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Patrick O’Connor was a delightful sort of mystery. He was still grumbly and standoffish, but more and more, he was showing himself to be tenderhearted and thoughtful. Eliza thoroughly enjoyed the unique combination. But it was not his contradictory personality that most occupied her thoughts. It was their conversation at the Archers’ table a couple of afternoons earlier while Ivy and Emma had eaten their sandwiches.
She had always imagined herself running an inn. Even when she and her dearest childhood friend had boarded a boat for America at eighteen, she’d pictured herself finding or founding an inn somewhere, or a boarding house, or something similar to her home growing up. That dream had suffocated in New York. There simply hadn’t been any such opportunities. Telling Patrick and the Archer girls about that nearly forgotten hope had brought it to the surface once more, and she could not seem to clear her mind of it.
With Lydia on her hip and approval from Katie Archer to slip out for the evening, dinner being served already, Eliza crossed the Hope Springs River and made her way up the road directly to Maura’s home.
Aidan answered the door. When his eyes fell on Lydia, his face lit. He’d been such a dear older brother to her when they all lived at the Widows’ Tower. He was still so sweet with Lydia. And though she clearly hadn’t remembered him from that time a year ago, she’d warmed to Aidan quickly. He held his arms out to her, and she made the switch with a smile. Between Aidan and Patrick, Lydia was most certainly loved.
Eliza followed Aidan inside and was immediately greeted by Maura’s new husband, Ryan. She’d come to know him a bit since arriving in Hope Springs, and she truly, truly liked him. He loved Maura and treated her the way she deserved to be treated. His mum lived with them and was a dear woman, clearly fond of her new daughter-in-law and grandson. Theirs was a happy home, and Eliza couldn’t have been more pleased for her dearest friend.
Maura, however, did not appear to be present. Ryan’s mum wasn’t, either.
“Is Maura off chatting with her family?”
Aidan, bouncing Lydia in his arms, answered. “She’s in her room with Granny Callaghan and Dr. Jones.”
Eliza looked to Ryan. “Is she unwell? Is it her cough?”
He shook his head. “She’ll be having a baby nearer the end of the year. Owing to the trouble with her lungs, Doc wants to look in on her regularly.”
“A baby!” Her heart pounded an excited rhythm in her chest. “Are you just as happy as can be?”
Ryan smiled broadly. “I am that.”
“Ma cries and cries,” Aidan said.
“Happy crying,” Ryan was quick to explain. “She loves babies, my Maura. And she’s hoped for more children. It’s a dream for both of us.”
Eliza closed a bit of the gap between her and Ryan and lowered her voice. “Is she healthy enough?”
“Dr. Jones says she has strength enough. And her cough is worlds better than it was. None of us is afraid for her.”
Palpable relief washed over Eliza. How she had worried for her friend. Maura fled New York in a desperate attempt to save her own life. To know her health had not simply held steady but had improved so drastically since her departure did Eliza’s heart a world of good.
Aidan sat on the floor with Lydia, pulling faces and making her laugh. Such a sweet boy, precisely the kind and caring young man she’d loved so dearly in New York. The longer she was in Hope Springs, the more convinced she was that Lydia needed to be here. If only she, herself, felt confident she could live her life as a housekeeper without drowning in lost dreams.
Mrs. Callaghan and Maura stepped out into the room a minute later, neither looking the least concerned. That only added authority to Ryan’s earlier declaration.
“Eliza!” Maura’s smile blossomed. “Have you come to call on us, then?”
“Lydia missed her favorite brother.” She glanced at Aidan. “From what I hear, she’ll have to share him soon enough.”
Ryan set his arm around Maura and pressed a light kiss to her temple. This was a happy family and a loving home. An unexpected, powerful realization hit Eliza in that moment: she wanted this. She wanted a home of her own, one with Lydia, with space that belonged wholly to them. She would love to have a husband at her side and extended family around her.
She mourned so many things about the time she’d lost with Terrence. That she was alone in such a real and constant way was most certainly one of them. But she hadn’t come to cast a pall over Maura’s home and happiness. She kept a smile on her face and reminded herself of all the joyful things she’d found in this new home of hers. A roof over her head. Kind people to work for. Lydia’s ready acceptance of their new surroundings. Patrick’s gruff kindness. Maura and Aidan so nearby again. She had ample reason to be happy.
“Look who’s come to visit,” Aidan said to his Grandmother Callaghan, leading Lydia over to visit with the dear lady.
At the same moment, Ryan dipped his head closer to Maura’s and said quietly, “What did Dr. Jones have to say?”
Eliza didn’t have a place in the interactions happening around her. She didn’t begrudge any of them their connections. She knew this family well enough to be fully confident that she wouldn’t be set adrift for long.
Dr. Jones stepped out of the room where he’d been visiting with Maura and her mother-in-law. He had a way of examining a space quickly and efficiently; no one ever doubted he was aware of every detail around him. That his evaluation led him to cross directly to her spoke volumes about his character. He noted that she was alone and sought to alleviate it.
“Mrs. Porter,” he said quietly. “It’s nice to see you again. How is your daughter feeling?”
“Better,” she said with a light laugh. “I did try to convince Miss Emma that we hadn’t reason for worry. You claim greater authority in her eyes, apparently.”
“I’m glad I could reassure her.” His all-seeing gaze took in her face. “Are you feeling well? You seem . . . weary.”
“I am,” she confessed. “Not ill or pained or anything of concern. I’m simply a mum with a very young child, working long hours without any extra hands to offer me a bit of a respite.”
He nodded. “A wearying proposition for even the most capable of women.”
“And I am far from ‘the most capable.’”
“I doubt that.” A sweetly offered, sincere compliment.
He held his leather doctoring bag in both hands in front of him. When she’d interacted with him at the céilís or briefly after Sunday services, he was always quiet and withdrawn like this. But when he’d been doctoring, looking after Lydia, he spoke and held himself with confidence and surety.
“I know all of the O’Connors on this road,” she said, “and I know where a few of the families live on the other end of town, but I don’t yet know where to find you.”
He motioned toward the back of the house. “Out in the fields.”
She eyed him sidelong, a smile tugging at her lips. “Are you teasing me?”
“Only a little. There’s a soddie not far behind the house. I live there.”
“A large soddie?” She knew sod houses could be spacious but usually weren’t.
He shook his head. “It isn’t. I have no option but to travel to my patients.”
“You don’t like that.” It was obvious he didn’t.
“I don’t mind. I really don’t. But it’d be easier for me, and for them as well, if I had a place most could come to and be seen without having to search me out in dozens of possible places about town.”
That made a lot of sense. “But you plan to stay even though the arrangement is not ideal, because Hope Springs is special.”
“It is.” He was a quiet man. She’d realized that during their very first interaction. But he was a determinedly happy man as well. She liked that about him.
Dr. Jones turned to Ryan and Maura. “Send word if you need anything.”
“We will,” Maura said.
With only the most cursory of farewells, Dr. Jones stepped from the house.
“I like him,” Eliza said. “He’s very friendly.”
“He chats more with you than anyone else,” Maura said. “I don’t know how you manage that with these standoffish men.”
“Men?” She laughed. “Plural?”
“They don’t come more aloof than Patrick O’Connor. At least the version of him walking among us now.”
“You mean the version with his hair newly cut and beard neatly trimmed?”
Maura grinned. “I still haven’t the first idea how you talked him into that.”
Eliza shrugged a shoulder. “I am very convincing.”
“Apparently.”
“Sit with me.” Maura motioned her to the table. “We haven’t gabbed in ages.”
Eliza wasn’t about to say no. She’d come specifically for a gab. They walked to the table.
“How are you faring at Archers’?” Maura asked, pulling out a chair and sitting.
“I adore those girls of theirs.” Eliza took the chair directly across from her friend. “That little boy is a handful, isn’t he?”
“He is, indeed.” Maura nodded slowly and with emphasis. “A sweet, loving, pill of a baby. He’s been running his ma ragged since the day he was born.”
They talked awhile about the Archer children, about the very fine stove in the Archer kitchen, and about Katie Archer’s near-daily fiddle practice. The topic offered Eliza an opportunity to ask a question that had hovered in her mind from nearly the moment she’d met Katie, but which she’d been hesitant to pose.
“What happened to Katie’s hand?” she asked.
“The same fire that cost Finbarr his sight cost Katie her fingers. The town doesn’t talk about it in tremendous detail, but it was, from all I’ve learned, entirely terrible. Emma’s little friend was killed.”
The poor girl. Little wonder she worried for people’s well-being.
“How are you getting on with Joseph?” Maura asked.
As always, even a mention of Mr. Archer set a little flutter of nerves tickling inside. “I don’t spend much time with him. He’s a little intimidating.”
“Joseph?” Ryan sat beside Maura, eying Eliza with surprise.
“He doesn’t smile much. I’ve never heard him laugh. And he’s clearly quite wealthy.” The last bit made her more nervous than anything else. “I haven’t the best history with well-to-do people.”
“Joseph’s a unique sort of rich man,” Maura said. “Good to the soles of his feet. And what seems to you as over-seriousness is really just a quiet nature and preference for privacy.”
“He has always been kind to me. I keep waiting for him to erupt over something or another. But he hasn’t so far.”
“Are you pleased with your situation, then?” Maura kept asking that. Perhaps Eliza hadn’t kept her discontent entirely hidden.
“Housekeeping wouldn’t be my first choice, but I don’t entirely dislike it. And the room they have for us at their house is nicer than the Tower by anyone’s estimation.”
“I am certain a garbage heap would be nicer than the Tower.”
Ryan set his hand on Maura’s. The look on his face was one of concern. Maura shifted her hand enough to thread her fingers through his.
“You’re here now, love,” he said. “You’ll not ever have to go back there.”
“Thank the heavens,” Maura said. “That journey isn’t one I’d wish on anyone more than once.”
“Is there a reason there aren’t any inns along the stage line?” Eliza asked.
“The stage has only run this way for about a year now,” Ryan said. “There’s not been much call for one.”
“It’d help, though,” Maura said. “Breaking the journey sleeping on the ground isn’t the least pleasant for anyone.”
This area of Wyoming Territory needed an inn. The very thing she dreamed of. She knew how to run an inn but hadn’t the least idea how to get one built. She’d repaired any number of things at the family inn. They’d often built tables and simple chairs for the large public room, and she’d helped with that. She’d repaired and even made a few small pieces of furniture for her flat at the Widows’ Tower. In all her life, she’d never undertaken anything as complex as building an entire inn.
But—her heart leapt in her chest—she knew someone who had.