Chapter 44

The brisk air refreshed Moira as she twisted and stretched, relieving her back from the ache of crouching in that small space for so long. Rather than getting easier with time, it seemed the aches built one upon the other so each visit was more stiffening than the last. Moira was too grateful, however, to pay much mind to her aching back. Grateful that her patient was on the mend. Grateful that he didn’t seem to mind her tending him, and grateful that he hadn’t tried to harm her while she was there. Perhaps that for which she was most grateful, though, was the chance to share with him—albeit briefly and somewhat begrudgingly on his behalf—that he was loved by God no matter what.

“Let him hear it, Lord.” She echoed her heart’s cry. “Let him truly know that he is loved.”

And let me hear it too. The reality of her own shortcomings washed over her anew, and her heart swelled even further at realizing God’s grace.

Somewhere across the wall, the sound of footsteps returned. Moira’s pulse quickened, and she ran her hand along the back of her neck, coaxing the hairs standing on end back into their place. A scan of the fields surrounding her revealed nothing, and the dimming light of dusk offered no help. Would that it were July rather than early March and the sun would lend its light well close to midnight. Alas, it was sinking into its watery bed at five o’clock.

She continued down the road, anxious to reach the village center and the opportunity for more people milling about. The footsteps grew louder behind her, picking up speed. Moira started to run but stepped on the hem of her dress, causing her to splay her hands on the road to keep from falling completely. By the time she righted herself, the footsteps were nearly upon her. She chose to face her foe.

She spun about on one heel and her hand flew to her chest. “Sinead! You gave me such a fright!” Laughter bubbled up and she brushed the dirt and pebbles from her hands. “Why didn’t you call out to me?” Moira reached out to hug her friend. Sinead recoiled from her touch.

Surely she’s not still cross with me for tending to Áedach?

Sinead pierced Moira with her gaze. “I see ye’re followin’ in yer mammy’s footsteps, so ya are.” Disgust covered her face, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Whatever do you mean?” Moira combed her thoughts, trying to reconcile what exactly Sinead could mean by such a remark.

Judgment and disdain dripped from the laugh that rolled off Sinead’s tongue. “Ye were in there an awful lang time, Moira dearie.” She looked Moira up and down. “In a single lad’s shanty, alone? Ye were certainly in there lang enough for—” Her eyes narrowed into slits. “Just how exactly are ya nursin’ puir Áedach back to health, eh?”

The accusation hit Moira like a slap in the face. “How dare you! How could you think I would ever do such a thing?” Hands shaking, Moira smoothed a hank of hair from her face. “If you’d have listened more closely, you’d have known the extent of my nursing duties was the application of an herbal poultice and reading from the Good Book.” Bile swirled at the back of her throat.

“So ya say.” Sinead circled Moira slowly. “All I know is Ballymann’s teacher spent an extended amount of time alone with one of her male pupils. It seems to me, Moira Darrty, perhaps the rumors about yer mammy weren’t so unfounded ’tall.”

Moira gasped, gripping the handle of her basket tightly to keep from pummeling Sinead where she stood. Splinters from the basket pricked her skin. “Say what you will, Sinead, but you know I would never dream of such a thing.” Tears stung her eyes, but she continued. “Think back to our time together in our better days—days not so long ago. You know me.”

“Turns out I don’ know ye as well as I thought I did. I wonder how the good folk of Ballymann would feel about this turn o’ events? I’d venture ta guess they wouldn’t want such a filthy tart fillin’ the wee minds of Gweedore’s best an’ brightest.”

Stunned, Moira turned in silence and walked toward the town. Did Sinead really believe Moira to be so indiscreet? Surely others would believe the truth of what she was doing with Áedach. But what if they didn’t?

“Don’ think I won’t say anythin’,” Sinead called after her. “Ye watch yerself, Moira Darrty. Watch yerself, an’ watch yer back.”

How had her life come to this? In Ireland barely a month and she had already been avoiding shopping at the market in order to escape the whispers and stares. But with her supplies running low, she knew she would have to face the McGonigles sometime. “One of the joys of small-town living,” she muttered to the emptiness. “Only one place from which to buy your groceries.”

“You know, they say talkin’ to yerself is either a sign of brilliance or insanity.” Sean was leaning against the rock wall at the corner of the main road. His legs stretched long in front of him, crossed at the ankles. His arms overlapped at his chest, and a playful smile was on his lips. How good it was to see him. How safe.

She offered him a weak smile. “I sure feel like I’m losing my mind today.”

Concern flashed across his face and he rose to his feet. “Is everythin’ alright?” He glanced down the road behind her, the muscle in his jaw working back and forth. “Did somethin’ happen with Áedach?” Ruddy stubble peeked out along his jawline. His green eyes were as clear as the reflection of spring hills in a calm lake. How could she have forgotten how handsome he was?

She shook her head. “No, no, nothing like that.” She heaved a sigh and rested against the wall. “I just am wondering what the point of it all is.”

His brow furrowed. “Go on.”

“Why on earth would God bring me here, if I was just going to be run out of town on a rail?” A tear slid down her cheek. Sean gently wiped it away. She relished the feel of his skin on hers.

“I’m so sorry.” His voice was thick with emotion. “I don’t know what plan God had for bringin’ ya here, Moira. But I’m sure glad He did.”

She met his gaze.

“I don’t pretend to be an expert in the ways of the Almighty.” He dropped his hand and sat next to her on the wall. “An’ I know I don’t read the Book as much as I should. But I do know God is doing something in you, Moira. Your heart has changed. Whatever it is He’s doin’ in you through your work with Áedach, and fighting against the darkness that’s pressing in on you—I just can’t imagine He would waste any of that. You’re a different woman than the one I met only weeks ago,” he continued. “He’s changing you . . . and watching that unfold has changed me. If me drawing nearer to God is the only good thing that comes out of Him bringing you to Ballymann, I’d say He worked a miracle through you.”

Tears flowed freely now, and Moira made no attempt to hide them. How foolish she’d been, lured by Declan because of his smooth words and those striking eyes. Such wisdom and depth flowed through Sean, and she held no doubts that he ever wanted any less than what was best for her.

She placed her hand on his, the skin rough and calloused under her fingers, but it bothered her not at all. “Thank you, Sean.” Her eyes searched his, willing him to hear all that she couldn’t bring herself to say. “Truly.”

He nodded slightly and gave her fingers a tender squeeze.

They stood there together for a moment, volumes being spoken in the silence between them. In the distance a sheep bleated, and the church bells began to ring.

“I’d best be off.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Good night, Moira.” He released her hand, and she instantly missed the warmth of his touch.

Her heart ached to leave his side, and as she walked home, she committed to meet Declan on the morrow—but only to tell him her heart belonged to another.