“Stay away from Rose!” Fiona yelled, quivering with fear and indignation as Patrick rested a hand on her shoulder to keep her seated in front of him.
Mrs. Smythe’s focus moved from Fiona to Patrick for a moment. “You accepted damaged goods, as is to be expected of the men in your extended family.” She watched with delight as Fiona paled further under her intense scrutiny. “I must admit that I’m disappointed to learn you appear to have reconciled with your husband. I delighted in knowing of the discord between you.”
Fiona raised indignant eyes, lit to the color of warmed cognac. “Why? Because you believed you’d induce my husband into some sort of a liaison with you?” Fiona laughed. “You are delusional. He only desires me.”
Mrs. Smythe leaned forward. “I’d remind you that I had his baby, something you’ve failed to do.”
Fiona glared at Mrs. Smythe, leaning into Patrick’s touch.
“Have you spoken to my cousin Henry?” Gabriel asked, his voice lethally quiet.
“Oh, Henry is such a lovely young man. When Mrs. Masterson learned I was to travel here to reunite with you, she insisted I correspond with Henry.” She leaned forward as though imparting an important secret. “He’s an essential member of the Anaconda Company. And a wonderful ally to have.”
“What are you plotting?” Jeremy asked. He relaxed slightly when Savannah stroked a hand down his arm.
She looked around at the occupants in the room with feigned innocence. “Why should I be plotting anything? I merely wanted to right a wrong that was committed years ago. I’ve had trouble living with myself, knowing that a good man had been denied his child.” She smiled with triumph at all of them present. “I am eager to speak with my daughter.” She glared at Savannah and Jeremy as they contradicted her. “She is my daughter as I carried her for all of those horrid months and then went through the pain of birthing her. I can’t wait to impart the truth to her about her father.”
She glared at Jeremy who remained seated. “I bid you a good day. However, this is far from good-bye.” She sailed from the room, slamming the front door behind her.
After Mrs. Smythe left, Patrick sat in a daze. He noted Fiona rising as though through a fog but failed to follow her. He focused on Savannah and Clarissa who tapped him on his arm a few times.
“Patrick?” Savannah whispered. “Patrick, we must talk,” she whispered.
Patrick met Savannah’s gaze and saw Jeremy sitting nearby. Gabriel had joined Colin in the kitchen, and Patrick heard the back door slam as they went to the backyard. “Where is Fee?” he whispered.
“She went upstairs to take a nap. I think she needs a break from all of us,” Clarissa said. “We need to talk, and we must talk quickly before the children return with Minta.”
“What more is there to say?” Patrick asked. “I will never challenge you, Savannah, or Jeremy for Melly. She is your child. I’ve accepted that.”
Savannah gripped his hand and smiled through teary eyes at him. “Thank you,” she whispered. “But we need you to speak with Melly when she arrives. She’s very confused and worried, and I don’t want her to doubt her place in our family. If Mrs. Smythe talks to her before we do, I worry what damage that could do.”
Patrick nodded. “I can’t lie to her,” he whispered. He looked over Savannah’s shoulder and met Jeremy’s gaze. “I … I think I should tell her a portion of the truth.”
Jeremy nodded, his gaze grave. “Savannah and I agree with you. We’d like to be present, in the background as you speak with her, in case she has questions we could answer but that you can’t.”
As the door burst open with the children pouring in, Patrick took a deep breath. He watched as Melinda entered, carrying Rose and laughing at something Billy said. “I don’t believe you, Billy-boy.”
“I tell you, it’s true! Mama uses a slaughtered spoon in the vegetables. Just ask her.” He beamed at his mother as she turned a beet red.
“It’s slotted, Billy-boy,” Jeremy murmured as he stifled a chuckle.
Melly laughed again as she set Rose down and took off her hat. She smiled at her parents, stilling when she saw their serious gazes. “Is something the matter?” she whispered.
“No, my dearest girl, nothing’s the matter,” Jeremy said, rising to give her a quick hug. “Your uncle Patrick, your mother and I need to speak with you a moment.” Jeremy motioned for them to follow him onto the front porch. As he held open the front door, Clarissa herded her children into the kitchen, granting the rest of them more privacy.
Melinda wrung her hands as she looked from one adult to the next. “What is it?”
“We had another visit today from Mrs. Smythe. Mrs. Sullivan,” Patrick said, stumbling over her married name. “I don’t know how many memories you have of her.”
Melinda frowned. “Why has she come back? Why is she interested in us again?” Her worried gaze roved from her uncle to her parents and back.
“She is an unhappy woman who strives to cause discord.” Patrick paused and closed his eyes. “She hoped to cause a rift in the family.”
Melinda’s brows furrowed. “I don’t understand.”
“She wants us to doubt that my father was your father,” Patrick whispered. “She wants us to believe that I’m your father.”
Melinda stiffened and shook her head. “How could you be?”
Patrick stared at her a moment, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he puffed out his cheeks and exhaled a deep breath. “In a complicated manner, there is a remote chance I am your father, but we have no way to know for sure.”
At his whispered words, she backed up a step. “You didn’t want me either?”
“No!” he yelled, grabbing her hand. “Of course I would have if I’d thought for an instant you were mine. But I wasn’t in Boston. I was … I don’t even know where I was when you were sent to an orphanage. Kansas City? Cleveland?” He shook his head. “I was in no fit state to care for you.” He looked at her beseechingly as he met her confused gaze. “I was thrown out of my father’s house months before you were born.”
“Why?” she whispered.
“Because my stepmother lied to my father. She claimed we had a love affair. Which we never did.” He gripped Melinda’s hand. “I know this makes no sense to you as there is a slight possibility I am your father. But I never wanted to be with Mrs. Smythe.” He motioned for Melly to wait a moment to let him finish speaking. “Although that does not mean I would not have wanted you had I known you were my daughter.”
“What does all this mean?” She looked from her uncle to her parents, then back again. “Do I move to Butte with you?”
Patrick shook his head. “I consider you my beloved niece. You’ve had the greatest of good fortunes to be raised by two such loving parents. My hope is that you continue to live with them, never doubting for a moment who you are and what you mean to us.”
“You don’t want to be my father,” she whispered, ducking her head.
Patrick cupped her cheek, using his thumb to trace away tears that silently coursed down her cheeks. “It would be one of my life’s greatest honors to be your father, Melly. But you already have a wonderful father. I could never take his place.” He waited a few moments in silence until she raised confused, wounded eyes to meet his. “I care deeply for you as your uncle, as one of many members of this family who love you. I could never love you more than I already do.”
Melinda looked from Patrick to her parents and then back again. “You still don’t want me,” she whispered, rising and rushing down the porch steps as she raced away.
“Melly!” Savannah screamed after her.
Jeremy rose, running a hand down his wife’s arm. “It’s all right. I’ll follow her home and ensure she’s safe. Stay here with our family, love. You must be with them right now.” He kissed her on the forehead and took off at a run after his daughter.
“I’m sorry, Sav,” Patrick whispered as he watched her gaze down the street. “I would never have t
old her if not for the threat from Mrs. Smythe.”
Savannah nodded. “I know. I just wish you’d told us sooner what had really happened. About who you really were to her.” She raised her gaze to meet his. “I understand fear, Patrick.” She grasped his hand. “I don’t blame you.”
“Thank you,” he breathed. He released her hand and reentered the house, in search of his wife.
Fiona lay on Clarissa and Gabriel’s bed, her fingers tracing the needlepoint patterns on the quilt, staring out the window. She watched big white puffy clouds move across the sky and tried to occupy her mind by picking out shapes. However, nothing worked to calm her racing thoughts, and she curled into herself on the mattress.
“Are you all right, my love?” Patrick’s fingers traced down her back, and she shivered at the light touch. “I’m sorry about Mrs. Smythe.”
“What now, Patrick?” Fiona remained on her side, turned away from him. She allowed herself to be tugged against him as he spooned against her back.
“I spoke with Melly,” he whispered in her ear. “I wish you’d been there with me, but I understand why you didn’t want to be. I told her an edited version of the truth.”
Fiona took a deep stuttering breath. “Is she coming to Butte with us?” She instinctively arched into his touch as he kissed her neck.
“No. She’s remaining here with her parents. As she should.”
Fiona pressed against him until she’d turned to face him with her skirts tangled about her waist. “But you’re her father.”
He traced long fingers over her cheeks, his intense gaze meeting hers. “I know I am. Deep inside, I know it.” He pressed his forehead against hers. “But I have no right to rip her away from everything and everyone she knows. She’s confused enough as it is.”
“But what about you?” Her whispered question emerged plaintive.
“I have you and Rose.” He kissed her nose.
“A daughter who isn’t yours,” she said as she fought tears.
Patrick growled. “She’s mine in every way that matters.” He met her gaze. “Don’t allow a vile woman to fill you with doubts. Not about us. Or about my family.” He ran his hand over her head, tangling his fingers in her hair. “We won’t disappoint you like your family did.”
Fiona wrapped her arms around him, tugging him close. “Oh, my love, hold me and make me believe,” she whispered.
Patrick laughed. “I’d like nothing better than to hold you forever right now. But we must go downstairs and have dinner with the family.”
Fiona flushed. “Of course.” She kissed his neck. “I worried you’d be more interested in Melinda than Rose,” she admitted.
He cupped her face with his large hands, canting her face up to him. “Rose is my daughter. I could never love her any more or any less than I love Melinda.” He kissed Fiona’s nose and then her forehead, before sighing and tugging her against his chest. “I wish I could lay with you here and forget dinner.”
“We’d scandalize your sister,” Fiona whispered.
He chuckled and pushed himself up. “We would,” he said with a soft smile, reaching a hand down to help heft her up. “Tonight, though, is ours.”
Chapter 10
Patrick wandered into Clarissa’s living room and glanced out the front window. Ronan sat in his wheelchair as he watched the children run and play in the front yard. Patrick joined Ronan on the porch, sitting next to him in a rocking chair as his nieces and nephew ran around the side of the house to the back. They sat in companionable silence for a while before Ronan shifted in his seat.
“Seems like you’ve had a rough month.” He shot a curious glance at Patrick before maneuvering his wheelchair to better see him. His strong arms and shoulders were a striking contrast to his emaciated, withered legs.
Patrick huffed out a laugh. “I was thinking about returning home after I was relieved from helmet duty.” His low voice was a quiet counterpoint to his gentle rocking, the sounds of birds chirping and the distant children’s calls. “I barely had a few days peace before Colin showed up with news about Mrs. Smythe.”
Ronan snorted. “That woman. No matter how much you plan, she still has you jumping to her tune.” His sherry-colored gaze met Patrick’s.
Patrick sighed and rubbed a hand through his graying hair. “I can’t think of what else we could have done.” He looked down the street toward Savannah’s home to where Melly had retreated. “I hate that I might have hurt Melly.”
“She’s young. She’s resilient.” He waited until Patrick focused on him again rather than the yard and street. “You are resilient, and I imagine she’ll be quite a bit like you.”
Patrick stiffened, his cheeks flushing at Ronan’s words. “I won’t do anything to harm her relationship with Sav and Jeremy.”
“Keep saying that, and you might believe you have some control in this messed-up situation.” Ronan lifted himself to shift in his chair. “Have you ever thought that by doing nothing, as it appears is your plan, you’ll hurt Melly more? She needs some sign from you that she was more than a mistake and now an embarrassment.” He frowned as Patrick’s flush deepened. “She’s young. She reads those romance novels and makes up even more wild stories in her head. I hear all about them when she visits me at the shop. She needs to be grounded, and you can help her.”
Patrick gave a stiff nod, his jaw clenched.
Ronan heaved out a sigh and traced a hand over one of his weakened thighs. He watched Patrick a moment and slapped at his leg. “Thank you for what you did for those miners.”
Patrick’s gaze shot up to meet Ronan’s sincere look. “You’re welcome,” he muttered, his voice confused.
“I didn’t rely on helmet men, but I like knowing men like you are willing to help those working in such perilous conditions.” Ronan tapped at his thigh again. “We had more risk of cave-ins and poorly timed explosions than fire in my day.”
Patrick canted forward at Ronan’s soft words and distant expression. “They still have plenty of those.”
“What’s it like, wearing one of those breathing apparatuses?”
Patrick sobered as he thought about the helmet he had worn for days. “Heavy. You feel like you’re entombed in this enormous contraption that is so delicate you worry about rubbing against anything.” He shrugged. “Which you know is inevitable in a drift. I fell over more horses and mules than I could count. And I dislodged my tubes a few times.”
“But you were still able to work,” Ronan said with open curiosity.
“When I felt light-headed or if I could taste gas, I knew my mask was leaking. I’d head to the cage and go up to have it fixed.” He paused, his gaze distant. “Only once did I pass out. My partner had to drag me out.”
“Does Fee know?” Ronan asked.
Patrick shook his head. “She knows I had minor mishaps. But not that I would have died if I hadn’t been close to the cage. I’m a big man to drag.” He sighed. “That was the last time I went down. I spent a few hours under a doctor’s supervision with a pulmotor pumping oxygen into me, and I made the decision to return to my regular job full-time. They didn’t argue with me because I’m a low-level executive with my mining company.” He shared an embarrassed smile with Ronan. “Fee thinks I was ordered back, but I chose to return to my desk job.”
“There’s no shame in not wanting to go down the cage again, not after nearly dying.” Ronan smiled. “I still remember going down the first time with Matthew, Liam’s partner. Tickled him with a feather the whole way down.”
Patrick laughed. “Oh, that’s cruel!”
Ronan nodded. “Don’t worry. He found ways to get even.” His smile faded as his gaze became introspective. “I never really knew what happened to me. One minute I was working, the next I was flying through the air, and then I woke up at the hospital.” He patted his wheelchair. “Gabe would argue I was the lucky one as I came out alive.”
Patrick watched him solemnly, with somber eyes.
“Living a half-life
, stuck in a chair, as I wait for my kidneys to fail, isn’t what I imagined when I arrived in Butte all those years ago. But it is better than no life. For I would have missed the joy of Gabriel’s family.” His eyes clouded. “I’ll never understand why I lived and Liam and Matthew died.”
“If I learned one thing, crawling around the bowels of a poisonous mine, it’s that there’s no use looking for a reason. Nothing makes sense. Why does the man who’s two feet from the cage die and the one a half mile away still cling to life and survive?” Patrick shook his head.
“And you feel the same guilt for returning home to your family as the rest do.” He shared a long look of understanding and comradeship with Patrick. “In the beginning, after the accident, I willed myself to die. Why should I live when Amelia lost her husband? Gabriel, his best friend?”
“What happened?” Patrick whispered.
“Your sister badgered me with baskets and kindness, and Gabriel bullied me with his love.” He shook his head. “Between the two of them, I never stood a chance.” Ronan sighed as he released his memory’s hold on him. “I hope you realize how fortunate you are in your family.”
Patrick nodded.
Ronan stretched as best he could, changing the topic with a chuckle. “Now Butte is embroiled in a citywide strike. I have to admit, that’s something I’d like to see, although it can’t be much fun working for a mining company throughout it.”
Patrick half smiled. “They don’t hate me much as some recognize I was a helmet man. Besides, their true hatred is pointed at the Anaconda Company, not my little mining company. Although, if they had any sense, they’d realize we follow the Company’s lead.”
They looked toward the front door as it opened. Fiona poked her head out. “Patrick, you were to spend time with your sister before dinner.” She flushed when she saw Ronan. “I beg your pardon. I thought he was out here alone.”
Resilient Love: Banished Saga, Book 7 Page 14