Her words broke with emotion. “It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault.”
Small footsteps fled the room. Katie’s chair scraped as she rushed from the table, following her little girl. Was there anyone in this town not drowning in hidden sorrows? Tavish’s heavy footfalls sounded on the latter rungs.
“Finbarr O’Connor, what the blazes are you thinking?”
Cecily jumped up. “Leave us for a minute, Tavish. Go see if you can soothe Emma.”
For once, the man didn’t question her.
Once alone with Finbarr, Cecily spoke. “I have tried these past days to determine who you are. It seems I have my answer now. You are a young man who makes little girls cry, who chooses the words you know will hurt the most. Emma tenderly reached out to you again and again, and you verbally slapped her without the smallest hint of remorse.”
Finbarr didn’t respond, didn’t defend himself. He simply stood silently.
“I can teach you to function in a world you cannot see. I can teach you to thrive, even without your sight. But I cannot teach you to have a heart. I cannot teach you to be a kind person if you are determined to be cruel.”
She allowed a moment for that to sink in. He was on a dangerous slope. If not corrected, this path would leave him bitter and alone. This moment, she knew, would either make or break him.
“I am going back to Mrs. Claire’s home for the remainder of the day. Tomorrow, I will decide if there is any point in staying and trying to help you.” She crossed with determined stride to the door. “Think about what you have become, Finbarr O’Connor. Think about whether that is who you want to be.”
Chapter Fourteen
Tavish paced the length of his small porch, fighting the anger and worry building inside. Finbarr’s words had been cruel. Vicious. That he’d been injured while helping Emma escape a tragic fire did not make his blindness her fault. But Tavish’d wager Emma already blamed herself. So to strike out at her with that guilt was in-excusable.
Tavish had tried to offer some comfort, but the poor child had been inconsolable. Katie had taken her home. Cecily had left as well, telling him only that she needed to decide if Finbarr was beyond her help.
What’ll we do if he is?
The lad couldn’t go on as he was. Perhaps they would have to take him to that school in Missouri. Leave him there, hoping someone could get through to him.
No. They couldn’t do that. Ma’d never recover. Da had only just begun returning to himself. Ian was struggling, which meant Biddy bore a heavy burden. The entire O’Co
nnor clan felt a breath away from falling to bits. Sending Finbarr to St. Louis would be disastrous. Unless, of course, he began lashing out at the family as well.
Tavish leaned his forehead against a porch post. What was he going to do?
The door opened.
“Tavish?” Finbarr asked hesitantly.
“Aye.”
“Would you please drive me to the Archers’ house?” His question lacked all the angry defiance that had punctuated his words of late.
“That’d depend on what you mean to do once you’re there. I’ll not subject Miss Emma to any more of your spite.”
Finbarr paled. “I won’t hurt her again. I swear to it.”
Tavish wanted to believe him, and he hated that he couldn’t entirely. “Joseph will’ve heard about your sharp words. He’s likely to skin you alive when you knock at his door.”
“I know.”
“And I’d not put it past Katie to give you a lashing of her own,” Tavish added.
“I know.”
It might do the boy some good to get chewed up and spit out. Whether he ever learned to function well in his blindness, he could not go about hurting the people who cared for him.
“I’ll hitch up the wagon,” Tavish said.
Finbarr spoke not a word as they drove up the road and over the bridge that spanned Hope Springs’ river. Joseph’s home sat just on the other side.
“Can you climb down on your own, then?” Tavish asked upon bringing the wagon to a stop beside the Archer home. He’d taken to applying Cecily’s advice of giving Finbarr every opportunity to do for himself.
Finbarr nodded silently and carefully made his way to the ground. Tavish wrapped the horse’s reins around the hitching post, then joined his brother on the front walk.
“I’m not sure which way to go,” Finbarr admitted. He sounded more like he had in the first months after the fire. Far less bitter and defiant. Far more afraid and alone.
Tavish set his hand on Finbarr’s back and applied a small bit of pressure, guiding him toward the house.
“The first of the steps is just at your toes,” he said. They slowly climbed to the porch. When they stood within arm’s length of the door, he said, “Reach out and knock. A good, solid rap so they’ll hear it.”
Finbarr’s hand shook as he held his arm out, his fingertips searching for the door. He took a breath, folded his fingers into a fist, and knocked. Tavish pushed down the surge of protectiveness he felt. The lad needed to suffer the consequences of what he’d said and the pain he’d inflicted.
Mrs. Smith, the Archers’ housekeeper, answered. “What do you want?” The sternness of her expression was more unnerving than usual, and that was a feat.
When Finbarr didn’t immediately answer, Tavish decided to make certain the lad knew Mrs. Smith’s question had been directed at him. “Answer her, then, lad.”
“May I speak to Mr. or Mrs. Archer?”
Tavish hadn’t expected that request. ’Twas Emma to whom Finbarr owed an apology.
“I’ll see if they’ll oblige you,” Mrs. Smith said. “You may wait there.”
Finbarr had once worked for Joseph, had once been as near to family as a person could get without being blood, and he was being made to bide his time. ’Twas a sure sign his welcome was a shaky one.
Only a moment later, Joseph stepped out, silent and stern. He pulled the door closed behind him. “Perhaps, Finbarr, you’d be so good as to tell me why my daughter is weeping?”
Though Joseph’s ire wasn’t directed at Tavish, the intensity of it sent a shiver of apprehension through him.
“I said some things to her I shouldn’t have,” Finbarr said softly. “Things I didn’t really mean. Things that aren’t true.”
“Do you realize that she believes they are? Do you realize, son, how much she blames herself for all the suffering of that night?” Joseph’s calm declaration snapped like a flag in a gale. His words visibly sliced into Finbarr. Tavish had to take a step back to prevent himself from rescuing his brother from the much-deserved lashing. “She didn’t set that fire. She didn’t do anything to prevent you from escaping in time. Yet she carries a burden of guilt that is crushing her. In one thoughtless moment, you have undone what little progress Katie and I have made these past months.”
“I know,” Finbarr whispered.
“I was reluctant to send Emma with Katie today, afraid that seeing you struggling would cause her pain. I never entertained the possibility that you, yourself, would inflict that pain directly, callously, purposely.”
“I’m sorry.” Was Finbarr tearing up? Tavish hadn’t seen him cry since the fire. Not once.
“Her fragile heart aches, worrying over whether you are well, if you have ‘forgiven’ her, fearing that you hate her for what happened to you. She loves you so deeply, and you have shattered her.”
Finbarr hung his head.
“I will allow you to apologize to Emma,” Joseph said. “Katie will be at her side, fiercely protecting her. If I’ve learned anything this past year, it’s that one should never cross an Irishwoman where her family is concerned.”
That was as true as the day was long.
Joseph waved someone over from inside. A moment later Emma, holding fast to Katie’s hand, stepped onto the porch.
Tavish whispered, “Emma is here. She’s standing a pace or two in front of you.”
Finbarr must have been able to make out their silhouettes; his gaze was directed toward them. “I came to tell you how sorry I am,” he said. “I was cruel to you, and I shouldn’t have been.”
Emma didn’t speak, didn’t move. She eyed Finbarr with equal parts fear and pain. Tavish didn’t know how much of that his brother could see.
“I am sorry,” Finbarr said.
“I come to see you all the time,” Emma said. “And you are never happy that I’m there. You never listen to me or talk to me. You did today, but only so you could say something unkind.” Her voice broke, but she pressed on. “All you do is hurt people. You hurt them and hurt them. I would rather not have any friends than to have a friend like that.”
Finbarr had turned utterly ashen.
“You should go home.” Emma held her head high in a show of firmness, but her quivering chin told another story. Beneath her resolve, the poor child’s heart was breaking. “And I don’t think you should come back.”
With that, she rushed back into the house, Katie close on her heels. Joseph’s gaze remained on the doorway, where his wife and daughter had been only a moment earlier. For his part, Tavish stood mute, caught entirely off guard by Emma’s response.
Without warning, a sob shuddered through Finbarr; his whole frame shook with it. He reached out, his palm pressing flat against the side of the house. His breaths caught one after the other as he set his back against the wall and slid to the porch, his legs bent in front of him, his arms on his knees, and his head hanging.
“I hadn’t expected her to reject you so wholly,” Joseph said, “but I can’t say I blame her. Nor will I ask her to place herself once more in a position of pain, not even for someone I care about as much as I do you, Finbarr. I’m sorry.”
When Finbarr didn’t answer, or even raise his head, Joseph turned his gaze to Tavish.
“Go on,” Tavish recognized Joseph's dilemma and released him from it. “See to your family. I’ll see to mine.”
A quick nod, and then Joseph was gone, the door closed behind him. Tavish crossed to his brother and sat beside him.
“I hurt her.” Finbarr’s words were garbled with tears. “I was cruel, and I hurt her.”
“That you did, and you did a terribly precise job of it. But this is not who you are. This pain and anger are not you. If you keep clinging to them, though, they’ll change you, and not for the better. You have to let go of your bitterness.”
“I don’t know how,” Finbarr said through his tears, his head still buried in his arms.
“I can’t say that I do, either.” He had been carry
ing his own pain and unhappiness these past six years, ever since his Bridget died. If he was being fully honest, that hurt had played a role in his failed courtship of Katie. And her choosing Joseph over him had only added to it.
“I feel myself getting angrier all the time,” Finbarr said. “And I want to lash out at people, and throw things, and hit things. I—I don’t recognize myself. I don’t know who I am anymore.”
Seeing the lad’s armor crack sent a radiating ache through Tavish’s heart. “Maybe knowing you’re not the person you want to be is part of changing the path you’re on.”
Finbarr took a shaky breath.
“And maybe part of moving down that road is doing some of the things Cecily’s been trying to teach you.”
“She makes me angry,” he admitted, though much of the sting had left his tone. “She doesn’t care that things are hard or frustrating.”
That didn’t ring quite true. “I think she does care,” Tavish said. “She simply worries that you’ll give up if she doesn’t keep pushing.”
Another moment passed in silence. Tavish would sit there beside him for as long as he needed him to.
Finbarr slowly regained his composure. Tavish let him sit and think. He didn’t know what exactly had happened that day, nor if it would help Finbarr heal. But he hoped and prayed that it would.
He wanted his brother back.
Chapter Fifteen
Cecily struggled to focus on counting her steps as she made her way to Tavish’s house the next day. The sky was dimmer in the mornings than it had been. She needed to concentrate but found she couldn’t.
If she arrived and found Finbarr every bit as defiant as before, she would call an end to her efforts as his teacher. She refused to waste his family’s hard-earned money. She’d had to make that choice only a few times before, but those students still weighed on her conscience. Giving up on people did not come naturally to her.
Finbarr needed what she could give him. He needed it. If only he would try.
Tavish opened the door. She knew it was him by the height of his silhouette and the breadth of his shoulders. Finbarr was understandably smaller in those respects.
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