Chapter Twelve
Tavish tucked Katie’s fiddle under his arm. He gave Granny Claire a quick kiss on the cheek before sending her off in his little sister’s care.
Granny said Katie had gone to Joseph’s house on a matter of business. Tavish meant to bring her home for a much-needed bit of merrymaking. She needed it. And he needed her.
He turned back, fully intending to fetch her from the Archer place, only to find her not many paces off, walking toward him.
She waved as she drew closer. “A fine good evening to you, Tavish.”
Heavens, it was nice to see her smiling again. She had been fatigued and burdened the last time he’d seen her. He’d tried convincing her to end her employment at the mercantile. She needed the sleep and some time to herself. She most certainly didn’t need Johnson’s insulting and belittling treatment.
“What’s that you’re carrying?” she asked.
“This?” He held up her fiddle case. “It’s a fiddle, Sweet Katie. An odd contraption with strings that makes music.”
She gave him a look of scolding that held a heavy hint of amusement. “I know perfectly well what a fiddle is. And that fiddle looks like mine.”
“Probably because it is.”
“But why are you carrying my—” Absolute panic entered her expression. “Has something happened to it? Please tell me it’s not broken. I can’t lose it. I need the music.”
He set his free hand on her arm. “Your fiddle is perfectly sound. I’ve simply come to take it—and you—to the céilí.”
The explanation didn’t appear to settle in for the length of a breath. Relief followed. Close on its heels came a whisper of eagerness.
“There’s to be a céilí tonight?”
Tavish nodded. “The Irish have reason to celebrate. Ian is out of bed and looks likely to eventually recover. The harvest promises to be plentiful. And, perhaps the greatest miracle of all, there’s been no more feud violence.”
Katie’s shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. “I’ve worried about that. And about Ian, and the harvest.”
He slipped his arm about her waist, pulling her close to him as they walked on.
“I suppose I worry too much,” she said with a sigh.
Tavish pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“Is that a ‘yes, you do,’ then?” Katie asked.
“That is an ‘I can’t possibly answer without getting myself into trouble.’”
He thought he felt her laugh a tiny bit. That did him a world of good. Katie ought to laugh and smile more.
He leaned in close and spoke softly. “Tonight you are to do nothing but smile and laugh, play your music if you wish, and enjoy your friends’ company.”
“And your company?”
He grinned back at her. “Thought of me first thing, did you?”
She threw him a saucy look. “Second or third thing, at least.”
“You’re in better spirits than you have been of late,” he said, grateful to see it.
“I feel better—less weighed down,” she said. “And to have a céilí is a fine thing.”
They turned in at Ma and Da’s place where the céilís were always held. Such a look of peace entered Katie’s expression.
“’Twas these parties that first made Hope Springs feel like home to me. These parties and these people.” She smiled fondly as she looked over the crowd that had already gathered. “I would have died a bit to leave it all behind.”
“And there is yet another reason I’m happy you’ve chosen to stay.”
She looked up at him. No one but Katie had ever worn such a look of mingled determination and weariness. “I fully intend to be happy here, Tavish. No matter what it takes.”
Tavish pressed a kiss to her forehead. He couldn’t say when he’d begun doing that, but he’d found he liked it very much. Something in the simple tenderness of the gesture felt very right.
“Enough of that, lad,” Da said.
Tavish pushed out an amused and exasperated breath. “Why is it you always seem to be sneaking up on me just when I’m having a tender moment with this sweet colleen?”
Da kept his expression stern, though an unmistakable twinkle shone in his eyes. “Is it not a father’s duty to look out for his girl?”
“Aren’t you meant to look after your son as well?” Tavish matched his da’s teasing tone.
Da shrugged. “I like our Katie better than I like you. So you can just look out for your own self.”
Katie slipped from Tavish’s side. She gave Da a hug, something Tavish would never have expected her to do only a few short weeks earlier.
Da returned her embrace, smiling at her fondly. “Biddy’s been asking after you, hoping you meant to come to the céilí.”
“Biddy is here?”
Da nodded. “My wife’s sitting with Ian so Biddy could have some time away.”
“Let’s find her, then,” Katie said. She turned back and held her hand out to Tavish, an invitation he readily accepted.
They walked amongst their neighbors. Every single soul they passed had a word of greeting for Katie. How quickly she’d become an indispensable part of their lives.
They spotted Biddy not far from the tables of food. Katie was off in a rush. She and Biddy embraced each other, falling into easy conversation.
“She has been a good friend to Biddy,” Da observed. “And such a comfort to her since Ian was laid low. Visits her every day, she does. I don’t know how Biddy could have endured all she has without Katie at her side.”
Tavish remembered how standoffish Katie had been the day she met Biddy and smiled.
“How is your courtship going, lad?” Da asked.
“It would be going vastly better if a certain nosy Irishman didn’t keep interrupting me.”
Da chuckled. He slapped a friendly hand on Tavish’s shoulder. “See if you can’t get the lass to play her fiddle tonight. She does the lot of us a world of good with her music.”
Tavish kept to Katie’s side the remainder of the evening. For a woman who had arrived so utterly alone, she had made the entire Irish Road her friends. She played her fiddle for them all, filling the cool night air with the tunes of home played to perfection.
Seamus took up the usual storytelling, and Katie took up her place at Tavish’s side, leaning against his arm as the evening drew out. The air turned more and more chill as night fell. He wrapped his arm about her, pulling her close. As the tales gave way to the quiet tunes that always ended their céilís, Katie’s head grew heavy against him.
Though Tavish would have followed her to Ireland, he was grateful she’d chosen to stay. As she’d said, Hope Springs was home.