Irish Meadows Page 22

  Brianna dropped a kiss on her aunt’s cheek before rushing back up the stairs. In the midst of dressing and twisting her hair into a quick knot, she murmured constant prayers for God to keep her father safe and to give her mother the strength to bear whatever was to come.

  She snatched her shawl from a hook on the door and rushed downstairs, not allowing a full thought to form in her head.

  Gil waited in the entry hall, cap in hand. Aunt Fiona came forward to embrace her. “Let me know how your father is when you can. I doubt I’ll sleep a wink until I hear he’s all right.”

  She squeezed her aunt. “Of course. As soon as there’s word, I’ll call.”

  Gil tugged on his cap and offered Brianna his arm, which she accepted, grateful for his steadying presence as they stepped outside. “Which hospital is Daddy in?”

  “Long Island Memorial.”

  She stopped short. “But how will we get there? There’s no transportation at this time of night.”

  With a sheepish shrug, he pointed to the black Model T parked at the curb. “I called Mr. Hastings, and he lent me his chauffeur.”

  Brianna stiffened at the blatant reminder of exactly where Gil now belonged—and to whom. “Of course. I forgot.” She descended the stairs, forcing him to follow.

  “Bree, I’m sorry.” Sorrow laced his voice.

  She couldn’t look at him, afraid her emotions, so near the surface at the moment, would overflow. “Please don’t. Let’s just get to the hospital.”

  The chauffeur held the door open for them, and Gil helped her into the car. The touch of his hand at the small of her back was almost more than she could bear. She moved as far over on the seat as possible, unwilling to risk any contact.

  The stillness in the car stretched into an uncomfortable silence. Brianna kept her eyes fixed out the window, concentrating on prayers for her father’s welfare until the need for physical comfort became all-consuming. How she wished she could lay her head on Gil’s chest—feel the shelter of his arms around her. She bit her bottom lip to keep it from quivering. She had to be strong for her mother. Mama would need everyone to rally around her now.

  “There’s something I need to tell you.” Gil’s quiet voice broke the silence.

  Her throat, thickened with emotion, would not allow any words to pass.

  “It’s about your father.”

  He had her attention then, and she glanced over at him. A look of grief haunted his eyes.

  “This morning, Mr. Hastings had to turn down your father’s loan application. James left the bank very upset, and I followed him.”

  “Followed him where?”

  He sighed. “To O’Malley’s Pub. I tried to get him to go home, but he became almost violent. I had to leave him there alone. It was either that or get into a brawl.”

  Brianna bit her bottom lip. Though Daddy enjoyed his after-dinner brandy, he was not the type to frequent drinking establishments. Mama wouldn’t allow it.

  “I don’t know what happened after that. But I think the stress of losing the loan caused his collapse. He was counting on that money.”

  “Is Irish Meadows really in that much trouble?” She kept her eyes fixed on his, willing him not to lie.

  He nodded. “Things aren’t good at all.”

  Thoughts flew through her mind, swirling like the debris on the street below. They could lose their home, their farm. What would they do then? “What’s going to happen to us, Gil?”

  His arm came around her then to pull her close. She leaned her head on his shoulder.

  “I promise I’ll do everything in my power to make sure Irish Meadows stays afloat.”

  Though her eyes remained dry, she accepted the handkerchief he pressed into her hands.

  “Please try not to worry. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you, but I thought you had a right to know what may have contributed to your father’s illness.”

  She nodded against his chest, her emotions beginning to steady from the rhythm of his even heartbeat beneath her ear. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and she closed her eyes, pretending for one brief moment that he still belonged to her.

  26

  AT SEVEN THE NEXT MORNING, Rylan let himself into the O’Leary house, careful to keep his movements quiet so as not to rouse the occupants. A bone-deep weariness weighed him down, leading him to hope he’d be able to sleep at last.

  He’d put his foot on the first stair when he heard the high-pitched voice of little Deirdre coming from the direction of the dining room.

  “But where is Mama? I want Mama.”

  “Hush now, sweetheart. Mama is with Daddy at the hospital. She’ll be home as soon as she can.”

  Rylan closed his eyes at the sound of Colleen’s voice, his chest constricting with pain. How could he leave here, knowing he may never see her again?

  God, please grant me Your strength, for I am weak.

  His hand on the polished rail, he went to take a further step but stopped. He owed Colleen news about her father. With another quick prayer for guidance, he headed for the dining room.

  No one noticed him in the doorway at first. Connor sat at the table, pushing the scrambled eggs around his plate, a scowl on his freckled face. But the sight of Colleen, holding Deirdre in her arms, brought an ache to Rylan’s chest. With the morning light playing over the loose curls on her shoulders, and her eyes closed, her chin on top of her sister’s head, she reminded him of a Madonna. She rocked the child back and forth, and for an instant, Rylan allowed himself to imagine her as his wife, rocking their child, an expression of such love on her face that his throat tightened against the emotion pushing upward. For the first time since he’d decided to become a priest, he mourned the loss of the children he would never have.

  “Rylan!” Connor pushed away from the table and raced over to throw his arms around Rylan’s waist.

  He patted Connor’s back, the boy’s simple affection adding further pressure to his chest.

  “My dad’s sick.” Connor’s voice sounded muffled against Rylan’s shirt.

  He laid his hand on Connor’s head. “I know, lad. But the doctor thinks he’s going to be fine.”

  He sensed Colleen’s attention riveted on him. Shoring his courage, he met her eyes. The impact sent jolts of electricity streaking through his body. He swallowed. “I’ve just come from the hospital.”

  She rose with Deirdre in her arms. “You were there with Mama?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t either of you wake me?”

  The hurt on her face twisted his insides. “Your mother wanted you to be home for the little ones when they woke up.”

  She moved toward him, anxiety evident in her tense posture. “How is Daddy? Mrs. Johnston said he collapsed, but that’s all she knew.”

  Rylan longed to embrace her and tell her everything would be fine. But he couldn’t do that. For more reasons than one.

  He looked from Connor to Deirdre, then back to Colleen, hoping she’d understand his message. He didn’t want to scare the wee ones by describing the frailty of their father’s condition. “The doctors are working hard to make him well.”

  Without taking her eyes from his, Colleen lowered the little girl to the ground. “Dee-Dee, you and Connor go and get dressed. I’ll be up in a minute to help you.”

  When Deirdre started to wail a protest, Rylan bent to whisper a promise of treats in her ear. The girl beamed a smile and took off out the door after Connor.

  Rylan straightened and cleared his throat, conscious of Colleen standing mere feet away, looking so beautiful it hurt. There were so many things he needed to say, but his mouth seemed glued shut. Before anything else, though, he owed her the truth about Mr. O’Leary. “Your father has suffered what the doctors feel is an angina attack, a fairly serious condition of the heart.”

  She clutched the back of a chair, instant tears welling in her eyes.

  Rylan pushed his hands deep in the pockets of his pants to keep from reaching for her. “Th
e fact that he made it through the night is a good sign. The doctors are optimistic he’ll recover. It will take some time, though.”

  Colleen brushed at the tears on her cheeks. “Mama’s not there alone, is she?”

  “No. Gil and Brianna have been there most of the night, as well as Reverend Filmore. Your mother sent me to let you know what was happening. I tried to persuade her to come home with me for a rest, but she won’t leave him.”

  Colleen pushed away from the chair and crossed to the doorway. “I have to go, too. I want to be there when Daddy wakes up.”

  Rylan caught her arm before she could go any farther. “What about Deirdre and Connor?”

  “Mrs. Johnston will watch them.”

  “Those children need the comfort of their family.” He gave a rueful shrug. “I’d do it, but I haven’t slept in two days, and I’m afraid I’m about to keel over.”

  She grew very still, her head averted. They remained like that, not moving for several moments. “It’s because of me, isn’t it? Because of the kiss. That’s why you haven’t been home. Why you haven’t slept.”

  The steady beat of the clock on the mantel matched the rhythm of his heart beating in his chest. He dropped his hand from her arm and took a step away. “Yes.”

  Colleen’s pulse pounded in her ears, muffling all other sounds in the room, except Rylan’s shallow breathing. What would he say now about that wonderful, terrifying moment when he’d kissed her and changed her life forever? Did he regret it so much he couldn’t look at her?

  “I owe you a most sincere apology, Colleen.” His voice, a mere whisper, raised the hair at the nape of her neck.

  “No, you don’t.” She turned her face toward him.

  “I do. I took an unfair liberty with you at the orphanage. Unfair to both of us. It’s even more reprehensible when I think of what that priest did to you when you were a child.”

  Her whole body trembled with the significance of this moment. She’d have one chance to tell him how she felt, and she needed to do it in a way that didn’t send him running for the sanctuary of his church. “I don’t see it that way at all.” She took a step closer, grateful he didn’t move away.

  The stubble on his face, the dark circles under his eyes, told her of the depth of the suffering he’d been through. She longed to reach out and brush the hair off his forehead. To smooth the lines of worry from his face.

  “Please don’t feel guilty,” she whispered. “I don’t regret it for one moment.”

  He shook his head, sorrow shining in those warm brown eyes. “I had no right to kiss you like that. Not when I’ve committed my life to God.”

  “Our feelings for each other gave you the right.” She kept her eyes trained on his as though he’d disappear if she blinked. Tentatively, she reached out to lay a hand on his arm. He flinched but didn’t retreat.

  Did she dare tell him she’d fallen in love with him? Or would that only make matters worse?

  “I’m going back to Boston.”

  She jolted as though he’d stabbed her. “Rylan, no. You can’t leave.”

  “I must. I told Reverend Filmore what happened, and he’s sending me back.”

  Her mouth fell open. A film of tears blurred her vision. “You told Reverend Filmore?” Why did that feel like a betrayal?

  “I didn’t mention your name, if that’s what’s worrying you.”

  Relief loosened the grip on her lungs. She should have known he’d never compromise her reputation, but what about him? Concern shot through her. “What will happen to you now?”

  A ghost of his endearing grin hovered on his lips. “Don’t worry. They won’t torture me or anything. I’ll have to do a solitary retreat with a whole lot of prayer and penance, I suppose.”

  “Penance? For comforting a friend?”

  He lifted one eyebrow. “You and I both know it was far more than that.” He placed the palm of one hand against her cheek, sending warm shivers through her body. “I think I’ve gone and fallen in love with you, my beautiful Colleen. And I need God’s grace to help me figure out what to do about it. If it’s still His desire that I continue as a priest, then I’ll have to live with that.”

  She could no longer contain the hot tears that spilled down her face, rolling over his hand. “What about me? What do I do?”

  Compassion and regret played over his handsome features. “Pray, love. Pray hard. For both of us.”

  She’d need a lot more than prayer to survive this. Her world was unraveling around her, the earth shifting beneath her feet. How would she ever regain her footing?

  She reached up to clamp cold fingers over his warm hand. “You won’t go before we know if Daddy will be all right? I couldn’t bear to lose Delia and you and Daddy, too.”

  He gazed at her with ravaged eyes and sighed. “Very well. I’ll stay a few more days—until we’re sure your father’s on the mend.”

  “Thank you.” She closed her eyes for a brief moment, until he gently disengaged his hand.

  “Now I’d best get some sleep before I keel over.” He moved past her into the hallway.

  She straightened and took a deep breath. As he started to climb the stairs, she rushed after him. “Just so you know, I’m praying that God’s changed His mind and doesn’t want you after all.”

  Rylan’s low chuckle warmed her battered heart.

  27

  SEATED ON ONE OF THE uncomfortable chairs in the hospital waiting room, Brianna leaned her head against the wall behind her and stretched in an effort to relieve her aching back muscles. It seemed they’d waited an eternity to hear anything from the doctor. A middle-aged man with a stethoscope had finally come to tell them that her father had likely suffered an angina attack—a fairly serious one that had left him greatly weakened. The staff had been working diligently to make sure he stayed alive, and for now they had deemed him stable. They had allowed Mama to go into the room to see Daddy, even though he was still unconscious. The misery on Mama’s face when she’d returned to the waiting room had brought Brianna to the brink of despair. How could this have happened to her strapping father who’d always seemed as strong as a lumberjack?

  Brianna glanced over at her mother standing at the open doorway, staring down the long, silent hallway as though willing the doctor or nurse to arrive with good news. Mama’s back shifted with her huge sigh, and she turned to face them. Seated on the far side of the room, Gil looked up.

  “Why don’t they bring us another update? It’s been hours.” Mama’s voice quavered, exhaustion taking its toll.

  Gil crossed the room and guided her to one of the chairs. “Can I get you anything? Coffee or water?”

  “No, thank you, Gil. I couldn’t drink another drop.”

  Gil straightened and plunged his fingers through his already messy hair as he paced the area like a caged lion. Brianna could tell something weighed heavily on his mind, something more than just the waiting.

  He came to sit beside her mother, head bent over his knees. “There’s something I need to tell you.” He raised wretched eyes to Brianna as though asking her permission.

  Brianna gave a small nod. She’d asked him not to mention the financial problems to her mother earlier in the night, but now that Daddy had stabilized, perhaps her mother had a right to know what had contributed to the crisis.

  “What is it, Gilbert?” Mama’s quiet dignity astounded Brianna.

  “I think you should know why James was drinking at O’Malley’s Pub all day.”

  Her mother stiffened until her back became as straight as the painted lines running up the wall. She gave Gil a hard glance. “What do you know about it?”

  Misery swamped his features. “I followed him there from the bank.”

  Gil proceeded to tell her the same story he’d relayed to Brianna. Her mother’s face grew paler as he went on, despite the fact that Gil downplayed the severity of their financial problems.

  “I’m afraid I only made matters worse by losing my temper. I should nev
er have left him there . . .” Gil’s voice cracked.

  Mama reached over to put a hand on his arm. “It’s not your fault. You know how stubborn James can be.”

  “I suppose you’re right. He was in no mood to listen to reason.”

  Mama patted his arm and sighed. “So Irish Meadows is in trouble. That explains a great deal about my husband’s recent behavior.”

  Brianna hated that her mother was now more distressed than before. She crossed to sit beside her and took her hand. “We’ll be all right, Mama. As long as Daddy recovers, nothing else matters.”

  Mama aimed a searing look at Gil. “This loan doesn’t have anything to do with your sudden engagement to Aurora Hastings, does it?”

  Gil pressed his mouth into a grim line. The telling way his gaze slid to the ground told Brianna a lot.

  The color rose in Mama’s cheeks, an indication of her rising temper. “Did James ask you to do this in order to get that loan? Because as sure as I’m living and breathing, I know it wasn’t love at first sight.”

  Brianna’s breath caught in a low gasp, and Gil shot to his feet.

  Mama rose as well, temper at full boil. “I want the truth, young man. There’ve been far too many secrets going on in this family, and it stops now.”

  Gil exhaled loudly. “James asked me to court Aurora.”

  Her mother moved closer. “And whose idea was the betrothal, which conveniently happened a few days before the loan decision?”

  He raked a hand over his jaw, but then dropped his arm, shoulders slumping.

  “It was all James’s idea, wasn’t it? He asked you to propose.”

  Gil’s blue eyes swam with despair. “Yes.”

  Gil’s admission, which pained her mother greatly, caused a tiny bubble of hope to rise in Brianna’s chest. Could it be that Gil had lied to her and didn’t have feelings for Aurora after all?

  The hope quickly deflated. No matter how the engagement had come about, Brianna knew Gil was too honorable to ever go back on his commitment.

  Her mother sank back onto the chair. “So help me, when that man recovers, I’m going to kill him.”