by BJ Hoff
She strained toward him. “I was afraid,” she whispered. “I was afraid to leave the lake….”
He stared at her, not understanding, aching to gather her into his arms, to hold her close, to reassure her…knowing it could not be. “Don’t be afraid, lass,” he said softly. “You will stay here, with me. This will be your home. You need not be afraid any longer. Not now. Not ever.”
She nodded, gripping his hand even more tightly. Her eyes closed, fluttered open, then closed again. “Don’t…stop singing, Morgan.”
Then, as if exhausted and utterly spent, she drifted off to sleep, his name still on her lips, her hand still clinging to his.
Somewhere inside him, in a safe, hidden place untouched by the world’s tragedy and pain, “Finola’s Song” swelled to a kind of anthem, rising to fill the emptiness of Morgan’s heart.
18
Confrontation
So here is my desert and here am I
In the midst of it alone,
Silent and free as a hawk in the sky,
Unnoticed and unknown.
THOMAS MACDONAGH (1878–1916)
New York City
Christmas Eve
Daniel went on ahead of his mother and Evan. He was to be at the Farmington’s early, with his harp, to provide the wedding music. But first he intended to stop and have one last talk with Tierney.
One last argument with Tierney, he corrected himself, for more than likely that’s what it would be.
Despite the festive cheer of Christmas that hung over the city of New York, despite his happiness for Uncle Mike and Miss Sara, Daniel brooded during most of the ferry ride over. These last weeks had been hectic with change: moving in with Evan and Mother; the resulting separation from Tierney; Uncle Mike’s marriage; Morgan’s news about his attempt to adopt an orphan girl, the starting up of his school in Dublin, the black West Indies man he had hired—Sandemon—and his mysterious new friend, Finola.
And throughout the United States, change was occurring almost as quickly. America had elected a new president—one Zachary Taylor. “Old Rough and Ready,” he was called. A peculiar man for the head of an entire country, Daniel thought, if the newspaper accounts could be believed. As a general in the Mexican War, the President-elect had worn old farm clothes, even a straw hat, into battle, and his legs were said to be so short he had to be given a leg-up by his orderly whenever he mounted a horse! But stranger still was the fact that this man, who was to head the entire government of the United States of America, had never even voted!
Far away, in a place called “California,” gold had been discovered, while here in the state of New York, women were holding conventions about an issue called “suffrage.” At the same time, antislavery organizations were holding conventions of their own, determined to free the black slaves in the South.
While all these events were no doubt of great importance to the country, Daniel’s thoughts kept returning to the changes in his life, and in Tierney’s—and, especially, in their friendship.
He hoped to find him at the flat. He would be alone, if he was there at all. Uncle Mike had already moved most of his things to the home of Miss Sara’s grandmother, where they were going to be living after the wedding.
Daniel had moved his belongings to Brooklyn just a week ago. It had been difficult, making the break from Tierney and Uncle Mike. His stomach had been in knots for days before he moved out, and the final day of his move, he had all he could do to keep from blubbering like a babe.
He knew he would miss Uncle Mike something fierce, but he would miss Tierney even more. He already did.
He hated to think of Tierney living by himself in the flat. There would be no one to talk to—no one to argue with, Tierney would say. Daniel didn’t think he could bear to be alone like that, not for days at a time. Tierney, however, vowed it would suit him just fine. He even boasted that he was looking forward to having no one about to nag him or give him grief about his comings and goings.
“You can’t be serious,” he’d joked when Daniel voiced his concern. “It’ll be grand! Don’t take offense, Danny-Boy, but I doubt that I’ll miss Da’s grumbling or your snoring for very long at all!”
Patrick Walsh had offered him a coachman’s cottage on his Staten Island estate, but Tierney had only made light of it to Daniel. “He may be my boss, but he’ll not be my keeper as well! Blazes, I can’t imagine having to endure that awful Isabel all the time!”
More than likely, Tierney meant every word he said. That being the case, Daniel supposed he should cease worrying about him.
For his own part, although the break was painful, it was something he felt he had to do. Mother wanted him with her. She and Evan had been after him for weeks to move to Brooklyn, and the truth was, now that he had made the break, he was glad. He and Evan got along just grand, his mother was obviously happy to have him about the house again—and it was fine being back with Little Tom and Johanna.
Still, he could not quite forget about Tierney, alone in the flat.
When Tierney opened the door, wearing only an undershirt and a pair of faded trousers, Daniel’s heart sank. Obviously, he had no intention of going to the wedding.
“Well, look at the boyo, would you!” Tierney cracked in an exaggerated brogue. He made no move to step aside so Daniel could enter. “You’re on the wrong side of town, dressed in your finery, I’m thinking. We don’t often see the likes of you down here.”
Ignoring his sarcasm, Daniel pressed through the door. The apartment was dark, with only one small candle nickering on the kitchen table. A single empty glass sat on the table next to the candle, and the room was filled with a faintly pungent smell. A fleeting picture of his friend sitting alone in the dark room unnerved him. He couldn’t help but question the wisdom of Uncle Mike’s decision, to allow Tierney the use of the flat. Yet, what else was he to do? Tierney had been enraged by even the suggestion that he live with Uncle Mike and his new wife.
“I’d hoped we could talk.”
“I think not.” Tierney heaved the door shut, then turned to face Daniel. “I expect I know what you want to talk about, and we’ve already had that conversation, remember?”
“Tierney—”
“Save it, Danny! If you came here to rag me about the wedding, you’re wasting your breath and my time.”
“Don’t you care how you’re hurting Uncle Mike? Doesn’t it bother you at all, then?” Daniel hadn’t intended things to heat up so quickly. He’d thought to talk with him in a reasonable way, try once more to make him see just how selfish he was being. Instead, Tierney was already in a temper, and Daniel feared he was close to losing his own.
“I’m the last thing the old man is thinking about tonight,” Tierney jeered, his face hard. “He won’t even know I’m not there.”
“What’s your point, Tierney?”
“What do you mean?” The ice-blue eyes narrowed, the mouth turned down.
“What do you think to prove by not going to your own father’s wedding?” Daniel felt the blood rush to his head, but he had gone too far to stop now. Somehow he had to make Tierney think about what he was doing.
“You’re wanting everyone to know you don’t approve, is that it? But we already know! Or is it more that you’re not willing to back down, even if you’re wrong?”
Tierney’s chin shot up, and the eyes narrowed still more. “That’ll do, Danny-Boy,” he said quietly. “That’ll do.”
Daniel studied him for a moment. “Do you know,” he answered quietly, “that you sounded very much like Uncle Mike just now?”
Tierney made no reply; he just stood, arms crossed over his chest. Again Daniel thought of Uncle Mike. They were so much alike, Tierney and his da. So much alike…yet a world apart.
He softened. What was there about his mercurial friend, he wondered, that made it impossible to stay angry with him for more than a few moments at a time? “I didn’t come to fight.”
“Then why did you come?”
; “I had something to say. I’d hoped you’d listen.”
Tierney regarded him with a measuring look. “Have your say, then. I’m listening.” His voice was quiet, but his eyes remained unyielding.
Daniel swallowed, dug one hand in his pocket and looked at Tierney straight on. “Uncle Mike has already had his share of pain, it seems to me. It must have been a terrible time for him when your mother died.”
When Tierney’s expression didn’t change, Daniel faltered a little. Drawing a deep breath, he forced himself to go on. “But he did his best to be a good father to you. To give you a proper home and more than your share of affection. That couldn’t have been easy. He must have been lonely many a time, but he did right by you, Tierney. You told me so yourself. He always did right by you.”
Tierney turned and walked to the window, looking out on the street below as if Daniel were no longer in the room.
“What I’m trying to say is…I don’t think it should make a difference to you tonight, whether or not you like Sara Farmington or approve of the marriage. I just don’t think any of that should matter. Not tonight.”
Tierney half turned to look at him. His eyes were still hard, but he didn’t look quite so angry now.
“I think the only thing that should matter to you tonight is that Uncle Mike is your father, and you’re his son. You may not always agree with his ways, and you may not approve of his choice in a wife. But he’s still your father, Tierney, and he’s done his best to be a good father. He’s spent his life on you!”
Daniel stopped, clenching his fists at his sides. “I just think,” he choked out, “that you owe him one hour of respect for that. One hour, Tierney. That’s all.”
Without waiting for a reply—without even looking at Tierney—Daniel lunged toward the door and bolted out.
He ran all the way downstairs, tears scalding his eyes. His legs felt as heavy as lead weights. His heart felt even heavier.
19
Love, the Greatest Gift
With trembling hands, I hold your dreams,
With trembling heart, I give you mine….
ANONYMOUS
Sitting on the side of the bed, Jess Dalton smiled down at the top of his wife’s copper curls. She had already adjusted his tie, and was now buttoning his cuffs.
“I imagine you’re feeling rather smug this evening,” he said, smiling.
With the tip of her tongue pressed against the corner of her mouth, Kerry frowned intently over her labors. “And why should I be feeling smug?” She didn’t look up.
“You more or less predicted this marriage, I seem to recall.”
Kerry smiled a little, finishing off one sleeve, then turning to the other. “I did, didn’t I?”
“You still approve of the match, I trust?”
“Indeed! I think they’ll be splendid together, don’t you?”
Jess didn’t have to consider his reply. “I’d say so, yes.”
“This will certainly be one of the smaller ceremonies we’ve attended recently,” she remarked. “Odd, isn’t it? One would expect Sara Farmington to have a royal affair, complete with all the trappings.”
“This was her choice,” Jess pointed out, “although Michael made no secret that he was greatly relieved.”
Smoothing his cuff, Kerry lifted her face for a kiss. “You look extraordinarily handsome this evening, Mr. Dalton,” she said after a moment, appraising him with a critical eye. “I expect I’m a lucky woman indeed.”
“You’re a woman with the gift of the blarney, is what you are,” he said, planting a kiss on her cheek. He stood, pulling her to her feet as he did. “And I love it.”
She held his suit coat for him while he slipped into it. “Do you think Michael’s son will come to the wedding, Jess?”
He sighed, turning back to her. “Michael doesn’t think so. But let’s hope he’s wrong. He’s already been greatly hurt by the boy’s opposition to the marriage, that much is obvious.”
Kerry stood on tiptoe, adjusting his tie for him one last time. “I think,” she said archly, “Tierney Burke is an entirely selfish young man.”
Jess shook his head. “Perhaps. On the other hand, he may simply be a very troubled young man. Troubled and confused.”
“Sara says he’s angry. She makes all sorts of allowances for him.”
“Sara has a very generous nature.”
“Aye, she does,” Kerry replied, extinguishing the oil lamp before starting for the door. “And something tells me that sooner or later, her new stepson will test that generous nature to the very limits.”
Instructing Little Tom not to pick up the kitten now that he was dressed in his wedding clothes, Evan went to see what was keeping Nora. If they didn’t leave soon for the ferry, they’d never make the wedding in time.
“Nora?” He peered into the bedroom. “Are you ready, d-dear? We really should be going.”
Seeing no sign of her, he walked the rest of the way into the room. “Nora?”
She appeared in the doorway of the small, adjoining dressing room. “I’m here, Evan. And I’m ready. Or at least I shall be in a moment.”
She was dressed in a lovely suit the color of lilacs, a suit Evan insisted she have made for today, despite her protests that it was much too extravagant. At first glance, she looked splendid. A closer look, however, made Evan frown in concern. Her skin was absolutely ashen, and her eyes appeared sunken and smudged with shadows.
Alarmed, he crossed the room and took her hand. “Nora? What is it, dear? Are y-you all right?”
“Of course, I’m all right.” Although her smile was somewhat shaky, her voice was firm. “Perhaps I rushed too much, that’s all. And this suit is very warm.”
“You look won-wonderful.” Holding her hand, Evan stood back just enough to enjoy the picture she made. “But you are pale, dear. Why d-don’t you sit down for a moment before we leave?”
She shook her head, still smiling. “No, I’m fine now, truly I am.”
“Now? So you haven’t been feeling well?”
She smiled at him as if she were about to say something, then changed her mind.
A thought struck Evan, one he was half-afraid to voice. “Is…is it the wedding, Nora? Are you b-bothered by this marriage?” He hesitated, then finished his thought. “Because of M-Michael?”
With a look of utter dismay, she pressed a finger to his lips to hush him. “Evan! You foolish, foolish man! How can you possibly think such a thing? Can you really be so uncertain of my love, even now?”
Instantly contrite that he had doubted her, Evan quickly pulled her to him. “I’m sorry, Nora! I am. It’s just that…sometimes I still find m-myself amazed that you chose me.”
“That’s exactly right, Evan Whittaker!” she said, searching his eyes. “I…chose…you. And not for a moment have I ever regretted that choice! Now, then,” she said firmly, taking his arm, “let’s be going to the ferry! We have a wedding to attend, and then, later—gifts to exchange!”
“Why, that’s right,” Evan said. “In all the excitement about the wedding, I’d al-almost forgotten: it’s Christmas Eve!”
She put her hands to his shoulders, smiling into his eyes. “It is, indeed. And I just might have a very special gift for you.”
He opened his mouth to quiz her, but she shushed him, laughing. “Later,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “Not until later.”
Sara had determined she would not cry at her own wedding. She cried at other people’s weddings—invariably—caught up in the emotion and the romance and the almost magical atmosphere. But she would not make a fool of herself on her own special day!
Her resolve lasted all the way through Daniel’s beautiful harp serenade. She was even able to smile at her father—who was, himself, somewhat misty-eyed, as was Winifred, beside him, though she was beaming through her tears.
Sara managed to remain dry-eyed, with Jess Dalton about to begin the nuptial reading, and with Michael—splendidly handsome and surprisingly nervous�
��at her side. Indeed, she might have made it all the way through the ceremony without disgracing herself had she not looked up toward the doors of the chapel just as the last sweet, sparkling notes of Daniel’s music died away—to see Tierney walk in.
He stopped for a moment, looked from Sara to his father, who visibly started and drew in a sharp breath. Then he slipped quietly into the back row, unsmiling, but apparently resigned. At least for tonight.
It was enough. For now, Sara told herself, it was enough.
Her breath caught on a sob, and her hands began to tremble. She gripped her bridal bouquet more firmly. Her tears, contained with such effort, spilled over and trailed down her cheeks. Michael took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, and Sara turned to look at him.
There were tears in his eyes, too! The sight of her square-jawed, straight-backed Michael, resplendent in his stiff white collar and black suit, about to weep, was almost Sara’s undoing.
But at that moment, Jess Dalton, as if sensing the impending crisis, lifted his rich, vibrant voice and filled the chapel with a joyous proclamation: “THIS IS THE DAY WHICH THE LORD HAS MADE! WE WILL REJOICE AND BE GLAD IN IT!”
Daniel almost tripped getting into his seat beside Evan, so surprised—and pleased—was he to see Tierney walk into the chapel.
As soon as he sat down, he glanced up at Uncle Mike. The expression on his face brought an ache to Daniel’s heart and a lump to his throat.
Oh, Tierney…Tierney…look at your father…just look at him and see how much your being here means to him…how much you mean to him….
Nora’s eyes burned with unshed tears as Michael and Sara exchanged their vows.
She clung to Evan’s hand, knowing that he, like she, was more than likely remembering their own wedding, right here, in this same chapel. Wave after wave of emotion flooded through her. Love for her husband rose up inside her, a love so sweet, yet so overwhelming, she could have cried aloud for the sheer wonder of it. Happiness for Michael and Sara made her smile through the glaze of tears, and as Pastor Dalton pronounced them husband and wife, she knew a sense of completeness as if something very precious had at last been sealed.