Song of Erin

by BJ Hoff

  By the time Samantha reached Grace Mission, she realized she might have made a mistake by venturing out into the storm. But she had said she would come today and hated not to keep her word. Besides, she had new books for Terese, as well as a lovely doll for Shona, made by one of the ladies at church.

  The cab she had taken was small and far too light for such a heavy snowfall. Twice on the way they had gotten stuck, another time nearly tipping over when they rounded a corner. Samantha didn’t relish the thought of the return trip in the same vehicle, but she might not be able to hire anything else. Given the way the snow was coming down, she had no intention of staying more than a few minutes, so she asked the driver to wait for her outside the mission.

  The street was nearly deserted and desolate in the storm, the afternoon almost as dark as late evening. Snow sliced her skin, and the wind brought tears to her eyes as she hurried up to the front door.

  Inside, it was more cheerful. Some of the children, no doubt aided by the volunteer workers, had made paper snowflakes and other winter decorations, hanging them from the banisters. A fire blazed in the grate in the front room, and from the direction of the kitchen came the sound of voices and pans rattling.

  As Samantha started up the stairway, she heard the familiar sounds coming from the “sickroom”—the dormitory that housed the women and children who were seriously ill. The faint moans and cries never failed to tear at her heart, and ordinarily she would have gone there first, before visiting Terese and Shona. There was little she could do except to walk among the beds, inquiring after each patient or clasping a hand to offer reassurance. Sometimes she would hold one of the infants or toddlers for a while so that its mother could take a much-needed rest. Sometimes she could do nothing at all but pray for them.

  Today, however, she went directly to Terese’s room. She found Shona perched on the bed, making cutouts, while Terese sat by the window, watching the snow. Their obvious pleasure when she walked into the room warmed Samantha’s heart, and now she was glad she’d made the effort to come.

  She explained that she could stay only a few minutes. “I’ve left a cab waiting for me because of the storm. But I wanted to at least come by and give you these.”

  She gave Shona the doll and was rewarded to see the child’s entire countenance light up with delight. After only a moment’s hesitation, she received a hug from the girl, who then sat holding the doll in her arms as if it were the most precious, wondrous thing she had ever seen.

  “What will you name her?” asked Samantha, smiling.

  Shona looked up, seeming to consider the question with great care. “Her name is ‘Samantha,’” she said solemnly.

  Samantha blinked quickly, for an instant overcome with emotion. “Well,” she finally managed, “I have never had a doll named after me, Shona. Thank you.”

  Terese’s eyes also brightened when Samantha handed her the parcel of books. Included were a copy of Dickens’ Pickwick Papers and a collection of Mr. Irving’s regional stories. The books actually came from Samantha’s own small library, but she chose to keep this information to herself.

  Samantha had been surprised at how well Terese could read. So many of the immigrants she worked with—the Irish in particular—were either illiterate when they arrived or at best had only a rudimentary grasp of the English language; many from the more remote regions in western Ireland spoke only Gaelic. But both Cavan and Terese had been extremely fortunate in that their father, schooled in the basics by a Catholic priest, seemed to have passed on a love of reading to his children.

  Shona was another matter. The child had obviously received very little in the way of education, a situation Samantha hoped to eventually remedy.

  Watching Terese, Samantha sensed that in spite of her pleasure at the new books the girl seemed distracted, perhaps even troubled. There was a tension about her that hinted of some concern.

  “Terese? Are you not feeling well?”

  The girl looked at Samantha, then quickly glanced away. “No, I’m fine,” she said, the reply coming perhaps a little too quickly.

  Samantha didn’t want to pry, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was definitely something wrong. “You’re quite sure?” she prompted gently.

  The smile Terese gave seemed a little forced. “ ’Tis the snow, perhaps. It makes me feel a bit…edgy somehow.”

  Samantha studied her. “You do know, don’t you, Terese, that if you ever have a problem, I’m here to help. I hope you wouldn’t hesitate to ask.”

  The girl smiled again, this time more naturally. “You’re very kind to us, Samantha. But please don’t fret yourself about me. I’m perfectly fine. Truly, I am.”

  Samantha was hesitant to leave so soon but knew she must. “Well, then, I should go, I suppose. The storm is getting worse by the minute. Oh—I almost forgot. Cavan wanted me to tell you that he had to go out of town but will be back in a day or two. Mr. Kane sent him to Albany—that’s the state capital—to gather some information for the paper.”

  Terese frowned. “Cavan went away in such a storm? Will he be all right?”

  “Oh yes, he’ll be fine! You mustn’t worry about him. He’s already there by now, and I’m sure if the storm gets too bad he’ll simply stay over until the worst has passed.”

  Terese didn’t look altogether convinced, but she said nothing more.

  Still reluctant to go, Samantha drew on her gloves with deliberate slowness. Finally, after another hug from Shona and an extended good-bye to the two of them, she left.

  The blast of icy snow and wind that greeted her as she stepped outside made her suddenly anxious to get home and stay there.

  David Leslie seldom found himself at a loss for words with a patient.

  But then, Terese Sheridan was no ordinary patient.

  He hesitated at the door to her room, feeling as ill at ease as a callow schoolboy—not altogether because of what he was about to suggest but more because he knew how disappointed he would be if Terese turned him down.

  But then why would she, he reasoned? This could easily be—indeed, would certainly appear to be—at least a partial solution to her concern about how she was going to support herself and her baby.

  Ever since their conversation of the day before, David had been mulling over a number of possibilities as to how he could help her. He thought he might have finally settled on an idea that would relieve her mind somewhat about the future.

  And what might it mean to his future, a sly voice whispered at the back of his mind. He could hardly pretend this was entirely for Terese, now could he?

  By now David was thoroughly annoyed with himself for his own ambivalence. At the worst, she wouldn’t be interested. He could still offer.

  He drew in one long steadying breath, cleared his throat, and walked into the room.

  Snow swirled like thick fog all about Jack. Madog had been right; he would be wet clear through by the time he reached the mission. His topcoat was already soaked.

  This was no ordinary snowstorm; that much was certain. It was more of a blizzard. He had thought he was prepared for the worst, but he was beginning to wonder if he might have been a bit of a fool for hopping onto an open wagon in such a storm. The wind was ploughing up the street, shrieking like a banshee, hurling the snow full force as it came. Jack wouldn’t have been all that surprised to find himself lifted off the wagon and tossed into the street.

  He kept his head down, his shoulders hunched, but there was no real protection for his stinging skin or burning eyes. He caught a breath, sucking in a blast of snow and choking on it. Everything was white, the very air a heavy curtain of ice and snow blowing wildly in the wind.

  He considered turning back, but he was over halfway there by now. Besides, by tomorrow the streets might be well nigh impassable.

  The decision made, he swept his woolen neck muffler up over the bottom half of his face as a kind of mask and kept going.

  Terese looked up when David entered, and he was unreason
ably pleased at the way her eyes lighted when she saw him.

  He had half expected to find Shona with her, perhaps had even been hoping she would be here, to give him an excuse for delay.

  “Dr. Leslie,” she said quietly.

  David stopped just inside the room, transfixed for the moment by the sight of her. Even in the dusky room, with only the gray light from the window framing her, her hair was a cloud of fire. Cropped as it was, it still curled softly around her face. She was dressed in a faded hand-me-down garment donated by one of the church benevolent societies. Even in this, and noticeably swollen with child, she somehow managed to strike a bearing of uncommon loveliness.

  And she was lovely. This pregnant, seventeen-year-old girl with the haunted eyes and the slightly cynical smile literally took his breath away. He was in love with her, no doubt about it: hopelessly, helplessly in love for the first time in his life.

  Almost thirty-five years old and he had suddenly turned into an awkward, lovesick fool. David sighed. Was there anything more pathetic, he wondered, than a wretchedly shy bachelor in love for the first time?

  “Would it be terribly difficult,” he said, walking the rest of the way into the room, “for you to call me ‘David’?”

  Terese looked surprised but then smiled. “Not so terribly difficult, I suppose… David.”

  He savored the sound of his name on her lips. “That’s better. So—how are you feeling?”

  “Stout,” she said dryly. “A bit like a bloated whale.” The next instant she blushed, as if she had only then realized that her response might be indelicate.

  David laughed, hoping to relieve her embarrassment. “I assure you, you don’t in the least resemble one. Where is your shadow, by the way?”

  “Shona? She went downstairs to show off her new doll, I expect. Samantha brought it for her.”

  “I’m surprised Samantha would venture out on such a day. But no doubt you’re glad she did.”

  She nodded, and he pulled up a chair directly in front of her. “I had an idea I wanted to discuss with you,” he said. “Are you up to a chat?”

  Again she gave a nod, watching him.

  “Terese, I know you’re concerned about the future,” he began somewhat awkwardly. “About how you’re going to manage with a new baby to care for.”

  She frowned, a guarded look rising in her eyes.

  “I’ve been thinking about you—your situation, that is—ever since we talked yesterday. And I believe I may have a solution. One that could benefit both of us.” David paused, then decided to just get on with it. “I’m wondering if you might consider staying on here—after the baby is born I mean—as an employee?”

  She stared at him, clearly bewildered. “I don’t understand.”

  David undertook to explain. “Like most of the missions in the city, we depend almost entirely on volunteer assistance, and we’ve been fortunate in that respect. The churches and some of the immigrant societies have been wonderful in helping us as much as they can. But as it happens, we’ve grown too large to continue without at least a few full-time employees.” He stopped. “I—was thinking that perhaps you might be interested in a position with us.”

  Her mouth dropped open a little. “A position? What sort of position?”

  “I’m in rather urgent need of someone to help care for the children, you see. They don’t get nearly enough attention, as you may have noticed. You’re awfully good with them, Terese—I’ve watched you from time to time. The children take to you.”

  “Why…I like them, too, sure, but how much help could I be—”

  “Oh, I don’t mean right away,” he hurried to assure her. “Naturally, you can’t take on anything of the sort until after the baby comes. But I was hoping that, later, you might consider a job here.”

  She was still frowning, but David thought she also seemed interested.

  “But surely that wouldn’t be a real job—taking care of the children,” she said.

  He laughed a little. “Actually, it would probably take a great deal more time and effort than you might expect. But even if it didn’t, I could use your help in other areas. Didn’t you tell me you’d done housework and even a bit of nursing for a woman back in Ireland?”

  She nodded slowly. “Aye. Jane Connolly. She was in a bad way, Jane was. I kept house for her and helped tend to her personal needs as well.”

  David laced his fingers together on one knee. “That kind of experience would be awfully helpful to me. Would you be willing to do the same sort of thing here at the mission? I realize it would be menial work, but it’s important work, all the same.”

  Her chin lifted a little. “I’m not above doing for others, if that’s what you mean.”

  David smiled at her. “No, I didn’t think you would be. Now I’ll be perfectly honest, Terese: The salary wouldn’t be all that generous. I’m trying to build a staff here and at three other mission houses in the city, so there’s not a great deal of money available. But you would have a small wage, plus a room of your own for you and the baby—and your meals, of course.”

  He could definitely see a glint of excitement in her eyes now. “You’re serious about this, then?” She leaned forward a little. “You’d do this for me?”

  “No, Terese, I’d actually be doing it for me,” David emphasized. “I’m rather desperate for help.”

  She studied him with an intensity that made David squirm a little.

  “But why me?” she asked. “No doubt you could get another woman right away, someone who’s not going to be—indisposed—for a time. Why would you wait for me?”

  He should have known she was too sharp-witted to simply grab at the idea without questioning his motives. He expelled a long breath, holding her gaze, although he could feel a bit of a flush creeping up his face. “I might just as well be honest with you, I suppose. I do need the help—that’s no exaggeration. But the rest of it is that I…ah…I really don’t want you to leave.”

  Her eyebrows lifted slightly.

  David’s palms suddenly felt clammy, and he knotted his hands into fists on top of his knees. “I’m not very good at this sort of thing, Terese. Haven’t had much practice, you see. What I’m getting at is that I…ah…find you attractive, and I like…being with you.”

  He gave a helpless shrug. “I’m not saying this very well, am I?”

  She was looking at him with unconcealed disbelief. “You think me…attractive?”

  Had he not been so ill at ease—or so intent on convincing her—David might have laughed at her incredulity. “Only a blind man wouldn’t find you attractive, Terese. But it’s much more than that. I—like you. Very much, actually. And I don’t want you to go away.”

  She straightened a little, her hands gripping the arms of the chair. She sat in silence for a time, seeming to consider his idea. “Shona? Would she be staying, too?”

  “Oh—well, of course, she can stay as long as need be. I suppose later Samantha Harte will try to locate a family who will take her in—even adopt her—if Shona is agreeable. But until then, naturally she can stay right here with you.”

  He could almost see her uncertainty warring with a growing interest in his proposition.

  “You don’t have to decide now,” David offered. “I just thought…it might relieve your mind a bit to know you have a job waiting—if you want it.”

  A shadow of something touched her face. A sinking feeling struck David. Perhaps he had put her in an untenable position by admitting his attraction to her, and she simply didn’t know how to reject him without spoiling her chances for the job.

  He rose, suddenly anxious to get out of the room before she turned him down altogether. “I should be going,” he said, his words spilling out in a rush. “I haven’t finished my rounds yet. As I said, I don’t need an answer from you right away. Just…take your time. And, Terese—”

  She looked up, her expression unreadable.

  “I want you to understand,” he said awkwardly. “The job i
s in no way connected to my…interest in you. I mean, I wouldn’t want you to think that you’d have to suffer my…attentions…just because you took the position. If it happens that you don’t return my feelings, that wouldn’t affect your employment in any way, I assure you.”

  He turned, then, almost stumbling in his haste to flee the room before she could reply.

  Terese watched him go, her emotions rioting in his wake. She was stunned by what had just occurred. The offer of a job would have been wonder enough—it was like a gift from heaven—but that a man of David Leslie’s stature would take a fancy to her, and in her condition at that, was nothing short of astounding!

  Bitterly, she reminded herself that he knew virtually nothing about her, indeed believed her to be an innocent girl victimized by an unknown assailant. No doubt if he knew the truth about her—and the baby—he would change his tune entirely.

  But in the meantime he had thrown her a lifeline, had given her a means of escape from a situation that only hours ago seemed utterly hopeless.

  Now if the great Jack Kane came sniffing around with his prying questions and subtle threats, she need not cower. She had the promise, not only of a job, but a roof over her head and safekeeping for her baby.

  As for the other—David’s interest in her—she need not deal with that now. It was enough that he had offered her a position—and with no strings attached.

  He was a good man, a kind man, and she was drawn to him, no denying it. But she must not for one minute allow herself to believe that anything could ever come of it. He would not want her if he knew the truth, and she would not deceive him, if ever it came to that.

  She had had quite enough of deceit. If she ever managed to extricate herself from the web of lies and deception that she and Brady had initiated by their own actions, she would never tolerate anything less than the truth again, not in herself or in another.

  But for now she would take comfort in the knowledge that perhaps God had not deserted her after all. She had begun to fear she might have imagined his forgiveness. From the day she had dropped to her knees in the middle of a mean, squalid street in Galway City and begged in desperation for his mercy, she had tried to hold fast to the belief that there was hope for her and her child, after all, in spite of her sin. But during the nightmare voyage across the ocean and all that came after, she had found it difficult, nearly impossible, to hold on to that hope.