The treachery of his actions ate at Gil’s conscience like a deadly disease. How had he, a man who prided himself on his integrity and principles, fallen so far away from them?
He moved his hand, surprised to find wetness there, unaware of the tears that had fallen.
“Can I help you with anything, Gilbert?”
The sympathetic voice of Reverend Filmore startled Gil from his thoughts. He swiped a sleeve over his eyes and pushed up to sit on the wooden bench. Reverend Filmore stood at the end of the pew, a concerned expression on his lined face.
“Is everything all right at the O’Learys’?”
“The O’Learys are fine, sir.”
“But evidently you are not.”
Gil opened his mouth to reply that he was fine, but the added lie would not leave his tongue. “No, I’m not.”
The priest moved to sit beside him on the pew. “I’m a good listener if you want to get something off your chest.”
Gil bent his head over his knees. Could it hurt to hear a minister’s opinion, or would it forever taint the reverend’s view of him?
“There’s nothing I haven’t heard before, son. No sin is so terrible it can’t be forgiven.” His soothing tone gave Gil confidence.
They sat side by side, each man gazing ahead at the simple altar.
“I’ve got myself into a situation I don’t know how to get out of.” Gil’s voice, a mere whisper, seemed to echo in the silent space.
“This situation . . . does it involve a woman?”
“Not in the way you’re thinking, but yes. I’ve allowed myself to become betrothed to a woman I don’t love. Not the way a husband should love a wife.” He shook his head sadly. “I knew it was wrong, but I allowed myself to be talked into doing this . . .” He trailed off, not willing to besmirch James’s reputation. “I can’t go into all the details.”
“I understand. What’s important is that God knows the motivation in your heart.”
Gil squeezed his hands into fists on his lap. “When I break off the engagement, it will cause great pain to the girl and her family.”
“I presume you had strong reasons to agree to this. But by doing so, you haven’t been true to yourself, and that’s what’s causing you such misery. That and knowing you’re going to cause this poor girl heartache.”
“Yes.”
“The important thing is you’ve realized your mistake, confessed it here to God, and asked His forgiveness.”
“Do I even deserve forgiveness?” The question he’d asked himself so often in the past now resurfaced.
“Everyone who repents of wrongdoing deserves forgiveness, Gilbert. Ask for God’s help. Seek His will in making amends to right the wrong you’ve done. It may take some time, but I’m sure the young lady in question will forgive you eventually.”
Gil released a weary breath. “Thank you, Reverend. I’ll do my best.”
“Good to hear. Remember I’m always available if you need to talk.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, sir.”
“Now, I’d best be preparing for my service in a few hours.” He stood slowly, his knees creaking like the wooden floor beneath him. “I hope to see you back here later.”
Gil nodded. “I’ll be here.”
Gil sat in the silence for several more minutes. At last, some of the burden seemed to lift from his shoulders. Now that he’d involved God in his decisions, as he should have all along, a certain clarity cleared the fog of guilt from his mind. He left the church, praying for the strength to follow through on his decision—as soon as the verdict on the loan came through.
Colleen hummed on her way up the stairs to the front door of the orphanage on the morning after Independence Day, eager to see Delia and hear her account of the parade the children had attended.
In the cloakroom, she removed her hat and gloves, feeling lighter than she had in years, as though a huge burden had been lifted from her soul. Her conversation with Rylan on Saturday night had had a cathartic effect on her in ways Colleen could never have imagined. For the first time since she could remember, she’d looked forward to attending Sunday service with her family and had actually enjoyed Reverend Filmore’s sermon. The usual anger and sting of guilt had dissipated from her like the smoke drifting over the church candles.
The fact that Rylan didn’t despise her for her secret shame was in itself the best gift she’d ever been given. Total and unconditional acceptance. Affection and friendship based not on her looks, her family, or her wealth, but on the true person she was inside. Rylan knew every dark corner of her soul and liked her anyway.
Dare she hope he might love her?
What a foolish notion. He’d never once indicated he felt anything romantic for her, though she’d mistakenly imagined he might kiss her the other night. But then he’d moved away, and she realized she’d misinterpreted his reaction. She was nothing more than a person he’d helped through a spiritual crisis. She would have to be content with his friendship and keep her true feelings buried deep.
This morning, she’d missed his charming presence on the train ride into the city. He’d said he had something to do at the church before he could join them at the orphanage, so Colleen traveled in alone.
But nothing would dampen her spirits today. She had a new outlook on life, a new joy, a new truth about herself, and she felt all-powerful. Full of love for her fellow human beings. Not even Sister Marguerite’s dour countenance could daunt her today.
Smiling, she marched into the classroom, full of purpose. The children had not yet come in, so only Sister Marguerite occupied the room, seated at the head of the class.
“Good morning, Sister,” Colleen called out to the nun. “How did you enjoy your holiday?”
The woman blinked, then inclined her head. “I enjoyed it very much. I will thank Mr. Montgomery when I see him.”
Colleen ignored the attempt to minimize the part she had played in the nuns’ day off. “I’m glad.” She smiled as she took a handful of children’s readers from the bookshelf. “We had fun with the children, as well.”
“Believe me, we’ve heard about nothing else since.”
Colleen tried to curb her annoyance. Sister Marguerite managed to take such an enjoyable occasion and still find something to grouse about. Colleen decided not to take her negativity personally.
The door opened, and Sister Veronica led the children into the classroom. Colleen paused from her task to greet them as they entered, eager to see Delia’s face light up in welcome.
When all the children had taken their seats and Delia had not appeared, Colleen crossed the room to peer into the corridor, thinking the girl had lagged behind the others. The hallway remained empty.
“Sister Veronica, where is Delia this morning? Is she ill?” If so, Colleen would go and check on her.
The usually serene face of the young nun turned sorrowful. She placed a gentle hand on Colleen’s arm. “You haven’t heard?”
Alarm skittered up Colleen’s spine as her gaze swung over the heads of the children to the smug expression on Sister Marguerite’s face. “Heard what?”
“Delia is gone,” Sister Marguerite snapped.
“What do you mean gone?”
“It’s good news, really.” Sister Veronica’s soothing voice did little to calm Colleen’s anxiety. “Delia’s been adopted. Her new family came to pick her up yesterday.”
The floor swayed under Colleen’s feet. “Adopted? Why didn’t I know about this?”
“I thought Mr. Montgomery would have told you.” Sister Marguerite removed her glasses and set them on the table. “He helped arrange the whole thing.”
Colleen’s legs wobbled beneath her, and the room spun. Rylan knew this was happening and hadn’t said a word? How could he have kept this from her—especially when she’d asked him about the possibility of Delia being adopted? She reached out to grasp the wooden doorframe, willing her legs to hold her.
“I didn’t even get to say good-bye.” Tremors
started in her knees and moved up her body.
“Maybe you should come to the kitchen,” Sister Veronica said, her tone kind. “I’ll get you a glass of water.”
“No, thank you. I just need a moment . . . alone.” Colleen lifted her skirts and fled down the hallway. She charged up the stairs and pushed through the door into the girls’ dormitory. Her breath came in great gasps as her gaze flew to the little bed at the far end of the room. Right away Colleen noticed the difference. Delia’s special quilt was gone. In its place, a standard-issue wool blanket covered the bed.
Colleen moved across the floor as if in a trance and sank onto the mattress. Snatching up the pillow, she pressed it to her face as though she might be able to smell a trace of the little girl left there. Nothing but the freshly laundered odor of bleach met her nose. Tears blurred her vision. She sat rocking on the edge of the bed, the pillow clutched to her chest.
Dear Lord, I know I should be happy for her, but I’m so very sad. Please let Delia have a wonderful family with the kindest of mothers to love her. As I would have loved her.
She brushed at the tears that spilled over and streamed down her cheeks. Oh, Delia. How Colleen wished she could have sent her off to her new home with good wishes and lots of kisses. What must Delia think of her, that she never even bothered to say good-bye? Did she think Colleen didn’t care about her?
Her watery gaze landed on the polished hardwood floor where a scrap of fabric stuck out between the bed and the night table. Colleen reached down and pulled out Delia’s worn rag bunny. A cry escaped her as she caressed the cherished toy.
How would Delia sleep in a new house without Mr. Whiskers?
Colleen grasped the tattered toy in her arms and curled up on the bed as sorrow gutted her. She felt the loss of the little girl in every fiber of her being. Never again would she see those blue eyes light up, never again feel those arms hug her neck.
Colleen’s world would never be as bright again.
Rylan trudged up the stairs from the utility room in the basement of the orphanage, the metal toolbox in his hand as heavy and black as his soul. He’d lied to Colleen this morning, told her he had something to take care of at the church, so he wouldn’t have to endure the torturous train ride in with her.
How could he face her, knowing how he felt about her, and not have her guess the inappropriate nature of his affections? He needed time to school his thoughts, and his emotions, before being alone with her again. He needed time for God to change his heart and return him to the feelings of friendship he’d started with.
To make matters worse, today he’d have to break the news of Delia’s adoption and tell Colleen the girl would be leaving by the end of the week. He sighed as he reached the main level and set the toolbox on the floor with a thud. Though Colleen would be happy for Delia, Rylan was certain she would also be devastated by the loss of the wee girl. Rylan’s heart already ached with sadness at the thought of no longer seeing the tot’s mischievous grin and bright eyes.
Footsteps pounding on the carpet pulled his attention down the long corridor.
“Oh, Mr. Montgomery. Thank goodness you’re here.” Sister Veronica rushed up beside him, face flushed, out of breath.
“Sister, what is it?” Concern for the woman banished all thoughts of Delia for the moment.
“It’s Miss O’Leary. You need to come with me.”
Alarm shot through his midsection, curdling his morning tea. “What’s wrong with Miss O’Leary?” He took long strides to keep up with the petite woman’s furious footsteps. “Is she ill?”
She looked over her shoulder as they climbed the stairs to the second story. “Sick at heart. She found out that Delia’s been adopted.”
Rylan’s stomach sank to his boots. Someone had told her before he’d had the chance. Would Sister Marguerite stoop so low just to hurt her?
“Why are we going upstairs? Isn’t she with the children in the classroom?”
Her white headpiece wobbled as she shook her head. “Once she realized Delia was gone, she came up to the dormitory. I can’t get her to leave.”
At the top of the stairs, Rylan reached out a hand to halt the nun’s movement. “Are you telling me Delia’s already gone?”
Regret shone in the nun’s large eyes. “Yes. The family’s plans changed, and they came yesterday to pick her up.” She nudged open the door to the girls’ dormitory and pointed to the bed in the far corner.
Muffled sobs came from the figure curled in a tight ball on top of the bed. Sorrow banded Rylan’s heart until the pain radiated out over his chest. He put one hand there to rub the ache. “Leave it with me, Sister. I’ll see what I can do.”
A wave of relief passed over her features. “Thank you.”
Like a man heading to his execution, Rylan made his way across the room to the tiny bed. Colleen’s back faced him, her shoulders shaking with silent weeping. What he wouldn’t give to take away her pain. The last thing he ever wanted was to see her hurting like this.
Gingerly, he sat beside her on the cot and placed a tender hand on her arm. “I’m so sorry you found out this way, Colleen.”
She wrenched up to a sitting position, her eyes wild with . . . fury?
“You lying, treacherous, hateful man.” Palms fisted, she attacked him, striking his upper torso with angry blows. In her vehemence, her hair shook loose from its pins to cascade around her face and shoulders. She didn’t seem to notice as she hurled further insults at him.
He accepted her wrath for a few moments, knowing he deserved it, before capturing her hands in his. “Are you finished?” His calm voice finally seemed to penetrate the haze of her anger, for she stilled and really looked at him, tears streaking her cheeks.
“How could you not tell me? I asked you about adoption and you said nothing.” The betrayal and hurt shone in her eyes, searing his heart like a brand.
“I wanted to tell you, but I wasn’t at liberty to say anything. I’d given my word.”
The fight went out of her then, and she sagged toward him, as limp as the rag doll in her hand. He caught her against his chest and felt the tidal wave of emotion rise up through her body. Once again he found himself comforting her while she wept, her pain ripping through him like a hot poker. Warm tears soaked his shirtfront while he stroked the fall of auburn curls that curtained her face, murmuring soothing words.
“I . . . I didn’t even get to say good-bye.”
“I’m so sorry.” He repeated it over and over, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. The fragrant smell of her shampoo enveloped him.
Huddled in the dim corner of the room, they seemed cocooned in their own private sanctuary. He reached into his pocket to pull out his handkerchief and lifted her face to dry her tears. Devastated not only by her grief, but by his own sense of loss, his eyes grew moist as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Colleen fingered the worn toy. “She forgot Mr. Whiskers,” she whispered. “Delia can’t sleep without him.” Fresh tears hovered on her lashes.
“I promise I’ll find out where she is so we can send it to her.”
“You will?”
“Yes. And we can include a letter and a wee gift to remember us by.”
“I—I’d like that.”
Her lids fluttered closed. Long lashes, spiky and wet, lay against her cheeks.
“Please don’t cry anymore. My heart can’t take it.”
Her eyes flew open, and he stared into the pools of her soul, recognizing the stark longing on her face.
His gaze strayed to her full bottom lip, which quivered with emotion. As though drawn in by a force beyond his power, Rylan slowly lowered his mouth to hers. When their lips met, a burst of love coursed through him, as bright and charged as a surge of electricity—like nothing he’d ever felt before. As he feasted on the sweetness of her mouth, Colleen’s arms came up and wound around his neck. He tightened his grip around her in a fierce wave of protectiveness. He wanted to hold her like this forever, shelter her
from every pain, every disappointment in life.
The sudden sound of approaching footsteps and the hushed murmur of voices penetrated the passionate haze surrounding Rylan’s brain. He jerked upright, realizing they were almost reclining on the bed, locked in an ardent embrace. Both their reputations, as well as his career, would be ruined if they were caught. He bolted off the bed, swiping a hand across his mouth as though to erase the invisible evidence of their kiss.
Her eyes widened as she stared at him, confusion and sorrow mixing in their depths.
“Forgive me, Colleen,” he whispered, and then he raced across the room to reach the door just as Sister Veronica arrived with another nun.
“I think Miss O’Leary is feeling better now. Please excuse me. I have an emergency back at the church.”
He dashed down the hall before they could ask any questions and force him to tell yet another lie.
23
WAS I WRONG to leave home?
Brianna picked at the eggs on her plate as the question that had haunted her all night burned in her brain.
Over the past few days, she’d suffered from a terrible case of homesickness, spending her first Independence Day ever away from her family. She couldn’t help but remember the wonderful gatherings of friends and neighbors at Irish Meadows over the years, the food, the laughter, the fun times she’d shared with Gil . . .
This year, Brianna had accompanied Aunt Fiona to the house of a colleague, and they’d shared a sedate meal with a group of professors and talked of college programs and politics. Bored didn’t even begin to describe how Brianna had felt all afternoon. The fact that one of the men’s sons had followed her around like a lost puppy only added to Brianna’s discomfort. She’d cried herself to sleep that night, wondering how her family had spent the day, wishing for Mama’s comforting presence.
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