A Worthy Heart Page 27

  For the first time, a smile quirked Rylan’s lips. “It appears both you and Gabe have fallen in love during your time here.”

  Maggie’s mouth gaped open. So her suspicion of Gabe’s interest in Aurora had been right. “Then why did he leave?”

  “You know Gabe. His sense of duty overruled his feelings for Aurora. Although she said he promised to return one day.”

  A cold thrust of fear twisted Maggie’s stomach. Her country was at war and her brother was headed right into its path. “What is happening to the world, Rylan? It feels as though God has lost control.”

  Rylan tipped her chin up, his brown gaze serious. “You know better than that, love,” he said gently. “We have to trust in God to see us through these rough spots. But don’t ever doubt He knows exactly what He’s doing.”

  For the first time in her life, Aurora entered her family’s summer home on Long Island without her usual joy at being back in the country. Instead, a deep sense of dread invaded her heart as she removed her hat and set it on the marble table. She paused for a moment in the hallway to bring Gabe’s beloved face to mind. The thought of him crossing the sea on a steamer, all for the love of his country and family, made her determined to be just as courageous in facing her own situation.

  Aurora bolstered her resolve, pasted on a smile, and sailed into the parlor.

  Her mother dropped her needlework. “My darling girl, is it really you?” She rose and rushed to gather Aurora in a hug.

  “Yes, Mama.” She returned her embrace, drinking in her mother’s comforting scent of Parisian toilet water with the realization of how much she’d missed her. “The epidemic is over at last.”

  Aurora allowed her gaze to move across the room to her father. Seated in his leather armchair by the fireplace, his usual before-dinner drink in hand, he slowly rose. “So you finally decided to grace us with your presence.”

  Aurora bit back a sigh. He wasn’t going to make this easy for her. She moved toward him and planted a quick kiss on his leathery cheek. “Hello, Papa. How have you been?”

  “I’m fine, but your poor mother has nearly worried herself into a pine box.”

  Aurora kept her features calm as her parents resumed their seats, and she sat beside her mother on the sofa. “I’m sorry you were worried, but I’m sure you understand the need to keep the typhoid outbreak contained.”

  Mama laid a hand on her arm. “Of course. But what we don’t understand is why you were involved in the first place.”

  A twinge of guilt pinched Aurora’s conscience. Perhaps keeping so many details of her life from her parents hadn’t been the wisest choice. “That’s one of the reasons I’m here now. To explain a few things to you both.”

  “This sounds serious.” Her father took a cigar from the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

  “It concerns my future, so for me it’s very serious.” She clasped her hands on her lap. “You know I’ve been volunteering at the hospital for some time now. The reason for that was more than charitable. I wanted to determine if I’m suited to become a nurse.”

  Papa’s hand stilled on the box of matches, and his eyes narrowed.

  Aurora fought the nervous urge to twist her fingers. “Dr. Reardon, whom you met at the orphanage, Papa, has been acting as a mentor of sorts. He’s allowed me to accompany him on rounds at the hospital and to the orphanage when treating the children. Dr. Reardon asked me to help out before we realized the nature of the outbreak.”

  Mama’s hand fluttered at her neck. “My word.”

  Papa stormed up from his chair, his cigar forgotten on the table. “No daughter of mine is going to be dealing with illness and bodily waste. It’s outrageous.”

  Aurora stiffened her back. “Nursing is a noble profession. One I intend to pursue.” She paused. “I’ve applied to Bellevue’s nursing program for the fall.”

  Papa’s mustache twitched, a sign he was distinctly displeased. “You should be putting all your energy into finding a husband. What man will want you now that you’ll be training for such a distasteful profession? Unless . . .” His gaze zeroed in on her. “This Dr. Reardon seemed to hold you in high regard. He acted very protective when I came to the orphanage. I can respect a man like that.”

  She swallowed. Time for the rest of her admission. “I’m afraid my affections lie elsewhere.” Aboard a ship on the ocean.

  Papa’s brow rose with undisguised interest. “Do tell, daughter. What man has captured your fancy at long last? Someone from a good family, I hope.”

  Aurora managed to hold back a burst of nervous laughter. “A very good family. In fact, his brother is the esteemed director of the orphanage.”

  Papa’s high color vanished. “Not that blasted Irishman.”

  “Yes, Papa,” she said softly. “Gabe and I are in love, and when he returns from Ireland, I’m hoping he will ask me to marry him.”

  Mama squeezed her hand, her expression a mixture of happiness and sympathy.

  Papa stalked across the room to the fireplace. “He’s gone back to Ireland in the midst of war? Is he mad?”

  “Only worried for his family, as I’m sure you can understand.”

  Papa grunted. “With the way things are shaping up overseas, I doubt he’ll be back. He’ll probably be drafted into the fighting.”

  “Arthur!” Mama’s voice quivered with mild outrage. “Don’t talk that way. Aurora must be worried about him.”

  “I am. But I have to trust God to keep him safe and bring him back to me.” Aurora got to her feet and walked over to stand before her father. “And when he does, Papa, I expect you to treat him with decency and respect. He’s the man I love. The man I choose to spend my life with. And I’ll not hear otherwise.”

  “I’m not sure I like this defiant attitude.” Papa crossed to the table and picked up the cigar. He rolled it between his fingers, as though contemplating her words, and when he turned, his expression proved unreadable. “If this Irishman ever shows up again, I’ll decide then how to handle the situation.”

  Aurora held her ground, not breaking eye contact. “There won’t be anything to handle, Papa. Because when Gabe comes back, nothing is going to keep me from him.”

  Instead of the expected anger, her father studied her with an unreadable expression. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

  Despite Aurora’s bravado, a niggle of fear invaded her heart. Why did her father seem certain that Gabe wouldn’t return? Papa might be a powerful man in New York, but surely his reach didn’t extend to the other side of the ocean.

  If only Aurora could be sure.

  30

  ADAM WHISTLED CHEERFULLY while he chiseled away at the piece of wood on the table in his workshop. For the first time since he could remember—since his early childhood, really—his heart was filled with optimism for the future.

  His hands stilled, and he looked around his work area with a sense of wonder. A prayer of gratitude lifted from the depths of his soul—gratitude for the opportunity to do the work he loved, gratitude to God for bringing his mother back from the brink of death, and gratitude for the love of Maggie Montgomery.

  Less than three months ago, when he’d walked out of the penitentiary a free man, he never could have imagined receiving such an abundance of blessings. Adam resumed his work, making a silent vow to honor the Lord in all ways and prove himself worthy of His gifts.

  The heavy tread of boots thudded across the floorboards in the outer store. Adam looked up to see the smiling face of John McNabb in the entrance to his workshop.

  “You’ve done wonders with this place, Adam. I never imagined you could be ready to open for business so soon.”

  Adam wiped his hands on a towel and moved to clap a hand on John’s shoulder. “Thanks to you, O’Leary’s Furniture Emporium will have its grand opening next week.”

  They moved into the store, and as Adam viewed the area through John’s eyes, pride inflated his chest. The pieces he had ready to sell all exhibited the quality of his wo
rkmanship. He hoped it would be enough to entice customers to return on a regular basis to view the new stock he would be adding.

  “How did you manage to get so much inventory ready to sell?”

  Adam straightened one of the high-backed chairs. “I restored some older pieces. You’d be surprised how many people discard furniture for a broken leg or drawer. Easily fixable by someone who knows how.”

  “I must say I’m very impressed.” He paused to look Adam in the eye. “And very proud. You’ve come a long way, my friend.”

  Adam swallowed the swell of emotion in his throat. “I couldn’t have done it without you, John. You have my undying gratitude.”

  John’s mouth quirked up in a grin. “Maybe now I can convince you to attend one of my services. I promise my sermon won’t put you to sleep.”

  Adam laughed out loud. “As a matter of fact, I intend to come this Sunday. I have a great deal to give thanks for.”

  The front door opened, and Maggie entered with a swish of skirts.

  Adam couldn’t suppress a foolish grin at the unexpected sight of her. “Maggie. What a nice surprise.”

  Upon spying John, she hesitated. “I’m sorry. Is this a bad time?”

  “Not at all. I’d like you to meet my friend, John McNabb.”

  Her blinding smile lit the room. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. McNabb. Adam has told me so much about you and everything you’ve done to help him.”

  John bowed over her hand. “Funny, he hasn’t told me much about you at all.” He shot Adam a smug look before smiling at her. “Please, you must call me John.”

  “And I’m Maggie.” She turned to Adam. “I came to see how the store’s progressing. I can’t believe how much you’ve done since I was here last.” She ran a finger over an oak dining table. “This is beautiful.”

  Adam’s gaze followed her as she moved, unable to tear his eyes from her. In her blue-and-white dress, she mimicked a summer sky. Her ebony hair flowed in mesmerizing curls over her shoulders.

  John cleared his throat, grinning. “Well, I must be going. I have a few parishioners to visit. It was nice to meet you, Maggie. I hope to see you again soon.” He lifted a brow. “Perhaps you’ll accompany Adam to church this Sunday. He’s finally agreed to attend one of my services.”

  A flash of regret crossed her beautiful face. “I’d love to, but this Sunday is my first day playing the organ at St. Patrick’s.”

  John’s eyes widened. “The cathedral? How did you manage that?”

  Adam strode forward to steer John toward the door. “That’s a story for another day, my friend.”

  John chuckled. “I can take a hint. See you on Sunday.”

  When Adam turned back to Maggie, a tinge of pink colored her cheeks in a most becoming manner. He could hold his longing in check no more and swept her into his arms.

  She gasped. “Adam! What are you doing? Anyone could come in.”

  “Let them.” He lowered his head to capture her lips with his.

  Though she gave an initial squirm of protest, she soon melted against him and returned his kiss.

  When they parted, he gazed down into her flushed face. “I don’t think I’ll ever grow tired of holding you in my arms.”

  “You, sir, are far too adept at kissing. You make me forget everything around me.” She disengaged herself and smoothed the bodice of her dress.

  “Did you really come to see the store, or did you have an ulterior motive?”

  “Other than kissing you, you mean?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

  “Ah, so you admit the real reason for your visit.”

  Her laugh tinkled out over the shop. “I came to see you . . . to ask a favor.”

  “Another kiss like that and I’ll do anything,” he teased.

  Though she smiled, a hint of anxiety loomed on her face.

  “What is this favor?” Anything to make the joy return to her countenance.

  “I’d like you to take me to check on Ivy. I thought it would make Rylan and Colleen feel better to know she’s being properly cared for.”

  Though he dreaded returning to the saloon, Adam had been meaning to check on Jolene and make sure she was keeping her promise. Mama’s illness, not to mention his fixation on the woman before him, had derailed many of his plans.

  “I’ll go later today.” He lifted her chin with one finger. “But you will not be accompanying me.” Under no circumstances would he allow Maggie to enter such a seedy place. Nor did he want her to witness the type of life he’d led before his conversion.

  She scowled at him, tiny ridges forming over her nose. “You listen to me, Adam O’Leary—”

  “Yes, Miss Montgomery?” He bit back a grin at her famous temper, which made her Irish lilt all the more pronounced.

  She poked a finger into his chest. “Just because you’re courting me does not give you the right to dictate what I can or cannot do.”

  He captured her hand in his and rubbed his thumb over her palm. “Does the fact that I care about your welfare mean anything?”

  She paused. “Of course, but—”

  “Then trust me on this, Maggie.”

  She stared at him for a moment before huffing out a breath. “Very well. As long as you promise to let me know what you find.”

  “I promise.” He twisted one of her curls around his finger. “It will give me a good excuse to drop by and see you later.”

  She laughed and stepped back. “I suppose I’d best go and let you get on with your work. I’m off to St. Patrick’s to practice.”

  He walked her to the door and paused to give her another lingering kiss. A shadow of movement across the street caught his attention. Memories of Neill Fitzgerald flashed into his mind, filling him with guilt. How had he gotten so lax with Maggie’s safety?

  “Wait.” He untied his work apron and hung it over a nearby chair. “I’ll walk with you.”

  She appeared ready to argue, but his grim expression must have given her pause. Instead, she winked. “Face it, Mr. O’Leary, you can’t get enough of my company.”

  Adam repressed a shudder later that day as he entered the door of the Lucky Chance Saloon. Fortunately it was early enough that the place was essentially empty. Marty leaned on the counter of the bar, perusing a newspaper.

  He looked up as Adam crossed the room. “Back again, O’Leary?”

  Adam gave a brief nod. Marty would be more likely to cooperate if Adam tried to be friendly. He pointed at the newspaper. “What’s happening in the world today, Marty?”

  The man gave a weighty sigh and flipped the paper to the front page. “Nothing good. Hope the war doesn’t spread to this side of the world.”

  “You and me both.”

  “So what brings you by again?”

  Adam placed a foot on the brass rail and attempted to keep his tone casual. “I’ve come to talk to Jolene. Is she around by any chance?”

  Marty’s gaze shifted toward the back hall. “She’s probably sleeping, like most of the girls at this hour.” He straightened his large frame. “If you want to see her, you should come back when she’s working.”

  Adam held back a grimace of distaste. The last thing he’d do was come when the bar was in full swing. “Guess you’re right. How’s Max handling her having a baby?”

  Marty jerked, sloshing coffee from the cup on the counter. “Keep your voice down. How do you know about . . . it?”

  “Long story.” He narrowed his eyes. “What are you hiding, Marty?’

  He dragged a cloth across the bar. “Look, Max doesn’t know about the kid. We’re all helping Jolene so he doesn’t get wind of it.”

  Suspicion soured Adam’s stomach. “Who watches the baby while she’s working?”

  Marty’s face hardened. “If you want to know more, talk to Jolene.” He turned away to wipe the ledge behind him, where the bottles of liquor stood.

  Frustration hummed through Adam. Marty had clammed up tighter than a vise grip. He’d get nothing further f
rom him. And Adam couldn’t afford to hang around the bar until Jolene happened to come down. He’d have to come back another time. Disappointment ran through him at the thought of having no news for Maggie.

  He tugged on his cap, about to head for the door, when a distinctive cry sounded from the rear of the building. Adam whirled, noted the panic on Marty’s face, and barreled down the hall to Marty’s office. He pushed open the door, and the wailing grew louder. Adam rushed in, eyes scanning as he went. In the far corner, wedged between the desk and the wall, the rim of a wicker basket was visible. Conscious of Marty’s heavy footsteps, Adam crossed the untidy room and peered down at the squalling infant. Wrapped in an old towel, Ivy’s little face, red and puckered, howled at him. An arrow of hot rage seared Adam’s chest. What kind of mother left her infant holed away in a filthy room all alone?

  He reached into the basket and lifted the baby, frantically trying to remember how Maggie had held her.

  “O’Leary, what are you doing?” Marty huffed and puffed, his stomach rising and falling with his heaving breath.

  Adam pushed past him. “I’m taking this child to its mother.” He strode down the hall, his boots slapping the floor.

  “Wait. You can’t go up there.”

  “Watch me.” For all his bravado, Adam’s insides roiled. He’d sworn he’d never climb those stairs, but there was nothing else he could do at the moment. “What room is Jolene in?”

  “Max will kill me if he finds out . . .”

  The baby screeched louder.

  “Either tell me, or I start opening doors until I find her.”

  Marty blanched, nervously fingering the strings of his apron. “All right, but make it quick. Third door on the right.”

  Adam charged up the stairs, trying not to jostle the babe. When he reached the third door, he steeled himself for what he might find, and then knocked.

  Someone mumbled a few choice words on the other side.

  “Open up, Jolene.”

  Rustling noises came from inside. “I’m sleeping. Go away.”

  “I’ll give you to the count of three or I’m coming in.”

  “Wait.”