Chapter Eight
A man could do far worse than to have Katie Macauley riding up beside him in a buggy, even if that buggy was not exclusively his and they’d nothing finer to see than the very familiar Irish Road. Tavish had driven her about the past few afternoons, but that Sunday evening was different. They weren’t making deliveries, weren’t rushed for time. This wasn’t business. ’Twas courting, true and proper, something there’d not been time for before.
“I still say ’tis a full shame there was no céilí yesterday.” Katie had sorrowed over that a few times during their drive. “I look forward to the music all week.”
“A fine fiddler such as yourself can have music whenever she pleases.” He kept the horse at a sedate pace. Driving a fair lady about ought to take time, after all.
Katie tossed him a smile. “Granny and I had plenty of music last evening. Between my fiddle and her talent for tapping spoons, we had tunes all night. Our own little céilí, it was.”
“And you didn’t invite me?” He scoffed dramatically. “I’m fully offended, Katie Macauley. Fully offended.”
She rolled her eyes, and he couldn’t help a grin.
“What would you have contributed to our little party?” Katie asked. “No one was allowed admittance unless he added to the music.”
“I’d have sung for you, Sweet Katie.” He could see the comment intrigued her.
“Have you a talent for it, Tavish? Or are you of the sort to frighten off small children?”
“Perhaps if you’re very nice, dear, you’ll find out one day.”
He loved that her smile grew when he teased her. In the first weeks of their acquaintance his joking had seemed to only confuse or upset her. She understood him better now.
“Why is it you don’t toss your voice in at the céilís? Are you more terrible than you’re letting on? Can’t keep a tune in a brand-new bucket, is that it?”
“Are you trying to trick me into serenading you, you troublesome woman?” He laughed as he clicked the reins, setting the horse going a bit. “I’ll tell you here and now, Sweet Katie, I don’t sing for just anyone, nor for just any occasion.”
“But you would have graced our tiny little céilí last evening?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps. But, you should know, my own family can likely count on just one hand how many times I’ve joined in a tune with any of them these past few years.”
“What’s made you stop?”
The answer came in a single word: Bridget. He’d sung often with his poor sweetheart before she died. While he wasn’t full mourning her passing any longer, there were some things that still pricked at his heart too much, even after a half-decade.
“You tell me you have a fine voice, and then you refuse to prove it.” Katie shook her head, a twinkle in her eyes. “You’re terrible, Tavish. Terrible. Terrible.”
“And you shouldn’t be forced to ride about with a terrible man.” He gave her his most dramatic look of empathy. “I’ll just slow the wagon down enough so you can jump out and walk the rest of the way home.”
Her face lit with silent laughter. She slipped her arm through his, scooting closer to him. He could grow quite used to having Katie sitting beside him, hugging his arm with hers. Even the ache of thinking back on Bridget tucked itself firmly away when Katie was with him. She leaned her head against him. He wished the Irish Road were longer. Their drive would be over in but a few more minutes.
“Is there anything else needing attention at your new home?” Between Katie’s bread deliveries and repairs at Granny’s house, Tavish had managed to spend some time with her the last few days, but not near as much as he would have liked. He was strung thin, trying to see to his own farm and Ian’s.
“Everything is holding up,” Katie answered. “We’re quite snug there.” She slid her hand into his, still managing to keep her arm wrapped around his arm. “Did you know I never had a room all to myself before coming here? Servants share quarters. And my sister and I shared the loft in our home growing up. The boys slept there too before they all left—only a blanket hung up to divide the tiny space in half.”
A small house with little but a family space and a loft. Tavish’s current home could be described in exactly the same way. He’d put all his profits into paying down his debt on the land itself. Only in the last year had he begun putting aside what he needed to begin adding on to the house. ’Twas that money, and what he could have gotten from Joseph Archer for selling off his land, that he’d meant to live on in order to follow Katie to Ireland. He hadn’t, in the short time since those plans had changed, given any real thought to what he’d do with the funds from his berries.
“So you enjoy having your own room, do you?”
“It makes me feel very fancy.” Her smile was a touch whimsical. “A person feels less—I don’t know, less dispensable when she has a space all her own. She feels more important, I suppose. A person has to be truly needed for her to be worth more than a tiny corner of an attic or a blanket on the kitchen floor.”
Tavish knew in that instant exactly how he meant to spend the bit of savings he’d set aside. He meant to court Katie and, in time, he’d ask her to marry him. But when he brought her to his home—to her new home—she’d find a room waiting there just for her. If a room was what she needed to feel essential in his life, that was exactly what he would give her.
He turned the buggy in at Ian and Biddy’s. He and Ian shared ownership of the buggy. Ian had acquired it in a shrewd deal two years back whilst they were down at the train depot selling off grain. It was something of an extravagance—not useful really, but a fine thing to have for riding about or making a quick trip into town.
Tavish brought the buggy to a stop just outside the barn. Katie made to climb down, as she always did.
“At least give me a chance to be a gentleman,” he lightly scolded.
They’d had this very conversation a few times. She stopped at the edge of the bench and waited for him to make his way around. He reached up and lifted her down.
“I don’t know why it is you insist on doing this,” she said as her feet reached the ground. “I can get down on my own.”
“Oh, I know you can.” He kept his hands at her waist and leaned in toward her. “But it gives me a rare opportunity to stand particularly close to you.”
Color stained her cheeks when she looked up at him. She made no attempt to slip away. A good sign, he felt certain. She could sometimes be jumpy, quick to put up walls between them. A past filled with too much pain and heartache had left her wary, but she was well worth the time and patience he’d need to win her over, if only life would grant him more time to court her properly.
He lightly brushed his lips along her hairline, not kissing her, just barely touching. Her hands slid from his shoulders to his neck. Tavish closed his eyes and tried very hard to think clearly. He was never entirely sure what to do around Katie. If he pulled her tight to him and kissed her soundly, would she melt or would she run? Each possibility was equally likely.
He took a deep breath in through his nose, hoping to calm his thoughts and his pulse. “Did you know you smell like flowers?” He had no idea which variety, but he’d noticed that about her almost from the beginning.
“Scented water.” She whispered the reply. Clearly she was not entirely indifferent to his touch.
He slipped one hand from her waist to behind her back, pulling her ever so slightly closer to him. She made no protest. Tavish lowered his head, giving her ample time to push away or pull back if she wanted to.
Katie tipped her head in his direction, and their lips came within a breath of each other.
“Looks to me as though I ought to be taking my wife out for a Sunday afternoon drive so I can get myself a nice squeeze afterwards,” Da’s deep, gravelly voice said from nearby.
“Quit interrupting my squeeze, will ya, Da?” He didn’t release Katie by so much as an inch.
“Can’t do that, son. The lass hasn’t a father here to see to it suitors treat her as they ought. I’ve taken that task to my own self, I have.”
Da would set himself to such a task. What was more, he’d undertake it in earnest.
Katie pulled back from him, not entirely, but enough to look over at the door of the house where Da stood.
“He’s been a perfect gentleman, I assure you.”
Tavish grinned. “I’ve been perfect, have I?”
Katie pressed her lips together. He’d wager she was holding back a smile of her own.
“Aye.” Da’s tone hadn’t lightened. “And he’ll continue to be a gentleman, else I’ll take a switch to him like I done when he was little and making mischief.”
Tavish took her hand in his and pressed it to his lips. “Off with ya, then, before my father decides to flog me.”
“That’s quite enough, lad. Let the sweet ógbhean go on inside.”
Tavish smiled at her. “When he starts speaking Gaelic, I know I’m in trouble.” He kissed her fingers one more time before letting her go.
She stepped around him. Tavish watched her go. Da met her just at the edge of Ian’s porch.
“He really was behaving himself,” he heard Katie say.
“Oh, I know it,” Da said. “And Tavish knows I know it. And he further knows it would be a scalladh-croidhe to his poor mother should she hear of him acting elsewise.”
Tavish could hear him well and clear, just as he imagined Da wanted him to. He leaned against the buggy with his arms folded across his chest, watching the two of them. Da had a way with ladies, young and old. He wove a kind of spell about them all, putting them at ease and making them trust him. He’d been able to soothe the often-prickly Katie from the earliest days of their acquaintance.
“What has brought on the sad face, Katie?” Da asked.
“Hearing you speak Gaelic puts me in mind of my father. He spoke Irish more often than English.”
“I’m told your father is ailing,” Da said.
Tavish stood up straight, intending to jump into the conversation if need be. Katie was not bearing up entirely under the weight of her father’s impending death. Da would make her cry with such a topic.
“He is,” Katie answered simply.
Da stuffed his hands in the pockets of his trousers, nodding slowly. “Do you think your da would allow me to look out for you while you’re here?”
Tavish fully expected her to avoid the topic as she’d done many times before. She surprised him.
A bit of a smile touched her lips. “I think he would thank you for it. And I’d thank you for it too. I’ve not had a father to care about me in many, many years.”
Da’s very Irish, very blue eyes twinkled back at her. Tavish relaxed, torn between gratitude that Da had worked his magic once more and wishing he himself could so easily earn her faith.
“In that case,” Da said, “if any of the other lads hereabout come around courting you, I fully expect you to tell me so. I mean to make it a particular duty of mine to be certain they’re good men and treating you as they ought.”
“I will, though I don’t imagine there’s likely to be a great many men knocking on my door.”
“We’ll see.” Da nodded quickly and firmly. “Now, I’d be much obliged if you’d step inside and say hello to Biddy before you make your way home. She’s missed you this past day or more.”
Katie looked back at Tavish, a smile playing about her lips, though not fully blossoming. He winked at her, and she slipped inside the house. Da remained behind on the porch.
“A sweet lass,” Da said.
“Aye. That she is.”
Da had given Katie a look of tender concern; the gaze he turned on Tavish was edged with warning. “You’re treating her as you ought?”
“Aye.”
“Don’t let me hear otherwise.”
Tavish nodded his understanding. He moved to unhitch the horse.
“And, son?”
He looked back to the porch.
“Our Katie’s quite a catch. Don’t let her slip through your fingers.”
“I don’t intend to.”
“That’s a good lad.” Da crossed to where Tavish stood. Together they unhitched the horse. Da rubbed its nose, something he’d done with every horse they’d ever had. “We’ve trouble ahead of us, Tavish.” Da’s hands slid over the horse’s head.
Tavish patted the animal on the back, following as Da led it into the barn.
“More of the same?”
Da nodded. “Johnson told your ma after services today that he means to raise prices on a few more things.”
That sounded decidedly bad. “What things?”
“He didn’t give particulars. Only mentioned it with that smile of his that makes you feel as though you’ve been drinking sour milk.”
Tavish rubbed at the back of his neck. “He means to starve us out, then? Keep us from buying food this winter?”
“Food. Clothing. Supplies. We’re to freeze and starve and, should any grow ill, suffer all the more for want of medicines.”
Tavish took the bridle off the horse and hung it on its peg. “How many will he drive away this year, do you think?”
Da only shook his head.
“Katie gave up Ireland for this, Da. She stayed to make a future here.”
“I know, son.”
“I can’t let it fall apart. Not when it means so much to her.”
Da took to rubbing down the horse while Tavish leaned against the stall wall.
“You know, I was having me a fine bit of courting until you pushed your nosey self out the door.”
Da kept at his work. “I’d wager our Katie doesn’t have a lot of experience with proper courting. I worry about her. About both of you. She’s likely to have her head turned by sweet words and lingering kisses, not really knowing how to discover what it is that she wants and needs most.”
He looked at his da. “Isn’t that what courting is supposed to do? Turn a person’s head?”
“Unless that courting turns her heart, it won’t be enough.”
Tavish shifted a bit. “I have to convince her to fall in love with me, is that it?”
“To fall the rest of the way in love with you,” Da corrected. “She likes you well enough, cares for you truly and deeply, but you’ve some work yet to do.”
“I don’t know how to make someone love me, especially her.” Though he’d thought it many times, he’d never admitted his misgivings out loud. “Katie isn’t like anyone I’ve known before. ’Tis fully impossible to know exactly what she’s thinking or feeling. Sometimes I am certain she loves me. Other times—” What could he do but shrug?
“Well, then.” Da took a step away from the horse. “Best of luck to you with that.”
That brought a smile back to Tavish’s face. “You are no help at all.”
They laughed as they returned to Ian’s house. But underneath the smile, Tavish’s mind spun.
Unless that courting turns her heart, it won’t be enough.
How could any person truly win a heart as closely guarded as Katie’s?