A Worthy Heart Read online

  Maggie moved to intercept her. “Excuse me, can you tell us how Mr. O’Leary is?”

  The woman stopped. “Are you a family member?”

  Rylan stepped up beside Maggie. “Yes, we are.”

  The nurse glanced back at the curtain. “The doctor is finishing his examination. I can tell you that Mr. O’Leary suffered a few burns, and his lungs have been somewhat compromised from the smoke. But other than that, he should be fine.”

  Maggie’s legs went limp. Rylan’s hand under her elbow was the only thing that kept her upright. “May we see him?”

  “You’ll have to wait for the doctor to determine that.”

  “Thank you.” Maggie pressed the handkerchief back to her mouth. Loose strands of hair clung to the moisture on her cheeks. Adam was going to be okay. Praise be to God.

  Rylan guided her to a nearby chair.

  Maggie sat, twisting the handkerchief between her fingers, fighting to hold back tears of gratitude and frustration. How could God let this happen to Adam just when he was turning his life around?

  She swallowed hard, determination straightening her spine against the hard metal chair. She had to stay strong for Adam.

  Maggie’s gaze darted to the curtain, where Dr. Reardon now exited. She jumped to her feet.

  His eyebrows rose when he spied her. “Hello, Miss Montgomery.” He looked past her and must have noticed Rylan. “Mr. Montgomery. I hope all is well at the orphanage?”

  Rylan stepped forward to shake his hand. “Yes. Everyone is recovering nicely. But we’re here to see about Adam.”

  Maggie had no time for pleasantries. “How is he, Doctor?”

  Dr. Reardon shook his head. “He’s a lucky man. If not for someone pulling him out of the building, he would have died.”

  Maggie pressed her lips together to keep from crying out.

  Rylan wrapped an arm around her. “Is he able to go home, or does he need treatment?”

  Dr. Reardon tapped the chart in his hand. “I’ll discharge him later today. He’ll have to take it easy for a day or two and come back to have the burns re-bandaged.”

  Maggie didn’t wait to hear anything else. She pushed aside the curtain and found Adam lying on top of a narrow bed, covered by a thin, white sheet. Black smudges marred his cheeks and nose, accentuating the pallor of his skin. Thick gauze bandages covered his hands and areas of his forearms.

  She rested her palm on his cheek. “Adam? Can you hear me?”

  His eyes fluttered open. For a moment, he blinked at the ceiling before he turned his head to focus on her face. The bleakness of his stare caused the blood to freeze in her veins.

  “It’s all gone, Maggie. The shop . . . everything’s destroyed.”

  The complete lack of hope on his face tore at Maggie’s composure. Tears spilled down her face. “It’s okay, my love. As long as you’re alive, nothing else matters.” Even as she spoke the words, she knew they were not true for him.

  He shook his head. “This was my chance to start over. Now it’s gone. All the furniture I created, the restoration pieces, everything . . .” He closed his eyes, his mouth pressed into a hard line.

  Maggie ran her hand over his hair, murmuring soothing words to him, wishing she could think of something to ease the pain in his soul. The burns would heal, but she feared he might never recover from losing his dream.

  “The doctor says you can leave soon. Come back with us to Colleen’s. Let us take care of you.”

  “No.” The anguish fled from his demeanor, replaced with a cold, shuttered look. “I’ll go back to my cot in the basement, where I belong.” The bitterness of his words tore a strip from Maggie’s already bleeding heart.

  He shoved up from the bed. The sheet slipped off to reveal his bare chest, where angry welts were visible through the mat of his hair. He grabbed his shirt from a chair and stuffed his arms into the sleeves, then yanked on his boots and pushed to his feet.

  Icy prickles of fear pierced Maggie’s heart. “Wait. Where are you going?” She scrambled to follow him through the ward.

  Rylan spied them and moved to intercept Adam. “Slow down, lad. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal. Colleen and I want you to come and stay with us.”

  Adam shoved past him, fastening his shirt buttons as he went. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine at John’s.” His words spat out like bullets.

  Maggie flinched with the sting of his rejection. Why would he turn away from his family at this time of crisis—right when he needed their support the most? She rushed over to him. “Please, Adam, let us help you.”

  He looked at her fully for the first time, his eyes as dead as the wood he carved. Slowly he shook his head. “I should have known this was all too good to be true. I’m sorry, Maggie, but you’re better off without me.”

  With that, he charged down the hall, each step reverberating in the now-hushed space, leaving Maggie feeling more bereft than she’d ever been before.

  33

  ADAM STOOD IN THE STREET before the blackened shell of his shop, the burns on his hands and arms throbbing a painful rhythm that matched the ache in his soul. The horrible stench of burnt wood lingered in the air, a bitter reminder of the destruction of his dreams. On stiffened limbs, he walked into what remained of the store. His lungs—not yet recovered—wheezed in response to the acrid smoke that inhabited the space. Though scorched, the main walls remained standing, but little else had survived.

  Blackness had invaded Adam’s heart, and he barely resisted the urge to shake his fist at the heavens. Clearly this was God’s punishment, giving Adam a taste of happiness only to wrench it away.

  With the toe of his boot, he kicked at a pile of debris, unearthing a metal handle from one of the cabinets. He picked it up, wiped the soot from it, and stuffed it in his pocket. A grim souvenir of everything he’d lost.

  Adam forced himself to continue on to the workshop, to the place where he’d almost lost his life. His muscles tightened to the point of pain at the unrecognizable sight before him. Nothing remained but the charred skeleton of his workbench and the outer walls. His inventory had turned to ash. A harsh laugh gurgled in his throat. What a naïve fool he’d been to think he could start over.

  Adam grabbed a stick and thrust it into the rubble. From the midst of the wreckage, an oval piece of wood jutted out. He pulled it free and stared down at the sign he’d created to hang out front. O’Leary’s Furniture Emporium, carved and ready to paint. Now only a disfigured letter O remained visible.

  The charred remnant of his ruined dreams.

  Rage spread like a toxin through his system. With an unholy roar, he spun around and hurled the useless piece at the blackened wall. It hit with a sickening crack and splintered into several chunks before falling to the dirt below.

  The thunder of his fury, as loud and as blistering as the howl of the flames the night before, buzzed in his ears. He stumbled across the area to what was left of his workbench, raised it above his head, and heaved it with all his might through the back door, shattering what remained of the frame. Like a madman, he careened around the shop, hurling planks and chunks of debris, destroying every piece of usable wood. When at last his muscles burned worse than his battered hands, and his lungs screamed from the exertion, he sank to his knees in the midst of the ash and rubble and wept.

  Maggie wrapped her shawl about her shoulders as she left the choir loft and descended to the foyer below. A distinct chill pervaded the vestibule, a sign that summer would soon turn to autumn. Or perhaps the chill lived only inside her—a chill that nothing could chase away. If she hadn’t made a commitment to Mr. Unger that required practice time, she never would have left her room today. Would have wallowed under the covers until her heart stopped aching.

  Mr. Unger crossed the foyer toward her, the movement causing the votive candles to cast eerie shadows against the walls. “That was some intense playing, young lady.” He folded his hands over his ample belly, where the buttons of his vest pulled a little too tigh
t. “I think something has made you either very mad or very sad.” He chuckled at his own remark but quickly sobered when she did not join his laughter. “Oh, my dear, you seem greatly troubled. Can I help?”

  Maggie swallowed hard. “I’m afraid not, Mr. Unger. But thank you. I’d best be on my way. As usual, I lost track of the time.”

  “Would you like me to accompany you to the streetcar?”

  Maggie pulled her shawl tighter and shivered. Though she didn’t relish having to make polite conversation, she couldn’t turn down his protection. “That’s kind of you, thank you.”

  “Mr. Unger?” A voice echoed through the cavernous area, preceding the swish of a priest’s robes. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s an urgent phone call from your wife.”

  Mr. Unger turned, creases etched in his forehead. “Miss Montgomery, will you wait while I take the call?”

  Maggie hesitated, hating to delay, but what else could she do? “Of course.”

  She waited at least fifteen minutes, but as each moment passed, her nerves edged higher. The afternoon was slipping away. She wanted to get home before Colleen and the children returned from the orphanage, in time to help with the evening meal.

  When five more minutes had passed, Maggie could stand it no longer. She pushed out the main doors and onto the street, hoping Mr. Unger would understand. The fresh air was a welcome balm to her nerves as she walked down Fifth Avenue, until a few blocks later, when the amount of pedestrians thinned. She hoped there would be more people once she reached the streetcar stop.

  Nerves as taut as the strings of a piano, Maggie rushed to step off a curb. A man grasped her by the elbow, pulling her away from a carriage that careened around the corner, barely missing her.

  “Be careful, darlin’. The streets aren’t safe—especially for a woman alone.”

  Icy fingers of fear raced up her spine at the familiar lilt. “Neill.” She tried to pull her arm away, but his steely grip was unbreakable.

  “Good thing I’m here to walk you home.”

  “I’d rather be alone, thank you.” She did her best to sound haughty, to hide the alarm building inside her.

  “Where is your friend today? The one who usually guards you like a vicious hound?”

  She whirled on him, fear turning to rage. “Adam is none of your concern.”

  One brow arched in a mocking manner. “I beg to differ. A man who insists on kissing my fiancée is most definitely my concern.”

  Maggie’s insides went cold. Neill must have been watching her all this time. Plotting, planning, obsessing . . .

  The grip on her arm tightened. Neill forced her down a less-populated street, his stride quickening. “I doubt he’ll be a problem any longer. Unless he’s not smart enough to understand the message I sent him last night.”

  Goosebumps rose on the back of Maggie’s neck at his menacing tone. Her heart thudded so hard she feared it would fly from her chest. “You caused the fire?”

  He shot her a scathing sideways glance. “What do you think?”

  Dear Lord, is the man insane? He’d been spying on her and Adam, and now, because of his obsession, he’d destroyed Adam’s dreams for the future.

  Maggie searched for someone who might help her, but other than a horse and carriage in the distance, they were alone.

  “None of that matters any longer,” Neill said, “since we’re leaving for Ireland tonight.”

  Maggie’s terror mounted, leaving her momentarily without words.

  A gust of wind blew dirt and debris around their feet. “If you cooperate, I’ll allow you to stop at your brother’s first. You can pack a few things and leave them a note saying that you’ve decided to marry me, after all.” He turned hard eyes on her. “If you don’t cooperate, we will bypass the house altogether and head straight for the docks. You can mail them a letter from the ship.”

  She wrenched her arm free. “You’re mad. I’m not going anywhere with you.” Surging forward, she managed to get a few strides away from him before he caught up with her.

  “Oh, I think you’ll change your mind—once I make my intentions clear.”

  Her footsteps faltered, the sinister quality of his voice rattling her so that she could barely think. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve taken care of your friend. Don’t make me take similar measures with your family.”

  She shivered and pushed away the fear that gripped her. Would Neill really harm Rylan or Colleen or the children? She couldn’t take the chance that he might.

  “Oh, and in case you think you can outsmart me, I have one more incentive to consider.” He pulled a pistol from the folds of his overcoat. Light from a store window gleamed off the cold metal barrel. “Don’t think I won’t use it on anyone who gets in my way.”

  Maggie’s insides solidified into a ball of terror. For now, she had no recourse but to play along until she saw an opportunity to escape. She squared her shoulders. “I’ll come with you, if you promise to leave Adam and my family alone.”

  With a smug smile, Neill shoved the gun back into his pocket. “I always knew you were a smart one. Come. We’d best hurry. The ship won’t wait for us if we’re late.”

  Gabe stood on the upper deck of the steamship and hunched his shoulders against the biting wind. After numerous long days at sea, today he would reach his home, yet the surge of joy he’d expected on returning to Ireland was missing.

  The pallor of war had cast a shadow of gloom over everyone on board the ship, passengers and crew alike. That and the ache in his heart over missing Aurora weighed heavy on Gabe’s soul.

  He walked to the railing and peered out over the vast expanse of unending water, hoping for a small glimpse of land, a beacon to welcome him home. A silly gesture, for it would likely be hours before the appearance of any shoreline. Nothing but the grayness of the sea, as well as a creeping fog, met his eyes. As dull and hopeless as his present mood.

  Gabe had no clear picture of what his immediate future held. Other than getting home to his mother and brothers and finding out exactly how the war was affecting his countrymen, his plans seemed as murky as the waters below him. What would he do if the British army demanded he and his brothers enlist to fight with them? Before he’d left Ireland, he’d itched to join a war that would ensure the freedom of his country from British rule. But now, to be forced to fight as a British soldier? The thought brought a wave of nausea through his system. Or perhaps the rough seas were responsible.

  Gabe pulled the collar of his coat up around his ears and turned to head back to his cabin. If he were lucky, he could escape his tortured thoughts for a few hours of sleep before they docked.

  Shouts and frantic footsteps sounded from the captain’s deck, followed by a loud explosion. The ship gave a sudden lurch, sending Gabe hurtling across the wooden boards. He grappled to find purchase but crashed into a wall. Pain shot through the back of his head as he slid across the floor. A deluge of water sprayed over the deck, saturating him instantly, filling his mouth with salty brine.

  Through the haze of his vision, Gabe noted that the deck remained tilted at a strange angle.

  “We’ve been hit!” A crewman crawled by him on the slanted surface.

  “Man the lifeboats!”

  His heart pumping at a furious pace, Gabe grasped the railing and attempted to pull himself up. He had one last glimpse of a wall of water descending before another explosion sent him flying.

  His last conscious thought before the waves swallowed him was of Aurora.

  34

  WHEN ADAM’S EMOTIONS had been spent, leaving his insides as hollowed out as his shell of a store, he pushed bleakly to his feet. His knees ached from the time spent on the hard ground, and he stumbled until his joints started working again. A coughing fit hit him, so intense it seemed his body was determined to expel his very lungs. When the spasms finally eased, Adam became aware of noises in the outer room.

  Was someone out there?

  He swiped his face wit
h the sleeve of his smoke-laden shirt and made his way to the front. Two lit lanterns hung from blackened nails on the remains of a wall, brightening the area. When had it become dusk?

  Clad in a long, black apron, John whisked a straw broom over the floor, a cloud of soot almost enveloping his tall frame.

  “What are you doing? This isn’t your job.” Adam could not even regret the harshness of his tone.

  John, however, kept sweeping. “I’m helping a friend who would do the same for me if I were in trouble.”

  Adam fought another rush of emotion that threatened to close his throat.

  John glanced over his shoulder. “There’s another broom over there if you care to join me.”

  At a loss, but not about to let John work alone, Adam picked up the tool. In silence, they swept the debris into piles, then, using a shovel, began to fill the large barrels John had brought with him.

  “I spoke with Chief Witherspoon last night after you’d been taken to the hospital.” John leaned on his broom for a small respite.

  Adam looked up. “You were here?”

  “Who do you think helped drag you out of the building?”

  Adam sucked in a breath. “You? But how did you even know about the fire?”

  “A parishioner called to tell me. I came straight over. Never expected to find you risking your neck for a piece of wood.”

  John’s amused look tempered his scolding, yet the enormity of the danger he had faced for Adam’s sake brought about a wave of shame. What if he’d lost his life on Adam’s account?

  “I don’t know what to say, John. You’ve rescued me more times than I can count.”

  John’s unrelenting gaze held Adam’s. “The only thing I want to rescue is your soul. Don’t let this misfortune define you, Adam. Trust God to help you pick up the pieces and carry on. He won’t forsake you.”

  Adam swallowed the bitterness on his tongue. “Right now I’m not sure I can believe that.” He resumed sweeping with the vigor of his anger.