by Renee Ryan
“Then you will excuse me?” He looked over his shoulder, heaved a hard pull of air into his lungs. “I must check with the ship’s officials to determine if this unfortunate news is, indeed, true.”
Of course he would want to verify the information she’d just given him. “I think that’s a very wise idea. I could very well be incorrect.” Oh, please, please.
“Let us hope that you are.” His words were abrupt, but not unkind. More distracted than anything else.
He gave her a brief, formal bow. “Good day, Bridget.”
“Good day. And—” she placed her fingertips on his arm once again “—Godspeed in your search for your bride.”
He stared at her hand for a breathless moment. Then, shrugging away from her, he left without another word.
Not at all offended by his abrupt departure—well, only a little—Bridget watched him work his way toward a small, official-looking building that was most likely the shipping office. Even in his distress, William Black paced through the wharf with those same fluid, masculine, ground-eating strides she’d noticed earlier.
Her heart heavy with the distress of bearing such devastating news, Bridget continued staring after him until he disappeared inside the building. She might have sighed a few times in the process.
What would Will do if his bride was the young woman who had died aboard ship? Why did it matter so much to her? Why did she sense there was more to his story, something tragic that made this news so much worse?
Caught up in her troubling thoughts, she didn’t notice Nora’s approach until a firm hand gripped her shoulder. She nearly jumped out of her boots. Spinning around, she glared at her sister. “Nora! You scared me half to death.”
“So sorry.” She didn’t look remorseful in the least. “But I did call your name three times. You didn’t answer.”
“My mind was otherwise engaged.”
“I figured as much.” She hitched her chin in the direction of the building. “How did he take the news?”
“Not well.” Bridget sighed. “Not well at all.”
“I don’t suppose anyone in his situation would.”
“No.” She lowered her gaze and noted that Nora’s arms were empty. Completely empty. Terrible possibilities filled her mind. A wordless cry lodged in her throat. “Where’s Grace?”
“Maeve has her. The two of them are sitting with our luggage while Flynn is over by the street hiring a carriage. Come, Bridget.” Nora tugged on her arm. “Our new home is waiting.”
Their new home. She’d almost forgotten why she was here in America. And no wonder. Her excitement had been dampened by the unfortunate incident with William Black. Or rather, Will, as he’d first introduced himself and then later asked her to call him. Proper or not, she would forever think of him as Will.
Again she wondered why he had sent all the way to Ireland for a bride. What was the rest of his story?
And what will he do if his bride is dead?
Bridget wished there was more she could do to help the man, and perhaps there was. An idea began formulating in her brain, one that might not bring Will the good news he hoped for but at least would give him accurate information. As her dear mother used to say, it was always easier to plan once you had all the facts.
With that in mind, Bridget hurried ahead of Nora, eyeing the pile of luggage where her sister Maeve waited with baby Grace cradled in her arms.
Was someone out there missing the tiny infant? If that was so, why hadn’t she, or perhaps even he, come forward to claim the child? What terrible event had occurred to warrant abandoning a newborn in the ship’s galley?
They may never find a definitive answer.
And Bridget had another pressing matter to address, one she hoped would bring Will certainty if not relief.
As she stopped in front of her youngest sister, Bridget couldn’t help but notice how good Maeve and Grace looked together, how natural.
Maeve had left her hair falling in loose curls down her back. Like Bridget and Nora, she wore her new dress, as well. Hers was a French plaid, the orange, yellow and green setting off her coloring. Her rich strawberry-blond hair had turned a soft ginger in the sunlight and she looked as pretty as a picture as she smiled down at the baby.
Maeve would make a wonderful mother, evidenced by the careful attention she showed Grace now. Bridget once again experienced a pang of regret. Had Daniel wanted to marry her, had he followed through with his promise, she could be holding her own baby right now.
Bridget didn’t take the time to linger over the thought. “Maeve, where’s your husband?” Impatience made her voice just short of shrill. “I need Flynn at once.”
“What’s the rush?” Maeve’s eyes widened. “Has someone been hurt?”
“No, nothing like that.” Bridget shook her head decisively. “But I need Flynn’s help right now.”
“Whatever for?” Maeve’s eyes narrowed in confusion.
Holding on to the last thread of her patience, Bridget quickly explained Will’s situation. Nora added what she thought she remembered about the girl who’d fallen from the forecastle. Between the two of them they laid out the sequence of events as best they could recall.
When they finished Maeve’s gaze turned thoughtful, then sad. From that look alone, Bridget knew her sister remembered the day the girl in question had died. Maeve never forgot a patient, nor did Flynn for that matter, but this one’s death was especially heartbreaking.
“Do you remember her?” Bridget asked, trying her best to keep her voice steady. “Did you ever discover her name? Was she Bridget? Bridget Collins?”
Maeve’s eyes misted slightly, a small switch in mood, easily missed if Bridget hadn’t been looking. “As the ship’s doctor, and custodian of all the medical records on board, Flynn would be the one to ask.”
Bridget wasn’t fooled by her sister’s evasive words. Maeve knew the answer, but wasn’t saying anything more.
“Please, Maeve. It’s important. Will has been searching for his bride all morning, wondering why he can’t find her. Wouldn’t it be best for him to know the truth, whatever it is, even if it’s bad news?”
“You know I can’t give you that information, Bridget.” An apology settled in Maeve’s eyes. “I was only an assistant in the infirmary. You’ll have to ask Flynn.”
“Ask me what?”
Bridget swung around at the sound of the familiar deep voice, her gaze landing squarely on Maeve’s new husband, Dr. Flynn Gallagher. Or rather, her gaze landed on Dr. Flynn Gallagher’s black cravat.
The man was taller than any of the Murphy sisters, even Nora. He was muscular and lean like William Black, just as handsome and so in love with his new wife that he reflexively looked to Maeve for the answer to his question as though she was the only one in their tiny group.
Maeve nodded to Bridget. “Go on,” she urged. “Tell him what you just told me.”
Practically shaking with impatience, Bridget went through the story again, faster this time and without waiting for Nora’s input. Just as she drew to the end of the tale she caught sight of Will exiting the building he’d entered only a few moments before. Head down, jaw firm, he approached yet another group of passengers.
He must have been unsuccessful in the shipping office.
“There.” She pointed to Will. “That’s him, the man approaching that small cluster of people.”
Her hand moved instinctively in his direction, aching to soothe away his worries. She started out.
“No, Bridget.” Flynn stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. “You’ve done your duty. Let me handle the rest.”
“But—”
“I insist you stay here with your sisters.” He shared a look with his wife, one that seemed to communicate a message only t
he two of them understood.
Maeve quickly stood, handed the baby to Nora and then drew alongside her husband. Side by side they made a dazzling pair.
“It’ll be all right, Bridget.” Maeve touched her arm and smiled. “Flynn will handle the matter with great care, like he always does.”
Flynn dropped a tender kiss to Maeve’s forehead. “I’ll be back shortly.”
He left them to stare after his retreating back.
Bridget had always considered herself an obedient woman, one who usually adhered to the Christian precepts of ideal female behavior. Her manners were impeccable, as well. Consequently she shocked even herself when she trotted after Flynn, all the while ignoring Maeve’s cries to leave the matter alone, that it didn’t concern her. The same words Nora had used earlier.
She knew it didn’t concern her. And yet, somehow, after all that had happened, it did.
She picked up her pace.
With determination on her side, and the element of surprise, she bypassed Flynn at the last possible moment and approached Will first.
As though sensing her standing behind him, he turned to face her at the very same moment she spoke his name.
He seemed stunned to see her again. “Bridget?”
Breathless from her rapid trek across the docks, her words came out in a jumbled rush. “I have brought someone to help you find your bride, or at least give you more information.”
The look in his blue, blue eyes plainly said: What are you talking about?
“The ship’s doctor,” she said in reply, her heart pounding with the force of her urgency. “I have come to introduce you.”
She didn’t have time to explain further before Flynn closed the distance between them.
Will lifted his gaze from her to Flynn then thrust out his hand. “William Black.”
With his characteristic professional manner, Flynn took the offered hand. “Flynn Gallagher, the doctor in charge of the infirmary on the Annie McGee.”
Will wasted no time getting to the point. “Do you know what happened to Bridget Collins on the voyage over?”
The ensuing silence pressed in on them all. Will looked so concerned, so in need of kindness. Bridget almost went to him and wrapped her arms around him.
“I believe I can enlighten you.” Flynn’s expression was that of a man about to give the most terrible news of all.
Will must have understood what was about to come because he asked, “Is she…dead?”
“I’m afraid that she—” Flynn cut off the rest of his words and looked down at Bridget. He frowned at her briefly then returned his attention to Will. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation aboard the Annie McGee. Just the two of us.”
Bridget opened her mouth to object, but Flynn stopped her with a look. “My dear Bridget,” he said, his voice filled with equal parts authority and understanding. “You must wait with your sisters while I escort Mr. Black to the infirmary.”
And with that one sentence her dear brother-in-law had revealed his intentions. He had no plans of allowing her to accompany them any further. Perhaps, like Maeve and Nora, he didn’t think the matter was any of her business.
Did Will agree? She glanced into his vivid expression and discovered her answer. He didn’t want her in the infirmary with him, either.
Horrified to feel the sting of tears, she lowered her gaze and concentrated blindly on the wooden dock below her feet. She knew the matter was none of her business, and yet…
And yet…
They were all correct. She had no right to insinuate herself into a stranger’s private affairs. She should have realized that sooner. Her concern had made her act impulsively, perhaps even rudely. She’d meddled, something so unlike her that her cheeks began to flame.
Clenching her fingers into the material of her skirt, she forced a pleasant smile onto her lips. “I will tell Maeve where you are.”
“No.” Flynn’s voice stopped her from leaving. “On second thought, please have my wife join Mr. Black and me in the infirmary.”
Hard as she tried to remain calm, Bridget cast him a dark look. Why would Flynn allow his wife to accompany him on this errand and not her?
He answered her unspoken question aloud. “Your sister was my assistant, Bridget. As such, she was in charge of keeping the medical records in order. Maeve will know precisely where to look for the information Mr. Black needs.”
How could Bridget possibly argue with that bit of logic? “Of course.” She released her death grip on her skirt. “I will tell her to find you at once.”
Before she turned to go, Will covered her hand with the reassuring pressure of his own. “Thank you, Bridget.” He squeezed gently. “Thank you for your help and…thank you.”
For a moment she stared down at his fingers wrapped around her own, wondering why she experienced that mystifying feeling again, the one where puzzle pieces seemed to be fitting together perfectly. “Oh, Will, you are quite welcome.”
He released her hand.
This time when she turned to go, neither man stopped her. As she made her way back across the docks, for good this time, Bridget only looked back in Will’s direction once. All right, twice. She only looked back twice.
Chapter Four
As it turned out, Flynn and Maeve did not accompany them to Faith Glen. The last Bridget saw of the pair were their retreating backs as they climbed the gangplank, with William Black following closely behind. Maeve had told Nora and Bridget to go on without them and Nora, efficient to a fault, had them on the road in no time at all.
If Bridget was truthful with herself she’d admit she wasn’t completely sorry Maeve and Flynn weren’t making the trip to the new town just yet. Since Flynn had a house in Boston, she knew they would be just fine on their own. Better than fine. Although Bridget would miss her sister dreadfully, the newlyweds needed time alone.
That left Bridget and Nora the task of claiming the house bequeathed to their mother. Her stomach rolled at the thought, at the possibility all may not turn out as they hoped. The rocking of the carriage added to her queasiness.
Swallowing back her nausea, she focused on the scenery passing by. The countryside was very green, the gently rolling hills much like the ones they’d left back in Ireland. The lingering sound and smell of the ocean was familiar, as well.
A sense of homecoming filled her.
She caught Nora’s eye.
Her sister smiled. “I’ve directed the driver to stop at the Sheriff’s Office before we head to the house.”
“I suppose it’s for the best.” She tried not to sigh again. She’d done quite enough of that for one day. “I assume you plan to publicly announce Grace is in our care?”
“It’s the right thing to do, Bridget. She’s not ours.”
“She feels like ours.”
“Yes, she does.” Nora’s eyes filled with tears. She lowered her head and whispered, “Grá mo chroí.” Sweetheart in Gaelic.
The baby’s little eyelids fluttered open and she yawned. Nora was already rummaging in her bag. A few seconds later and Grace suckled a bottle of milk in noisy contentment.
Leaning her head against the cushions behind her, Nora breathed out deeply.
“Tired?” Bridget asked.
“A bit. But excited, too.” She straightened. “We should probably show the deed to the sheriff while we’re there. If nothing else, he’ll be able to direct us to the house.”
Or take it away from them. “Oh, Nora. What if the deed isn’t legal?”
The horrible scenario was possible. Laird O’Malley, a former suitor of their mother’s, had left for America years ago. He’d been heartbroken their mother hadn’t wanted to marry him, but not enough that he’d lost hope she would one day chan
ge her mind.
He’d built her a house in Faith Glen and had put the deed of ownership in her name. The wording had made it possible for Colleen Murphy’s daughters to inherit the property.
Or so they were all counting on.
But what if they were wrong? What if the property wasn’t theirs for the taking? This entire trip to America had hinged on that promise.
As though sensing where her mind had gone, Nora nudged Bridget’s foot with the toe of her boot. “You leave the worrying to me, Bridget Murphy. I had the document verified in Ireland. Everything will work out fine.”
“Who are you trying to convince? Me or you?”
Nora patently ignored the question. “We’ll stop at the Sheriff’s Office, report Grace’s situation and then head to our new home.”
Their new home. What a wonderful, exciting, terrifying prospect. But what if the deed wasn’t legal, or if the house had been torn down?
Faith. All she needed was a little more faith.
Stiffening her spine, Bridget turned her attention back to the passing scenery. The road ran parallel to a small, fast-moving river. If she closed her eyes she could envision walking the high banks, dipping her toes in the fresh, cool water. There was a man by her side. A tall man with dark hair and blue eyes the color of the midday sky. The haunted look was gone from his expression and…
Bridget quickly snapped open her eyes. William Black was not the man of her dreams. He couldn’t be. There was no man in her dreams—not after what Daniel had done. And even if, sometime in the future, she let herself trust a man enough to consider love and marriage—well, surely Will wouldn’t be the man at her side. For all she knew he’d sorted out the situation with his missing bride and was at this very moment escorting the woman to his home in Boston.
She paused midthought, realizing it would do her no good to dwell on a man she would never see again.