Maggie felt Adam stiffen beside her, and he slowly removed her hand from his arm.
“Just giving Miss Montgomery a tour of the stables, sir. Nothing to make a fuss about.”
Maggie frowned. Why would anyone make a fuss about that? And what was Mr. O’Leary doing out here? Surely, he hadn’t missed her among all his prestigious guests.
A flurry of further footsteps sounded, and Rylan appeared in the open doorway.
“Ah, Maggie, there you are. We’ve been worried about you.”
“Maggie, is this man bothering you?” Mr. O’Leary’s frown was enough to frighten years off the growth of a child.
She pulled herself up to her full height. “Not at all, sir. He’s been most kind, offering to show me the horses.”
Mr. O’Leary shot Adam a withering stare that Maggie did not understand. Even if Adam had violated some rule that stable hands could not interact with guests, Mr. O’Leary’s reaction seemed extreme.
Rylan motioned to her. “Come back to the house, Maggie. Gabe and Colleen are in a fret about you.”
Shame pooled in her chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry anyone.” She turned back to face Adam. His countenance had changed completely. Gone was the pleasant stable hand who had indulged her whims. In his place, a fierce, scowling man glared at Mr. O’Leary. Maggie started at the open animosity vibrating between the two men.
“Thank you so much, Adam,” she said. “I’ll have to come back another time to see the horses.”
His features softened as he looked at her and nodded. “It was my pleasure, Maggie. I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay in America.”
“Thank you.” Why did it feel as though she’d never see him again? And why did that bother her? “Good luck with your furniture-making.”
Two red flags stained Adam’s cheeks. Maggie hoped she hadn’t said anything that might get him in further trouble with Mr. O’Leary.
Rylan took her by the elbow and practically dragged her outside. She quickened her pace to keep up with him. Just before they reached the house, Maggie pulled her arm free.
“Do you mind telling me what’s got your knickers in such a twist?”
An unusual scowl creased Rylan’s forehead. “You can’t go wandering off like that, Maggie. You’re not in Ireland anymore. Things are different here.”
“I only wanted some fresh air and to see the magnificent horses everyone was talking about. Is that a crime?” A cool evening breeze teased the curls on her bare shoulders, and she shivered, wishing for her wrap.
“You should have taken an escort. Girls—ladies—don’t go walking places alone. It’s more dangerous here.”
She peered at him. “Are you implying that Adam is dangerous? Because you couldn’t be more wrong.”
Rylan let out a slow breath. “He’s a criminal, Maggie. You’re not to speak to him again.”
Her mouth dropped open, her mind emptying of all logical thought. “Do you make it a habit to learn the history of all Mr. O’Leary’s employees?”
With a hand to her back, Rylan led her up the stairs to the porch that surrounded the house. “Adam is not just a stable hand. He’s Colleen’s older brother.” He leaned in close beside her. “Adam was released from prison a little over a week ago.”
Maggie’s knees wobbled. She sank onto a wicker chair, unable to absorb his statement. “I don’t understand.”
Rylan took a seat beside her. “No one is willing to hire an ex-convict, so Mr. O’Leary allowed Adam to work in the barn, but it doesn’t mean he trusts him. There’s a lot of bad blood between them.” Rylan blew out a weary breath. “Trust me, Maggie, it would be best if you forget you ever met Adam O’Leary.”
“What do you think you were doing with that girl?”
Adam stared at his father’s reddened face. “I was about to show her the horses, like she asked. Why are you making this into something sinister?”
“Don’t you realize that simply being seen with you could ruin her reputation? Or do social niceties not matter to you anymore?”
Adam clamped his lips shut. Although he hated to admit it, his father had a point. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think . . .”
“That’s half your problem, boy. You never think before you act. You certainly never consider the consequences of your actions on others. Ruin your life if you must, but leave the rest of us out of it.”
From the apoplectic look on his father’s face, Adam feared the man might suffer another angina attack. Perhaps coming to work here had been a huge mistake. No matter what Adam did, it was the wrong thing. His presence had created nothing but tension between his parents, and the last thing Adam wanted was to cause his mother more unhappiness.
“You’re right. I don’t know why I ever thought this could work.” Bitterness dripped from Adam’s words.
His father stilled for a moment. “I think it would be best for everyone involved if you found another position. You can stay on here until then.”
A harsh laugh escaped Adam. “That could take years. Don’t worry. I’ll be gone in the morning.” He strode across the hard-packed floor, boots slapping the ground.
“Don’t leave without saying good-bye to your mother,” his father called after him. “Make her believe you have a better offer somewhere else.”
It galled Adam to have to concede to his father, but for his mother’s sake, he would do it. Anything to make up for the pain he’d caused.
Adam gave a stiff nod and exited the building, but instead of going to his quarters, he walked to the fence surrounding the racetrack. He leaned his elbows on the top rung and hung his head, focusing all his attention on the simple act of breathing in and out.
A few minutes later, he sensed a presence beside him.
“You look like you’ve seen better days.” Sam’s sympathetic voice allowed the tense muscles in Adam’s back to unclench.
“Had a lot worse, as well.” Images of dreary days spent caged in a cell flashed behind his eyes. He let out a loud sigh. “This arrangement isn’t going to work, Sam. No matter what I do, my father is ready to hang me from the nearest tree without a trial.”
Sam laid a hand on Adam’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, lad. I’ve enjoyed having you back, sharing my barn with you.”
Adam glanced over at him. “Me too.”
“Where will you go now?”
“I have a friend in the city. Maybe he can give me a new perspective on things.”
Sam’s bushy brows bunched together. “I hope you’re not going back to the thugs who got you into this mess.”
Adam shook his head. “Trust me. I’ve learned my lesson in that regard. This is a friend who visited me in prison. John’s a good man—wise beyond his years. He’s used to dealing with people . . . in my situation.”
Sam pushed away from the fence and tugged his hat on tighter. “I have a brother with a ranch out in Wyoming. I could send you there, no questions asked.”
A lump formed in Adam’s throat at the man’s simple faith in him. He nodded. “Thank you, Sam. I hope it doesn’t come to that, but it’s good to know I have another option.”
Sam squeezed Adam’s shoulder with one beefy hand. “Good luck, son. And let me know if you need anything.”
With that, Sam ambled off across the path to the barn.
Adam remained outside, knowing sleep would elude him for a long while. The vivacious features of Maggie Montgomery danced before his eyes as he stared out into the darkness, taunting him with dreams that could never be.
How had Adam ever thought coming back to Irish Meadows was a good plan? His father was not a man inclined to put the past behind them—not even for Mama’s sake. Time and distance might provide the only solution to Adam’s dilemma.
As his mind continued to run in circles, Adam turned to the one source of peace he’d found in prison.
Lord, I know I’m supposed to love my father, but does it have to be so hard? Help me to find it in my heart to forgive him, and he me. Help me to be
humble and accept the consequences of my actions. And if You’re handing out miracles, allow me to make amends to my family . . . if that’s even possible.
Adam forced himself to recall John McNabb’s last visit to the penitentiary and the vow Adam had made in John’s presence—that he would take whatever steps necessary to atone for his mistakes and make peace with his family. That he would commit to doing God’s will and start his life anew with a gracious heart. To do so, John had said, Adam would need to let go of his resentment and set aside his pride.
As the morning’s first rays broke over the horizon, Adam set his jaw with renewed resolve. If it took him the rest of his days—if he had to shovel manure from here to eternity—he would make his mother proud of him again. And in doing so, Adam hoped he might one day earn the respect of his father—at last.
7
EARLY-MORNING STEAM rose off the sidewalk to greet Adam as he trudged down Park Avenue, the collar of his jacket pulled up against the slight chill in the air. He turned onto 11th Street, peering from beneath the brim of his cap at the various buildings he passed. Finding a church shouldn’t be too difficult, though Adam wasn’t entirely sure what John’s church would look like. Much different from St. Patrick’s Cathedral, he imagined.
At the break of dawn, Adam had gathered his few possessions and, not wishing to awaken his mother at that hour, had left a note for her with the housekeeper. Perhaps his actions had been cowardly, but he couldn’t bear to face Mama until he had a new plan in place for his life. Not to mention he hadn’t wished to cross paths with his father again. So Adam had taken the earliest train from Long Island into the city and walked in the direction of John’s church.
Adam hiked several more blocks until he came to the address John McNabb had made him commit to memory and then slowed to a stop in front of the Shepherd of Good Hope Church. This early in the morning, the gray stone building appeared deserted, and for the first time since leaving Irish Meadows, Adam’s courage faltered. What was he thinking, coming to this holy place? Surely the walls would shake and crumble with outrage should he step inside. Yet how else would he find John?
A soft mist drizzled down from the leaden clouds. Adam shivered and blew on his cold fingers, shifting his satchel to his other hand. He climbed the steps and tried the front door, only to find it locked. The information carved on a wooden sign indicated the first service started at 8:30 in the morning. Surely John would open the church before then. Adam would simply walk around the block a few times until he noticed evidence of activity inside.
On his second time around, he was gratified to spy a light shining through the side windows of the church. Adam squared his shoulders and climbed the stairs again. This time, under his stiff fingers, the latch gave way and the door creaked open.
Adam froze. Would the sexton appear and demand he leave? When no movement sounded, he continued through another set of doors into the main worship area.
At the front of the room, a tall man placed a Bible on the lectern. When he lifted his head, he caught sight of Adam. “Can I help you, sir?”
Adam stepped into the open. “Hello, John.”
Shock, then pleasure, flitted across the man’s features. “Adam? Is that you?” He walked briskly down the main aisle of the church, reaching out to give Adam a hearty handshake. “I hadn’t expected to see you so soon. Everything’s all right, I hope?” His brow furrowed, creating wrinkles on his prominent forehead.
“Could be better. Do you have a few minutes to talk? I know it’s your busiest day . . .”
“Of course, of course. Come back to the rectory and have a cup of coffee.”
“I could use one. Thanks.”
He followed John out the side door and across a narrow walkway to a small brick house. John opened the front door and motioned Adam to follow him in.
Children’s voices and the clatter of dishes met Adam’s ears. He hesitated on the threshold. “Your wife won’t mind?”
“Not at all. Come and meet my family.”
The man’s simple acceptance—taking a criminal into his home to meet his wife and children—humbled Adam.
During his prison visits, John had quoted Bible verses and spoken of his convictions, but now Adam saw that John’s words weren’t mere utterances to sway a fallen sheep. This man lived his faith.
Adam tugged off his cap, set his bag on the mat, and entered the homey kitchen.
“Anne, we have a guest. This is Adam O’Leary. Adam, this is my wife and our sons, David and Michael.”
An attractive, brown-haired woman moved away from the sink to smile at Adam. “Nice to meet you, Mr. O’Leary.” She laid a hand on the shoulder of the younger boy at the table, who appeared to be about four or five.
“You, too, Mrs. McNabb. I’m sorry to disturb your breakfast.” He glanced at the cast-iron frying pan on the stove, where the enticing aroma matched the sizzle from the pan.
“Nonsense. You must join us.” She removed the bacon and brought the refilled platter to the table.
Before he could protest, John pulled out one of the ladder-back chairs for Adam. “Have a seat, and I’ll get that coffee.”
Adam sat down and, mindful of the boys’ curious stares, tried to soften his features, fearing his scowling countenance might frighten them.
John set two steaming mugs of coffee on the table and gave his wife a pointed look.
She nodded. “Boys, come along and get dressed for church.” She smiled at Adam. “We’ll give you time to talk. There are biscuits and jam to go with the bacon.”
John kissed his wife’s cheek. “Thank you, honey.”
Adam remained silent while John served two plates of food and took a seat across from him.
“So how can I help?” John said quietly.
Adam shoveled a bite of bacon into his mouth and chewed before answering. “Things didn’t work out with my father. I lasted a week as a stable hand before he accused me . . . of inappropriate behavior. I had to leave.”
John set down his fork and shook his head. “I wish I could say I’m surprised. The unfortunate truth is that you’re going to have to deal with society’s prejudices. It will take time to prove your trustworthiness and earn back people’s respect. Just remember God is with you, no matter how others treat you.”
Simply listening to the man speak in his calm, straightforward manner brought a measure of peace to Adam’s soul. It called to mind the wonderful talks they’d shared when John had visited him in prison. His simple acceptance and nonjudgmental attitude had drawn Adam to him and slowly awakened Adam’s faith. A faith that was now being tested.
“Did you take my advice and have that talk with your father?”
Adam swallowed some biscuit. “Not exactly.”
John took a drink of his coffee, eyes steady over the rim of his cup, waiting for Adam to explain.
“I was hoping to prove myself on the job first, and then when the time was right, broach the topic.”
John nodded. “I can understand wanting to work your way up to that particular conversation.” He set his mug on the table. “So what are you going to do now?”
Adam’s throat went dry. He gulped down a quick sip of scalding black coffee. “That’s why I’m here. I was hoping since you work with inmates, you might have some advice as to where to start.” He couldn’t help the frustration that seeped into his voice.
John slathered jam onto a biscuit. “Let me talk to a few men in the congregation. See if any of them needs help or knows of anyone who does.”
“I’ll do any type of manual labor,” Adam said quietly. “Nothing is too menial.”
“Do you have a place to stay in the meantime?”
“Not yet.”
John frowned. “Don’t you have a sister here in the city?”
“I do. But after what happened yesterday, I know I wouldn’t be welcome.” From the way Rylan had practically dragged Maggie away from him, Adam suspected he wouldn’t want him anywhere near his wife, either.
John released a soft sigh. “I wish I could offer to take you in. Though my wife is a tolerant woman, I’m afraid she’d never agree to it, even if we had the space.”
“I understand.” Adam finished the last piece of bacon and pushed his chair back. “Don’t worry. I’ll find somewhere to sleep.”
John rose, as well. “There is a storage room in the church basement. It’s not much, but I could set up a cot for you there.”
Adam straightened his shoulders. “Only if I can work in exchange for the room. I won’t accept charity.”
John looked ready to argue with him, but then nodded. “All right, we could always use help with repairs around the church.”
Though Adam realized John was likely inventing jobs to save Adam’s pride, he appreciated the man’s offer. “Very well.”
In the hallway, a clock chimed the hour. John moved to take his plate to the sink. “We can discuss all this later. Right now I must get ready for the service.” He moved toward the door. “Will I see you in church?” The question was gentle, no coercion involved.
Adam hesitated. Was he ready to go back to church? To face people’s censure, knowing others would not be as accepting as John?
“Not today. But one Sunday soon, I promise.” Adam pulled his cap from his jacket pocket and tugged it on. A measure of relief flooded his tense muscles. At least he had a place to lay his head. The rest would come in time. “Thank you, John. You have no idea how much your support means to me.”
“I’m happy to help in any way I can.” John walked Adam to the door. “But I will ask for one thing in return.”
“Name it.”
“Go and talk to your sister and brother-in-law. Clear the air with them as a first step toward making amends with your family.”
Adam hesitated, but finally nodded. “You’re right. I owe Colleen a long-overdue apology.” He opened the door, then faced the clergyman. “I thank you, John, for your hospitality and your help. I won’t let you down.”
Maggie straightened the quilt on her side of the bed she shared with Delia and crossed the wooden floor, careful not to awaken the sleeping child. Out in the hall, she huffed out a small sigh. Between her encounter with Neill the other day and last night’s discovery about Adam, Maggie felt more than a little unsettled.
A Worthy Heart Page 7