A Worthy Heart

by Susan Anne Mason

  His feet seemed rooted to the rich earth at his feet. He blinked, thinking to banish the image from his mind, but she remained, her blue skirts billowing out behind her.

  With effort, he forced his feet to move forward, while his heart beat an unsteady rhythm in his chest. Sudden alarm filled his mind. Had something happened to Delia or Colleen?

  “Maggie. What are you doing here?”

  “Hello, Adam.” She clasped her hands together in front of her. “How is your mother doing?”

  She appeared nervous, her usual unflappable nature missing today.

  “She’s holding her own for the moment. What news do you have from the orphanage?” He hardly dared hear the answer, yet he sensed no grief in her spirit.

  She smiled, wreathing her face in a beauty that blinded him. “Dr. Reardon says Delia will make a full recovery.”

  Relief rushed swift and fierce through his system. “Praise God. He’s answered our prayers.”

  Maggie came closer, the hem of her skirt swishing the grass as she walked. “Indeed He has.”

  As though drawn by a magnet, Adam continued forward until he was mere steps away. So close that her lavender scent surrounded him. “But why have you come? Surely a phone call would have sufficed.” He knew the answer he wanted to hear, yet the futility of it all hovered in the recesses of his mind.

  A cloud of uncertainty passed over her features. “I came to offer whatever support I could.” Her fingers twisted in the fabric of her skirts. “Colleen wanted to be here, but she couldn’t leave Delia yet. I offered to come in her stead and bring a letter for your mother.” She lifted one shoulder. “If I can be of any assistance—cooking, washing, whatever needs to be done . . .” She trailed off, a slight frown wrinkling her perfect nose.

  Adam held himself rigid, determined not to let his disappointment show. She’d come here to work. In all likelihood, Rylan had suggested it to make Colleen feel better about not being able to come herself. He straightened. “Come in. I’ll find out what tasks you can help with.”

  “Thank you.” She fell in beside him, crossing the grass to the back stairs.

  Adam opened the door for her, and they entered through a narrow hallway into the kitchen.

  Mrs. Harrison sat at the large wooden table, a plate of food in front of her. She jumped up when they entered. “Master Adam. What can I do for you?”

  He gave a mock scowl. “You can sit and finish your meal. This is Maggie, Rylan’s sister. She wants to help in whatever way she can.”

  Mrs. Harrison beamed at Maggie. “Lovely to meet you, dear. Any relative of Rylan’s is welcome here.”

  Maggie’s light laugh echoed through the kitchen. “I see my brother has worked his considerable charm on you. He knows how to keep anyone who cooks his meals happy.”

  “That he does.” Mrs. Harrison settled her plump frame back on her chair. “I must rest my feet while I can. Though I’d be glad of your help later in getting ready for dinner.”

  “I’d be happy to.”

  “Thank you, Maggie. Help yourself to the leftovers if you’re hungry.”

  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  Remembering his initial intention, Adam snagged two biscuits and an apple from a basket on the counter. “Could you let Mrs. Johnston know we have a guest staying overnight?” He peered at Maggie. “You are intending to stay?”

  Maggie fixed him with a solemn gaze. “I’m here until your mother is on her feet again.”

  Mrs. Harrison chuckled. “I think you’re just what we need around here, Maggie. Nothing like a fresh dose of optimism, I always say.”

  Maggie nodded. “From your lips to God’s ears.”

  In the Irish Meadows kitchen, Maggie’s nerves lessened, and she breathed easier. At least Mrs. Harrison seemed grateful for her presence. Adam’s unwelcoming manner had added to her initial anxiety, yet deep in her heart, Maggie believed she’d done the right thing by coming. Still, if it became apparent Adam didn’t want her here, what would she do?

  “Did you bring a bag?” Adam’s voice jarred Maggie out of her thoughts.

  “Aye. I left it by the front door.”

  “I’ll get it and then take you to one of the guest rooms. You can freshen up before Mrs. Harrison puts you to work.”

  Adam led Maggie down another hallway to the front foyer, and she waited while he retrieved her bag. In silence, they began to climb the impressive, curving staircase.

  Her mind searched for ways to keep him talking, to keep him from shutting her out. “How have things been between you and your father since you got here?”

  Adam shot her a hard look. “Strained. But we’ve struck a truce for now.”

  They reached the second floor, and a flurry of footsteps sounded on the carpet.

  Brianna rushed toward them. “Adam, come quickly. Mama is asking for you.”

  He dropped the bag on the floor. “She’s awake?”

  “Barely. It’s not good, Adam.” Tears brimmed over Brianna’s lower lashes. “She wants Colleen, Dee-Dee, and Connor. I don’t know what to tell her.” Dark smudges gave her wide green eyes a hollow look.

  Maggie followed the pair down the hall, pausing when Adam entered what had to be his parents’ bedroom. She stood, torn with indecision. She didn’t feel entitled to be part of this scene, yet she ached for the pain Adam must be feeling. She walked to the open doorway and peered inside.

  In the dimly lit room, Kathleen’s body made barely a ripple under the quilt. They had propped up her head with pillows, and her eyes followed Adam across the room until he reached her side.

  He fell to his knees and reached for her hand. “I’m here, Mama.”

  “My son.” The tortured whisper hung in the air. “Thank the Lord.”

  “You need to save your strength. You can talk when you’re feeling better.”

  “No. Must talk now. James.” She twisted her head to find her husband standing at the end of the bed. She reached out a hand, and he moved forward to take it.

  He brought it to his lips and then held her palm to his cheek. “I’m here, too.”

  Kathleen looked at Adam. “You two must make peace. I need to know, in case I don’t recover.”

  James shook his head. “Don’t talk that way, Katie. You’re going to get better. You have to.”

  She labored to draw a breath. “Promise me. Please.”

  Adam raised tortured eyes to James. Maggie could see only the man’s back, which seemed as stiff as one of the bedposts. A sagging of his shoulders, along with a whoosh of air, signaled his capitulation. “Aye, Katie. I promise.”

  Adam turned back to his mother. “I promise, as well, Mama. Now you have to get well, because we might need a referee.”

  A hint of a smile touched Mrs. O’Leary’s lips. “I’ve been doing that all our married life.” Her expression burned with intensity. “Forgive me, Adam. I never wished to hurt you. I was only trying to protect you.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive, Mama. I love you.” Adam’s voice cracked, and he laid his head on her arm.

  Tears ran freely down Mrs. O’Leary’s cheeks.

  “Come now, love. You mustn’t upset yourself. The doctor will have our hides for wearing you out.” James gripped Adam’s shoulder. “You’d best go and let her rest.”

  “Wait.” Kathleen’s gaze darted around the room. “Where are my babies? Connor and Deirdre. I want to see them. And Colleen?”

  The panic in Mrs. O’Leary’s voice tore at Maggie’s heart. She sounded like she was two steps from heaven’s door and couldn’t leave without a final good-bye to her children.

  Brianna leaned over to brush a few wisps of hair from her mother’s forehead. “Colleen is caring for Delia, and Connor and Deirdre . . .” She glanced at Mr. O’Leary, who gave a tired nod. “I’m afraid they’re sick, too, Mama.”

  “Noooo.” The moan lingered in the air. “God, please don’t take more of my children. I couldn’t bear it.” Her body shook beneath the bedcovers.
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br />   Maggie fought back tears of her own. Adam’s head remained bent, shielding his expression from Maggie’s view, yet the sight of his stooped shoulders told her of his pain.

  As much as she wanted to be in the room to help him bear the sorrow, she knew she had no right. Before any of the family caught her witnessing such an intimate scene, Maggie found the stairs again and descended to the main floor. Sadness weighed upon her spirit. How would the family cope with the death of their dear wife and mother? Maggie feared they would fall apart without the one person who seemed to hold them together.

  Maggie’s sorrow led her to the place that could provide her a measure of solace. She entered the parlor, hushed and cold. Light shone in from the French doors, where the curtains had been pushed back. In the corner sat the baby grand piano, the one Mrs. O’Leary had played so beautifully the night of Brianna’s party.

  Maggie pulled out the wooden bench and sat before the instrument. She flexed her fingers, rested them softly on the keys, and began to play the hymn that always brought her consolation. She hoped that if the notes drifted upward, they would bring the others the same comfort.

  As she played, the words of the hymn begged to be sung, and ever so softly she added her voice to the piece. “‘The Lord’s my shepherd, I’ll not want . . .’”

  25

  ADAM DREW IN A RAGGED BREATH as he exited his mother’s sickroom. The nurse James had hired had asked for a few moments with her patient. Adam walked the hallway, fighting to corral his grief, and his gaze fell on Maggie’s forgotten bag. He remembered then that he’d abandoned her upon hearing Brianna’s dire message. Where had she gone?

  The sound of music penetrated his consciousness. He didn’t have to guess who was playing the piano. He descended the stairs, cracked open the parlor door, and paused to listen. A pure, clear voice rang out over the room.

  “The Lord’s my Shepherd, I’ll not want.

  He maketh me down to lie

  In pastures green; He leadeth me

  The quiet waters by.”

  Adam’s fingers tightened on the door handle until the metal seemed fused with his flesh. How could Maggie know this was one of Mama’s favorite hymns? Forgotten memories from his childhood swamped his emotions for the second time that day—visions of his family standing in the pew on Sunday, of his mother’s sweet voice ringing out above the other worshippers’. Would she ever have the chance to do so again?

  His knees almost buckled at the thought that she might never rise from her bed.

  Please Lord, don’t take her from us. We need her here.

  He wanted to escape the torture of Maggie’s song, but his feet remained fixed to the spot as though held by an invisible force. At last, the song ended, and her fingers stilled on the keys. Without him saying a word, she seemed to sense his presence, for she turned and looked at the door.

  “Adam.” She pushed the bench back from the piano and crossed the room, concern shining on her luminous face. “Your mother?”

  He dragged a hand over his face, stunned to find his cheeks wet. “I fear we’re losing her, Maggie. She’s so weak . . .” Adam swayed, not knowing what to do with the incredible grief that roared through every cell in his body.

  Maggie wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest. “It’s in God’s hands now. But no matter what happens, it will be all right. I promise.”

  The warmth of her body seeped into his. He tightened his arms around her, allowing his cheek to rest on her hair. The effort to repress his surging emotions made him shudder. In response, she moved soothing hands up his back, whispering Irish words he didn’t understand.

  The meaning wasn’t important. She was in his arms, and despite the fear and grief that clawed at him, he felt safe. Comforted.

  She lifted her fingers and wiped the dampness from his cheeks. He tried to move away, ashamed to be caught shedding tears, but she held him fast. “It’s good to let your sadness out. You can’t keep your emotions bottled up to fester and infect your soul. Let them out now, so you can be strong for your mother later.”

  “Maggie.” The word strangled in his throat. If only he could stare into her beautiful eyes forever and forget the war that raged around them. Forget the past. None of that mattered in this moment.

  Nothing mattered but Maggie.

  He lowered his head until his lips found hers, tasting the salt of her tears. She raised a hand to cup his jaw and kissed him with a sweetness that humbled him, soothing the pain in his soul like a balm. At last, with great reluctance, he pulled back. It wasn’t fair to take from her this way, to accept the comfort she offered, when he could give her nothing in return.

  “I’m sorry, Maggie. That was unfair of me.”

  “Hush. You’ve no reason to apologize. Kissing you is no hardship.” She gave him a gentle smile. “I came to share your pain and to offer whatever consolation I’m able.”

  He brushed a finger down the silk of her cheek, studying her intently—the clear skin, the pert nose, the full lips. “Why, Maggie? Why do you care?”

  A blush spread across her cheeks, and she lowered her lashes.

  A gentleman would take back the question and relieve her apparent discomfort. But Adam needed to know.

  She straightened and looked him in the eye. “I don’t know how or why this has happened, Adam, but I do care. Very much. I believe God has a plan for me, and I’ll bide my time until it becomes apparent. In the meantime, I choose to trust my heart. I can do no less.”

  Her honest admission astounded him. No games, no flirting, no hedging the truth. How did he respond to that?

  He lowered his forehead to hers. “Maggie, you know why this is not possible. I have nothing to offer but a criminal record and a blemished bloodline. You deserve so much better.”

  She shook her head, sorrow filling her eyes. “Why do you insist on denying yourself happiness because of a man who died before you were born? He has no bearing on your life.” Her tone held no anger, simply frustration.

  Adam took a deliberate step back. “No bearing? His genes run through me and will run through any children I may have. I won’t subject anyone to that.” He raked a hand through his hair. He had to make her understand the importance of this once and for all.

  She walked to the fireplace and stood staring into the cold, gray ashes. When she turned back to him, she lifted her chin. “Adam, what do you think of little Ivy?”

  He frowned at the complete change in topic. “What do you mean?”

  “Would you have any qualms about Colleen adopting her? Raising her as her own?”

  “Of course not. She’s an innocent babe.” Too late, he sensed a trap in her questioning.

  “So Ivy’s fate is not sealed by her mother’s? Not tainted by her blood?”

  The trap snapped shut. He grappled for a way out. “If Ivy is reared in that lifestyle then, yes, she will be corrupted by it.”

  “But if she were raised in a loving home by respectable parents, like Rylan and Colleen?” Maggie’s slim brows rose.

  “If the parents loved her and treated her as their own, then she’d be fine.”

  She walked up to him, her eyes earnest. “You had such an upbringing, Adam. You were raised in a loving home with upright parents, with a mother and siblings who adored you.”

  Adam snorted. “And a father who loathed the very sight of me.” He stalked to the French doors and peered out over the garden.

  The swish of fabric told him Maggie had followed. “Did your father beat you, mistreat you, punish you with cruelty?”

  Adam’s fingers twitched on the door handle, itching to push out into the open air. To keep walking, far from this house, away from these questions probing into areas he wished left alone. A flare of irritation pulsed through him, and he spun around to face her. “Is neglect not mistreatment? Is withholding affection from a child not cruel?”

  She winced, and he instantly regretted the harshness of his tone. But if it took such frankness to make
her see the truth, then so be it.

  “A father withholding love from a child is cruel. But it doesn’t mean the child will become a criminal, that his life has no worth.” She moved so close he could see the mesmerizing flecks in her eyes. “You cannot allow the absence of affection from one parent to override the love of your mother and your siblings, not to mention”—she waved a hand around the room—“being given all the luxury a child could want. Other children have been raised in far worse circumstances and turned out fine.” A flash of pain passed over her features. “A child whose father died in a mine, for instance, forced to live in a small cottage with her widowed mother and four brothers.” Tears glistened on her lower lashes. “That child could have turned out many ways.” She inhaled deeply. “But I believe she’ll do quite well for herself.”

  “Maggie—”

  “And you’ll be fine, as well.” She raised a hand to stroke his cheek. “But unless you can believe that, unless you believe in your own worthiness, none of that will matter.” Her fingers fell away. “You have choices to make, Adam. I pray you make the right ones.” Her eyes held his, professing the depth of her affection.

  He longed to say something—anything—to reassure her, or if nothing else, to crush her against him and kiss her again. As he wavered, Maggie stepped back.

  “Go and be with your mother. She needs you. And I have to help Mrs. Harrison.”

  With quick strides, she crossed the room, and at the door paused to look back. “I’m here if you need me, Adam. Don’t be afraid to accept the gift that’s offered—with no expectations attached.”

  26

  AURORA STRIPPED THE SHEETS off another bed, free now due to little Greta’s recovery. Dr. Reardon had finally deemed the child well enough to return to the girls’ dormitory, leaving only three children in the common room. Delia, Felicia, and Anthony had been the most compromised by the illness and were taking longer to bounce back. But with time and care, Aurora felt certain they would regain full health.

  Across the room, Colleen rose from Delia’s bedside. She stretched and rubbed a hand across the base of her spine. Quiet alarm wound its way through Aurora’s system. For the past few days, she’d noticed Colleen’s pallor and lack of energy. Despite Colleen’s protests, Aurora had managed to take her temperature, relieved to find it normal. Still, an underlying fear nagged at her that Colleen wasn’t well.