Longing for Home: A Proper Romance

by Eden, Sarah M.

  She wrapped her arms around herself as she sat there taking the blow of words. He very much feared she was going to choose Ireland for the wrong reasons. He couldn’t let that happen.

  “But my father cares for me.” She spoke in a small voice. “Deep down in some part of himself, I know he cares for me.”

  Tavish hesitated for only a breath before speaking the admittedly harsh response that had immediately sprung to his mind. “He hasn’t sent so much as a word in nearly twenty years. Your mother only a half-dozen letters in that time.” She’d told him as much herself.

  “Only because I haven’t made amends yet. I’ve not made my restitution. You can’t blame them for—”

  He hunched down in front of her and took her hand in his again, careful not to overtax her shoulder, and looked up into her face. “If they have not forgiven you after all these years for a decision you made as a child, a wee tiny child, and a decision that never should have been yours to make in the first place, then grand gestures and acts of atonement aren’t likely to change that.”

  She shook her head again and again. “I’ve counted on this all my life. I need it. Eimear’s forgiveness is out of my reach. But my father’s is not. I need to hear him say he forgives me.”

  He lightly brushed her cheek with his hand. “I believe, darlin’, ’tis not your father’s forgiveness you’ve needed all these years, but your own.”

  Her gaze fell away from his face, dropping to their clasped hands. “I can’t forgive myself if he still hates me for what I did, if he still thinks I’m no better than the selfish little girl I was then. I can’t. I never could.”

  “There are more ways to prove that to your own self than buying a plot of land and a slab of stone.”

  She pulled free of his grasp and rose from the bench. Her quick, tense steps took her into the shadows behind the house. Tavish followed cautiously. He suspected he had offended her. But what else could he have said that would have driven the point home? He did not want to lose her over a fool’s errand.

  “I’m sorry to speak to you so sharply, Katie. I wouldn’t say the difficult things if I cared for you any less than I do. But you’ve wanted this so long, depended on your father someday telling you that you’re a good person. The only thing that could prove the kind of person you are is nothing more nor less than the way you live your life.”

  She didn’t say anything, didn’t look back at him.

  “You can show him the person you’ve become by writing and telling him of the life you’ve lived, of the good you’re doing here. I’ll write to him, myself. Every Irish family in Hope Springs would write and tell him of their admiration for you, of how much they all care for you.” Tavish would pay the postage himself if need be.

  Though she didn’t say as much, indeed, didn’t so much as glance at him, he thought he saw the tiniest thread of contemplation in her expression. How he hoped she would at least consider it.

  “I suppose I mostly just want you to know that, though your blood family is back in the old country, you have full half a town here that cares deeply what happens to you. And you’ve proven to them time and again that you’re in no way the selfish person you paint yourself.”

  “What about his fiddle? How can I give that back to him if I don’t go back?”

  He rubbed at the back of his neck, brow furrowed deeply. “That I can’t tell you, Katie.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. What if . . . What if it isn’t enough?”

  Katie finally looked at him. The worry and pain and uncertainty in her eyes cut him to the quick. He couldn’t bear to see it there. “Do you need to go back, Katie? Is going back what you need to find peace?”

  She hesitated. After a moment her shoulders drooped anew. “I don’t know anymore.”

  He leaned closer, his mouth a breath from hers. “I hope you know I love you, Sweet Katie. I will love you no matter what you choose.”

  Tears rushed to her eyes immediately. She opened her mouth, but no words emerged. Her lips quivered a moment before she simply pressed them closed again.

  He brushed his lips against hers, the touch no more substantial than a breeze. Her hands rested gently against his chest. He lightly kissed her again. Many times he’d held back, kept himself from pulling her into his arms and truly kissing her. Their first real kiss, and it was a sad and brokenhearted one.

  Tavish pulled back by a hair’s breadth. For a moment he didn’t move or speak. He simply stood there, silently holding her to him.

  He pressed a brief kiss to her forehead, then one more, and turned away. He didn’t know what else to say. He very much feared she was leaving, and though he understood why, he was still dying inside.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Life, for Katie, had always been a matter of passing through. She’d never anticipated facing the same decision she had faced as an eight-year-old girl. Once again she had to choose between leaving a place that was home to her for the sake of her father, or remaining in the one place she truly felt loved.

  She sat on the edge of her bed, her mother’s letter in her hand.

  “Your father hasn’t sent even a word to you in nearly twenty years.” Tavish’s words had pierced her. They were painful but true. She would be leaving behind people who embraced her and loved her, who she knew would rally around her if ever she needed them to, for the thin hope that this man who’d not acknowledged her in nearly two decades would finally decide to do so.

  And, yet, he was her father. She loved him whether or not he returned that affection. She loved him, and he was dying.

  He’d never written to her. But she had never sent word directly to him, either. She asked mother to give him her greetings, but nothing beyond. Tavish’s suggestion from the night before rushed back to her. She could write to her father. She could write her apologies, tell him of the life she was living and the person she’d become, and hope her words arrived in Ireland before her father left the world for good. It wasn’t a final decision not to go. She couldn’t quite commit herself to that. Not quite.

  If Joseph was still willing to send her words as a telegram, the letter could reach Belfast in a fortnight. That was time enough. She could apologize. She could reach out to her father. It was not the full atonement she’d always meant to make, but it was a beginning.

  Katie slipped her mother’s letter into the old biscuit tin where she kept her savings. Was she truly brave enough to risk writing to him? Surely she was. If she was willing to give up the life she had in Hope Springs to see him again, she could certainly summon the courage to send a letter.

  She set her mind to it, committed herself to the task. An almost immediate, unexpected sense of peace settled over her in that moment. For days on end she’d agonized over the obligation she felt to return to Ireland. Even eighteen years of working toward that goal hadn’t been enough to make her feel truly at ease with the decision. But writing a letter, beginning that way, felt right.

  The family had returned from services more than an hour earlier, though Katie had not come out of her room to greet them. The time had come to stop hiding and begin taking control of things.

  She went looking for Joseph, determined to ask if he was yet willing to send a telegram on her behalf. The calmness she felt didn’t disappear, didn’t lessen. The choice to stay or go had twisted about inside her every minute of every day since her mother’s letter arrived. Yet, she found an uncharacteristic peace of mind in this new path.

  Joseph wasn’t in the kitchen nor the dining room nor the parlor. Where in heaven’s name was the man?

  In the next moment she heard voices, low men’s voices, from just beyond the parlor windows. On the front porch?

  Katie opened the front door but didn’t step out immediately. She didn’t want to interrupt Joseph’s conversation with his visitor.

  “Are you sure about this?” Joseph was asking.

  “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.” ’Twas Tavish, of all people.
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  Katie peeked out enough to confirm it really was him. He and Joseph shook hands. But what were they shaking on?

  “I’ll need a fortnight or so to make all the arrangements,” Joseph said.

  Tavish nodded. “Let me know.” He stepped off the porch and made his way up the path.

  Katie stepped out but didn’t stop him. Their parting at the céilí hadn’t been the happiest. Watching him walk away tore into her.

  “Tavish came by, did he?” Katie couldn’t pull her eyes away from Tavish’s retreating form. He’d not even stopped in to say hello to her. ’Twas all she could do not to run after him and ask him not to go.

  “He did,” Joseph said. “Tavish had some business to see to.”

  “Business?” Her heart dropped further. Tavish hadn’t come with her in mind at all.

  “He came to sell me his land,” Joseph said.

  Her head snapped round, as she stared at him, wide-eyed. “He what?” Though she understood his words, her mind refused to accept them. “He’s selling his land? All of it?”

  Joseph nodded solemnly.

  In her mind Katie could hear her father’s voice, the words he’d spoken quietly around the hearth at home when talk of impossible land payments arose. “A man belongs to the land, not the other way around. If he loses that, he might as well lose his very soul.”

  His very soul.

  “Why would Tavish do that, Joseph? I don’t understand.”

  Joseph clearly thought she should have pieced the puzzle together already. “Tavish wishes to follow a certain town baker woman to Ireland, but he doesn’t have the money to make the journey. The only thing he has of any value is his land.”

  Oh, saints above. “He’s not giving up his land on my account, is he?” The thought set her nearly into a panic. “Good heavens, Joseph. He can’t do that. He can’t.”

  Joseph’s expression was tight. “On the contrary, he is quite determined to.”

  Merciful heavens. Something very like fear gripped her. Tavish couldn’t do this. He couldn’t give up his land for her, and for something she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted anymore.

  Her heart raced and pounded, her mind spinning.

  Joseph watched her closely but didn’t speak.

  “I don’t know what to do.” Her heart ached. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Joseph stepped closer. She’d come to realize in the weeks she’d known him that Joseph Archer was a man of compassion. She saw that in him again. “What does your mind tell you, Katie?”

  “That if I don’t go back to Ireland, I’ll never see my father again, that it doesn’t make sense to delay my travels even a day with his time so nearly at an end.” Grief settled on her shoulders, a mourning for a loss she knew was coming but was powerless to prevent.

  Joseph’s gaze didn’t waver, though his expression softened. “And what does your heart tell you?”

  “My heart?”

  He nodded. “In my greatest moments of indecision, when I think I have no idea what I truly want, I have found my heart knows the answer.”

  What does my heart say? Katie pushed away the arguments her mind made in both directions, and focused solely on what she felt. What does my heart say?

  A flood of memories and faces and moments rushed over her like a warm wave. The beloved almost-green farms, so different from Ireland but so dear to her. The stubbornly optimistic families of the Irish Road. Biddy’s precious friendship. Sweet Ivy. Darling little Emma. Joseph, a man of wealth and influence who respected and valued her—that would certainly never happen in Ireland.

  And Tavish. Kind, loving Tavish, who’d lost one sweetheart to death and, his heart being tender as it was, still couldn’t bring himself to speak of her. A man capable of loving that deeply was well worth keeping. Tavish, who’d heard all of Katie’s history and loved her still. Who brought smiles to her face when all she felt capable of was crying. Who was willing to give up his home and his family for her.

  That was what she wanted. All of it. That was the reason for her doubts. Her mind insisted she keep to her lifelong plans, but her heart knew what it wanted and needed.

  Her eyes focused once more to find Joseph still standing there, watching her. He gave her a look of understanding. “I think you need to at least go talk to him.”

  She nodded but couldn’t find her voice.

  “If you hurry, you might catch him before he gets too far.”

  Catch him. That was exactly what she intended to do.

  Katie took hold of her skirts and rushed down the porch steps.

  “Tavish?” But he was too far ahead already to hear her.

  Faster she ran toward the bridge to the Irish Road, ignoring the pain each jarring step sent through her sore shoulder. He hadn’t yet crossed all the way over the bridge.

  “Tavish?” she called out.

  He turned back, stopping when he saw her.

  She stopped at the end of the bridge. He stood near the other end, looking at her.

  “Why are you selling your land?”

  Frustration entered his face. “Joseph wasn’t supposed to say anything to you.”

  The river rushed by beneath their feet. Wind rustled the bushes and trees growing along the river bank. Katie stood there in the quiet, her mind spinning, no idea how to say what she felt.

  “You would give that up for me?” She swallowed against the thickness in her throat.

  “I’d do anything for you, Katie Macauley.” He didn’t step closer, nor did he move away. “If going to Ireland will make you happy, then I want you to go. But I won’t live here without you. I won’t spend the rest of my life wondering what might have happened if I’d gone with you.”

  She saw heavy regret in Tavish’s eyes. Though she knew he would walk away from his house and his land and never blame her for it, he would regret the loss. He would.

  She took a single step in his direction. “I have been thinking about Ireland, Tavish.”

  He shook his head. “This is precisely why I told Joseph not to say anything to you. I won’t have you guilting yourself into a hasty decision.”

  “No. Not guilt. That you’d do this for me means more than I can tell you.” Tears fell slowly from her eyes as overwhelming emotion nearly enveloped her. “You would give up your land for me, Tavish. My own father fully meant to give me up for his land.”

  She didn’t bother to wipe away the tears. The determined and stubborn set of his posture eased, his gaze firmly on her.

  “I love you, Tavish. I know I haven’t said it before, but I mean it. I’ve felt it for some time now.” Not since she lost her parents had she said those words to anyone. Part of her wondered if she even truly understood what they meant. “You said you’d always wonder what might have happened between us.”

  He moved slowly, uncertainly, in her direction.

  “I’d rather find out than look back and wonder,” she said. “And neither do I want to find myself years from now sitting in a damp flat in Belfast, thinking back on Hope Springs and regretting that I gave it up, not realizing I had a home here. A home where I needn’t spend the rest of my life all alone.”

  It wasn’t at all like Tavish to remain silent for so long. Had she said something wrong? Was he unconvinced? She didn’t want him to think he’d forced her into changing her mind or that she’d made this decision out of guilt or a feeling of obligation.

  “I’m needed here,” she rushed to explain. “I haven’t been needed anywhere since I was tiny. If I stay, the Red Road won’t feel like they’ve won. I might even save the Irish some troubles in the future. And the sweet Archer girls, I cannot just abandon them. My job at the Archer home is the best I’ve had yet. And to sell my own bread, to have a business of my own, that’d never happen in Ireland. Not ever. Granny—”

  He’d reached her side and brushed his hand along her cheek, cutting off her words mid-sentence.

  “You’re choosing to stay?” He whispered the question.

  Sh
e nodded.

  “Are you certain, Katie? I’ll not have you burdened by this like you’ve been the last years.”

  She leaned into his touch. “We choose the regrets we can live with. I would always regret losing the home and family I have here. Always. I finally realized why I’ve struggled to make this decision, why there have been so many doubts. This is what I want. It’s what I need.”

  “Are you certain?” he asked. “Absolutely certain.”

  “This feels right in a way going back hasn’t in days,” she said. “Weeks, really.” Warmth began slowly spreading through her.

  His thumb rubbed at her cheek, his hand slipping around the back of her neck. “If you ever change your mind, Katie, if going back ever becomes necessary to you again, promise you’ll tell me. Promise you won’t hold back out of a feeling of obligation or guilt or any such thing.”

  Bless the man. “I’ll tell you. I swear to it.”

  His other hand slipped around the other side of her neck, so he held her head in his hands, looking directly into her eyes. “I love you, Katie Macauley.”

  Her heart seemed to swell, almost to bursting.

  “Will you let me court you properly now that you don’t mean to skip out?”

  That was something she not only happily agreed to, but looked forward to wholeheartedly. “I believe I can accommodate you in that.”

  His grin spread wide as the River Foyle. She laughed at his whoop of delight. No person had ever seemed that happy to have her around.

  In a movement so swift she hardly noted it, his arms wrapped about her middle and he swung her about, lifting her feet off the ground.

  Tavish set her on her feet once more. He turned in the direction of the Archer house. With one hand cupped beside his mouth, the other arm tucked closely around her, he called out. “She’s decided to stay!”