Chapter Twenty-Six
Two days had passed since Mr. Johnson’s visit. Katie had found a bit of calm and a sense of purpose. She’d taken the position at the mercantile in order to help her Irish neighbors through the winter. Though she wanted to think Mr. Johnson had softened a bit during her time there and wouldn’t raise the Irish prices now that she was gone, she couldn’t be completely certain of that. She had little else to offer beyond her bread. If she could use the bit of her savings that wasn’t already going toward the food and fuel she and Granny used from day to day, she could see that her Irish neighbors had bread they needn’t pay for. With the money they saved, they might be able to endure a rise in prices.
She’d made her first free bread delivery that day. And though convincing her neighbors to accept her offering had been difficult, Katie had held firm. Hope Springs was home, and the people there were family. She would do everything she could to help them.
Biddy walked at her side, having made the deliveries with her. “Ian is slowly returning to himself. Though his head still pains him, he has much of his strength back. I find myself hopeful I will have my dear Ian back again.”
Katie smiled. Her heart lightened to see Biddy looking less burdened. “I seem to remember a certain woman telling me once upon a time that ‘hope springs eternal.’”
“And I was right about that, you know. I only wish this town of ours lived up to its name more often than it does.”
Katie gave her friend a quick hug. “I haven’t lost faith in Hope Springs. We’ll find our way out of the darkness of this feud, you’ll see.”
“Katie! Katie!”
She knew Emma’s voice on the instant and turned to greet the sweet girl.
“Good day to you, Em—”
Emma looked worried.
Katie reached out and took her hands, studying her face for any clue as to what had upset the child. “What’s happened, dearest?”
“Ivy won’t come out of the barn.”
“What is she doing in the barn?” Katie knew the tiny girl didn’t have chores to be done there.
“She’s hiding.”
“A game, then?” Biddy guessed.
Emma shook her head.
“Why did you not tell Mrs. Smith that Ivy’s hiding in the barn?” Katie asked. “Or your papa? Or Finbarr?” To have come all this way seemed a touch extreme.
“Papa is gone, and Finbarr is with him.” Emma’s frantic look remained. “And I can’t tell Mrs. Smith because Ivy’s hiding from her.”
Katie did not at all like the sound of that. She exchanged a quick look with Biddy. “I’d best go check on my girl.”
Biddy nodded. “Are you still planning on us for supper?”
“Aye.” Katie stood. “I will see you tonight, Biddy.” She took Emma’s hand. “Come on, then. We’ll coax Ivy out.”
They walked quickly down the road toward the bridge. Ivy hiding in the barn did not, in itself, seem worrisome. But Emma was so clearly upset about it, Katie couldn’t help feeling anxious.
“What exactly sent Ivy into hiding?” she asked.
Emma’s brown eyes were too heavy and worried for Katie’s peace of mind. “She knocked over the flour jar and it broke.”
“She’s embarrassed, then?”
Emma only shook her head, not explaining. Katie didn’t press her.
They reached Joseph’s barn. From the doorway, she heard a voice.
“This is entirely unnecessary and is taking up far too much time.” The words held more than a hint of scolding. “Stop this tantrum and come down from there.”
“Is that Mrs. Smith?” Katie asked.
Emma nodded.
“Shall we go have a wee little talk with her?”
The suggestion did not give Emma the bit of confidence Katie had hoped it would. Did Mrs. Smith worry her so much that even having an empathetic adult at her side not make Emma feel any better about confronting the woman?
“Come down here this instant.” Mrs. Smith’s impatience sharpened the words.
Emma paled. “May I wait out here, Katie?”
“If you’d rather remain here, or go up to the house, you most certainly may, darling,” Katie told Emma. “But if you’d like to come in with me, I’ll keep you right at my side where you know you’ll always be safe.”
Emma took a deep and fortifying breath. A look of determination crossed her face.
“There’s my brave girl.” Katie squeezed the hand still held firmly in her own. “Let’s go rescue your sister.”
Mrs. Smith stood at the bottom of the ladder leading up to the loft, her hands fisted on either hip. “If you don’t come down here this instant, Ivy—”
Katie spoke over the cross words. “In my experience, Mrs. Smith, she responds much better to her name spoken in a kind voice.”
Mrs. Smith spun about to face her. “This is none of your concern, miss.”
“On the contrary.” Katie stepped up next to her. “These girls are rather dear to me. Their welfare will always be my concern.”
The woman only grew more outwardly exasperated. “Their welfare is not in question. Neither of them is in any danger. The littlest one simply refuses to come down, and I cannot leave her up there alone.”
“Scolding her is unlikely to encourage her to come to you,” Katie pointed out.
“If you can do a better job of it, please do.” Mrs. Smith motioned toward the loft, stepping back with a look of haughtiness that grated. Clearly she thought Ivy would respond no better to Katie.
“Why don’t you return to your work?” Katie suggested. “I will attend to the sweet angel in the loft.”
“She is not being very angelic today,” Mrs. Smith said. “I told her she would not be punished for what was clearly an accident, but it’s as if she cannot understand simple—”
“Let me stop you right there.” Katie kept her calm only with great effort. “’Tis never a wise thing to speak ill of any Irishwoman’s children within her hearing.”
“Your children?” Clearly the sentiment surprised Mrs. Smith.
“Indeed.”
Emma clutched Katie’s hand in both of hers. Katie slipped the girl just a touch behind her.
“And, if you would be so good as to give Mr. Archer a message for me, please tell him I’ve taken the girls to spend the day with me, and he can fetch them whenever it is convenient.”
Mrs. Smith seemed to debate a moment before relenting with a shrug and a look of acceptance. She moved with quick strides out of the barn.
Katie looked down at Emma and received a tentative smile.
“Shall we go up after Ivy?” Katie asked.
Emma nodded.
Katie climbed the ladder, stopping when her head cleared the floor above. Ivy sat across the loft but within sight, her arms wrapped around her bent knees. Hay stuck out of her braids and clung to her stockings. Sad tears sat on her cheeks.
“Hello, Ivy, angel. Won’t you come over and talk to me?”
Ivy stood and dragged her feet as she walked to where the ladder leaned against the loft. She plopped back down, sitting cross-legged on the floor.
“Why are you up here alone?” Katie asked.
Ivy’s lip quivered. “Mrs. Smith is mad at me.”
“I hear you broke the flour jar.”
Ivy nodded. A tear dripped off her chin.
“Were you afraid she would be angry?” Katie thought of Mrs. Smith’s sharp words. “Did she yell at you, or scold you harshly?”
Ivy dropped her head down, her forehead on her knees.
“Darling?” Katie pressed.
“She looks at me like she’s angry. I don’t like it.”
“Does she hit you?”
Ivy shook her head, and Katie felt some of her anxiety lessen.
“Does she yell or shout?” Katie looked down at Emma, standing at the foot of the ladder.
“No,” Emma said. “Not really. But she talks so . . . so hard at us.”
Poor things. They needed love and kind words; they needed a mother. She understood that need, having spent most of her childhood alone and longing for someone to care about her.
She turned her attention back to Ivy. “How would you like to come have a wee céilí down at my house, sweetheart?” She reached out and stroked Ivy’s hair. “I might even make biscuits. I know how much you love my sweet biscuits.”
She heard the tiniest murmur of “Cookies.”
“Yes. Cookies.”
Ivy peeked out at her. “With sugar on top?”
Katie nodded.
Ivy scooted along the floor of the loft until her feet dangled over the edge. Katie kissed her wet cheek.
“Can you come back, Katie?” Ivy asked. “Can you come back and make Mrs. Smith go away?”
Ivy always reminded Katie of her poor sister. In that moment ’twas as if little Eimear were there again, telling Katie how very cold she was, begging her to do something to make her warm again.
“I made Mrs. Smith go away for now.” Katie knew it was only temporary comfort, but she had nothing else to offer. “And I mean to take you home with me for the rest of the day. Will that do?”
Ivy looked the smallest bit relieved.
“Why is it you hide up here, sweetie?”
Ivy shrugged a single shoulder. “It’s quiet.”
Katie could appreciate that. She’d often volunteered to sweep the larder at her first place of employment for just that reason. ’Twas a quiet place with no one about to yell at her or hurt her. She could cry there and not be punished for it.
She looked about the dim loft with its piles of hay. “There are many places to hide,” she said.
Ivy nodded, another tear trickling down her face. Katie’s heart cracked deeply at the sight. Joseph couldn’t possibly be so inattentive as to not see his girls’ unhappiness.
“Let’s go up to my house, Ivy. We’ll forget all about Mrs. Smith for the evening. There’ll be no haylofts or hiding or mean voices. Only sugar-topped cookies for my two very good girls.”
She climbed down the ladder, keeping a close eye on Ivy as she did. With both girls once again on solid ground, Katie held a hand out to each of them.
These girls would have a pleasant night, one filled with all the laughter and smiles and music she could give them.
Joseph’s patience was quickly running thin. A man did not like returning home to find his entire family missing. “Katie took the girls?” he repeated Mrs. Smith’s words, trying to make sense of them.
“Yes. Ivy threw something of a tantrum over a broken flour jar and refused to come down from the hayloft.” Mrs. Smith spoke as she scrubbed the sink basin. “Miss Macauley arrived in the midst of it and, declaring she could do a far better job of addressing the situation than I could, sent me off with instructions to tell you she had taken the girls to her house for the remainder of the day.”
He didn’t fully understand what had passed between the women, but he felt some relief in knowing Katie was with the girls. They, at least, would have passed a pleasant afternoon, which was far more than he could say for himself.
Three hours of trying to talk sense into the thick heads of the Red Road had taken a toll. He was tired, frustrated, and drained.
“You are certain she took the girls to Mrs. Claire’s house?”
“Yes. And that is where she said you could fetch them whenever it was convenient for you.” She looked up from her scrubbing. “I realize I didn’t ask your permission before allowing them to be taken, but seeing as you spend so much time there with Miss Macauley and generally take the girls with you when you go, I didn’t think you would object.”
He didn’t object; he was simply tired. “Make yourself some dinner. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
By the time he reached Mrs. Claire’s house, he was exhausted beyond reason. He was sick to death of the feud, tired of fixing everyone’s problems. He needed sleep. He needed peace. Neither seemed likely anytime soon.
He rapped quick and hard on the door. Mrs. Claire waved at him through the window, motioning him inside.
Joseph stepped through the door, hung his hat on an obliging peg, and unbuttoned his jacket. He told himself not to let his weariness make him impatient. Katie was standing in the middle of the room playing a lively tune on her violin. The girls were dancing about her, giggling and grinning wider than he’d seen in a while—well, at least since the last time he’d come to fetch them at Mrs. Claire’s house.
And why is it I still think of this as Mrs. Claire’s house and never Katie’s? Katie somehow didn’t fit there, even after all the weeks she’d lived with the older woman.
Ian sat next to Biddy, his arm about her shoulder. It relieved Joseph’s mind a great deal to see his friend continuing to recover. Ian’s Michael sat in the corner, reading a book even as he tapped his foot to the music. Little Mary sat on the floor, leaning against her father’s legs, grinning as she watched Katie play.
Joseph’s gaze returned to Katie. He felt as though he could breathe again. More even than her music, her presence brought him a feeling of peace he had desperately needed of late.
The tune came to an end. Both girls dropped to the ground, laughing and exhausted.
Katie looked down at them. “Have you worn yourselves out yet? I don’t know that my fingers can keep up with the two of you much longer.”
“Mrs. Smith doesn’t play the fiddle for us,” Ivy said from her spot on the floor. “Or laugh with us, or sing songs. She just frowns and grumbles.”
Mrs. Claire spoke up. “Look who’s come knocking on our door, girls.”
They all looked in his direction.
“Joseph,” Ian greeted. “It’s good to see you again.”
“And you. How are you feeling?”
Ian nodded firmly. “Better every day.”
Joseph watched for Katie’s usual smile of welcome and for the girls to run straight to him as they always did. He needed both in that moment. The girls huddled close to Katie, who watched him sidelong and a bit uncertainly.
“Don’t either of you have a hug for your papa?” He wasn’t above begging.
Ivy pulled away first and rushed to him. He dropped to his knees and pulled her close.
“We’ve been dancing all day, Pompah. It’s been ever so much fun.”
Joseph caught Emma’s eye. The hesitation there broke his heart. Though he had tried to explain to her why he had needed to speak sharply to their neighbors at the church, he still saw lingering hints of uncertainty in his little girl. He wished he knew how to make things right between them again.
“I’ve missed you, Emma.” He had, indeed, more than simply being physically separated from her during the day.
A smile tugged at her mouth. She crossed to him, as well, and stepped into his embrace.
“Have you enjoyed spending your day with Katie?” he asked.
“We always love being with Katie,” she answered without hesitation. “She said maybe someday Marianne could come dance with us too. That would be a fine thing.”
Despite the small changes Joseph had seen in Jeremiah Johnson, he didn’t for a moment believe he would allow his daughter to spend an afternoon down the Irish Road. But Emma and Marianne were such close friends, the only friend Emma really had, and he couldn’t bear to disappoint her.
“Perhaps someday we can have Marianne come to our house and Katie can join us there. Then you and your friend can dance all you want.”
Emma’s smile grew more natural. Joseph kissed her cheek, then Ivy’s.
“We need to be on our way,” Biddy said. She crossed to where Katie stood in the middle of the room, and embraced her. “Thank you again for the supper and for your music. Heavens, Katie, what your music does for us.”
“It is a balm, isn’t it?” Katie answered. “I grow more grateful for the music every day.”
Ian stepped past his wife. Joseph kept his girls at his side, but stood as Ian approached. He shook the hand Ian offered and gave him a firm slap on the shoulder.
“It is good to see you doing well, Ian.”
“’Tis good to be doing well,” Ian said. “And”—he glanced quickly at his wife, then back again to Joseph, and lowered his voice—“I thank you for the hay you sent over.”
“I only wish I could do more,” Joseph said.
He knew Ian was tiptoeing close to financial disaster. They hadn’t been able to make more than a pittance toward their land payment. He’d lost crops. And he’d soon have another mouth to feed. Joseph did what he could, but the man’s pride had been pricked a lot lately. And anything Joseph could do had to be done as much in secret as possible. Only his insistence that he wouldn’t show the town any mercy had kept things relatively peaceful.
“We’re ready to be off, dearest,” Biddy said from the doorway.
The O’Connors stepped outside. Emma and Ivy moved to the door and waved.
“Could I have a moment of your time, Katie?” Joseph asked.
She looked a little surprised, but nodded and motioned him toward the hallway. He followed her into her small bedroom.
He spoke while she put her violin away. “Mrs. Smith told me something of what transpired this afternoon, though I confess her explanation confused me a great deal. She said something about a flour jar and Ivy hiding in the loft.”
“Aye.” Katie loosened the hairs on her bow, but didn’t look up at him.
“Did something else happen? I haven’t been able to think of a reason why you’d find it necessary to take them home with you over something so small.”
Katie closed the violin case. “Mrs. Smith has a sternness to her manner that makes the girls uncomfortable—not quite frightened, but not at all contented, either.” She kept her hands on the case, her body turned so she very nearly had her back to him. “They were both clearly unhappy, Joseph. Miserable, almost.”
Joseph’s heart stilled. Were his girls truly so miserable?
“I have managed to talk this over with them in bits and pieces throughout the day,” Katie went on, “and I am convinced Mrs. Smith doesn’t hit them or even shout at them. She simply doesn’t love them the way they need. She’s not as kind as she ought to be.”
Katie turned to look at him, a plea in her eyes. “So, yes, I took the girls from home today and kept them here with me. I am sorry I didn’t seek your permission first, but I couldn’t bear to see Ivy’s tears even a moment longer, nor Emma’s worries. Those girls are too dear to me to ever allow them to feel that way if I can do something to relieve their unhappiness.”
Her sharp defense of his girls warmed his heart. When was the last time someone had loved them anywhere near as much as he did? They needed this. They needed her. He needed her.
“I didn’t realize Mrs. Smith was mistreating them.”
Katie shook her head. “I don’t know that she is being unkind to them. They simply don’t like her or her manner.”
Joseph paced away, thinking. “Mrs. Smith’s references were impeccable. She has worked with children before. She came highly recommended.” He stopped at her tiny, curtainless window. Uncertainty warred with anger in his mind. The girls would have told him if they were so unhappy with Mrs. Smith. His girls always turned to him when they were in need.
“Perhaps her previous charges weren’t so easily wounded,” Katie suggested.
Wounded. The idea pierced him. He rested his forehead against the window frame. Mrs. Smith hadn’t ever given any indication that she was the kind to ignore a child’s needs. And yet, he valued Katie’s opinion and trusted her word too much to discount what she’d said. “I have failed my girls, haven’t I?”
He heard the sound of her skirts swishing as she walked. She stopped directly beside him and laid her hand on his arm. “I think you’re being far too hard on yourself, Joseph. They are loved and they know that they are loved, and that makes all the difference in the world.”
The love that Katie had for Emma and Ivy was undeniable. She’d been so unsure of herself, so uncomfortable with the girls at first, but she’d worked at coming to know them. She’d dedicated herself to making them happy. She’d learned to love them.
“Thank you,” he said.
“’Tis a pleasure to have them here with me. They really were no trouble at all.”
He reached out for her, wrapping his arm around her waist. He, apparently, had a knack for torturing himself—he was all but embracing her, and his pounding heart was well aware of it. “I wasn’t thanking you simply for watching them today, Katie. I am thanking you for caring about them and for loving them.”
She smiled fondly. “They’re easy to love, Joseph.”
He intended to say something that would express how easy she was to love, but the words disappeared. Something overtook his judgment. He slipped his arm more fully around her waist and pulled her up to him.
He kissed her. Months of longing for this woman grabbed hold of him. He whispered her name against her lips, a deep, desperate need pounding in his heart. If she’d pushed, fought him at all, he would have let go. Instead, she seemed to melt against him. Her small hand clutched the front of his shirt. Her mouth answered his. She kissed him in return.
The air filled with the scent of her. His Katie, the first woman in years to touch his heart in any way. His Katie. Here was the moment he’d dreamed of and thought about for weeks but had doubted would ever happen.
Then he felt her stiffen, as if suddenly realizing who she was kissing, who she was leaning on and clinging to.
She pulled back. The look of surprise and anxiety on her face struck him like a fist. Her face went pale.
“Katie. I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
She didn’t wait for his explanation. She spun about and rushed from the room.
That was badly done. He’d thought of kissing her many times, but none of his imaginings had ended this way.
He pushed his hair back from his face, letting the air out of his lungs slowly. It didn’t help. He still felt ready to explode.
You have to go say something. You cannot leave it like this.
He likely would be unwelcome, but he owed her the courtesy of a good-bye and, if she would allow it, an apology. Joseph was no coward to hide from a difficult thing that needed doing.
He moved with purpose down the hall. Mrs. Claire and the girls looked at him wide-eyed.
“Katie?” he asked Mrs. Claire.
“She flew by and straight out the back door.”
Joseph followed that path and stepped outside. Katie stood not ten paces off, her back to the house, arms pulled tight around herself. She looked so alone, so small against the vast fields sprawled out beyond her. The wind pulled mercilessly at her hair, yanking strands of it loose and swirling it about her head. Even in his jacket, Joseph was cold. Were the jacket buttoned up, he’d likely still feel the bite of the wind.
He could think of no words that would help the situation. An apology for kissing her died unspoken. He was sorry she was upset, but he couldn’t regret the kiss. Given some encouragement on her part, he’d have kissed her again on the spot.
Joseph walked up behind her, keeping his steps slow so she would have ample time to move away or tell him to leave her be if she wished. He knew she could hear his approach.
She didn’t so much as glance back at him.
He slipped his jacket off when he reached her and set it on her shoulders. Katie let it sit there, not shrugging it off or tossing it at his head. After an awkward and silent moment, she pulled it more firmly around herself, holding it in place with a single hand.
He couldn’t bring himself to mention their kiss. “I was wrong about Mrs. Smith being a good match for our family,” he said. “But even if I found a replacement before winter comes and makes trips to the telegraph office impossible, no one could be here before spring.”
Katie hadn’t walked away but neither had she acknowledged him.
He pressed on—he couldn’t think of anything else to do. “Can the girls come here during the day? Mrs. Smith won’t speak sharply to them while I am there, but I have work that has to be done in the fields during the day. It wouldn’t be permanent—I’m sure you have enough to keep you busy without them here as well. But I need to know they’re happy, and there’s no one in the world I trust more than you.”
She kept her back to him. The air around him filled with the flowery scent he would forever associate with her. Joseph stuffed his hands in his pockets—the urge to reach out for her was too great.
Her silence wasn’t at all encouraging. The tiny ember of hope he felt was growing dimmer by the moment.
“Katie?”
“The girls can come here,” she said quietly. “For as long as you need them to.”
“Thank you.” He spoke as low as she did. There seemed nothing more to say. She didn’t look at him, didn’t lean even the tiniest bit in his direction. Clearly she wanted him to go. “I’ll bring Ivy by in the morning after Emma is at school.”
She silently nodded.
Joseph left her there. He would allow her and Mrs. Claire to have their home to themselves.
When he reentered the house, he saw the girls sitting with Mrs. Claire, listening to her tell a story. “We should be getting home,” he said.
Neither looked the least bit happy at the prospect. He would need to have a good, long talk with them both as they walked, reassure them they would be spending their days with Katie.
He nodded the girls toward the door. He paused long enough to bid Mrs. Claire a good night.
“Might I give you a piece of advice, Joseph Archer?” the old woman asked.
“Of course.”
“Kiss her again.”
“Kiss her—? How did you know I—?”
“It wasn’t yesterday I was born, Joseph.” Mrs. Claire pierced him with a look. “Kiss her again sometime, but do the thing properly the next time.”
While the idea was appealing, Joseph wasn’t entirely convinced. A woman who flees in tears after a man kisses her generally isn’t eager to be kissed by him again.