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“I think you’d best give the orders, Da,” Patrick said. “I’m not certain everyone’ll take direction from me.”
Ian wouldn’t, at least. And Patrick had his doubts about his sister’s husband, Thomas. His other brothers-in-law were still virtual strangers to him. He also doubted that Finbarr and Aidan would pick a different approach from the rest of the family.
“’Tis your project, son. They’ll listen to you.”
“And if they don’t?” He’d managed to not say when they don’t, but that would’ve been the more accurate question.
“I’ll knock a bit o’ sense into their thick skulls. I’ve done it before.” The years had aged Da, but he still held himself with the strength and confidence Patrick had depended on so much as a boy. “Life’s taken a lot from Finbarr; it’s well and past time it gave a little back.” That was the determined and optimistic Da he remembered.
“You’re talking as if life were fair. I’ve not found that to be the case.”
“Aye, sure seems the lot of us are in the field when luck comes walking down the road. But together, we can snag a bit for one or the other of us. Often takes a bit of work, a bit of sacrifice.”
Patrick watched the others chatting and gathering up their tools. “You’d work and sacrifice for Finbarr, to give him a spot of good fortune?”
“For any of m’children.”
Patrick forced down a lump in his throat. His voice emerged a little quiet, a little broken. “Would you do that for me?”
Da’s eyes were on the others, but there wasn’t a doubt all his focus was on Patrick. “Would you let me?”
“That’s a taller ask than you likely realize.”
Da rocked back and forth from his toes to his heels. “I left Ireland for the sake of my children. I toiled in New York for the good of my children. I came here and helped build this town from the ground up to give my children a future.” He turned and looked directly at Patrick. “And if I’d known the past ten years that you were in Canada, I’d’ve gone there and found you and done whatever you needed, Patrick, and I’d’ve begged you to come home if you’d been willing. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, but you have to let me.”
What he needed was for his da to know what he’d been through, to see the person he was and the person he was trying to be, but that meant sharing truths he didn’t think he could; that meant betraying confidences he hadn’t any right to betray. And yet, the weight of it all was crushing him. He was going through his bottles of whiskey, his need for it growing the past days. He woke up every morning lately feeling the guilt that always accompanied the next-day headache. The thought of running out of his liquid escape had him starting to panic.
He needed help, but he couldn’t ask that of Da. The man loved his children too much for Patrick to even risk casting doubt and shadow over Grady’s memory.
“There’s one thing I’ll let you do,” Patrick said, affecting his most unconcerned tone and posture, one he knew Da didn’t believe for a moment. “I’ll let you round up those lazy bums over there and set them to work on this roof.”
Da let him hide behind the shield he’d put up. With no more than a simple nod, Da crossed to the others. Patrick truly breathed for the first time in minutes. He’d come to Hope Springs looking for exactly what Da was offering, but what if he couldn’t ever accept it? How long could he live his life so close to what he needed but unable to cross the chasm?
All these men, except Aidan, he imagined, had built soddies before. They didn’t need him to tell them what to do, which was likely for the best. The few times they sought out direction, the lot of them turned instinctively to Da, who tried, at first, to defer to Patrick, but in the end bowed to the unavoidable: Patrick hadn’t any real sway with this group.
In the end, though, he found he didn’t truly mind. Working alongside his brothers and brothers-in-law felt more natural than giving them orders.
By midday, they’d assembled a good amount of the roof. Patrick, Tavish, Thomas, Keefe—Ciara’s husband—and Ryan stood on ladders and, as the roof took shape and could hold weight, they stood on the roof itself. Da, Finbarr, Aidan, and Ian kept their feet on the ground, bringing supplies and steadying the ladders. Everyone seemed content with the arrangement . . . except Ian.
When he suggested, again, that he could be more useful off the ground, Da said, “Biddy’d kill the lot of us.”
“She worries more than she needs to,” Ian insisted. “I’ve not had a dizzy spell in months. And I’m not so stubborn or thickheaded that I’d insist on staying up there if I found it to be too much. But that colleen has it in her head that I oughtn’t ever even try.”
“We promised her,” Tavish said. “None of us is going back on our word. All the women would slaughter us if we did. We’d none of us hear the end of it.”
The brothers tossed in their agreement. Patrick watched as Ian’s tiny glimmer of hope faded and defeat pulled at his shoulders. He knew that posture. Ian had worn it before. Patrick saw it often in the mirror as well. He couldn’t bear seeing it now.
“I didn’t promise her,” he said from the top of his ladder.
Everyone looked at him. Even Finbarr turned in his direction.
“Biddy told me her reasons for your not being up on your own roof, but she didn’t make me promise anything.” He began climbing down. “You can use my ladder. I’ll hand you what you need.”
Ian hesitated, but there was no mistaking the renewed life in his eyes, and even a shimmer of gratitude. “She really will kill you.”
Patrick reached the ground. “The entire Confederate Army tried to kill me, and they didn’t manage it. I think I like my odds better in this battle.” He stopped right in front of Ian. “And if Biddy does decide to do away with me, I’ll accept my fate with dignity and weep and beg only when there aren’t any witnesses. You know, for the sake of the family’s dignity and all.”
“We may do better to pin our hopes of dignity on Biddy, then.” Just enough cheek lay in Ian’s words to bring a smile to Patrick’s face. They used to joke like this easily and regularly. To have even a hint of it back was doing him a great deal of good.
“Oh, I’ve always pinned a lot of hopes on Biddy. She made something of you, didn’t she?”
“That she did.” Ian never looked happier than he did when talking about his wife. “And for her sake”—he looked out over his gathered family—“none of you’d better run off and tattle about this.”
Chuckles and amused shakes of the head answered his threat, but no one objected.
Patrick hooked his thumb toward his abandoned ladder. “Up with you, then. Just tell me what you need.”
Ian hesitated. He watched Patrick for a drawn-out minute, a question in his expression,. After a moment, he simply nodded and took up his new position. Work resumed, but with a lot of curious glances in Ian’s direction. If he noticed them, he didn’t let on.
As Patrick crossed paths with Da in their role of fetching and delivering, Da stopped him with a hand on his arm. Voice lowered, he said, “We’ve been holding him back. I didn’t even see it until now. He needed someone who’d let him try to move forward.”
Patrick shrugged. “I tossed Finbarr up on a roof a few weeks ago and kept him from accidentally killing himself. I think I can manage the same with Ian.”
Da grinned. “Cecily’s been singing your praises ever since she heard about you tying the lad to the chimney and all the work you’ve had him do on this house. The one thing she snips at the lot of us about is babying Finbarr.”
“Does anyone snip at you for babying Ian?”
“Ian.”
Patrick gave him a pointed look. “Maybe we oughta start listening to him. Now and then, at least.”
“He always was quieter than the rest of us. But you were always the one telling us to listen when we sometimes forgot to.” Da gave him a nod as he resumed his path toward the pile of cut shingles. “It’ll be good for him to have you doing that again.”
“Do you think he’ll let me?”
Da looked back over his shoulder. “After today, I think you’ve a growing chance he will.”
Ian proved himself more than capable of doing the work he’d insisted he could. Within the first half hour, the brothers all stopped watching him with worry and simply settled into the rhythm of their work. Laughter flowed as easily as water to the sea. Though Patrick’s place was firmly at the edges of the group, he felt increasingly part of it.
He especially appreciated seeing Aidan interact with Ryan. The lad had lost his father at too young an age. To see him have a father-son bond with someone who clearly loved him did Patrick’s guilt-burdened heart a great deal of good. He’d worried about the boy from the moment Grady had declared his intention to join the war effort. That anxiety hadn’t eased at all over the years.
He remembered all too well Aidan’s little five-year-old voice telling him, in tones of awe and pride, “My da was a hero. He went to save the country, and he went to save his brother. That makes him brave.”
If there was a chance that explaining what really happened would change how this lad, who’d had so much snatched away in his short life, thought of his father, Patrick wouldn’t risk it. The truth was not the most comforting of companions, and it had kept him constant company these past years.
Patrick sat beside Finbarr during a lull in their work. “Once the roof’s sound, I’d be happy to tie you to the chimney.”
Finbarr laughed a little. His scars tugged at things when he smiled and talked and laughed, but not in a grotesque or unsettling way. The disfigurement added a poignancy to his expressions. “Feels good doing something no one, including me, thought I could do. I confess, it was terrifying. I’d do it again if I had to, but whenever I have the option, I’ll keep my feet on the ground.”
“Can’t say I blame you.” Patrick leaned back on his elbows, enjoying a minute to breathe. “This’ll be a fine house for you, Finbarr. I know it will be. And I built it as solidly as I could. It should withstand nearly anything this ol’ world throws at it. I’ll be plastering and whitewashing the inside. That’ll brighten it up.”
“I appreciate all the windows,” he said. “I like that.”
“The glass is meant to arrive with Mr. Johnson’s son next week. I’ll be making your door before then. After that, there won’t be much left before it’s ready for you to move in.”
Nervousness filled the lad’s posture, though he didn’t say anything.
“To move in whenever you want to,” Patrick clarified. “It’s not going anywhere.”
Finbarr’s relief was palpable. Why was he so hesitant to strike out on his own? Patrick had seen the lad’s confidence and competence on display time and again at Archers’. He’d watched Finbarr navigate the path from the road to this house more than once. He’d seen him make his way all over town assisted only by his cane. He’d wager Cecily had taught Finbarr to cook, clean, and look after himself.
Why, then, did he not want to claim his life and his future?
“I’ll likely stay where I am for now.” Finbarr’s casual tone fell a bit short of the mark. “But you could live here for a time. Then you could work on whatever needed doing whenever you could get to it. No need to rush.”
An excuse. Finbarr likely suspected that Patrick could tell, but, being up to his eyes in uncertainty himself, he wasn’t going to push the boy.
“I just might take you up on that. Living in our parents’ house isn’t an ideal arrangement. Makes a body feel like a child.”
Finbarr nodded in immediate agreement.
“I will, though, have to find a way to buy food,” Patrick said dryly. “Not having a paying job makes eating a bit trickier.”
“Once Eliza’s inn gets moving, you’ll be paid for that work.”
“Do you know if Joseph’s heard anything more on that score?”
“I heard him telling Eliza that the stage company didn’t like the location.”
That was surprising. “’Tis the perfect spot for an inn.”
“Apparently not for an overnight stop on the route.”
That was a setback. “What’d Eliza have to say about that?”
“Do you think I’m an unabashed eavesdropper?” Finbarr asked.
“I’m paying you handsomely to be.”
Finbarr’s smile tipped unevenly. “You’re paying me?”
“Did I not mention that?”
Finbarr laughed. Da looked in their direction, a look of happy relief on his face.
“So, what’d she say, lad?” Patrick pressed.
“She said maybe the inn could be moved farther south to make it a first-day stop. Joseph sent another telegram.”
A logical solution, but Patrick couldn’t help thinking of Eliza’s joy over the original location. She was likely disappointed.
“Does Joseph think the stage company will accept the new proposal?”
“He didn’t say, but I heard Maura say she’s not certain Eliza would stay in Hope Springs if the inn doesn’t get built.” Finbarr shared the comment without seeming to realize the blow it dealt Patrick. “She doesn’t like working as a housekeeper, even though she’s willing. But how long can she keep doing that before her unhappiness becomes too much? Maura’s fretting over it a lot.”
Now Patrick would be fretting over it too, which made him every sort of a fool. He had nothing to offer a woman. And if she left, he’d miss her.
“Life is a difficult thing, Finbarr,” he said.
“Cecily says the added difficulty comes with added joy. I’m counting on that being true.”
The idea offered a tentative bit of hope, something he needed desperately just then. “So am I.”