American Anthem

by BJ Hoff

  “Vangie?”

  At last she turned and met his eyes. Conn was taken aback at the hard look to her, as if she was angry with him.

  “Is it that you don’t want the babe?” He could barely get the words out. A heaviness had lodged in his chest, and he was beginning to feel sick himself as his mind scrambled to make sense of Vangie’s behavior.

  “ ’Tis not that I don’t want it.”

  “What then?” He pressed her fingers, trying to ignore the alarm welling up in him.

  The look she turned on him made the hair at the back of his neck stand on end. Her gaze seemed to burn right through him with something he had never seen in Vangie’s eyes before, not even in the heat of their worst arguments. He felt himself indicted, censured for some unknown crime.

  But just when he thought she was about to lash out at him for whatever dire offense he had committed, she again turned away. Conn thought she looked to be caught up in the effort of making a particularly difficult, even a grudging, decision.

  “I…wasn’t certain how you’d feel about it,” she said. “With Emma scarcely out of didies herself.”

  She was lying. Vangie knew exactly how he’d feel about a new babe, how he had always felt. That was what hurt the most. By not telling him, she was keeping from him something she knew would give him pleasure. It was as if she had deliberately chosen to withhold a blessing.

  He moistened his lips against the dry sourness in his mouth. “I would feel the way I have always felt, Vangie. Proud and happy. Has there ever been a time when I didn’t feel so, once I learned a new babe was on the way?”

  She dragged her gaze back to him. “I thought it might be…different now. We’re not young anymore, after all.”

  Conn stared at her. Was she serious? “Not young?” he said, trying to make light. “And were we so much younger, then, when Baby Emma was conceived?”

  His words brought not even the trace of a smile to her lips. “That was different.”

  “Oh, I see. And how was it different?” Conn felt his temper begin to heat, even though he sensed that the worst thing he could do at this moment would be to allow himself to get angry. “I confess you’re confusing me, love. I don’t understand what it is you’re trying to tell me.”

  She regarded him with a look that made Conn feel as if she had already judged him guilty of some terrible crime. “You wouldn’t understand even if I explained it to you.”

  Her words were laced with a mixture of weariness and resignation. She didn’t look well, not at all. Possibly, any discussion of whatever wrong she thought he had committed ought to wait until she had rested.

  Yet he couldn’t bring himself to simply let this go. He would have been relieved to learn that her condition accounted for the recent mood changes and erratic behavior. But the way she was looking at him! She had nearly admitted that there was something wrong, and that, whatever it was, she considered it beyond his understanding. Was it merely the pregnancy affecting her emotions, or was she actually turning against him because of some imagined sin on his part?

  “Help me understand, then, Vangie. Sure, and you know by now that I can’t bear it when you shut me out.”

  Conn thought he saw a faint trace of regret in her face. But when he moved closer to her, she flinched and pulled her hand away.

  She was still as stone as she looked at him. “I suppose I meant to punish you,” she said in a chillingly impassive voice.

  Conn reared back, gaping at her. “Punish me? For what?”

  “For Aidan.” Her eyes were so fierce upon him that Conn felt as if his soul had been seared.

  “It’s because of you I’ve lost my son.”

  26

  ACTS OF FORGIVENESS

  For a man to be himself, he must know himself.

  IRISH SAYING

  Vangie could see the battle taking place in Conn. She watched every stage of it: the flaring of his temper, his struggle to control it, his inclination to deny everything she said.

  An angry red stain splotched his cheeks, and his mouth twisted with the effort of containing an explosion of self-defense. To her surprise, though, he said nothing, at least not right away. Instead he sat staring at her, his eyes boring into her as if he meant to scale every layer away until he could see into her mind and her heart.

  “You believe that?” he finally said, his voice hoarse. “You believe it’s my fault that Aidan stayed behind?”

  “I know it’s your fault!” Vangie pushed herself up on her elbows, facing him. “I also know that even if we had stayed in Ireland, Aidan would have left us. Our son is a man grown, but you insisted on treating him like a disobedient schoolboy. You never once gave him credit for anything he did, Conn! All you ever did was criticize him for not doing it your way!”

  Vangie stopped to catch a breath, but she wasn’t finished. Her nausea had subsided, but now the anger and resentment and bitterness that had built up for months came pouring out of her like poison out of a newly lanced abscess. “Perhaps if you had just once admitted to yourself that Aidan was a man and entitled to live his own life, he wouldn’t have been half so eager to get away from us. From you! And even now, knowing the pain his absence has brought upon me—and don’t think I haven’t seen your own pain—you still won’t give over and mend your differences with the boy. You won’t even try!”

  Even as the words ripped out of her, Vangie knew she wasn’t being altogether fair. Aidan was every bit as stubborn as his father, and just as headstrong and rebellious as was common to a lad his age. But she had kept her churning feelings to herself too long and was now consumed by the need to make Conn face the fact that he wasn’t entirely blameless for the troubles between himself and their son.

  Still, when she saw his heavy shoulders sag, his features go slack, she wished she had been less venomous in her attack.

  “Why haven’t you brought this up before now?” he said, his tone as wounded as his eyes.

  Vangie held his gaze, saw the pain ravaging his face, but would not allow herself to soften. “What good would it have done?” she countered. “You’d only accuse me of being ‘overwrought’ because I’m in the family way.”

  He frowned, his mouth set in a stubborn line, but Vangie could tell she’d struck a nerve.

  “What more could I have done, then?” he said, his expression bleak. “Didn’t I try to talk him out of his lunacy, even up to the time we were ready to board? Didn’t I try to stop him from staying behind?”

  “You did, Conn. But it was too late. Too much had passed between the two of you to undo it in a few moments. By then, Aidan was full to bursting with the need to get away and be on his own, where we wouldn’t always be so close at hand, ordering his life.”

  “Where I wouldn’t be so close at hand, is what you mean.”

  “Aye, that is what I mean. But even after we came across, didn’t I beg you to write to the boy and try to make peace? It just might have made a difference, had a letter come from your hand instead of always being written in mine.”

  “If he was as set against me as you claim, I can’t think a letter would have made any difference at all.”

  “But you could have tried, Conn! You could have tried! I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for not trying!”

  Her words came out as a wail, and Vangie cringed both at the sound of her own voice, and at the agonized look on Conn’s features. But didn’t the great oaf have some of this coming at last?

  Yet, when he gazed at her so, his face lined with old sorrows and the slow dawning of a new wisdom, when she met his eyes and saw nothing there but regret and love—love for her—Vangie found it exceedingly difficult to stay angry with the man.

  He got to his feet and stood looking down at her as if trying to decide what to say next. Fortunately, they were no longer bellowing at each other when Renny Magee banged upon the bedroom door and called out to them.

  At Conn’s grudging, “Come,” the girl crashed into the room, waving an envelope.
>
  “The post just came!” she announced, her voice shrill with excitement. “There’s a letter! Miss Fallon said I should bring it to you.”

  “A letter?” Vangie repeated.

  Conn reached for it, but Renny Magee charged toward the bed and thrust the letter directly at Vangie. The girl stood there then, clearly bent on learning, if not the contents of the letter, at least the identity of its sender.

  Conn shot a dark look at the girl, but Vangie ignored the both of them.

  “Aidan!” she choked out. “ ’Tis from Aidan!”

  She scarcely noticed when Conn hauled himself to his feet and with a jab of his thumb motioned for Renny Magee to follow him out of the room.

  Well, let him go, then. If he was so stubborn that he wouldn’t read a letter from his own son—the son they hadn’t heard from in months—then let him just go and sulk.

  Her heart pounding with anticipation, Vangie propped her pillow behind her, opened the letter with trembling hands, and began to read.

  Minutes later, when Conn came back into the room, she had not moved, but sat clasping the letter with both hands against her heart as she wept.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she choked out. “All this time I’ve begged you to write to him—and you never said a word! Why? Why didn’t you tell me you had written to him?”

  Conn sat down beside her. “I thought it would be cruel to raise your hopes.” He paused, his eyes going to the letter still clutched in her hands. “What does he say, then?”

  Watching him, Vangie handed him the letter. “You read it,” she told him. “I want to hear it again, and if you read it, it will be almost like hearing it from himself.”

  Conn looked at her, then took the letter and began to read.

  Dear Mother,

  I suppose by now you know that Da wrote to me some time past. In truth, I was relieved to hear from him, for I hated having the hard feelings between us.

  I have missed all of you more than I would have thought possible, and now that I know Da is not still set against me, I am making plans for my own journey to America. I have been working, and soon I will be able to pay my own way across.

  I cannot tell you exactly when I will come, for I still have to make arrangements to leave my job, and there are some other matters I must attend to. But it should be soon.

  No doubt the twin terrors have found new mischief to get themselves into, and I expect Baby Emma is getting big. Has Nell Grace caught herself a fellow yet? Tell them all I am truly anxious to see them, and that includes Da.

  And tell them I am coming soon. Just as soon as I can.

  Your devoted son,

  Aidan MacGovern

  By the time Conn finished reading the letter, Vangie was weeping again.

  “Oh, Conn,” she said, grasping his arm, “he’s coming! Aidan is truly coming! Finally, we’ll all be together again!”

  Conn patted her hand. “Aye, love. We’ll all be together again. Will that make you happy then, Vangie?”

  She leaned toward him. “I can’t think of anything that would make me happier!” She paused. “Conn…the things I said to you—”

  He shook his head. “Never mind that. We both know I deserved to hear everything you had to say.”

  “No, that’s not true.” She studied him, and to his surprise a faint smile appeared, though the tears were still streaming down her face. “Perhaps you deserved…some of it. But not all.”

  She opened her arms to him then, and with a long, shaky sigh of relief, Conn gathered her to him and buried his face in her hair.

  “Oh, Conn,” she murmured against his shoulder. “Now we’ll have our family together at last. Aidan, our new babe—all our children—under our roof again. That’s how things are supposed to be.”

  Aye, that’s how things were supposed to be, Conn thought. And this was how things were supposed to be between him and Vangie. This was how things should always be.

  He understood, perhaps better than she thought he did, how difficult, how agonizing, this situation had been for Vangie. As a child, her father had deserted them, and after the death of her mother from heart failure, Vangie and her three sisters—all of them but wee girls—had been separated and passed around to different relatives to raise, none of whom wanted an extra mouth to feed. Her early years had been years of fear and abandonment, years of never feeling “whole” because of the way her family had been torn apart. When she was grown and agreed to marry Conn, she had made him promise that they would have a large family, and that, no matter what, nothing would ever divide them.

  Conn had done his best to keep his word; staying behind had been Aidan’s idea, after all. But as time passed and he saw the way Aidan’s absence was tearing at her heart, he knew he had to do something—whatever it took—to reunite them.

  As he held her, he tried to convince himself that he was grateful for the joy Aidan’s letter had brought Vangie. And him. He, too, was happy the boy was coming across. He tried to put down the vague uneasiness gnawing at the back of his mind, but something about the boy’s letter nagged at him. In truth, he hadn’t expected it to be this easy. All along, he’d worried that Aidan would either ignore the “peace offering” Conn’s letter was meant to be and not reply at all, or else he would make his father beg—and Conn wasn’t at all sure he had it in him to beg his eldest son, not even for Vangie’s sake.

  But here was the reply, and it had come fairly quickly at that—seemingly a genuine response that held an olive branch of its own. And here was his wife, happy and content in his arms. So why was he acting like a fool, instead of making the most of the moment?

  With one finger under her chin, he tipped her face up to his. “And so I am forgiven, then?” he said, only half-teasing. “Great amadan that I am?”

  Her eyes still glistened with tears, but these were new tears, tears of happiness. “I don’t think you’re an amadan at all,” Vangie said softly. “I think you’re a good man and a wonderful husband. And as for forgiveness, I should be asking yours, Conn MacGovern.”

  Conn frowned. “For what, love?”

  “For keeping the announcement of our new babe from you. It was a terrible cruel thing to do.”

  He kissed her—carefully, for he was already feeling the need to protect her. “You are forgiven, Evangeline MacGovern. And now, seeing that we’re both forgiven, do you think I might have a bite to eat? ’Tis starving I am.”

  To his dismay, Vangie turned a pale shade of gray. “Oh, did you have to mention food, Conn MacGovern?”

  Before he could help her stand, she was out of the bed and on her way to the back door, not even stopping in the kitchen to tell their lasses the big news.

  There were times, it did seem, when a husband could do nothing right.

  27

  A STEP TOWARD TRUST

  I do not ask for any crown

  But that which all may win;

  Nor try to conquer any world

  Except the one within.

  Be Thou my guide until I find

  Led by a tender hand,

  The happy kingdom in myself

  And dare to take command.

  LOUISA MAY ALCOTT

  Frustrated that there had not been an opportunity to make a thorough apology to Michael after the night of her birthday, Susanna was determined to seek him out before any more time had transpired. After three days, she finally summoned the courage to approach him.

  Finding the opportunity, however, was another matter. He had stayed in the city the two days following her birthday, returning so late last night that Susanna and the rest of the household had already retired. He made an unusually brief appearance at breakfast this morning, only long enough to talk briefly with Caterina while he hurried through a few bites of food. Although he had been painstakingly polite to Susanna, they exchanged only two or three sentences before he excused himself.

  Apparently, he was going to be at home tonight. Earlier that morning, Paul had mentioned that he would be
taking the evening rehearsal in Michael’s place. If she were going to speak with him—and Susanna was feeling an increasing urgency to do so—this evening might be her best chance.

  It had been a busy day—busier than usual. In addition to her everyday responsibilities with Caterina, Susanna was overseeing the preparation of one of the guest rooms, making a final check of the medications and other supplies Dr. Carmichael had suggested, and tending to other details in anticipation of their new guest’s arrival. The child, Maylee, would be coming just before Christmas, and Susanna wanted everything to be ready for her.

  She had not met Maylee yet, but Michael’s accounting of the poor child’s condition wrenched Susanna’s heart and made her eager to see the girl settled here at Bantry Hill, where she could have as much attention and care as she needed. Caterina was excited about having “a new friend” on the premises, although Michael had cautioned that Maylee would not likely have the stamina to be a playmate.

  To Caterina’s credit, she had taken this to heart and then made a remarkable observation: “Well, I’m happy that she’s coming anyway, because she will probably feel better here, since she’ll get lots of love and good food.”

  The only one who seemed less than happy about having a new child around the house was Moira Dempsey, but then Susanna was beginning to think that Moira was content only when she had something to complain about.

  As the day wore on, Susanna sensed that Michael was deliberately avoiding her. After his usual morning ride, he retreated to his office, taking his midday meal there as well. He worked through the rest of the afternoon until supper, after which he told Susanna he would see to Caterina’s bedtime.

  By nine that night Susanna had had enough. She would talk with him—now, tonight, before he had a chance to start the same routine over again the next day.

  She was headed downstairs on her way to Michael’s office when she stopped outside the kitchen to pick up a piece of cookie. A deposit, no doubt, from Caterina or even the wolfhound, since they tended to travel as a pair. The kitchen door was partially open, and a voice from inside arrested her. She was a little ashamed to be eavesdropping, but when she heard her own name, she couldn’t bring herself to leave. She held her breath and pressed herself against the wall.