Chapter 35

The sun had just slipped below the horizon when Moira arrived at Peg’s house. She could barely make out the glow from the windows in the murky dusk. As she approached, the terrible sound of coughing sprang from the bungalow. Fear paralyzed her as accusing thoughts accosted her at every turn.

Bríd was right, and now you’ve sent Peg to her death with your thoughtless plan. You’re going to kill the whole village before this is all over. The children are going to get sick and parents will watch their babies die because of Áedach—because of you.

Moira stood outside the door, trembling and frozen with fear. How would she ever forgive herself if Peg succumbed to the same ailment as Áedach? She never would have been exposed if not for Moira’s asking for help.

Finally, she could take the hacking, barking coughs no more, and Moira burst into the house, all thoughts of decorum abandoned out of concern for her friend.

“Peg? Peg?” Her calls sounded more like the screech of an eagle than the voice of a friend. Breathless, Moira ripped her damp cloak from her shoulders, her fingers aching with the cold—the same cold ache of dread strangling her heart at the thought of losing her new friend.

“Now, now.” Colm appeared from around the corner. “My Peg is a’right. She’s not got what the lad has, so ye can breathe easy. Wish I could say the same fer her though.”

“Are you sure she’s alright, Colm? She sounds dreadful.”

Colm’s shoulders shook. “Yer right aboot that.” He looked in the direction of the bedroom where Peg lay. “’Tis not the Spanish, Asian, Irish, or any other kind o’ flu she has, I assure ye. It’s the croup. She gets it with every spring damp.”

Before she realized what she was doing, Moira wrapped the man in a hug. “Oh, thanks be to God.”

Colm gently patted her back. “Yes, amen to that, miss. Amen to that.” Then he tenderly grabbed her shoulders and leveled her straight again. “But just ’cause Peg is sick, that doesna mean young Áedach will go unattended this evening. A cold night like this, he has need of a good fire, broth, and a caring hand more than ever.”

Moira furrowed her brow. She didn’t disagree but didn’t feel comfortable going alone, particularly in the dark.

“Come.” Colm beckoned her farther inside. “Warm yerself by the fire and have a cuppa afore ye head out.” He led her to an overstuffed wingback chair in front of the fire. A matching chair was opposite, and in it sat Sean.

“Moira.” His eyes glowed in the firelight. They held an intensity she’d not seen before.

“Good evening, Mr. McFadden.” She nodded and tried to smile politely. What was he doing here? Was he going to try to talk her out of helping again?

“I asked Sean to come here tonight.” Colm pulled up a creepie between them. “’Tis clear Áedach needs nursin’, perhaps tonight more than ever. I canna go because Peg needs me here. When her coughin’ fits get goin’, she needs me to help with the steam and such.”

“I agreed to go with you,” Sean added.

Moira’s mouth fell open, and she rushed to shut it. “That’s very kind of you, Mr. McFadden. Very kind indeed, but—”

“But nothin’,” Colm interrupted. “Ye canna go alone, and no one else will go wit’ ye. There’s no impropriety to the two o’ ye walkin’ in public. An’ Sean here’ll stay on the side of the rock wall opposite the lad’s place. He’ll hold the torch and keep watch fer animals and the like. He won’t breach the wall unless yer in trouble.” He stared hard at Sean. “Right?”

Sean cleared his throat. “Em, yes. That’s right.” His posture softened and he slumped his elbows to his knees, his eyes boring into Moira’s. “I was wrong to be so cross with you before, Moira.” He took her hand in both of his. “Will you forgive me?”

Heat rose from her fingertips to the top of her head. Her heart beat so loudly in her ears she wasn’t sure if he had said anything else. Next to her she could practically feel Colm grinning from ear to ear.

“Yes, Sean, I forgive you.”

Sean. He couldn’t remember the last time Moira had called him by his first name. A smile spread across his face. “Brilliant, lass.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and, though it nearly killed him, slowly released it.

Colm smacked his hands together, jolting Sean out of his stupor. “Right, that’s settled now, so it is.” The old man rose and retrieved something from the mantel. “Peg’d had somethin’ a little different in mind for yer visit this eve, Moira. She hopes ye might be agreeable to carryin’ out her plan?”

Moira straightened in her chair and brushed her hands across her skirts. “Yes, of course. What is it?”

“She has all the trimmings for yer poultices and tea and such as usual.” He paused and looked slowly from Moira to Sean and back again. “After ye’re done with yer medicinal ablutions, she thought ye might read a bit o’ the Good Book to the lad.” In a slow, reverent motion, he handed a small, black book to Moira. The cover was cracked and worn, the binding of the pages precariously thin.

Moira took the book from Colm as tenderly as if he were handing her a newborn babe. Her cheeks flushed, and she pulled the treasure close to her heart.

“’Tis not a real Bíobla, o’course. Ye’d need a horse and cart to drag the family Bible down the road. This here’s an auld ledger that Peg took to writing passages and verses in.” He shook his head and stared off in the distance, as though he were looking clear into the past. “She said she wanted a way to keep the Book close, so she could always hide it in her heart. It never leaves her apron pocket—except fer tonight.”

Moira gasped. “I’d be honored.”

A strange feeling welled up inside Sean as he watched Moira’s face fill with awe as she thumbed tenderly through the pages. Had he ever held such respect for the Word of God? It had always been held in high regard, sure. But he strained to recall a time when it was as precious to him as it seemed to be to Moira in this moment. If his love for her wasn’t cemented before, it was now. He loved the girl, heart and soul, and asked God to help him treasure his faith like she did.

“That’s lovely, Colm, truly.” Sean stood and headed to fetch his coat and Moira’s cloak. “We’d best be off before time escapes any further.”

Moira rose and placed a tender kiss on Colm’s forehead.

Dismayed to find a lump forming in his throat, Sean had to look away.

“We’ll take good care of Peg’s book, Colm,” Moira promised. “You just take good care of Peg.”

Moira met Sean in the entryway and turned, allowing him to help her with her cloak. He placed it over her shoulders, resisting the urge to kiss the top of her head, her cheeks, her lips.

Steady now, lad. You have a job to do, and you won’t disappoint the lass again.

“Shall we?” She looked up at him and pulled her cloak tight around her neck.

“Yes.” He opened the door, welcoming the icy blast. “I believe we shall.”