Deirdre nodded, her beautiful eyes filled with sorrow. “I thought death was the worst that could happen, but I wonder now if what Lorena suffered wasn’t even more painful.” She gripped Declan’s hand. “Be patient with her. Her fears will resurface and will take time for her to overcome. But she can overcome them. I promise.”
“What can you overcome?” Ardan asked with a frown. “And why are you makin’ my wife cry?” he asked in an accusatory tone to his younger brother. He pulled his wife into his side, hugging her close. “Love?” he whispered.
“I’m fine,” she murmured into his chest. “I was thinking about Lydia.”
“Ah, love,” he said, as he held her close and kissed her head. “The café’s closed, love, and Declan and I can finish cleaning up down here. Why not rest?”
“Or go spend time with the women of the family?” Declan said.
Deirdre nodded, kissing Ardan on his cheek. “I don’t have the opportunity to spend time with them as I’d like. I’ll be home soon.”
Ardan motioned for Declan to start scrubbing down the counters, as he walked with his wife to his parents’ house. Declan washed down the counters and then moved to the stove, polishing it for the next day’s work. When Ardan returned, he was sweeping the floor. “Everything all right?”
“We entered at a rather emotional moment, but ’twill be all right. They were delighted at Deirdre’s arrival.” He moved around the kitchen, putting away pans before nodding with satisfaction that the kitchen was clean. “Come. Da will walk Deir home. Let’s have a chat upstairs.”
Declan followed his eldest brother upstairs, settling on one of the comfortable chairs in their sitting room. After accepting a small glass of whiskey, he raised it to his brother. “Sláinte.” He sighed after taking his first sip.
Ardan sat in a chair facing him, with his long legs stretched out in front of him. “Are you well, Dec?”
Declan sat, matching his eldest brother’s relaxed pose, although a tension thrummed through him. “How did you do it?” he asked. When Ardan stared at him in confusion, he asked, “How did you convince her to trust you? To believe in your love?”
“Ah,” Ardan murmured. “Time and constancy.” He shrugged. “And she was terrified I was to leave her. To head to Saint Louis. She realized her fear of losing me was greater than her desire to hold onto the pain of the past.”
Declan groaned. “I’m not leaving my wife.”
Ardan chuckled. “Of course you’re not. You’d be daft to. And you’d receive no end of abuse from all of us if you did.” He paused. “But you can show your constancy and your love.”
Leaning forward, Declan rested his elbows on his knees. “I’m already doing that, but it’s not enough.”
Sighing, Ardan shook his head. “It takes time, Dec.”
“She lost a child,” he murmured, sharing a tormented glance with his brother. “She had to give away her baby daughter to be accepted back into her family.”
“Ah,” Ardan murmured again. “I’d think she’d resent you and all of us.” At Declan’s quizzical stare, he spoke in a low voice. “You return with a baby, and all we feel is joy at your return. How must that have made her feel?”
Declan rose, pacing around the room, until he came to face the window. “She says she admired us. Envied us.”
“Aye, but resentment is a kissin’ cousin of envy,” Ardan said in a wry tone. “You have to help your lass through all she’s feelin’. Those kinds of emotions can bring shame, an’ you know as well as I do that we don’t like admittin’ to them.”
Sighing, Declan leaned against the windowsill. “Aye,” he said in a soft voice. “I fear she’s too used to shrouding herself in a cloak of numbness, so she hasn’t had to feel.” He looked at his older brother.
“Well, now that she’s married an O’Rourke, she won’t have that luxury anymore,” Ardan said with a wry smile.
Declan chuckled and settled in for a more lighthearted chat with his eldest brother.
* * *
Lorena sat in silence, as the women around her stared at her. The only sounds were that of the distant voices of Seamus and his boys, chatting in the living room. Everything in the warm kitchen was silent, even the large stove seemed to understand the solemnity of the moment. Lorena looked from one stunned face to another, hoping to see any hint of understanding. Compassion. Concern. “I beg your pardon,” she whispered. “I should never have dared speak of … of …”
Phoebe leaped from her chair, yanking her eldest sister into her arms. A sob burst forth as she held her sister, and she clung to her. “Oh, Lo!” she cried out. “I can’t believe what you suffered. I can’t believe I never knew.” She backed away, the tears streaking down her cheeks, as she gazed at her sister with all the love, devotion, and worry Lorena had always dreamed of seeing. “You’re so brave. So stoic. I could never have borne such a loss alone.” She threw her arms around Lorena again, clinging to her like a burr.
“Forgive me, Phoebe,” Lorena whispered. “For being envious of you.”
“No, never, no,” Phoebe said, finally pushing away to gaze at her sister with intense love. “You have every right, my darling sister.” She swiped at her cheeks with the palm of her hand. “My greatest hope is that this won’t prevent you from desiring to be aunt to my babe.”
“Never,” Lorena vowed, her voice cracking. She grunted as Maggie threw herself into her arms, and she held the younger woman tightly to her.
“You’re courageous and honorable. You did what you believed you had to do,” Maggie said, as she backed away, her brilliant blue eyes brighter, due to the tears she had yet to shed. “Never doubt you are an O’Rourke nor that we’re proud to have you in our family.”
Tears silently coursed down Lorena’s cheeks, as she saw Niamh, Deirdre, and Aileen nod their agreement. She turned to look at Mary, who watched her with a solemn intensity.
“What was your child’s name?” Mary asked in a soft voice.
Lorena took a deep breath, nodding in soft acknowledgment to her mother-in-law. “Faith,” she whispered.
Mary smiled, as Deirdre stifled a sob and leaned her head against Aileen’s shoulder. “Faith,” Mary said. “How strong you must have been, to entrust your beautiful babe to another.” Mary nodded. “Aye, you had faith.”
Lorena shrugged. “I didn’t know what else to call her. My heart broke as I handed her … handed her …” She shook her head, unable to speak of the moment she gave away her baby. “I failed her,” she whispered. “I hoped her name would help her.”
“No,” Mary said in a strident voice. “You never failed her. You found a way, as too many women have had to do, to find a way.” She looked at the women in the room, daughters by blood and by heart, before focusing on Lorena again. “Unlike me, you couldn’t find a man to take you on. To tolerate your daughter. Not in the middle of a war.” She took a shaky breath. “You found the only solution available to you. Take pride in the fact you protected her.”
Lorena lost her battle with tears and fell forward into her mother-in-law’s arms. For the first time since she could remember, she felt a mother’s love.
* * *
Seamus rested in bed, as he watched Mary putter around their small room. Rather than her purposeful movements as she prepared for bed, she paused frequently, easily distracted. “What is it, love?” he murmured, as he watched her uncharacteristic actions.
She jolted and stared at him. “Shay,” she breathed, her distant gaze focusing on him. “I was lost to memories for a moment.” Crossing to him, she pressed her forehead against his, taking solace from his presence and his constancy.
He wrapped his arms around her, accepting her momentary melancholy, as he attempted to soothe her. “All is well, love.”
She rubbed her forehead against his, before collapsing forward into his arms. “The entire time I listened to Lorena speak, about having to give up her wee babe, all I could think about was me. About the horrible days and weeks when Maggi
e and I were alone and knew we’d starve. Knew we’d freeze to death.”
“Shh, love, you and Maggie are safe now.”
She pushed away to run her fingers through his beard and to look deeply into his eyes. “Tonight I finally realized I had no choice in marrying Francois. ’Tis as though the shame I’ve carried for so long has been lifted. For Maggie and I would have suffered a fate as severe—or worse—than the one Lorena did.” Tears trickled down her cheek. “An’ I couldn’t have borne that.”
“Nay, a ghrá,” he whispered, his throat tear thickened, as he pulled her tight against him. “My love. You’re here with me. And I’m never letting you go.”
Mary sobbed quietly into his arms. “I can’t imagine having to give up one of my children. ’Twould be like carving away a piece of my heart.”
“Oh, love,” he breathed, shuddering as he held her tight. “The poor wee lass. ’Tis no wonder she holds herself apart.”
“An’ why she doubts herself worthy of bein’ loved,” she whispered.
“Ah, our Declan will help her see the fault in her thinkin’. He’ll not be content until there’s harmony between them, based on a deep, mutual love.”
Chapter 14
A few weeks later, Declan slipped into Deirdre’s kitchen, where the entire family was eating dinner crammed around her butcher block table. Mum and Maggie needed to help her cook, as the café was busier than usual, so they decided to move their evening meal to the café kitchen, rather attempt to suffer through one of the lads’ poorly prepared meals.
Declan frowned upon seeing Winnifred lurking in a corner, glaring at her. She tilted her head up in defiance as she met his harsh stare. “What are you doing here, Winnie?”
“I wanted to see my sisters. I have every right to be at the café.” She stared at Deirdre in a challenging manner. “Or is the café barred to me too?”
Deirdre swiped at her forehead, loosening a tendril of red-gold hair, as she studied the defiant younger woman in front of her. “You may stay, for the moment. If you cause trouble, you will be barred.”
“I’m not the one who causes problems,” Winnifred muttered, as she sat at the corner of the table, gaping in surprise as stools scraped on the wood floor as the nearest O’Rourkes inched away from her.
“Seems not everyone agrees with you,” Declan muttered. “Lo?” he asked Deirdre. She nodded upstairs, and he squeezed her arm in thanks, before heading up to find his wife and to urge her down to join his family—their family.
He poked his head into the living room, but it was empty. After a quick knock to their bedroom door, he entered, stilling when he saw her gazing out the back window. “Lo?” he whispered. “Are you well?”
She looked at his reflection in the glass. “As well as I can be.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, as he shut the door behind him.
She spun, tripping in her haste to throw herself in his arms. “I feel wrung out. I’ve needed your arms around me.”
He held her close, kissing her head. “Ah, love, all you had to do was ask. Send for me,” he whispered, his chest tight with fierce emotions attempting to burst forth. “Had I known you wanted me, I would have dropped everythin’ and come to you.”
“No,” she said in soft voice. “I can’t expect you to run to me every time I need you. I must find a way to be strong.” She kissed his cloth-covered chest. “But I find I’m stronger when I know I have your support.”
“You always have my support, whether or not my arms are around you,” he said into her hair. He sighed, easing her away. “Come, love. I have something I have to say, and ’tisn’t easy.”
She froze, her eyes wide, as she stared at him in fear. “What?” she whispered.
“Love, it’s about Winnifred.” He waited, as he saw some of her fear abate. “I’ve been helping to clean up the bookstore. I found somethin’ today that made me realize it wasn’t an accident.”
“What?”
“What is it that Winnifred boasted about to you a few days before the fire?” Declan asked. He saw Lorena shaking her head side to side, as she remained speechless. He caressed her neck. “She went on and on about a locket that your uncle gave her. A locket that she swore she’d never take off.” He pulled it from his pocket, covered in soot. “This was near the front door.”
“I couldn’t get out,” Lorena whispered, quivering like an aspen in the fall breeze. “I tried. I pushed and pulled on that door, and I couldn’t get out.”
He nodded. “Aye. It was somehow already barred.”
“She … I …” Lorena gasped, short of breath. “I was meant to die?”
Yanking her into his arms, he held her close. “Never. Never, love. If I hadn’t looked for you, I know someone else would have noticed the fire.” He refused to admit to himself and to her that, had he been any later, she would have perished in the blaze.
She pushed back, her green eyes lit with an unholy fury. “Where is she? Where is my faithless sister who’d see me dead?” She pushed back at her red hair, tying it back in a loose knot. “Take me to where she works.”
“There’s no need,” Declan murmured. “She’s downstairs.” Muttering under his breath, he followed on her heels, as she raced away from him, her boot heels clattering on the stairs.
* * *
Lorena came to a halt in the café kitchen doorway, staring at her sister. After her initial wave of fury washed over her, a deep ache filled her soul. At her sister’s betrayal and the loss of all that could have been. She held her hand back, her palm open, waiting until Declan placed the singed locket in her grasp.
When her hand clasped it, she took a deep breath and then moved into the room. Seamus saw her, his storytelling coming to an immediate halt, as he saw the rage and grief in her expression. Suddenly the room was deathly silent, the only sounds those of the diners in the nearby dining room. Lorena marched up to her sister, sitting with empty space to either side of her, as though she were an island or had the plague.
“How could you, Winnie?” Lorena demanded, as she gazed at her sister in horror and betrayal. “How could you?”
Rolling her eyes, Winnifred set down her fork. “Always so dramatic, Lo. Have you been reading too many books again?” She ignored the approach of an irate Declan, who stood behind his wife in silent support.
“No, I’ve not been reading my books. Have you forgotten that all but a few burned in the recent fire?” She paused. “Or is it that you wish to forget you almost killed your own sister?”
Groaning, Winnifred let out an incredulous snort. “Really, Lo, your imagination has run wild.” She jolted with shock as Lorena slammed her hand onto the table.
“I am not delusional. I know the front door, my only escape, was locked, trapping me inside. I know someone threw in a lit torch. I know.” She paused, as her breath emerged in pants. “What I didn’t know until this very moment was that it was you, Winnie. You who planned on killing your own sister.” She lifted her hand, revealing the tarnished locket.
Winnifred’s eyes widened. “Where’d you find that?”
“In the bookstore’s rubble,” Declan said, as he glared at his wife’s sister. “Right near where the front door used to be.” He paused. “Right where you would have stood had you done the vilest act imaginable to your own flesh and blood.”
“Lo,” Winnifred begged. “You don’t understand.” Winnifred looked around the table, searching for any sign of understanding or compassion from the gathered O’Rourkes. Instead she saw condemnation and rage. Even Finn, Winnifred’s most stalwart champion, looked at her with loathing.
“You’re right, Winnie,” Lorena said. “I don’t understand. I will never understand. You ruined my dream and almost killed me. Do you hate me that much?”
Winnie stood, the stool she’d sat on clattering to the ground. “Of course not! You’re my sister.” She reached out to touch Lorena, flinching when she jerked away. “I … It was so we could spend more time together. So we could work
together with uncle.”
With heaving breasts, Lorena gazed at her sister, as though she were a vile stranger. “You ruined my life to force me to work with a cruel man who has no regard for me, who wishes me to become a whore to pay off his debts? You thought you knew what was better for me?” A tear tracked down her cheek. “How could you do such a thing, Winnie?”
“Uncle’s in trouble. He’s our family.”
“I’m your family,” Lorena roared. “Phoebe’s your family. Uncle is nothing! Nothing.” She paused, as her breath gasped out of her. “Just as you are now nothing to me. And you never will be again.” She turned away, resting against Declan, as she continued to shake.
Winnifred flushed before forcing a look of bravado, as she attempted to explain her way out of her actions. “You were never supposed to have been there, Lo. Only you would work late, worried about where to put dusty books no one wants to read.”
“How dare you attempt to turn this into her fault?” Declan rasped, as he held his shaking wife in his arms. “How dare you insinuate your sister was in the wrong for caring so much about her new business that she would spend extra time there?” Declan’s blue eyes blazed with hatred and anger. “How dare you?”
“I dare because I know I want more from life!” Winnifred screamed. She looked around at the O’Rourkes, paling at the condemnation and loathing she saw reflected back at her.
Finn stepped forward, placing a warning hand on Declan’s shoulder. “What, Win? What more do you want?” When she remained mutinously silent, with her head tilted up and her jaw clamped shut, Finn asked, “What more do you want than a family who would love, honor, and cherish you?” He stared at her with frank devastation in his gaze. “Than a man who would offer you all of that and more?”
“You’ve never understood.”
“Make me!” he roared, his body quivering with his rage. “Make me understand how you can throw this all away,” he said in a softer voice, all the more lethal for its restrained rage. “How you can so blithely blame your sister for your folly in nearly killing her. For your lunacy in aligning yourself with your soulless uncle. Have you no shame?”
Pioneer Bliss: The O’Rourke Family Montana Saga, Book Five Page 17