by Renee Ryan
He paused, but didn’t turn around right away.
“Won’t you consider showing us the house today?”
At that bold statement he turned slowly around, his movements precise, his expression hidden under his hat.
“There’s a lot of day left,” she persisted, deciding she had little to lose at this point. “Surely, there would be no harm in us taking a brief look at the house.”
For a moment he seemed to debate silently with himself. Bridget shared a look with Nora. Neither dared break the silence, in case the man was using the time to rethink his earlier decision.
“Ordinarily I would agree with you.” He thrust out a heavy sigh. “But there’s an elderly couple in residence who’ve been acting as caretakers for the past seven years. For all intents and purposes, Laird’s house is their home now. They have no place else to go.”
Bridget gasped at the implication she heard in his words, finally understanding the man’s reticence and yet offended all the same. “We would never throw an elderly couple off our property.”
The Murphy sisters knew better than most what it meant to be tossed off land they’d considered their home. In their case, back in Ireland, it had been simply because the landlord decided to offer the tiny piece of property to his own kin. To suggest they would do the same was woefully incorrect.
“You go too far, Sheriff Long,” Nora added, returning to the formal address as if to make a point. “We would certainly allow this couple to stay on as long as they wish, indefinitely if need be.”
“That’s good to know.” He seemed relieved, even as his gaze darted from Nora to Bridget and back again. “But I still recommend you verify ownership before you undertake the half-mile journey to the house.”
As was true the first time they’d had this conversation, Bridget sensed the sheriff was withholding information, something more than this business with the elderly caretakers, something to do with the house itself.
A sliver of panic sliced through her. Nora must have had a similar reaction because she straightened her spine even further. “What are you hiding from us, Sheriff?”
He bristled at her tone, or perhaps the overly formal use of his title. “Now don’t go getting all high and mighty on me, Nora Murphy. I’m only trying to save you both added grief. At the moment the house isn’t, shall we say, presentable.”
Bridget didn’t like the sound of that. How bad could it be? Apparently bad enough that he felt the need to warn them.
She refused to be daunted. They’d survived the potato famine and being thrown off the land they’d called home all their lives. They could handle a house not quite presentable, especially if it was their house.
“Sheriff Long, please,” Bridget pleaded. “We would like to see the house and decide for ourselves what sort of condition it is in.”
“I see I cannot dissuade either of you.” He whipped off his hat and speared his fingers through his hair. “If you insist—”
“We do.”
“Then I’ll take you over tomorrow, after the church service has let out.”
Bridget clasped her hands together, her spirits lifting by the second. “That would be lovely.”
“Yes,” Nora agreed, her shoulders relaxing ever-so-slightly. “Yes, it would.”
“If I were you—” he crammed his hat back on his head “—I’d hold off your excitement until you see the place.”
With that simple warning Bridget knew, knew for sure, that there was something dreadfully wrong with the house. And yet, her excitement remained. If the elderly caretakers still lived there, then the structure was at least habitable.
At the moment that was good enough for her.
Chapter Seven
Will strode along the lane with two cautiously excited children in tow. His sad, despondent twins of mere hours before had lightened somehow. The solemness from before wasn’t entirely gone, but now it seemed to be mingled with hope. All because of a short visit to the general store and a fortuitous meeting with a beautiful young woman.
Relief, joy, disappointment…he hadn’t known it was possible to experience this many conflicting emotions all at once. Uncomfortable with the sensation, he shoved every unwanted feeling aside and focused on his children. His happy children, he noted.
Olivia was walking sedately, but she was smiling broadly, her new doll clutched desperately against her heart. Caleb’s expression was more serious, but he darted around her, bobbing his ship in the air as though the tiny boat rode a series of invisible waves. The toy was identical to the one he’d found for Bridget.
Neither child appeared to notice the suffocating, thick heat. They were too contented.
Will wiped at the sweat on his brow and looked back over his shoulder, wondering where the pretty Irish lass was now.
Bridget Murphy had accomplished a task no one had been able to do in over a year. She’d made his children smile with genuine pleasure on their faces.
Was it any wonder he’d asked her to marry him?
He’d acted rashly, he knew, and contemplated his own behavior with a slice of concern now that he had a moment to think clearly. The instant his eyes had landed on Bridget at the store he’d discovered the pull of attraction between them was still there, stronger than before, tugging at a hidden place deep within him that had whispered: she’s the one you’ve been searching for.
His throat tightened with emotion. There was no denying she was beautiful, soft-spoken and outwardly kind. But Fanny had been all of those things when he’d first met her, too. In his wife’s case, the facade of a sweet, untouched innocent had been a lie. Consequently she’d taught him never to trust a first impression, or a second or even a third.
Like Fanny, Bridget could be hiding unseemly qualities below that pretty, engaging surface of hers.
His steps faltered.
When had he become so cynical, so jaded? Had he missed all the signs of a good, honest, trustworthy woman because he’d been expecting to find a dishonest one?
Unhappy with all this introspection—Will hated introspection—he drew in a deep, slow, steadying breath and swerved around a branch on the pathway.
Stick to his original plan; that was what he must do. All he really needed in a wife was a woman who would be good to his children.
Bridget has been that, and more.
Will shoved aside the thought. She had refused his proposal and that was the end of the matter. He would start his search for another bride first thing Monday morning.
For now he would enjoy the day with his children.
After rounding the final corner to their home, the twins raced up the stairs leading to the front door. Caleb rushed ahead of Olivia.
“Nene! Come see what Papa bought me.” The little boy shouted in a high-pitched, excited voice, his words tumbling over one another. “It’s a ship. And Olivia has her very own dolly with brown hair. Brown hair!”
“Well, honestly, I’ve never heard so much yelling in all my life.” Will’s mother entered the hallway, her feet shuffling slowly across the wooden floor in the way she did when her hip was bothering her. “What’s all this excitement about?”
Shutting the door with a soft click, Will turned and studied his mother more closely. She appeared tired, more so than she had earlier, even with the added rest he’d provided her this morning.
He started to ask her how she was feeling, when Olivia skirted past him.
“Look, Nene.” Her words flowed just as quickly out of her mouth as her brother’s had. “Look at my new dolly. Isn’t she pretty?”
The little girl planted a tender kiss on the porcelain cheek then thrust the doll in the air toward her grandmother.
Will’s mother made a grand show of studying the toy carefully. “Oh, my, yes. Sh
e’s very pretty. I especially like her long, curly, brown hair.”
The color choice was significant. Until today, Olivia had chosen only blonde dolls for her private collection. It was clear Bridget Murphy had made an impression on his daughter. Will wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
“She’s not as pretty as Miss Bridget,” Olivia added as she fingered the doll’s hair. “But close.”
“Miss Bridget? As in, Bridget…” His mother swept her shocked gaze up to Will. “Collins? Was there some mistake, and she’s still ali—”
“No.” Will gave a brief but fierce shake of his head, the gesture a silent warning to hold back the rest of her questions until they were alone. “The twins met Bridget Murphy.”
He put considerable emphasis on the last name, willing his mother to understand that the woman the twins had met today was not the same one he’d intended to wed.
“You met another Bridget?” Her voice sounded incredulous.
Will lifted a shoulder. “It’s a common Irish name.”
“Is it?”
Will nodded, trying not to react to the reservation he saw in his mother’s eyes. From the start Esther Black had been privy to every aspect of his search for a mail-order bride. She hadn’t entirely approved, she’d made that clear enough, but after what Fanny had put them all through she’d understood.
Or so she’d claimed.
When he’d come home alone the night before, she had been full of sympathy, accepting his brief, pained explanation without pressing for details.
“Am I to assume that this Bridget…Murphy lives here in Faith Glen?” She angled her head at a curious tilt.
“It would appear so.” Will looked everywhere but directly in his mother’s gaze.
“I have never heard of her,” she said.
“That’s because she arrived on the Annie McGee just yesterday.”
“The Annie McGee?” She obviously recognized the name. “How very…interesting.”
It was a mistake, Will knew, to look straight into his mother’s eyes, but he did so anyway. If only to prove he had nothing to hide. Which, of course, he didn’t. The fact that he’d met a young woman named Bridget, who’d traveled to America on the very boat his intended bride had boarded, was simply a strange, unexpected coincidence.
Nothing more.
“William Black.” She planted a fist on her hip. “You mean to tell me—”
“Yes, mother.” He cut her off midsentence. “The children and I met a woman named Bridget in the general store this afternoon. And, yes, she traveled to America from Ireland on—” he gritted his teeth “—The. Annie. McGee.”
She considered him a moment. “But she is not the woman you—”
“She is not.” He didn’t explain any further, not with Olivia and Caleb staring at him with large, rounded eyes and poised ears.
His mother must have noticed the children’s interest because all she said was, “Well.”
His sentiments exactly.
He hoped that was the end of the matter. He should have known better.
“And what, may I ask, brought this other Bridget to Faith Glen?”
“I don’t know.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Will was reminded again that he’d acted rashly today, dangerously so. He’d proposed marriage to a woman he hardly knew and hadn’t bothered to acquire the most basic particulars of her life. Such as why she’d traveled all the way across the Atlantic only to land in Faith Glen, Massachusetts.
Was her presence a coincidence, as he’d thought earlier? Or God’s providence?
He didn’t know.
One thing was for certain. He should have asked Bridget about herself. Not because it would have been the polite thing to do—although that was certainly part of it—but because whatever had led her to settle in their small town might have given him a clue to her character.
She might be harboring a bitter secret, or running from a terrible scandal, though he doubted either scenario. The woman hadn’t shown any signs of deceit. And he knew them all.
Suddenly Will was seized with a desire to learn every detail about Bridget Murphy, small and large. He wanted to know her hopes, her dreams. What she liked to do for fun. The titles of her favorite books. Did she have a strong faith in God? Did she trust the Lord to guide her daily path? Would she—
He cut off the rest of his thoughts, reminding himself Bridget’s life was none of his concern. He had more important matters in which to attend, like finding a woman to care for his children on a permanent basis. A woman willing to accept a marriage in name only.
That didn’t mean he couldn’t assuage his curiosity about Bridget Murphy. As the largest employer in the area, he liked to know all the citizens of his community.
Faith Glen was a small town. It wouldn’t be hard to locate her again, even easier to discover what had brought her to America in the first place.
He knew exactly where to start.
Cameron Long, the local sheriff and a good friend of Will’s, made it his business to meet all the newcomers in town. After church tomorrow, Will would make a trip to the jailhouse. And find out exactly what sort of woman Bridget Murphy was under that sweet, pleasant exterior.
* * *
The next morning Bridget eyed Faith Glen’s only church from the bottom of the perfectly measured steps. Situated directly across the town square from the jailhouse, the white clapboard structure with its tall steeple and thin iron cross on top rose majestically under the clear azure sky.
The building practically glowed beneath the sun’s warm rays, beckoning Bridget forward. She climbed the first stair without hesitation, her gaze darting from left to right, right to left. Rows of square windows lined both sides of the wide double doors. Sunlight polished the glass into clear, sparkling diamonds.
Cradling a sleeping baby Grace in her arms, Nora matched her step for step. It was a shame Flynn and Maeve had sent their regrets and wouldn’t be able to make a trip to Faith Glen for a few more days. Bridget understood why. Flynn’s home was close by in Boston, yes, but they were newlyweds. They deserved time alone, just the two of them, while Bridget and Nora needed to get on with their own lives here in Faith Glen.
The moment they entered the church all heads turned in their direction. Although the attention was unnerving, Bridget had expected this blatant interest. She and Nora were strangers in town. But that wouldn’t be true for long. Bridget would work hard at making friends here. Not only because she liked meeting new people, but because Faith Glen was her home now.
The Lord had guided them here, had protected them throughout the journey across the ocean. Bridget had to trust all would turn out well, if not exactly as they had planned.
She lifted up a silent prayer for courage, moved deeper into the building and set out down the center aisle ahead of Nora. Refusing to be intimidated by the undisguised curiosity, Bridget smiled at several individuals along the way. Thankfully all returned the gesture.
We’re a peaceful community. The sheriff’s words echoed in her mind, providing the courage she’d prayed for moments before.
Still smiling, Bridget took another step and stopped as two tiny voices shouted her name in unison.
“Miss Bridget,” they squealed in unified delight. “Over here. Look, we’re over here.”
Turning her head slightly to her right, she caught sight of Caleb and Olivia Black two pews up. Dressed in their Sunday best, their hair combed and eyes shining, they waved in her direction.
Bridget waved back and then took note of the only other occupant in their pew. The children’s father. William Black. Or rather, Will. His gaze locked with hers and for a moment everything stopped.
Bridget blinked, her mouth opened then closed. The man’s eyes were as remarkable as she
remembered, the color still the same pure blue as a cloudless sky.
Holding her steady in his gaze, he smiled.
Something deep within her, some part of her that had been filled with tension since boarding the Annie McGee simply…let…go. Her shoulders relaxed. Her face warmed.
She quickly looked away.
“Miss Bridget,” Caleb said her name in a hissed “whisper” that was nearly as loud as a shout. “Come sit with us.”
“I take it you know those children?” Nora’s surprise was evident in her tone.
“I met them in the general store when I went for a walk yesterday.” Bridget didn’t expand. Not now, not here. Someone could overhear and come to the wrong conclusion.
“That man sitting beside them,” Nora said in a hushed whisper. “He looks familiar.”
“It’s William Black, from the docks in Boston. Remember, he was looking for his…bride.”
Nora’s eyes narrowed. “He’s smiling at you.”
“At us,” Bridget corrected her. “He’s smiling at us.”
“Well, then.” Nora readjusted her hold on Grace. “I say it’s time for a proper introduction.”
“Of course.” Bridget continued to the pew where the Black family sat.
“Hello,” she began. “Isn’t this is a happy coincidence?”
She smiled at the children first then looked up at Will. He’d already risen to his feet and was staring at her with such a compelling gaze her breath hitched in her throat.
“Bridget. I mean…” Will cleared his throat and glanced at Nora. “Miss Murphy. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“And you, as well.” She swallowed back her expanding nerves. “This is my sister Nora. Nora, this is William Black and his children, Olivia and Caleb.”
“Oh!” Olivia gasped in delight when she caught sight of the bundle in Nora’s arms. “You have a baby, too. Mine’s sleeping.” She rocked her dolly back and forth to prove her point.
“Mine is, too.” Nora laughed softly. “Her name is Grace.”
“I named my baby Bridget.” Olivia’s face practically glowed as she turned to smile at her doll’s namesake.