Chapter 20

Seething anger spurred Sean as he worked on Moira’s roof. The storm from the night before may have cleared, but the gale in his heart and mind had only begun. In his mind’s eye Áedach MacSuibhne’s smarmy, freckled face taunted him. The lad had always been one for shenanigans, but this time he’d gone too far.

How dare he threaten Moira! Oh, that boyo had better pray he didn’t cross Sean’s path anytime soon or he was likely to discover a swift fist to the jaw.

As his fingers deftly wove the straw, making the roof as sound as he was able, Sean rolled the day’s events over in his mind again. His little tryst—nae, it was more innocent than that—his encounter with Moira that morning shook him. It had stirred something in him he hadn’t known before now. He tried hard to ignore the school of mackerel that seemed to be swimming in his stomach at the thought of her smile, those dimples. A grin broke across his own face at the memory.

Just as quickly as it had appeared, his smile dimmed as he recalled Moira’s expression as she told the harrowing tale of Áedach’s affront. And her account of someone trying to bring her harm. The poor thing must’ve been terrified.

Sean had always assumed Áedach was capable of no real harm. In truth, the lad’s troubles had been innocuous enough in the past.

I suppose someone like him is capable of just about anything if he believes he holds great power over a weaker person.

The sun sank toward the water. February was tricky. She lulled you into a false sense of spring but still held on to the bite and quickly falling nights of winter.

Sean finished the current section of thatch before gathering his gear. As he stood to descend from the roof, he stopped to watch the orange glow on the watery horizon. He vowed in that moment to watch out for Moira Doherty. And to protect her honor and reputation at all costs.

The week flew by at breakneck speed, and before Moira could catch up, it was Friday again. Mist hung in the air, neither rising nor falling, coating the world in a fine dusting of diamonds. The excitement of the week before had settled into a peaceful determination to solve the mystery shrouding her.

Moira’s prayers of late had transitioned from cries of desperation and incredulity to pleas for His will to be done in and through her. Last night, the thought had landed on her heart that perhaps God hadn’t made a mistake in calling her here after all. Perhaps He had brought her here for this very reason, for this very time. That thought, coupled with the curiosity of how her mother might fit in to everything, opened the door for a sense of purpose and peace to settle over Moira. She had enjoyed her first uninterrupted night of sleep in over a week.

Today, with eyes clear and heart alight, she closed out the week at school and stepped into the weekend with hope. Sinead had invited Moira to join her family on a trip to Letterkenny, the town just over the mountains, the next day.

Excitement nipped at Moira’s heels as she made the short walk from the schoolhouse to the chalet. The mist kissed her cheeks, frosting them like a tea cake.

Sinead’s invitation had come none too soon. Not only was Moira in need of a good dose of friendly companionship, but she also needed some new fabric to make another dress. The two frocks she had brought with her served her well, but in this damp Irish weather, they could take up to three full days to dry after being washed. And that was if the sun shone unabated. If the weather consisted of the soft, soggy days so common to Donegal, it could take even longer.

Once home and with the fire properly restored, she turned her attention to the small mirror hanging over the chest of drawers in her bedchamber. Smoothing a hand over the unruly tendrils curled up by the moist Irish air, she examined her features. Eyes green and bright stared back at her. Her cheeks held a becoming shade of pink and just a hint of sparkle from the mist remained.

How lovely it would be to find material in a nice shade of dark blue or a persimmon accent to highlight her eyes. The red in her cheeks deepened, but she couldn’t deny it was important to her to find something becoming.

Thoughts of whether or not Sean would approve or appreciate such a garment floated across her mind. How irksome!

What value was it to spend time and energy pondering such things? True, it was important for a teacher to present a clean and tidy appearance. But Moira had more pressing matters to tend to—the mystery of her supposed secret and Moira’s stealthy “treat” bearer being paramount.

She committed to focusing solely on solving the puzzle, her work at the school, and her relationship with God. She wouldn’t allow distracting thoughts of Sean McFadden to cloud her mind any longer. While she hoped to fall in love and marry one day, it wasn’t her reason for coming to Ballymann. With all that lay before her, letting her heart and mind get swept away by a fanciful crush seemed irresponsible.

A determined nod settled the self-dispute, and a sense of freedom rose in her chest—freedom and anticipation for her outing to see more of her beloved new home on the morrow.