Longing for Home: A Proper Romance

by Eden, Sarah M.

  Mr. Johnson looked at the others in a way that spoke of quiet but exasperated amusement, before returning his gaze to her. “A paying customer would have money. Do you have money?” She could hear the laugh he didn’t quite hold back.

  “You misunderstand. These items are for Mr. Archer’s household. He would be paying for them.”

  Mrs. Archibald’s hmph was so loud it was likely heard in the streets of Dublin. “Isn’t that just like the Irish? She came here intending to charge someone else for her purchases.”

  She made Katie sound like a regular sneak-thief. “But these are his purchases, in a manner of speaking.” Surely these people could understand something so simple.

  The two newest arrivals looked more than a touch uneasy at the conversation, though neither stepped into the fray.

  Mr. Johnson crossed his arms over his chest and eyed Katie as if she were an absolute menace. “Mr. Archer was already here and made his purchases.”

  “I’ve come for a bottle of bluing, a scrub brush, and a cake of soap—all household items. Mr. Archer brought me with him so I could get them from your mercantile.”

  “He didn’t say anything about his housekeeper making purchases.” Katie half expected Mr. Johnson to pat her on the head and send her out to play. “We do not allow our valued customers to be cheated.”

  Infuriating man. “If I wished to make free with my employer’s money, don’t you think, Mr. Johnson, I’d choose to spend it on something far fancier than cleaning supplies?”

  “What I tink is that you had best keep quiet and stop bothering folks.”

  Tink instead of think. Katie’d heard that particular mockery of the Irish pronunciation enough times not to think it a particularly impressive display of wit.

  “Pardon me a moment, ladies.”

  He motioned for Katie to step a bit to the side. She did so. The gaze he turned on her was sharp and piercing. She recoiled despite her determination to appear courageous.

  “You are expecting me to simply hand you goods you don’t intend to pay for and which Mr. Archer didn’t request.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I would not allow a filthy Irishwoman to buy a half-penny’s worth of goods on credit. So you would do well to keep quiet and out of the way where your kind belongs.”

  The entire room went silent in that moment. Katie heard nothing beyond the echo of the words he spat at her. Mr. Johnson stepped back to his other customers, quite as though he’d not uttered such a hateful, stinging rebuke. Katie blinked a few times.

  Filthy Irishwoman.

  In that moment she felt eight years old again standing before the staff in Derry as the housekeeper told them all every mistake she’d made, every way in which she’d failed in her duties. She’d been horrified and humiliated then.

  There, in Johnson’s mercantile, with the shopkeeper and the women standing about, Katie knew she couldn’t, in that moment, bear more ridicule.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Tavish waited outside the smithy’s while his horse was reshod. His eyes were firmly fixed across the street on the mercantile. Katie had gone inside with Joseph Archer and his girls, but her employer had left her there some minutes earlier, crossing to the smithy to have a replacement piece for a bridle forged. No Irishman in Hope Springs could feel the least bit at ease knowing one of his countrywomen was facing the very Red Mr. Johnson on her own. That Katie likely didn’t realize the kind of man she was dealing with only added to Tavish’s worry.

  When Joseph didn’t emerge from the smithy to return to the mercantile, Tavish knew something had to be done. If one thing could be counted on where the town merchant was concerned, it was that he’d not keep a civil tongue in his head simply because his Irish customer was female.

  Tavish crossed the road and moved directly inside the mercantile, setting off the bell that announced a new arrival.

  “Good morning to you, Mr. Johnson.” He hoped the shopkeeper heard the warning buried in his tone. “Good morning, ladies.”

  Mrs. Archibald didn’t return the greeting; he hadn’t expected her to. Only the Archibalds hated the Irish as much as the Johnsons did. The other two women offered him small smiles, one even blushing a bit. He was used to the women, whether they sided with his countrymen or not, taking note of him around town. It meant nothing at all in the end. The Red Road citizens wrote him off quickly as just another Paddy, and the Irish citizens knew he wasn’t interested in love.

  Katie had slipped further back from the counter, not looking at anyone. Perhaps he’d been worried for nothing. She might not have even attempted to interact with any of them.

  “Katie?” Tavish whispered upon reaching her side.

  Her attempt at lack of interest failed utterly. Those beautiful brown eyes of her were filled with absolute misery, a look of surprised hurt still lingering there.

  “Merciful heavens, what did they do to you?”

  “I’m fine.” The words shook a tiny bit.

  Clearly something had happened. He should have come in sooner. “Mr. Johnson is the reddest of Reds hereabout, as are the Archibalds. You can’t tell me either of them treated you kindly.”

  “Oh, he smiled and spoke sweetly enough.”

  Every Irishman in town knew and despised that smile of Johnson’s, so patronizing and full of thinly veiled hatred. “His smile makes you feel sick to your core, does it not?”

  Katie nodded. She took a deep breath but yet looked unsettled.

  “I’d be guessing you also discovered that the Irish are expected to keep quiet and give way to any other customers who might wander inside.”

  “Aye.”

  Tavish very nearly pulled her into an embrace right there in the mercantile. He knew the misery she was experiencing and wished with surprising force he could wipe away some of the pain he saw.

  “And we can’t buy anything on credit, despite the fact that the rest of the town can. And he often charges us more for the things we buy than he charges those on the Red Road.”

  “We hadn’t gone as far as prices.” She appeared to calm by degrees. “I stopped trying to make my purchases after he . . . after . . .”

  Tavish stepped closer and lowered his voice. “After he what, Sweet Katie?”

  She didn’t answer. Her gaze fell again. After the fire he’d seen in her so many times, Tavish hated seeing her beaten down.

  He placed two fingers under her chin and raised her face again. He only allowed himself a moment to consider how pleasant the simple touch was. “After what, Katie?” he asked again.

  “He called me a ‘filthy Irishwoman.’”

  Tavish froze, not with shock—Johnson said such things often—but with anger.

  “He called you that to your face, he did?” Tavish had always been the first to argue in favor of keeping the peace, of not resorting to violence. But he had to work hard to keep from marching to the counter and belting Johnson so hard he’d need every shovel on the Red Road to scrape him up off the floor. “Joseph Archer’s a blasted fool leaving you here alone like he did. He knows what Johnson is.”

  Tavish leaned in close so he could lower his voice and still be heard. That she didn’t pull away as she had again and again at the céilí told him how much her time at the mercantile had upended her. Were she entirely unaffected, she would have given him a firm shove and a thorough scolding.

  “Listen to me, Katie Macauley. If ever that fool of a man you work for sends you in here again without so much as a soul above the age of nine to support you, don’t wait around for Johnson to spew his venom. You march yourself directly to the smithy. That’s Seamus Kelly’s establishment, and there’s nearly always an Irishman or two about the place. Any one of them’ll stand by you as you deal with our local”—Tavish shot an angry look in the direction of the counter, but he refused to speak out loud the word that first came to mind—“shopkeeper.”

  Katie looked hesitant, unsure. “I’ve no wish to make more trouble. I’m new to town and only passing through in th
e long of it. Stirring things up is not at all what I wish to do.”

  He allowed himself a fleeting moment to ponder her “only passing through” comment. Did she mean to run off, then? The question stirred up too much confusion inside him. He’d best stick to the immediate issue.

  “They wouldn’t come storming in with shillelaghs or any such thing. They’d keep quiet and peaceable but near to you. Johnson keeps the insults to a minimum when he’s outnumbered and when he’s dealing with men instead of women.”

  Her shoulders dropped. “Your Hope Springs has proven a mighty disappointment.”

  “Don’t say that, Katie. We—”

  The door chimed.

  “Oh, saints preserve us,” Katie muttered, glancing at the door.

  Tavish followed her gaze. Joseph Archer had finally returned.

  “He’ll be expecting to leave,” Katie said, “and I haven’t made my purchases yet.”

  “Do you want me to explain to him?” Tavish offered. He couldn’t countenance the thought of her being pushed around by yet another man in this town. She’d endured enough that day already.

  Katie didn’t pause even a moment. “I fight my own battles.”

  There was the fire he’d missed along with her trademark stubbornness. “Might I say, just because you can doesn’t mean you have to.”

  “A woman alone always has to, Tavish. It’s the way of things.” Katie moved back to the counter where Mr. Archer stood talking to his daughters.

  She had backbone, he’d give her full credit for that. And though that same fierceness had often been directed at him, he admired it. He hung back a bit but within hearing range. He wouldn’t allow any of them to insult her.

  “Ivy wants a peppermint,” Emma was saying. “I’ve decided on a butterscotch.”

  Johnson was as outwardly friendly and cheerful as he always was with the Red Road while his attention was on Joseph. “Did Joshua get your order into your wagon?”

  “He did. However, when I asked after Miss Macauley’s items, he indicated she hadn’t made any purchases.” Joseph sounded rather more curious than upset. “When I left here a few minutes back, Miss Macauley was your only customer. It strikes me as rather odd that she hasn’t purchased anything yet.”

  “When you returned I meant to ask if she was authorized to charge purchases to your account or if you had any restrictions.”

  Katie raised an eyebrow at that. It was, no doubt, not at all the real reason she hadn’t been permitted to make her purchases.

  “I was only being careful with your money, Joseph,” Johnson said.

  “You are aware that Miss Macauley is my housekeeper, are you not?”

  “Yes, of course.” Mr. Johnson was all deference and respect.

  “Then you may consider her authorized to purchase in my name any items she deems necessary to do her job.”

  Joseph had taken her side. Tavish felt some relief at that and an unexpected bit of jealousy. He’d come in to help her and support her, but Joseph would likely walk out the hero in her eyes.

  And what do you care about that? She’s nothing but a difficult and troublesome woman. And intriguing. And unexpectedly adorable.

  “How am I to know which of her purchases are for your household and which are for her?” Mr. Johnson asked.

  Joseph Archer leaned against the counter, his gaze firmly on the shop owner. “She will tell you.”

  He meant to send Katie back into the lion’s den, then? Tavish would have to make certain the Irish knew to keep an eye out for her when she was in town.

  “If that is what you wish me to do.” Mr. Johnson seemed convinced the path was not a wise one. “I will see to it you receive an accounting of all her purchases.”

  Joseph waved the suggestion off. “That will not be necessary.”

  On more than one occasion Tavish had felt infinitely grateful that Joseph Archer had maintained his neutrality in the feud. He alone could appease both sides, as he’d done during the horrible fever and several dry seasons when fire threatened to take out the entire town. He felt a bit of that gratitude again in that moment.

  “Now, ladies,” Joseph said, “I trust you will not mind if Miss Macauley completes her business. She has been here for some time, and I am in a great hurry to be going.”

  The two most recent arrivals nodded and offered brief words of agreement.

  “Of course, Joseph. We wouldn’t wish to delay you.” Mrs. Archibald was all kindness and sweet words with Joseph Archer.

  Tavish thought for certain he saw Katie roll her eyes.

  “Rather transparent, that one,” he whispered from directly beside her. “All sugar with some and spitting fire at others.”

  “I think it helps that Mr. Archer’s a fine-looking man.”

  He grinned. Her comment was too pointed to have been anything but a barb directed at him. “Well now, that fair puts me in my place, does it not? Seems to me I’ve some competition to be worrying over.”

  “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

  He had, in fact, meant to be teasing, but discovered with some surprise that he did wonder if anyone else was vying for her good opinion. The “anyone else” part of that thought struck him. Was he trying to win her regard?

  Right there in the mercantile he realized he was interested in Katie Macauley, intrigued by her, already well on his way to pursuing her. When had that happened?

  At some point during his reverie, Katie and the Archers left the mercantile. She hadn’t even bade him farewell. He might be pondering pursuing that maddening colleen, but she clearly could take him or leave him.

  Tavish slipped outside as well, catching up to them as Finbarr was lifting Ivy up into the wagon bed.

  Joseph stood at the front wheels and spoke as Tavish arrived. “Thank you for going in after Katie. I hadn’t realized Johnson would give her trouble, not when she was making purchases for my household.”

  “She’s Irish, Joseph. The Johnsons and the Archibalds will give her trouble every moment she’s here, no matter who she is working for.” He hoped the warning would make Joseph think twice before leaving her unsupported with Red Roaders.

  “That is more true than it ought to be.” Joseph shot a quick look in the direction of the mercantile. “Still, I thank you.”

  Tavish nodded. “We’ve learned to look out for each other where the Red Road is concerned.”

  Joseph climbed onto the wagon’s bench. Only Katie remained on the ground.

  “I thank you, too,” she said. “’Tis a comfort to know not everyone hereabout thinks of me as a fil—”

  “Don’t say it, Sweet Katie.” He interrupted her, not liking even to think of such a thing being spat at her. “You don’t need to hear those words again.”

  “’Twas a pleasure seeing you again, Tavish.”

  He smiled. “And here I thought you didn’t like me.”

  “When did I say I did?”

  He tipped his head thoughtfully. “Still trying to decide, are you?”

  She shrugged. “I’m giving it some thought.”

  Tavish handed her up into the back of the wagon. Was she truly thinking on it? He watched her as the wagon rolled away down the street. Her gaze remained on him as well.

  If she hadn’t made up her mind about him just yet, it seemed to him he’d best do what he could to tip her opinion in the right direction. And then figure out what she meant by “only passing through.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Katie scrubbed so hard at the laundry that afternoon she swore the sheep that gave its wool to make the blankets found itself cleaner than it had been at dawn. Whether her fervor came from an intense dislike of laundry or the horrible morning she’d had, Katie couldn’t rightly say. Either way, the Archers would be wearing the cleanest clothes in town.

  She entertained for one fleeting moment the idea of asking Finbarr to write out on the back of all Mr. Archer’s shirts, “Laundering by Katie.” ’Twould be a fine way to spread word about to
wn that she was looking for a bit of side work.

  As she hung the last of the Archers’ laundry on the line, Katie eyed her red, cracked hands. She’d seen laundry maids at the great houses where she’d worked. Their hands were always raw and often bleeding and increasingly scarred with every passing year. Katie had spent some time at a wash bucket. She’d forgotten how unpleasant a task it was. Perhaps working as a full-time laundry maid was not her best option.

  Now that is your vanity talking, she told herself. You’ll take whatever work you can find and be grateful for it.

  She set the large laundry basket on the back porch. The day had begun to wane, and she’d best see to the family’s evening meal. It wouldn’t help her at all to be fired from the one job she had. Again.

  Before she’d set a single foot inside the house, she heard the sound of horse hooves approaching at a very leisurely pace. A moment later, the animal came into sight, with the Archer girls seated on its back. Tavish led the animal, a stunningly beautiful bay mare, at a slow walk, glancing back at the girls a few times as he approached the barn. Ivy grinned from ear to ear. Emma even looked tempted to smile.

  What a puzzle Tavish O’Connor was. He teased and flirted like an expert, yet in the mercantile that morning he’d been sincerely attentive, concerned for her. He’d been kind and gentle. And there he was, taking time out of his day to bring two little girls home and treat them to a horseback ride. If that weren’t sufficiently confusing, the man was handsome enough to set even her guarded heart fluttering.

  “Do you see these impressive horsewomen I have here, Katie?” Tavish called out as he tied the horse’s lead to a post.

  “Aye. They’ve the finest seats I’ve seen in many a year. Quite natural in the saddle, they are.”

  Emma’s chin came up a notch. Katie had quickly realized the girl fretted a great deal. She wished to be seen as competent, elegant, and beautiful, by her father especially. The tiniest of compliments gave her a needed ounce of confidence.

  Ivy so painfully resembled Katie’s own poor sister. Emma’s deep uncertainty and quietness put Katie firmly in mind of herself. Nine and five the girls were. Very near the ages she and Eimear had been.